ABLOCATE ▇▇▇▇ VOLUME TWO
━━ ❛ 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒉 ❜

chapter no. 046!

❪ 𝚃𝚆 ⠀⠀ : ⠀⠀ 𝙿𝙷𝚈𝚂𝙸𝙲𝙰𝙻 𝚃𝙾𝚁𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙴,
𝚂𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙶𝚄𝙻𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽, 𝙳𝙴𝚂𝙲𝚁𝙸𝙿𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙴
𝙿𝚃𝚂𝙳 𝙴𝙿𝙸𝚂𝙾𝙳𝙴,    𝙿𝙰𝙽𝙸𝙲 𝙰𝚃𝚃𝙰𝙲𝙺,
𝙰𝙽𝙳    𝙱𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙵 𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝙾𝙵 𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙴. ❫

❝ A GUT-CLENCHING PANIC. ❞
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﹙ MAY 26TH, 2016 ﹚

     A HIGH-PITCHED RING ECHOED IN HER EARS AND SHE GASPED, EYES FLYING OPEN. A blinding, bright light burned against her pupils and she shut them back close. The source came from the window on her left. Instinctually, she raised her arm to shield herself from the sun but was promptly stopped.

     Ducking her head and opening her deep blue eyes, she saw that her hands were still wrapped in colorful wires. Meanwhile, her forearms were tied down with zip ties around the wooden chair's armrests.

     "Morning again, baby cakes." Stephen Leone grinned, admiring the black eyeliner and mascara resting under her eyes. It almost matched a few of the bruises on her arms. It suited her.

     Cara stared at him plainly, not in the mood to deal with his antics.

     "Aw, smile! We're filming a movie," he informed her, backing away. An unfamiliar camera tripod was positioned perfectly in the center of the wall across from her. The same small wave energy device from yesterday was on the floor.

     After taking in her surroundings, she narrowed her line of sight. "What movie? Did Le want some home videos made before he got here?"

     Leone snorted. "No. It's just a little something we'll be sending to your pals at the F.B.I. in the future." Cara's profile hardened at the mention of the team. "We should get started." He moved so he was standing behind the camera, fingering hovering above the record button. "Smile!"

     She scoffed, "Get fucked."

     It felt like a rubber band was snapping against her skin and she winced at the burn. Zings of electricity shot throughout her body.

     Involuntarily hunching over, she groaned. This was only the beginning. He was going easy on her.

     Earlier, their session had come to an abrupt pause when the intensity and duration of the electric shock became too much and she lost consciousness. This was simply round two, featuring a camera.

     "I said: Smile!"

     The intensity of the shock had been dialed up, and Cara gasped. Shallow pants of air tumbled from her lips; her chest was rising up and down vigorously while she fought to catch her breath.

     "I said: Get fucked."

     "Oh ho-ho-ho, do you kiss Dr. Spencer Reid with a mouth like that?"

     "Up your ass, Leone!"

     "Up yours!"

     The next wave was much weaker than the previous one, but she knew that it was just to give her a break. It was a warning. The next one was going to be God-awful.

     A soft beep echoed in the room and she knew that he'd started recording now. Pants continued to fall from her mouth; she was still fighting for air.

     "Let's play a game, shall we? It's called Truth and Scream. Ever heard of it?" Silence answered him. "It seems not. I admit it's not as popular as it should be, but I digress. Let's start with something simple. Is your full name Caralyn Rosan Valentine?"

     Cara glared up in acknowledgment but kept her mouth shut. She wasn't going to give in and play an amateur version of Michael Le's mind games.

     Suddenly, the room trembled side to side at the approach of a train. In the corner of her vision, she could see it passing by. Behind the camera and around Leone, her eyes darted back and forth. She watched as dust and dirt blew off the brick wall.

     It was quiet for a couple of seconds until Leone spoke again. "I asked," he paused, turning the electricity up. The pain was immediate and she shut her eyes tightly. To her surprise, this wave wasn't as powerful as she was anticipating. "Is your full name Caralyn Rosan Valentine?"

     "Go to Hell," she huffed, gasping for air.

     Leone clicked his tongue. "I'm going to take that as a yes. Next question, how long have you been part of the Red Scorpions?"

     This moron.

     "If they want me to answer questions they already know the answers to so badly, they can come in here and ask me themselves." Cara spat, sitting up in the chair. This was getting old and she was praying that her body would give out so she'd be embraced by darkness.

     "Should I repeat the question?"

     She scoffed. "You know they're using you, right, Leone?" she checked, raising a brow. "As soon as they're done with you, you're dead. You're nothing but a puppet. A means to an end. You're disposable, and they'll throw you out with the rest of the trash at the end of the day."

     Rage consumed him and he subconsciously puffed his chest out. Leone stepped around the camera, marching toward the blonde. Once he was less than a foot away from her, she blinked, unphased. They both knew what was coming next.

     In less than four seconds, he'd raised his hand and slapped her across the face. Then, without warning, she lunged forward and headbutted him straight in the nose. A sense of satisfaction filled her chest at the sound of bone cracking and the sight of blood on Leone's face. He stumbled back, clearly taken off-guard.

     "Now we're a matching set," she smirked, leaning back in the chair.

     "Watch your fucking mouth," Leone growled, reaching up to hold his nose.

     Cara snorted, amused. "How about you go fuck yourself?"

     Another train passed by the building, and she glanced at the wall again. More dirt and dust spewed out. Maybe the building would cave in and kill them. A small part of her was hoping that would happen.

     That comment seemed to be the final straw for Leone. At lightning speed, he wrapped his hands around her neck and pushed her backward. The legs of the chair slipped underneath it as he hauled her to the ground. Her head hit the concrete with a harsh thud and she felt her air supply being cut off. In the background, the tripod clattered to the floor.

     Black dots began to enter her vision and her raspy sputters for air morphed into dry wheezes. However, before she could pass out, someone shouted, "STEPHEN!"

     Time seemed to stand still. Terror overtook Leone's stature and he immediately released her. He was scared and for good reason. He'd just been caught strangulating Cara Valentine when he'd been ordered to keep her alive and not touch her.

     Blinking slowly, Cara coughed harshly. Finally, oxygen was reaching her lungs but paused when it dawned on her who'd spoken. Nothing but intense panic raced through her veins.

     It was him. It took three days, but he was there.

     Cara's face fell, and the hair on her arms rose. A sinister figure loomed over her, and deep blue met greedy green.

     "Hello, Clementine."

────

     IT HAD BEEN A LITTLE OVER THREE WEEKS SINCE THEY RESCUED CARA VALENTINE. If "rescued" was even the right word to use. So much time had passed since her initial capture to the day she was found that it felt overdue. Like the BAU could have done more; could have found her sooner. The clues were in the DVD, but also in the Red Scorpions case from twenty-thirteen.

     How did the Red Scorpions originally get their name into the headlines? How did the world find out about them?

     Answer: After the Surrey Six killings at Balmoral Tower.

     It felt so obvious yet not.

     "Has Dr. Inaya said when she would be waking up?" Morgan asked, leaning against the doorframe of the waiting room. He, Hotch, JJ, Penelope, and Tara had just landed from Quantico. Cruz had ordered that the team return to work (despite their many protests) and for Blake and Morgan to go home to their families while Cara was unconscious and recovering in the comfort of the hospital. Blake was back at Harvard but had told everyone to keep her updated. Luckily, Rossi had managed to talk him and Reid into staying in Canada while everyone else was at home, working away for the past three weeks.

     For the time being, it was deemed that the Canadian Security Intelligence Service (CSIS), Surrey PD, and Vancouver PD would be working on the Founding Fathers' case. After all, they and Cara were from Canada, and the woman had been found in Surrey. Captain Marvinhill promised the team, though, that he'd keep them updated if they found anything.

     Rossi shook his head. "No, but it might not be anytime soon. Combining torture, drugs, blood loss, broken bones, scarring, malnutrition, trauma, and extensive injuries... It's hard to say with full confidence if she'll pull through."

     "She's had the surgery, though, right? That means that she has to be at least well enough to be waking up soon," Penelope suggested hopefully, squeezing Morgan's hand as she spoke.

     "Not necessarily," the eldest of the group sighed. "The doctors performed the excision, and that procedure was successful. It's unclear, though, whether the surgery restored complete feeling, movement, and mobility in her hands. We'll find out once she's awake. However, given how weak and fragile her body is, we're still operating in the unknown."

     Spencer cleared his throat. "The good news is that she was taken off the ventilator last week. So far, she's been successful in breathing on her own and showing more signs of life. Her eyes have flickered open for a second or two a few times. Her fingers have been twitching and flexing. Also, traces of emotion have been present on her face. It's mainly been furrowed brows and frowns, but it's progress. Sometimes her eyes will dart around underneath her eyelids."

     This seemed to put the technical analyst at ease. "Oh! That's great!" she exclaimed, smiling brightly. Any sliver of hope there was, she would take and cling onto for dear life.

     "Any updates on the fracture from the T1-T5 interspace of Cara's spinal cord?" JJ asked, taking a gulp of coffee.

     "Uh, yeah," Spencer said, briefly peering over Tara's shoulder. Down the hall was Cara's room, and he wished he was back in there with her. "Dr. Inaya brought in an orthopedic spine doctor and he ruled that the slight fracture was actually a transverse fracture. Transverse fractures are a type of broken bone. They run horizontally, perpendicular to the bone. Some doctors refer to them as complete fractures. That means the line of the break goes all the way through the bone.

     "Transverse fractures are almost always caused by traumas like falls or car accidents. Some people need surgery to repair the bone while others only need a splint or cast for it to heal. If the fracture is slight or mild and the bones did not move too far out of place, that's when a splint or cast is appropriate. Splints usually last three to five weeks—"

     "Reid." Hotch cut him off, motioning for him to directly answer the question.

     Sighing, he gave them a simplified answer. "The fracture isn't severe enough to affect her ability to walk. Let alone affect her body majorly. It'll heal over time."

     Penelope looked between Rossi and Spencer. "Derek mentioned that a decision had been made the other week on the physical examination. How? What did you settle on?"

     The two exchanged glances, seemingly having a silent conversation with only eye movements and facial expressions. Finally, Rossi sighed, giving in.

     "With everything Cara's lost and after everything she's been put through... The decision is hers. Potential evidence will more than likely be lost, but at least she will have a choice over what happens with her body. If she decides to pursue criminal and civil justice remedies against the Founding Fathers, there is the DVD that can be used as evidence. Not to mention, when she's able to sit down and answer some questions for the case, that can be used in court. There's enough evidence and material that can be utilized without the rape kit examination."

     A small weight lifted off JJ's chest at the answer. "Good. She has the right to make that decision on her own," she spoke up.

     Spencer nodded in agreement.

     "How are her fingers? And ribs?" Tara shoved her hands into her pockets, catching the glimpses the genius sent toward Cara's room. From what she'd heard from Morgan, he'd been spending all his time with her. Even though she was unconscious, today was the first time he'd left her room. Considering there was a full private bathroom in Cara's hospital room, there was no reason for him to leave.

     Rossi noticed the doctor's anxious mannerisms, too. "Decent. Dislocated fingers typically heal in about six weeks. So, she's halfway through that process. They're still in casts. Broken or bruised ribs heal in the same way and usually, get better by themselves within three to six weeks. Dr. Inaya did a follow-up CT scan on Monday. When she was first admitted, the first set of CT scans revealed that she had seven broken ribs. Two of which had healed on their own. Now, two more are almost fully recovered. The final three will need a few more weeks."

     "What about the aphonia?" Hotch's chin upturned.

     "She's being given medication for it through an IV. It's unclear if it's helping considering she hasn't woken up yet. She'll still need voice therapy to help fully regain her voice." Spencer sighed, tapping his foot against the tiled floor anxiously.

     During his time at the hospital, he'd developed a concerning attachment to Cara. Ever since he saw her in that room, in that bed, looking dead... he couldn't leave her. He wouldn't.

     Not being in the same room as she was bothersome, and deep down, he knew that wasn't good. It wasn't healthy to be this attached to someone, but after two years of not having her, it felt like she was going to be yanked away at any second if he wasn't there. 'Cause that's exactly what happened the first time. He left her and wasn't there when he knew something was wrong.

     For the umpteenth time, he swept his sight to the same brown door. A small frown painted his lips.

     The team continued to talk, oblivious that their loved one was stirring.

     In room fifteen, on the heart monitor, Cara's heart rate sped up. Fingers twitching, her lips parted as she let out a quiet breath. Fluttering her deep blue eyes open softly, she flinched at how the dimmed lights shining above burned against her irises. All memory of her nightmare with Leone was gone.

     The space around the blonde was filled with a cold silence that was broken every few milliseconds by a very faint sound of a beep. Gently, she turned her head to the left and raised her eyes to see that a heart monitor was the source of the faint noise.

     Was this another drug-induced dream? Or was this real?

     Cara winced, turning her gaze toward the light grey ceiling panels. For once, not one bone had popped in her neck or spine at the movement, and there was no penetrating pain twisting in her lower back. There were no fast waves of shock sparking every nerve in her body when she moved. The hurricane had been swept away.

     She closed her eyes and prepared herself for the worse as she attempted to wiggle her fingers. Against some of her fingertips, she could feel a soft, fuzzy fabric brush against them. They managed to move a bit, but not much. It still felt like every nerve in her arms had gone into a paralyzing shock they'd never recover from. She couldn't feel anything, and that was okay for the first time in a long time.

     After slowly breathing out, she furrowed her brows in slight confusion and stared at the ceiling. Was this real? The fine line between reality and fantasy had been blurred for her long ago. She could never tell if something was real or if she was simply living in a nightmare. She didn't trust herself enough to decipher the two.

     Sweeping her sight across the ceiling, she let out a breath and moved her head to the left, casting her gaze around the room. To the left of the bed were two windows whose blinds were shut. Creeping through the thin cracks were the colors of an early morning sunrise. To the right of the windows was another wall with chairs and tables littered in front of it and a small hallway leading to what the woman assumed was a bathroom. A couple of sweaters, books, a satchel, a suitcase, and miscellaneous objects were resting in the two chairs on either side of the opening to the small hallway. Five vases of flowers decorated the tables and blue "Feel better soon!" balloons were attached to all the chairs.

     Cara flexed her wrists and grunted, lifting her head and catching a quick glimpse of one of her hands. A cast was fixed on it with additional casts on her right index, middle, and ring finger. Grimacing, she furrowed her brows when she noticed that the two nails she could see had been cleaned, cut, and painted in separate shades of blue.

     She couldn't recall the last time she'd washed her hands— or any part of her body. All she knew was that it was with Shirzad. So, who'd washed her hands, cleaned them up, and painted her nails? Was it Shirzad? No... That didn't make sense. He'd never paint her nails; he preferred to see her in her natural state. Wait, who'd put casts on her? None of the Founding Fathers cared enough to do that.

     There were so many unanswered questions in the blonde's mind that it was difficult to track them all. Everything was mystifying, and she struggled to focus on one thing at a time. Involuntary tears blurred her vision and she grew frustrated with her inability to understand what was happening.

     Suddenly, a gasp sounded, and Cara flinched at the noise. Her head fell back against something soft and she glanced to the right. Over by another door stood a woman unknown to her. A gut-clenching panic filled her heart. The bottom of the woman's chin was ajar, and she was almost in shock. The patient who'd been in and out of consciousness for weeks had finally awoken.

     Turning on her heel, she quickly dashed out of the room and to the receptionist's desk. "Page Dr. Inaya. Cara Valentine's awake," she murmured to Claire, whose eyes widened immediately.

     Down the hall, Spencer craned his neck around Tara to see Cara's nurse race from her room to the receptionist's desk. Natalie whispered to Claire before she ran and pushed through a set of double doors.

     "Reid, what's up?" Morgan pushed away from the doorframe, eyeing the doctor.

     The other team members turned their attention to the genius and followed his stare. Less than a minute later, Natalie returned with a set of other hospital staff members trailing after her with equipment. Hotch stood and observed with everyone else as they hastily entered Cara's hospital room.

     "W-What's going on?" Penelope stuttered, immediate worry overwhelming her.

     No one had a chance to respond before they heard a heart-shattering cry and something crash.

     Spencer's fight-or-flight instincts kicked in, and he sprinted to Cara's room, coming to a skidded stop after he entered. Four hospital personnel, including Natalie, surrounded Cara. The lines connected to her, the heart monitor, and her IV drips were on the floor. She was shaking her head side-to-side frantically and cowering against the headrest of the raised bed. With her bandaged arms and hands clutched to her chest, her eyes were shut and she was sobbing, every inch of her shaking compulsively.

     She was scared.

     In her mind, it was Le, Johnston, Shirzad, and Leone surrounding her.

     "Hey hey hey, what are you doing?!" Spencer exclaimed, voice raising. "She's scared and in shock. All of you crowding around her and talking all at once is only going to make her pain worse or trigger some form of PTSD. She could hurt herself," he inserted himself between them and Cara, gesturing for them to back up. "Step back."

     A voice that Cara recognized spoke, and she looked up to see Spencer Reid standing in front of her. He was telling off the unfamiliar people around her, and she gulped, still unsure if this was real or not. The tears continued to spill over and her stomach dropped. If this was an illusion, that meant they still had her. She was still trapped.

     The instant panic swimming in her abdomen was a cluster of sparklers. She could physically feel the tension boiling up inside her body. Her mind replayed Shirzad's words: "You should have known better than to believe he was real." Like a horror movie, the words repeatedly played in her mind. It was as if her brain was unwilling to let the memory go in its attempt to revisit the past.

     The rest of the BAU team and Dr. Inaya rushed in. Hotch and Dr. Inaya were haste in dismissing all of the staff aside from Natalie. The door shut.

     Spencer turned back to Cara and lowered himself to her eye level. "Cara, it's Spencer. I'm right here, okay? Can you look at me?" His tone was gentle and reassuring while he held himself back from physically comforting her. He didn't want to overwhelm her any more than she already was.

     Cara pressed further into the mattress, trying to get away as much as possible. Adrenaline coursed through her veins. The movement hurt terribly, and the paralyzing shock in her arms had disappeared, but she didn't care. This wasn't real. This was the drugs talking. This was just another elaborate psychological trick.

     The bed sheets felt coarse against her bare, but bruised calves. They were coated in black, blue, and purple splotches. Her thighs were wrapped in surgical gauze bandages and she could feel the fabric loosening up as her bottom half clenched together in fear.

     "I'm not going to hurt you," Spencer whispered, slowly sitting on the bed. Unfortunately, the words were too quiet for her to hear them. The right side of her body faced him and he was quickly reminded of the fact that she couldn't hear anymore in that ear.

     Feeling the dip in the comforter, Cara flinched and instinctually curled her body together tighter. She was readying herself for a blow that wasn't coming.

     Spencer noticed the reaction and stood back up. He needed to be able to get to her without frightening her. So far, he was doing poorly.

     Dr. Inaya also saw the woman's response and made her way to the opposite side of the bed, Natalie by her side. "Ms. Valentine, I'm Dr. Inaya. You're safe and at Surrey Memorial Hospital." Dr. Inaya frowned at her unresponsiveness. Muffled sobs began to fill the room again. "I know you're scared right now and not sure if this is real, but it is. You're safe."

     "No offense, Doc, but saying this is real isn't going to make it feel real for her," Morgan said, defending Cara's current state without a second thought.

     The sound of Derek Morgan's voice left a dent in Cara's wall of fear and torment. Out of every hallucination she could remember, Derek Morgan, David Rossi, and Aaron Hotchner never appeared. The Founding Fathers hadn't focused on them. They preferred using Spencer and Penelope. Sometimes JJ and Blake. So, Morgan's voice was one she hadn't heard in a long time. Although, she was only able to catch bits of what he'd said.

     Hearing him... Was this... Did that mean this was real?

     "Let the kid handle this," Rossi replied, his volume so low she barely heard it. When she did, though, her shoulders relaxed. She knew that voice too.

     That was Rossi... Right?

     It'd been so long.

     Dr. Inaya tilted her head, taking note of Cara's bodily responses to their voices. Hearing them was helping in some way. She looked up, and her eyes landed on the agent closest to her. Silently, she caught their attention and motioned them over. Spencer closed his mouth, watching attentively. "Talk and get her to allow you to touch her arm," she whispered to them.

     Everything went silent, and Cara's breathing began to pick back up. The silence was the worst part. It always came before the physical yank back to reality and blow to the stomach.

     Raspy breaths fell from her lips and she instinctually placed a hand over her heart but was stopped by the casts. A groan of exasperation left her lips, but it wasn't audible. Her frustration with herself increased and she just wanted to get this hallucination over with. Whatever the Founding Fathers were doing... she wanted no part of it.

     Pressing her forehead against her knees harshly, she winced at the pressure she'd applied to the bruises. Her eyes were shut and the sobs had come to a pause, but the tears hadn't. They were free-flowing from underneath her eyelids, getting tangled in her lashes before landing on the hospital gown she wore.

     The curled-up position she'd forced herself into hurt, but she didn't want to move. If she was bundled together, her front side wasn't on the receiving end of the men's violence. To an extent, she was protected.

     "Cara..."

     A voice came from her left, and she froze, shoulders tensing again. This was the first time she'd been able to hear someone clear as day.

     "It's Hotch, Cara." The bed dipped down again, and Cara flinched. The Unit Chief's words failed to ease her fear; she kept her forehead pressed against her knees, body shaking. Her heart raced while his remained stable. Hotch's face dropped further.

     A few minutes passed. Then, an idea came to mind. "Do you... Do you remember what color the lamp was at the hotel?" This could be a long shot, but they were the only two who knew about that night and morning.

     The team shared perplexed looks. None of them had the slightest idea what he was referencing. Cara, however, knew exactly what he was talking about. There were a few memories she had left of her time with the BAU and that was one of them. A lot of them, she'd temporarily blocked out.

     There was no way Shirzad or any of them could know about that night. So, did that mean this was actually real? It had to be. But if it was, why didn't she remember being found?

     Her breathing started to slow down at the possibility that what she was hearing was, in fact, real.

     It took all the courage she had, but she eventually raised her head. Meeting his gentle eyes with bloodshot ones, she shrank back but took in the sincere expression he wore. The only time anyone had ever stared at her the way he was right now was the night Farell and Arthur were murdered. That was years ago, but that was the only time.

     "Do you remember?" Hotch's tone was just as soft as it was then, and she gave a slight nod. The back of her neck and spine popped loudly, and she bowed her head, gritting her teeth.

     Dr. Inaya went to say something, but Hotch held a hand up, indicating not to make a sound. They needed to be patient. This wasn't something that was going to be resolved quickly.

     Cara needed to be hooked back up to the medications and machines, yes, but she also needed to know and believe that she was safe. That kind of reassurance wasn't going to be immediate. She was going to be skeptical and convinced that this was somehow an illusion. So, they needed to be patient and talk with her.

     Other than tying her down and injecting her with sedatives, which was the last thing Hotch wanted to do, this was the only way. If she refused treatment and became hysterical, things would get ugly and she'd been through enough. He didn't want her time at the hospital to further traumatize her.

     A sharp, penetrating pain twisted in her back, but Cara made herself look back up anyway. That's what she had trained herself to do— work through the discomfort before the Founding Fathers could call her out on it. It was a safety precaution.

     Eventually, the wave of pain dulled and Cara appeared to be ready enough to continue engaging with Hotch. She gave him another slight nod, grimacing. All of her focus was on him; she disregarded everyone else.

     "What color was it?"

     Gulping, Cara winced at the burning sensation in her throat. "G-Gr... Green," she choked out; her voice was scratchy, hoarse, and incredibly quiet. It felt like it'd been ages since she'd spoken out loud, but she knew that wasn't true. In her last hallucination, she'd been talking with her father. "W-What... was... w-was on i-it?"

     In the background, Penelope had to cover her mouth to stop herself from sobbing out loud. It was too painful to see Cara in this state, and she wasn't alone in feeling that way.

     Spencer was in tears himself and felt lightheaded at just the sound of her voice being right there in person. For the longest time, he wasn't sure if he was ever going to hear it again.

     Morgan's hand rested on his shoulder, keeping him steady.

     "Yellow-tinted beads that hung from the lampshade," Hotch answered without missing a beat.

     Cara's vision blurred with hot tears while her brows scrunched together, still apprehensive. "B-Breakfast?" she sat up a bit, shoulders dropping but still aching.

     "McDonald's," he cracked a small smile, hoping it would bring her a sense of comfort. It did. "You ordered me a large Mocha Frappe with extra chocolate drizzle and chocolate chips. You stated that I needed to "live a little" and drink something other than orange juice and regular coffee after ordering yourself a regular cup."

     This might be real.

     The bottom of her chin trembled, and she only flinched subtly when he placed a hand on her arm. It was warm. A small rush of genuine relief ran through her body, but she stopped it. She needed to be sure.

     "M-Music?"

     "Beethoven. You said Reid had gotten you hooked on his works. Your favorite was Missa Solemnis."

     Cara nodded in confirmation, letting go of her legs and lowering her arms. Slowly, she reached forward and poked his cheek softly, making sure to use her left index finger. It was one of the only fingers not in a cast.

     Hotch raised a brow, and she retracted her hand, scared. She then winced as she inhaled deeply, feeling her lungs constrict. Every move burned.

     "Ms. Valentine, if you would allow Natalie, we'd like to insert your IVs back in." Dr. Inaya said, giving the woman a reassuring smile. Darting her gaze from Hotch to Natalie and Dr. Inaya, Cara frowned. She didn't know these people. She didn't trust these people; she didn't trust herself. She was still not confident in believing that this was real. So, she inched away. "We need to check your vitals and ensure everything's okay. You need rest."

     Once Hotch gave her a look of encouragement and assurance, she felt a little more at ease. She was fairly sure that he was real. When she touched him, it felt real, but all of her hallucinations did. A frown crossed her lips and she looked between the three again.

     It was easy to tell that the blonde was uncertain and conflicted. More was needed to get her to trust this situation and more importantly— trust Hotch.

     "Owen Sánchez's nickname for you is Lyn," Hotch started, deciding that mentioning things that only he would know could prove beneficial.

     Begrudgingly, Dr. Inaya let him keep talking. If this went on for too long, she would need to intervene. It wasn't good for Cara to stay off of the IV and fluids. Her body was still too weak.

     At the mention of her ex-boyfriend, Cara's eyes involuntarily watered. He'd been brought up by the Founding Fathers on numerous occasions. It was usually out of spite. The topic was always the same— they wanted to know what he told her and if she knew he was a mole.

     And she was honest with them every time. When it came to Owen Sánchez, she was forthcoming because they were over and he'd made his bed when he betrayed the Scorpions. She was sleeping in hers, and he needed to sleep in his.

     "We talked to him on the phone together," Hotch continued, noticing a faraway look on her face. The moment he spoke, though, she blinked and refocused. He didn't show it, but he was impressed. After all this time, she was still able to place her thoughts and emotions on the back burner and pay attention. "He was in the ICU. He was in danger and needed protection. You told him that he could use a beating."

     Cara from two years ago would have either snorted in amusement or agreed with that comment. This wasn't the Cara they knew back then, though, and she did neither. All she did was blink, unaware of the tears running. Just as she was still unaware of the rest of the team being in the room. In her mind, the only people there with her were her old Unit Chief, a doctor, and a nurse.

     "Later, I ended the call after an inappropriate comment was made. You left the office and went to the restroom. I followed after with Rossi. We had a conversation, do you remember?"

     It was tensely silent and the woman swallowed harshly, quickly wincing. Traces of understanding flashed across her features. Her eyebrows relaxed and she let out an audible breath.

     Taking that as confirmation, comprehending that her ability to speak was limited, Hotch cleared his throat. "You apologized for allowing your emotion to cloud your judgment. I told you that you didn't; you did fine. You got viable information that could be used in court after closing the case. You did a good job. I told you the same thing in Memphis when you apologized again. You were upset and snapped at Rossi and me... I always thought you were too hard on yourself."

     This had to be real...

     Cara swept her eyes over his non-threatening stance. A hallucination with any of the Founding Fathers would have never gone on this long. They liked to taunt and mock her right when she started to fall for the illusion. They would have done that if they were behind this the moment she touched Hotch.

     Opening her mouth to say something, she hesitated. Hotch gave her a kind smile, allowing her to take her time. A minute passed before she gathered the courage to speak despite how agonizing it felt to do so.

     "B-Believe," she croaked, praying that she wasn't making a mistake.

     Everyone took a collective sigh of relief, shoulders dropping all around. Progress was being made.

     "Cara, there is a nurse and doctor here to take care of you. In order for them to do so, they need to connect you back to some machines and an IV drip. Is that okay?"

     Cara darted her gaze from Hotch to Natalie and Dr. Inaya. They both gave her small smiles. If Hotch was real, then they had to be too. She forced a nod. "O-Okay?" The word felt foreign leaving her lips. It'd been a long time since she willingly agreed to anything.

     "Do you mind holding out your left arm?" Natalie asked, giving her a soft look. There was now a long silver needle extending from a small blue and clear plastic tube in her hands.

     Immediately, Cara pushed herself back into the bed, retreating as the nurse got closer. Flashes of Shirzad plagued her mind. Needles meant drugs which meant psychological hallucinations. A whimper escaped her. "I-I change..." The words seemed to disappear from memory and her voice broke. "N-No. No." She shook her head, feeling a gut-clenching panic swirl inside her chest.

     All progress made seemed to dim.

     Tears blurring her vision, JJ looked up at the ceiling. All of them could see how petrified their friend was.

     "Cara..." Dr. Inaya began.

     "A-Aaron," Cara cried, face twisting in pain.

     It was the first time she'd ever referred to Hotch by his first name, but when he heard her say it, his heart dropped. She said it with such urgency yet desperation. He was officially the one person she believed to be real in that space.

     "Hey, Cara. Take a deep breath, okay? It's going to be all right." The tone he spoke in was the same soft one. She gasped for air. Momentarily meeting his stare, she caught a glimpse of the worry he wore. "I know you're scared, but you're safe right now. Breathe. Look at me. I won't let anything happen to you."

     Cara tried to focus on his eyes, but she couldn't. Instead, hers glossed over and she felt like she was being suffocated. Her chest heaved up and down as she attempted to catch her breath.

     "In through your nose, out through your mouth," Hotch instructed, placing a hand on her shoulder. Unlike before, she didn't flinch and followed his instructions. "You're doing good. In through your nose, out through your mouth."

     Everyone watched in awe as it was working. The pair breathed together in sync, not once glancing away from the other. The profilers in the room soon realized that this had happened before. This wasn't the first time their Unit Chief had calmed her down from a panic attack.

     From where Spencer stood off to the side with Morgan and Penelope, he couldn't help but wish that was him. He just wanted to be near her, but he knew that was likely going to take time.

     "Dr. Inaya and Nurse Natalie are not going to hurt you. You're severely injured and they are here to take care of you, but you have to let them. Can you do that?" Hotch asked eventually, raising a brow.

     A slow and steady breath left Cara's lips and her shoulders dropped. The two women had to be real. Hotch was.

     "Y-Yes," she whispered, choosing to place her trust in him.

     Then, without warning, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over her. Black dots entered her vision and she felt her body go limp. This feeling was all too familiar; she was going to pass out. And before anyone could do anything, Cara's eyes rolled into the back of her head and she collapsed.

𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆   ───   ❪ CRIMINAL MINDS ❫
act two:     𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝙿𝚁𝙸𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚂𝚂,       ²
╱ ✹     ▬▬     ❛ © CARDIIAC       2023. ❜
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𓄹 ━━━ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓! ࿐ ໋₊ ˖

     hey everyone!! i hope you all enjoyed the forty-sixth chapter!

     CARA IS AWAKE!!!!! woo-hoo!!

     i re-wrote this chapter three times because i couldn't decide which route i liked best. i had to get my best friend's opinion because i still wanted it to come across as realistic but also fit the characters. particularly fit who cara becomes. this is the version of the chapter that i liked the most, so here you go!

     let me know your thoughts! i'd love to hear them.

     DISCLAIMER: for those who wish it was spencer instead of hotch, keep in mind that cara experienced hallucinations of spencer. the founding fathers traumatized her and it'll be hard for her to get a grasp on what's real and what isn't. with hotch, she never had hallucinations of him. hence why she was able to fixate on him and trust him.

     QUESTION: i'm working on reunion scenes for the next chapter and have one with cara and spencer. however, i'm wondering if i should include a scene with other members or just give a brief overview of how the reunions went. out of everyone on the BAU team, other than spencer, who do you want to see cara reunite with the most? (don't say hotch. she's already reunited with him in this chapter.)

     ps... i have half a mind to turn this into a hotch + cara fanfic. i'm not playing. i really like them together... there's still potential there, folks. (DON'T WORRY!! it's not happening, though. #spara has had way too much development and build-up. i'm not throwing that away! they're still my endgame. i just ship cara with everyone atp.)

     for anyone who noticed that hennessy lu was not mentioned once... you'll find out what happened to him in chapter 49!

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˒⠀𝑹𝑬𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹. . . ▬⠀⤸

Thank you all for taking the time out of your day to comment on this story. It means a lot and helps the story be spread to a broader audience &&& allows me to grow as an author. All I ask is that people vote on each chapter, please. As a creator, it takes time to write and develop stories. Especially ones such as this that take a while to write and dedicate time to. So please, vote on every chapter. It means a lot more than I could ever express.

Don't forget to vote & comment!

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˒⠀𝑪𝑶𝑷𝒀𝑹𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻. . . ▬⠀⤸

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