ABLOCATE ▇▇▇▇ VOLUME TWO
━━ ❛ 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒔 ❜

chapter no. 047!

❪ 𝚃𝚆 ⠀ : ⠀ 𝙿𝚃𝚂𝙳 𝙴𝙿𝙸𝚂𝙾𝙳𝙴, 𝙿𝙰𝙽𝙸𝙲
𝙰𝚃𝚃𝙰𝙲𝙺,   𝙰𝙽𝙳   𝙱𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙵 𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽
𝙾𝙵 𝙿𝚂𝚈𝙲𝙷𝙾𝙻𝙾𝙶𝙸𝙲𝙰𝙻 𝚃𝙾𝚁𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙴. ❫

❝ I'M NOT LEAVING YOUR SIDE
UNLESS YOU ASK ME TO. ❞
▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

﹙ JUNE 11TH, 2016 ﹚

     IT TOOK A FEW DAYS FOR HOTCH TO CONVINCE CARA THAT WHAT SHE WAS SEEING AND HEARING WAS REAL. And by a few days, that really translated to two weeks and two days. Sixteen full days in recovery. Add that to the three weeks she was unconscious, Cara Valentine had officially been free from the Red Scorpions' grasp for over a month.

     One month of relief, but one month of shock, anticipation, and worry. For the team, at least.

     For Cara? It had been one month of lost time, paranoia, and fear. Never was there a dull moment that wasn't basked in anxiety and pain.

     Medically, over the last sixteen days, progress with Cara's physical state of being improved. The excision results had proven to be great. Most, if not all, feeling, movement, and mobility had returned to her hands. Of course, that meant she still felt some discomfort and shots of pain, but that would dull over time. Additionally, all the casts on her fingers had been taken off for they'd fully healed. Another rib had mended itself— only four more were still broken, but they were doing okay.

     Also, the transverse fracture was being adequately treated. She was on medication for the pain and a thoracolumbosacral orthosis, otherwise known as a splint, would be fitted around her lower back and up to her neck, keeping her secure, tomorrow. Its primary function would be to limit motion in the thoracic, lumbar, and sacral regions of the spine. So, to limit motion in her back, not her neck. It had to stay on for the next ten to twelve weeks, something Cara had no issue with when Dr. Inaya told her yesterday. Considering her physical state, which she'd come around to understanding and acknowledging, Cara knew she'd be living in the hospital for quite some time.

     As for the medications and nutrients she was being given, they were helping as well. She was hydrated and some of her vitamin levels had increased. Regarding her appetite, she'd been on a feeding tube. Dr. Inaya tried to get her to eat solid food, but with the aphonia and the spasmodic adductor dysphonia she'd experienced, it was challenging to swallow anything. The safest option for now was a feeding tube, five to six times a day.

     Her skin had begun to return to its natural ivory state and her eyes were no longer bloodshot. The dark circles she wore had faded some. That was good considering they'd been so dark her skin had sunken.

     A vocal coach had yet to be brought in for voice therapy, but would hopefully be soon. In the meantime, Dr. Inaya had been working with her on speaking full sentences again. It was going moderately well.

     During the last sixteen days, aside from resting and recovering, Cara had primarily been with Hotch, Dr. Inaya, and Natalie. She refused to see anyone else for a few days, and it wasn't personal toward the team. Fiction and reality blurred together a long time ago and so did her trust in herself. She was scared and skeptical. In her mind, they weren't real. At least not at first.

     It took four days and lots of talking, mainly from Hotch's end, for Cara to agree to see Rossi. After all, she hadn't experienced drug-induced hallucinations involving him or Morgan. A small fact that she'd reluctantly shared with Hotch. That was the most information he'd been able to get out of her in terms of her capture.

     The mini-reunion was filled with tears and small talk as Rossi reassured her that he was actually there with her. All things considered, it went fine. She didn't verbally communicate much. Despite being on heavy pain medication, it was still a struggle to talk.

     Next was Morgan. She agreed to see him two days later.

     Beforehand, Hotch had warned Morgan that it might take a bit longer than it had with Rossi for her to get comfortable. However, for a reason unbeknownst to him, things didn't go that way.

     Derek Morgan wasn't always a man who was in touch with his feelings or showed them often. And by feelings that more so meant being emotional. This situation was different, though. After two years of searching for Cara Valentine, they'd managed to finally rescue her. Morgan and Tara Lewis had been the ones to find her in the basement, chained and hanging midair.

     That image had yet to escape Morgan's brain and it'd been haunting him in his sleep ever since. Nobody deserved the hell Cara was put through, especially her. He'd seen the DVD and had a very real idea of what was done to her. It made him inexplicably angry. It was inhumane and almost made Morgan physically sick just thinking about what the Founding Fathers did to her.

     As he approached the hospital room, he readied himself for any reaction she could have. This wasn't going to be an easy process for the team. Hotch and Rossi were the only ones so far who'd been successful in not freaking her out. It was unclear how she would react to anyone else.

     Taking in a deep breath to steady his nerves, he knocked on the door. A few seconds passed before the doorknob turned, revealing an anxious David Rossi. It was evident by the wobbling smile and pinched eyebrows that he was equally as hesitant.

     Morgan stepped inside and Rossi made sure the door shut soundlessly. Loud noises had been prone to scare Cara.

     Next to the hospital bed, off to the left, sat Hotch. If he was apprehensive about this reunion, he did an excellent job at hiding it.

     When his line of sight finally settled on the blonde, tears involuntarily brimmed in Morgan's eyes. "Hey, pretty girl," he spoke lowly, not making an effort to move just yet.

     The sound of his voice caused Cara to gulp, her eyes watering as well. Flashes of them laughing in car rides together, talking on the F.B.I.'s jet, the Christmas party, running on a track field with Penelope and Spencer, and him always opening the door for her played in her mind. Nothing but good memories and positive emotions were associated with Derek Morgan. They had never been super close, but they were friends and partners in the field. They always had each other's back, even if they started out not liking each other much.

     With her bottom lip beginning to tremble, Cara choked out, "D?"

     Morgan forced down the lump in his throat. It'd been a long time since he'd heard that nickname. "Yeah, it's me, Valentine." He knew that everyone had been calling her by her first name, he'd been doing it as well, but he rarely addressed her directly as 'Cara'. He wanted her to feel comfortable and that things between them hadn't changed. So, he decided to stick to her last name.

     It appeared he made the right decision as Cara's shoulders dropped significantly. She let out a heavy and audible sigh, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

     "H-Hug?" she asked, ignoring how sore her body felt as she sat up.

     The request startled the men in the room. The most physical contact she'd initiated and accepted so far had been someone touching her arm or shoulder. This was a step in the right direction.

     "Of course," Morgan was swift to walk over. He sat down on the right side of the bed, a few inches away from her.

     It was awkward at first when the two hugged. This was the first time they ever had, and Morgan was doing his best to not move and accidentally hurt her or activate any form of PTSD. She was stiff and aware of every move made. It'd been a while since someone held her in a non-sexual and consensual manner.

     With her arms loosely enclosed around his torso, Cara went from resting her chin on his shoulder to turning her head and resting the right side of her face against his chest. It took a few seconds before she grew comfortable. Once she had, she pulled him closer and closed her eyes.

     In response, Morgan tightened his hold on her and let out a quiet breath. Both of them needed this. For Morgan, he needed confirmation she was safe and he'd done his best to ensure that. For Cara, she just needed a hug and she wanted it to be from him. It was as simple as that.

     "T-Thank... Thank you," Cara said, her words muffled as she spoke against his chest. Every emotion she felt could be heard in those two words.

     Squeezing his eyes shut, Morgan restrained himself from crying. "You're welcome," he whispered.

     It was then that she dropped all of her walls and broke down.

     The interaction had made everyone in that room shed a tear that day. Another thing it had done was instill in Cara the concept that she could start seeing the rest of the team. Not right away, of course, but she was determined to get to a place where she could.

     Three days later, she was ready to see Blake and meet Tara.

     At the news that the blonde was awake, Alex Blake had gotten the first flight she could and flew back to Surrey. After everything the team went through to find Cara, she wanted to see her and at the very least, let her know that she was grateful she was safe now.

     Luckily, the universe was on her side and she was able to do just that.

     Tara had entered the room before Blake did. It'd been decided that Cara would see only one person at a time.

     Hotch stated that it was the best option in order not to overwhelm her. In truth, he'd come to that conclusion because Cara had shared that she didn't have drug-induced hallucinations concerning him, Rossi, and Morgan. Which implied that she'd had ones involving Blake, JJ, Reid, and Penelope. So, starting out with Tara, a complete stranger, before reintroducing Blake to Cara, seemed like the best idea.

     Thirty-one minutes had passed by thus far, and Blake sat outside the door to Room Fifteen with Spencer, Penelope, and JJ. The sound of soft tapping echoed in the empty hallway. Both she and Spencer were drumming their feet against the tiled floor.

     "How's it going?" Morgan asked, arriving with a cup holder full of coffee in one hand and a single cup in the other.

     Penelope let out a dramatic sigh of relief. "Caffeine, thank the sweet lords from above," she muttered, happily taking her order from Morgan.

     "Tara's still in there," JJ nodded at Morgan in appreciation for the coffee.

     "Do you think Rose will want to see JJ and I soon? Or Spencer?" Penelope cradled the drink in her hands, staring at her friends hopefully.

     Pressing his lips together, Morgan shrugged. "I don't know, baby girl. We gotta give her time," he repeated the answer he'd been giving everyone who hadn't seen the blonde yet.

     A frown settled on her face and the analyst sunk into her chair. Patience was not one of her strong suits, but she knew it was required in this situation. Nobody could rush the acceptance and healing process. No matter how badly they wished they could.

     Suddenly the door opened and Tara stepped out. Everyone looked in her direction, waiting for her to say something.

     "Blake, you're good to go in," Tara said, jutting her head to the side.

     Merely humming, the brown-haired doctor stood up. A bundle of butterflies was flying about in her chest, reminding her of how anxious she was. The nerves weren't necessary, though. It was only Cara she was seeing. It was going to be okay. At least she hoped it would be.

     "Tara, how'd it go?" JJ questioned, watching as Blake entered the room. The door closed quietly behind her, concealing the encounter from prying eyes.

     "It was all right," Tara answered; her reply didn't leave much room for interpretation.

     In all honesty, it had gone as well as it could have given the circumstances. At first, Cara hadn't been all that receptive to meeting the woman, which was understandable. For all she knew, Tara could be working with the Founding Fathers and she'd be none the wiser. However, Hotch and Rossi were eventually able to convince her that wasn't the case. From there, introductions took place and Tara told Cara a bit about herself. Cara didn't respond much, but the doctor had been fine with that. She knew it was still relatively difficult for her to speak.

     "I hope it goes all right for Blake," JJ muttered, glancing down at her coffee cup. Something in her gut was telling her that things were going to get progressively harder from here.

     Back inside the hospital room, Blake was greeted by the sight of Hotch and Rossi sitting in chairs to the left. They were a few inches away from the bed where Cara lay perfectly still.

     The sight of the woman sitting there, awake and alert, made Blake's heart skip a beat. It'd taken far too long, but Cara Valentine was alive and safe. That was all anyone had wanted for years.

     She was staring down at her hands, rubbing her right thumb against her left wrist. A habit that was known as one of her tells. In a way, it was comforting to see the action. It was something only she did.

     "Hey," Blake murmured, recalling how Hotch had shared that loud noises and voices startled her easily.

     "Hey, Blake," Rossi gave her an encouraging nod, wordlessly communicating that things were starting out well.

     Hotch glanced at Cara, surveying every move she made. The biting of the lip, rubbing of the wrist, and avoidant eye contact all indicated that she was hesitant to engage. This was the first time she was interacting with anyone she had drug-induced hallucinations of.

     "Remember what I said?" Hotch asked.

     The question caused Cara to meet his stare. He was giving her a look of encouragement and assurance that put her a little more at ease. It took a second, but she nodded. Traces of acknowledgment flashed across her features. Her eyebrows relaxed and she let out an audible breath.

     Eventually, she brought her attention to Blake and gulped. "Hi," she forced out; her voice was scratchy from all the talking she'd done with Tara Lewis.

     "Hi," Blake echoed, taking a couple of steps forward. "It's good to see you awake."

     Cara swept her eyes over her non-threatening stance. Opening her mouth to say something, she paused. Everything about this situation felt awkward and unusual, but she knew it was because of her. With everything that happened, she was too scared to be around the team and it bothered her. Hotch told her that they understood, but a part of her still felt guilty about everything.

     "It's good to s-see you," she managed to say, hoping that her old friend knew that she was being sincere.

     "I'm really glad you're safe now," Blake breathed, stopping at the edge of the bed.

     Nodding, the blonde inhaled deeply. "Me... too," she whispered, feeling the pad of her thumb drive into her wrist. "T-Thank you. For f-finding me," she clarified, stifling a cough.

     Kind, dark brown irises reflected back at her. The ceiling lights bounced off of them, revealing a film of water. "You're welcome," Blake's voice cracked as a tear fell onto her cheek. She quickly brushed it away, sniffing.

     It was rare for Alex Blake to cry in front of others, or cry in general. It wasn't something she actively did, but today, she was okay with it. Today, she was getting to see the person the team had worked so tirelessly to find. She was getting to see the person she had worked so tirelessly to find.

     "Hotch told me," Cara cleared her throat, wincing at the burning sensation. "He told m-me that you donated y-your..." she trailed off, unable to bring herself to say the word 'blood.'

     Recognizing that she couldn't finish the sentence, Blake came to her aid. "I did," she said softly, giving her a small smile. It was the same smile she always gave her, but this time it didn't provide comfort or reassurance.

     Flashes of Blake's smile warping into Shirzad's sinister one appeared before her eyes. Reality faded and she couldn't shake the image away. His face fell into focus, and the bright setting around her shifted to darkness. A needle and an empty vial waved in front of her face.

     Tears rose, and Cara flinched when someone spoke. The voice was familiar but sounded like it was coming from miles away. It was almost as if she was underwater, desperately trying to swim her way back to the surface, but a rip current kept dragging her away.

     But that wasn't real— these images weren't real. They weren't. Hotch had promised her that. None of the Founding Fathers were there and she wasn't being dosed with harmful medications.

     Alex Blake was not Konaam Shirzad. Alex Blake was not Konaam Shirzad. Alex Blake was not Konaam Shirzad.

     Cara repeated those six words to herself silently, taking deep breaths. Gradually, Shirzad's face vanished and what was left behind was a concerned Alex Blake.

     With a slight frown on her lips and eyebrows lightly furrowed, the brown-haired woman waited patiently. It was apparent to the three agents that Cara wasn't fully there with them. Hotch's voice had caused her to flinch, but there were tears and a faraway look in her eyes; she didn't blink. She was almost unresponsive.

     So, they waited for her to come back to them. The best thing to do was let her fight her way out of whatever it was she was experiencing. If they touched her or tried talking to her further, there was no telling what the reaction would be. This wasn't the first time she'd spaced out, particularly with Hotch, and it wouldn't be the last.

     "Not..." Cara whispered, blinking after three minutes and forty-eight seconds, "Shirzad."

     At the mention of Konaam Shirzad, Hotch and Rossi straightened out their posture. Tension filled the room. The names of the Founding Fathers had yet to be uttered once in front of Cara or by her. Nobody was expecting her to say any of their names.

     Blake glanced at the men, unsure of how to respond or if she should.

     Cara swept her gaze to her blue-painted nails. A tiny sense of pride swelled in her chest. She successfully fought back. "You're not Shirzad," she stated firmly, looking directly at Blake. That was the first sentence she'd been able to articulate and express without stuttering or pausing. Things were improving.

     "No," Blake replied, mindful of her response and body language. "I'm not."

     "You're much..." the blonde cleared her throat for what felt like the millionth time, "prettier than him." She wore a blank facial expression as she talked, not a hint of amusement or playfulness present.

     It was a sincere compliment and made the woman across from her flush, chuckling gently. "I— I appreciate that. Thank you."

     Rossi cracked a smile, holding back a snort.

     From there, the rest of the interaction went along smoothly.

     Two days later, Cara agreed to see JJ and Penelope. She went into it hoping that things would go well, seeing as how good it had gone with Blake. That was not the case, however. This was the first meeting where things had gone wrong straight off the bat. In hindsight, seeing both of them simultaneously hadn't been a wise decision on Hotch's part.

     Unbeknownst to him, Cara had experienced more than a few illusions involving JJ and Penelope. Particularly with Penelope. That morning, too, she awoke from a nightmare involving the two women and Shirzad. Another fact she didn't share with Hotch. So, when she saw the pair in the flesh later that day, fear coated every action she made.

     The door had slammed shut behind them by accident when they entered the room and caused Cara to involuntarily jump. Then, Penelope had forgotten what Hotch had told her and JJ and spoke animatedly and loudly. She couldn't help it, she was excited. And normally, there was nothing wrong with that, but in this situation, it activated Cara's PTSD.

     Cara had tensed up and her breathing pattern became irregular. It felt like she couldn't catch her breath. She cornered herself against the headrest of her hospital bed, shaking from head to toe. Things only worsened when Penelope went to hug her shortly after squealing. The loud voices, noises, and acts of affection proved to be too much, and Cara yelped before breaking into tears.

     Immediately, they'd been ushered out of the room.

     Nearby nurses responded to the commotion, rushing in with sedatives. Fortunately, Hotch was able to convince them not to sedate Cara and allow him to handle things. It took time, but she eventually calmed down.

     The last thing anyone wanted was for the hospital staff to sedate Cara. If she ever became hysterical to the point where he couldn't help, things would get ugly and she'd been through enough. Nobody wanted her time at the hospital to further traumatize her. So far, it hadn't gotten to that point.

     The following day, Cara was willing to meet with JJ. It'd been a tense reunion but didn't yield any negative results. The same applied the day after with Penelope. The meeting was very nerve-wracking on both ends. Hotch had to remind the analyst several times to be quieter and that no physical contact should be initiated unless it was by Cara herself.

     Eventually, it got better, but Cara was still on high alert when it came to them. JJ and Penelope understood that; it hurt, but they knew it was a process.

     Since then, three days had passed by and Cara had been solely with Hotch. Nurses and Dr. Inaya would rotate in and out. Rossi and Morgan would pop in here and there, too.

     Much of the time consisted of Cara and Hotch sitting in silence, either doing a puzzle on the portable desk next to the bed or coloring. With her wrists still sore and recovering, not to mention her fingers, Cara couldn't color. Instead, she'd pick out a picture she liked and select what markers she wanted Hotch to use. No words were exchanged, just small gestures and facial expressions.

     When that got boring or Cara began to show disinterest, Hotch would talk. Sometimes she'd respond, other times she didn't. Stories about his son, Jack, were shared and he filled her in on some of the cases the team had handled while she was gone. Surprisingly, she'd been the one to request hearing about the cases.

     Overall, the last sixteen days had been a rollercoaster ride, but a lot had been accomplished. Were there setbacks? Yes, but progress was still being made and that's what mattered.

     "Have you been working on the grounding technique?" Hotch broke the silence, peering down at her. Recently, they'd discovered a way to help Cara refocus on the present moment to distract herself from anxious feelings. It was also a way of assuring her that everything around her was real and true.

     Nodding, Cara held up her clasped hands, motioning to the different shades of blue on her nails. The nail polish had been one of the first things she noticed when she first woke up that indicated what she was feeling and experiencing was real. The Founding Fathers would never paint her nails, especially Shirzad. He preferred her in her natural state.

     "Can I ask you something?" Hotch shifted in his chair, hoping this bode over well. Again, she nodded. "We've established that the nail polish is what helps you refocus best. Why nail polish, though?"

     Immediately, the question shifted Cara's entire demeanor. Shrinking into her bed and blankets, she held her breath. This was the first time he'd asked her about her capture, whether he realized it or not. Prior, she'd volunteered the information that she hadn't endured drug-induced hallucinations of him, Rossi, and Morgan during her capture. That was all, though. She wasn't up to sharing any further. It was too soon and too much.

     "W-Who painted my nails?" Avoidance was the best solution for now. "P-Penelope?"

     Hotch blinked, accepting her non-answer. It wasn't his place to pry. "Uh, no actually," he replied. "Reid did."

     A wave of confusion quickly took over her face. Painting someone's nails seemed outside the realm of activities Spencer Reid would actively partake in. It was hard to imagine.

     "Remember what I told you yesterday? That he spent the first three weeks in here with you?" Cara nodded. "I'm thinking he may have gotten bored. Rossi said Reid asked him to get different shades of blue nail polish."

     Sweeping her attention to her hands, she took in a deep breath. "Is he..." her eyes glossed over with guilt. "Is he okay? M-Mad?"

     "He's worried about you." Hotch tilted his head to the side, perplexed. "Why would he be mad?"

     Cara couldn't meet his gaze. "I haven't... I haven't seen him... yet."

     A frown spread across his lips. "Cara," he spoke her name with such softness that it caused her to look over. "Reid is not mad at you. He understands that it's going to take time. If anything, I think he misses you." And that was putting it delicately.

     Spencer had been sleeping outside Room Fifteen since the day Cara had woken up. The vow he'd made to himself to never leave her side again wouldn't be broken anytime soon. Part of him was waiting for her to see him while the other was keeping watch, ensuring she was safe at all times.

     "I..." Cara swallowed harshly, wincing at the burning sensation in her throat. "I miss him, too."

     A small smile tugged at Hotch's lips, but he didn't let it show. "Do you think you're getting to a place where you're ready to see him?"

     The question made her falter, eyebrows drawing in. It was something that'd been lingering in the back of her mind for the past few days. If she was capable of reuniting with the rest of the team and not losing it wholly, surely, she could see Spencer. At least she thought she could.

     "I think so." Well, if she never tried, she would never know. Maybe it was time. She had her grounding technique and if it went away, she would know that this wasn't real. "Can I?"

     Blinking, Hotch hid how taken aback he was by the sudden request. "Of course," he replied. Although he didn't show it, he was impressed. Regardless of how much she'd been through, and was still going through, she managed to persevere. "Would you like me to get him?"

     Cara nodded apprehensively, bracing herself.

     Outside the four walls they were tucked away in sat Spencer Reid. With his head down, he kept his line of sight fixated on the tiled floor. He didn't have a clue as to how long he'd been there, simply staring at the ground, zoned out. It'd been a while though.

     Footsteps were approaching and he could hear them, but couldn't find it in him to acknowledge whoever it was. When his name was spoken, he merely hummed.

     "Woo-hoo... Spencer?" JJ sang, waving a hand in front of his face. The motion seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he was in.

     Blinking rapidly, Spencer looked up. "What?"

     "What were you thinking about that had you so out of it?" JJ gave him a knowing expression, taking a sip from the coffee cup in her hand. It wasn't difficult to figure out what or who was on his mind.

     "Cara," he sighed, running a hand over his face. "I'm always thinking about Cara."

     A minuscule smirk pulled at JJ's lips, but she concealed it. Before she could make a comment, Spencer spoke again.

     "Have I ever told you one of my favorite memories of Cara?" he randomly asked, turning to look at her. Furrowing her brows, JJ shook her head and walked closer. He waited until she sat in the chair next to him. "We'd recently come back from that case in Pittsburgh. The wife and husband serial killer team. It was Valentine's Day." He fiddled with his fingers nervously. This was the first time he'd told anyone about this. It'd been on his mind lately.

     "I uh, I took Morgan's advice and got the courage to ask Cara if she wanted to read together. She said yes. It wasn't a date, by any means. We'd spent time together outside of work, but this time was different. For me, at least. It was my way of officially moving on... from Maeve.

     "On the way home, she opened up about the Red Blood. Prior, she'd been vulnerable and truthful with me. This wasn't anything too new, but it was the first time she'd ever expressed how she felt in a present moment with me. She was emotional. I hugged her. I was really proud of her because she'd opened up to me of her own volition. It was progress. We ended up hugging for one minute and twenty-three seconds. That moment resonated with me a lot. It's stuck with me. I also gave her my cardigan."

     It took a second for JJ to digest the new information, but when she did, a thought came to mind. "Your red cardigan?"

     Spencer glanced at her, eyebrows furrowing together. "Uh, yeah. How'd you know?"

     "Cara wore it on the cases in Milwaukee and Mecklenburg, and a couple of times at the Bureau. She also wore it on girls' night when Garcia, Blake, and I went to her place," she explained, a ghost of a smile on her lips as she reminisced. "That's sweet, though." JJ brought herself back to the conversation at hand. "How that's one of your favorite memories."

     The comment turned Spencer's ears red, and he awkwardly averted his eyes to his Converse. "Yeah..." he muttered, missing having Cara's arms around him. He missed her occasional hugs.

     Clearing her throat, JJ leaned forward. "Are you going to tell her how you feel eventually?" she asked quietly, hoping his reply would be yes. The confession didn't need to happen now, God no, but in the future, it could.

     It was silent for a moment as Spencer processed her question. The answer to it was simple, yet not. "I'd be lying if I said I hadn't given it much thought," he spoke softly, "but I have. I want to tell her. I do, but I also don't know everything she's been through— not that I need to. Right now, she is overwhelmed by everything and everyone. Not to mention in pain. I don't want to contribute to that any more than I already have."

     JJ frowned. "Spence, you can't blame yourself for the drug-induced hallucinations the Founding Fathers put her through. They psychologically tortured her. That isn't your fault. It's theirs. They used you as a pawn in their game against Cara because they know she cares for you. They used all of us. She's just having a hard time, but she'll come around."

     "Yeah, I know that. I know. It just... I just want to see her," he breathed. "A-Awake, I mean. I want to see her awake and talk to her."

     Right as he finished talking, the door to Room Fifteen opened.

     "Reid," Hotch stepped into the hall, leaving the door cracked open a few inches behind him. Both Spencer and JJ looked to their Unit Chief. "She's ready."

     A wave of relief washed over him and Spencer let out a heavy sigh. "She... She wants to see me?" his voice cracked, giving away every emotion he felt.

     "Yes, but do your best not to overwhelm her," Hotch advised him. "Wait for her to initiate any form of physical contact. Don't raise your voice; don't mention anything pertaining to the case or the Founding Fathers. Be gentle and patient with her."

     "Yeah, I know. I know. I will," Spencer said, standing up and wiping his palms against his pants.

     Hotch moved to the side, motioning that the doctor could enter. "I'll be right outside in case anything happens," he gave him a tight-lipped smile.

     Walking to the door, Spencer took a moment to compose himself. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. This was what he'd been waiting for, but now that she was ready, all of a sudden, he wasn't.

     What if she changed her mind when she saw him? What if her psyche had been manipulated beyond repair and she no longer trusted him? What if...

     "Spence," JJ's voice snapped him back to reality, and he re-opened his eyes. "Go."

     Nodding, he curled his fingers around the doorknob and pushed it open. He stepped inside, leaving behind his friends and diving headfirst into unfamiliar waters. This was different in comparison to when he was with her sixteen days ago, right by her side as she slept. This time she was fully conscious and could interact properly with him.

     Hesitantly closing the door quietly, he kept his gaze on the floor, scared. He wanted this to go well; he wanted to be by her side again. Willing himself to look up, he pressed his lips together.

     Time seemed to come to a standstill when the two locked eyes. Cara was already staring at him, lightly rubbing her wrist. She was nervous.

     All was silent as neither dared make a move.

     Cara could hear the pounding of her heart clogging her ears. The sound of it progressively got louder and louder, which only resulted in making her even more anxious than before. Letting out a shaky breath, she stopped rubbing her wrist and glanced at her painted nails. Blue. They were still blue. That fact comforted her greatly.

     She could do this.

     So, with all the courage she had, Cara held out her right hand toward him. Spencer felt a lump rise in his throat when he saw her wiggle her fingers, indicating that she wanted to hold his hand. Feet moving beneath him, he wandered over to the hospital bed, sinking down in the chair Hotch had been sitting in.

     Spencer's hand slowly reached over to hers, grasping it gently. "H-Hi," he sputtered, vision blurring as their gazes met again. Rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, a wobbling smile spread across his face when she did her best to squeeze his hand. "Y-You don't have to squeeze my hand. I know it hurts."

     A heavy breath left her mouth, and she cleared her throat. "The pain's w-worth it," she whispered, wincing as she squeezed a little tighter. This was a moment she'd been waiting and praying for. To be back with him and the team. Especially him.

     It took a while for her to believe that all of this was real. It took even longer for her to warm up to seeing everyone again, but the progress she'd made was worth it. All of this was real and she was safe, for the time being. Even if this solitude only lasted for a little bit before the Founding Fathers came back for her, it was worth every second.

     His heart ached at her words and Spencer leaned forward in the chair, lightly pressing his lips to the top of her hand. Pulling back the slightest, he rested the right side of his head against the mattress, next to her thigh, and stared up at her. "I-Is this okay?" he checked, concerned that he was perhaps hurting her.

     Cara managed a slight nod. "Perfect," she murmured, feeling her heart swell at the way he was looking at her. The pain she felt at that moment was nothing compared to the peace settling in her chest.

     Blinking, she took a minute to take in Spencer's appearance. It'd been so long and he'd inevitably changed since she saw him last. For one, his hair had grown significantly longer and he hadn't shaved any of his facial hair. It was a different look for him, but she didn't hate it. That spark of light in his eyes that never failed to put her the tiniest bit of ease was dimmed, masking the hurt and heartache he'd experienced for the last few years. That light wasn't fully gone, but it took much more effort on her part to find it.

     When he had entered the room, she caught notice of the slouch in his posture. It was as if the weight of the world had perched itself on his shoulders, attempting to drag him to the Earth's core. And she knew that she had played a part in that weight.

     However, that weight seemed to lessen its hold on him as Spencer's body relaxed against the side of the bed. There was a particular gleam in his eyes that caused Cara's stomach to churn. It'd been so long since she'd felt that and that feeling reminded her that this was real and not a hoax. This was genuine; he was genuine.

     A smile tugged at the corners of his lips and it grew when he saw Cara mirroring the gesture. Tears came to both of their eyes, but neither made note of it. The happiness they were finally experiencing was the only thing that mattered.

     "You got... my... message," she muttered, breaking the peaceful silence.

     Spencer nodded, a single tear falling from his eyes and rolling over the bridge of his nose. "I-I did," he choked out, nodding again. "It took me a lot longer than it should have to figure it out, but I did."

     The small smile continued to pull at her lips. "I k-knew you would," she sighed. "All is not lost."

     "All is not lost," he echoed quietly, cradling her hand in his. For the longest time, he didn't know if he was ever going to be able to have another conversation with her again. Yet, here he was; here they were. "How are you feeling?"

     Cara managed a tiny shrug. "I'm fine," she answered robotically, unaware that a lie had just slipped out.

     After all that time in captivity, she became accustomed to lying about how she felt in every sense. That's what she had trained herself to do— conceal any distress before the Founding Fathers could call her out on it. It was a safety precaution.

     Spencer picked up on that but decided against acknowledging it. "That's good," he forced out, inhaling deeply.

     A beat of silence passed.

     "T-Tired," Cara admitted quietly, swallowing the burning in her throat.

     Raising an eyebrow, Spencer lifted his head. "Do you want to get some sleep? I-I can go..." His heart sank at the prospect of leaving her side again.

     At the same time he began offering to leave, she spoke. "W-Will you stay..." The question hadn't finished leaving her mouth when he cut her off.

     "Yes."

     For the first time in years, Cara blushed. The eagerness and certainty in his tone caught her off-guard. "O-Oh, okay."

     The sight of her flaming pink face brought another grin to Spencer's lips. "I'm not leaving your side unless you ask me to," he vowed, running his thumbs over her knuckles. "I promise."

     Cara let out a breath of relief, sinking against the bed. "Thank you," she said the two words slowly, hoping Spencer knew that she meant them.

     And he did.

     "Of course," he replied earnestly, restraining himself from tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Get some sleep, I'll be right here."

     It appeared she was hesitant at first. She'd shut her eyes for five seconds and then re-open them, surveying her surroundings before she'd find Spencer and relax again. Soon five turned to ten seconds, and then fifteen.

     After seven minutes of this repetition, she finally found it in herself to allow her body to calm down. Gradually, her eyelids fluttered shut and didn't re-open.

     The beeping from the heart monitor was the only sound Spencer could hear. He watched as her chest rose and fell with each breath. It was a gentle reminder that she was alive.

────

     WOULD NIGHTMARES ALWAYS PLAGUE CARA VALENTINE'S DREAMS? That was the resounding question at the forefront of Spencer's brain while he watched the blonde sleep. Only a few hours had passed by. His heart broke for the millionth time as she continued to toss and turn, recoiling away from an invisible force. Nothing but fear warped her facial features and every muscle in her body was tense with stress.

     Part of Spencer was inclined to wake her up, but he knew from countless studies that waking her up would do more harm than good. Someone is more likely to forget a nightmare if they can sleep through it. Waking them up in the middle of a nightmare can be jarring, making it difficult for them to forget the imagery or go back to sleep. The only time it's worth waking someone up would be when the nightmare appears to be severe. For instance, if someone was thrashing about violently or could injure themselves or others.

     So far, Cara's nightmare hadn't gotten that intense.

     Muttering something under her breath, Cara struggled against the blankets. During her slumber and thrashing about, she'd managed to tangle herself within the sheets.

     "Owe..."

     Ears perking, Spencer shifted in his chair.

     "Owe... N-No..."

     Owe as in Owen? Owen Sánchez? A frown spread across Spencer's lips as he tried to understand what she was saying.

     "T-Too... mu—" Cara interrupted herself, loud sobs taking over. Sweat stained her skin and she clenched onto the bedding, pressing herself further into the pillow supporting her head.

     Spencer's vision became obscured; he couldn't take seeing her like this. Hearing and witnessing her in pain via video was one thing, but in person was entirely different. It hurt so much more. It almost made him sick to even try to imagine what she was undergoing.

     A petrified cry tore from Cara's throat, snapping Spencer out of his thoughts. Immediately, he stood up and placed a hand on her arm. "Cara, hey. You're okay," he rushed out, shushing her. "It's just a nightmare, it's not real."

     The physical contact and verbal reassurance did absolutely nothing to comfort her. Although, it did wake her up.

     Bloodshot blue eyes shot wide open and Cara sat up abruptly. Her chest was rising up and down in a rapid fashion, her breath coming out in raspy wheezes as she blinked away the burning tears. Placing a hand over her heart, she gasped for air.

      Blinking, she gulped down the mass to hinder the waterworks, but her actions failed. Feeling tears running down her cheeks, she licked her lips and wiped them away. Then, her chest began to rise up and down quickly as she was losing control. It was all catching up to her— the nightmares, the memories, the voices— all of it.

     "Cara..."

     The sound of her name made her jump, and she looked up. A startled expression painted her face, but it quickly morphed into one of fear when she saw who was in front of her. Her grounding technique was long forgotten.

     A concerned Spencer Reid stared back at her, a deep frown on his lips.

     No. This wasn't real. He wasn't real. That was Konaam Shirzad, not Spencer Reid.

     "G-Get away," Cara gasped, frantically driving herself away from him. In her movement, she managed to shove the blankets off the bed and knock over the heart monitor. Hot tears clouded her vision and a sob filled the room.

     The sound of it made Spencer flinch and his eyes water more. All memory of him being real was gone, and it only made his hatred for the Founding Fathers strengthen. Everything they did to her made him want to kill them in cold blood.

     "Shirz... N-No," she choked out, shaking her head.

     She believed he was Konaam Shirzad.

     Back peddling, Spencer blindly reached for the doorknob. "Hotch!" he called, conscious of how loud he made his voice. When he opened the door, however, his Unit Chief wasn't the first to enter. Rather, it was two nurses, one of which was holding a syringe. They must've heard the commotion.

     At the sight of the needle, his eyes widened and his head reeled back an inch. "Wait, w-what are you doing? She's just confused; you don't need to sedate her! You need to get Agent Hotchner!" Spencer protested, stepping forward.

     What happened next occurred quickly and he couldn't stop them.

     One of the nurses placed her hands on Cara's shoulders, trying to reassure her that she was all right. Unfortunately, her words fell on deaf ears and Cara let out a spine-chilling scream, shoving the woman away. The force at which she pushed her caused the nurse to stumble into Spencer, nearly falling over. Luckily, he was able to catch her.

     Ripping out three of her IVs, Cara desperately struggled to get out of bed. The other nurse with the syringe stood in front of her, trying to get her to stay still. Cara was still too weak to be on her feet; she hadn't taken a single step since she'd been emitted. It was unlikely that her legs would be able to handle the rest of her body weight and sure enough, as she stood, she promptly collapsed to the floor.

     More hospital personnel poured into the room and someone grabbed Spencer, tugging him out. "Hey, let go of me!" he scowled, turning his head to see it was a random orderly holding him.

     Cara was still screaming, but the screams had managed to die down in volume. Fatigue was catching up to her and all that managed to escape her lungs were hoarse wheezes. She was red in the face, fighting to catch her breath as she kicked the staff away from her.

     The word 'sedation' bounced off the walls and Spencer watched with horror as the needle was injected into Cara's bicep. Her movement grew sluggish and she clumsily fell over, barely catching herself by placing her palms against the tiled floor. Drops of blood fell from her forearms, coming from the incisions made in her skin when she'd taken out the IV drips.

     The last thing Spencer saw was the raw fear in Cara's deep blue eyes, staring straight into his soul before the door slammed shut. He could no longer hear her screaming, but he could hear every pound of his heart slamming against his ribcage. He could feel grief swimming through his veins and it frightened him.

     Dr. Inaya was right. The version of Cara that they were getting to know was not going to be the same one they knew. The Founding Fathers had made certain of that.

𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆   ───   ❪ CRIMINAL MINDS ❫
act two:     𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝙿𝚁𝙸𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚂𝚂,       ²
╱ ✹     ▬▬     ❛ © CARDIIAC     2023. ❜
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
𓄹 ━━━ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓! ࿐ ໋₊ ˖

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

     this chapter breaks my heart :)

     &&& not cara hitting on blake 🤦‍♀️

     also! the infamous valentine's day of 2014 has been revived for this chapter. i love how it's one of spencer's favorite memory of cara. does anyone have any guesses for what cara's favorite memory of spencer might be? if you're right, i'll let you know!

     this chapter took longer to finish than i anticipated. the reunions and most of this chapter are super emotional and i did not have it in me to sit down and write something heavy. it can be draining and sometimes takes a while to finish. however, i finally am done with this chapter and i'm so fucking glad.

     the next one is super emotional too, but i've got a good portion of it done and it should be out in a few days!

     NOTE: i know people wanted a reunion scene between cara + penelope, but when it came down to it, i didn't want to write it in detail. this chapter is quite long and with the reunion scenes with morgan, blake, and spencer, i was tapped out. i really wanted to update the book and didn't want to keep this chapter in my drafts any longer. i promise there will be more interactions with cara + penelope (+ jj, of course) soon!

     lastly, the BIGGEST shoutout to @SarcasticLiia for the idea of making cara's painted nails a grounding technique! i hadn't even thought of that, but i absolutely love it and had to incorporate it into the story!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

˒⠀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!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

˒⠀𝑪𝑶𝑷𝒀𝑹𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻. . . ▬⠀⤸

❝ All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be
reproduced, distributed, or transmitted
in any form or by any means, including
photocopying, recording, or other
electronic or mechanical methods,
without prior permission of the author,
except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in critical reviews and
other noncommercial uses permitted
by copyright law. ❞