ABLOCATE ▇▇▇▇ VOLUME TWO
━━ ❛ 𝒗𝒖𝒍𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 ❜

chapter no. 051!

❪ 𝚃𝚆 ⠀ : ⠀𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 𝙾𝙵 𝚂𝚄𝙸𝙲𝙸𝙳𝙴/
𝚂𝚄𝙸𝙲𝙸𝙳𝙰𝙻   𝙸𝙳𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽,    𝚂𝙴𝚇𝚄𝙰𝙻
𝙰𝚂𝚂𝙰𝚄𝙻𝚃, 𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙴,    & 𝚂𝙴𝙻𝙵-𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙼. ❫

❝ WORTH MORE. ❞
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﹙ FEBRUARY 3RD, 2018 ﹚

     CARDBOARD BOXES AND SUITCASES LITTERED THE REFURBISHED APARTMENT. Both of these were adorned by packing peanuts and pieces of newspaper littering all the floors. It was all evidence that a new tenant had just moved in and was beginning to unpack.

     That much was obvious with the only pieces of furniture being an L-shaped tan couch in the living room and a king-sized bed in one out of the two bedrooms covered in plastic tarp. Not to mention the walls were bare and painted a clean stark white. More furniture would be arriving in the next few days, thankfully.

     "All right, Ms. Wyatt," Travis called, clearing his throat. The rest of the crew was already out and making their way downstairs. It was nearing six o'clock. "That appears to be everythin'. Is there anythin' else you need help with?"

     Peeking her head out from behind one of the matte black cabinets in the kitchen, the short-haired woman gave him a toothy smile. She was in the midst of putting away her collection of coffee mugs. "No, I'm all good! Thank you for the help, Travis. Let everyone else know I said thank you, too."

     Travis tilted the tip of his hat in her direction. "Will do, ma'am. Take care now and call if you need our services again," he tucked his clipboard under his arm.

      The two exchanged polite waves before the door shut.

     Placing one last cup on the shelf, the blonde took a break to run over. On the front door, she switched all eight locks and deadbolted it twice. Since she was living on her own, there were several safety precautions she had to take. The numerous locks on the door were only a small part and they were to be changed monthly until her safety was permanently secured.

     An extremely expensive security system, but the best one on the market, according to Penelope Garcia, had been installed. Anytime a door or single window in the apartment was opened, an alert would sound out and a notification was sent to her phone. It was excessive, but the paranoia she lived with required it. Additionally, there was a doorbell camera on the outside of the apartment that was linked to her phone.

     Then, the apartment complex was located in a gated community and had security regularly doing rounds. Only people on a pre-approved list were allowed in. The apartment she was leasing and the car she drove had been registered under a fake identity, too. Tammy Wyatt was the chosen alias. There were more steps she was taking, but they'd become second nature at this point. The fact that she was doing them no longer crossed her mind.

     Turning around to embrace her new life, Cara Valentine was basked in a peaceful silence. This was the first time in a long while that she was truly and utterly alone. Physically, at least.

     The last year and eight months had been stacked full with nonstop doctor's appointments, physical therapy, voice therapy, cognitive behavioral and survivor trauma therapy, weekly sessions with nutritionists and dieticians, and getting on medications to help manage her mental health. There was always something else she needed to do to get better.

     It was tiring and painful having to deal with and confront what happened when she never wanted to. If it was up to her, the day Spencer Reid left the hospital at the end of July twenty-sixteen would have been the last time she ever acknowledged the abduction, the Founding Fathers, Owen Sánchez, Stephen Leone, her father, and the Red Scorpions. However, she knew that the healing she had to do needed to be done without overly depending on others while accepting what happened. She knew herself and how she was. If she didn't accept those two years locked away, it would come back to bite her in the ass. Acting emotionless only worked for so long.

     In a way, it was similar to the aftermath of when her father discovered Le raping her in his bedroom when she was sixteen. At the time, she refused to leave her childhood home. She was hellbent on facing her demons head-on and learning to live with what Le did to her. The strength she displayed back then wasn't exclusive to that time period. It still lived inside of her. It was just up to her to be brave enough to resurrect it.

     And she did, eventually.

     It took time. A lot of time.

     All of the blood, sweat, tears, nightmares, night terrors, panic attacks, anxiety attacks, manic and PTSD episodes, hospitalizations, therapy sessions, and doctor appointments were worth it, though. She was walking on the path to healing and moving on. Of course, she had bad days, but they were less frequent and she developed ways to cope. The coping mechanisms didn't permanently work or fix her issues, but they aided.

     And through it all, David Rossi was by her side every single day. The Italian man was there every step of the way, through the good, the bad, and the ugly. He knew more about her as a person and her time away than anyone else. Being there and becoming her primary support system, along with Aaron Hotchner, mattered more than his job. He could return to the F.B.I. whenever he pleased. Hence why he took a sabbatical up until four months ago.

     For the first year after being rescued, Cara resided in Canada under protective services with Rossi. She stayed in the hospital for three months until being transferred to a long-term care facility for the following nine months. There, that's when she regularly attended physical therapy, voice therapy, cognitive behavioral and survivor trauma therapy, weekly sessions with nutritionists and dieticians, and tried new medications until she found ones that worked best.

     During that time, she would speak with members of the BAU team intermittently. Whether that was via phone call, email, or video chat. Hotch was the only one she was comfortable with visiting and he made the time to see her at least once a month. Regardless of how much she cared for Spencer and everyone else, it became harder for her to see or talk to them after she began opening up in therapy. That was when she started talking about and tackling what she endured. It was also when she suffered from intense manic and PTSD episodes, and violent night terrors, and was hospitalized a few times for self-harm and suicidal tendencies.

     Things were not easy. The journey she embarked on was paralyzing and terrifying. Sometimes, she worried that she would never make it out to the other side and feel safe and sane again.

     The Founding Fathers took everything from her. They stole her life, her home in Quantico, the BAU team, her father, her autonomy, her body, her hearing, her mind, her sanity, her soul, her strength, her courage, her hope, her sense of safety, her freedom, and her mentality on life. They took everything, and nobody would ever truly understand what she was left with feeling. She was alone in her experiences and that petrified her for a while.

     Cara didn't have much before they abducted her, but when they decided to take a break from the torture and abandoned her, they left her with nothing. Not without Le promising they would reunite when the time was right. A fact she couldn't forget, no matter how much she tried. However, it did fade from her paranoia occasionally.

     After the first year in Canada, she fully regained her voice, all of her bones and wounds had healed and the bruises were gone. She was still attending physical therapy, but the appointments were much less frequent. Additionally, right before she left, she was able to receive a cochlear implant for her right ear. The implant not only improved her overall hearing but also boosted her speech understanding and improved her directional hearing, which helped greatly. So far, she hadn't had any issues with it.

     For the last eight months back in the U.S. and in Quantico, Cara was living with Rossi in his mansion. Since then and to that day, on a weekly basis, she attended therapy with a woman her therapists in Canada referred her to. For the first six months, she went to physical therapy twice a week but dropped down to once every two weeks since her strength increased and she no longer required consistent training.

     The medications she was on were balanced out to a combination that proved most effective and her nutritionist had her on a healthy diet. For a little bit now, she was feeling better than she ever had in her entire life. Rossi had gone back to work in late October and she was re-learning how to live. Things were going well.

     On top of that, she'd been seeing the team in person.

     When she eventually moved to Quantico with Rossi, the first people she saw were Hotch and his son Jack. Almost immediately, Jack had taken a liking to her, which resulted in her seeing him and Hotch consistently. A month into her return, she visited Blake, Morgan, and Savannah. A few weeks later, she reunited with Spencer, JJ, and Penelope separately. Lastly, she saw Tara at Christmas.

     Out of all the reunions, she got the most joy from seeing Spencer. It had been an emotional one, but worth every day that they didn't see or talk to each other.

     Throughout the last year and eight months, Spencer had seen her in person for all of July in twenty-sixteen and sporadically afterward. There was no consistency, but he wrote her letters every day. Due to her hands and fingers still recovering at the time, it was hard for her to write, so she would send him emails in response. The emails weren't daily or weekly, but they were often enough that they were both more than satisfied.

     There were times when they wouldn't speak for weeks on end. That was due to Cara's unstable condition, and Spencer was aware of that. He knew it was due to the intense recovery process she was undergoing. It hurt sometimes, but her health and well-being were far more important than anything else. Spencer still sent the letters, though.

     It wasn't until the fall of twenty-seventeen that communication between them picked back up and became a consistent element of Cara's everyday life. Letters and emails turned into text messages and phone calls, then went to video calls and meeting in person a few times. It was slow and gradual, but worth it.

     All the pain and trauma she endured was worth it to get to where she was now. She saw and understood that.

     Blinking, Cara inhaled deeply before exhaling slowly. No more thinking back or reflecting tonight. This was her chance to take more steps forward. The space surrounding her was a blank canvas where she could make it look however she wanted it to. She had complete control and freedom. This was a safe space and nobody was going to take that away from her. Not anymore.

     "Books..." Her line of sight settled on the cardboard box closest to her. It was labeled 'BOOKS, DON'T TOUCH :)' in green marker.

     Finally, she had all of her books recovered from the Pink Dolphin and her old apartment. While she was in recovery, she collected an assortment of new books as well. Now that she was out of Rossi's house, she needed a new home for them.

     Recently, she'd decided that the extra room was going to be turned into a mini library. It was largely inspired by Spencer's apartment and the many bookshelves he had everywhere. She wanted a small corner where she was safely tucked away from the world and surrounded by stories entirely separate from herself. That spare room was going to be exactly that.

     "Brew coffee and move books..." Cara whispered, nodding at the decision she'd come to. "Need fuel ready for when Spen gets here."

     In preparation for moving, the only thing she wanted to get was a large coffee machine that made any and everything she could ever want. It was the same one that Marcello used at Petit Café. Rossi had gifted it to her a couple of days ago as an early birthday gift and she'd left it in its packaging. Her birthday was coming up on the twenty-seventh, and last year she'd made Rossi promise not to tell anyone about her birthday. So far, he managed to keep that promise.

     Ever since she was seven, she stopped celebrating all holidays and her birthday. Rejoicing with others one day a year for something so small and meaningless seemed counterproductive to the Red Scorpions. Despite not being a member for nearly five years, there were still a few rules and regulations that were ingrained in her. That happened to be one of them that no matter how hard she tried, she hadn't been able to shake.

     The next twenty minutes and thirty-four seconds were spent locating the coffee machine and assembling it. Once that was done and a pot was brewing, she retrieved the only sources of food that she brought with her. Well, the closest things to food that she had— cane sugar and creamer. The plan was to order takeout that night and then go grocery shopping with Penelope and JJ tomorrow.

     "Now, move books," she spoke out loud, pivoting. Although Spencer was coming over to help move things and unpack soon, she still wanted to get a head start on the spare room. With narrowed eyes, she surveyed the place until she found a package that had her neatly printed 'BOOKS, DON'T TOUCH :)' message on it. The rest were going to take a while to find.

     Well, she had to start somewhere.

────

     ONE HOUR HAD THE POWER TO CHANGE A LOT OF THINGS. If Cara thought the congested state of the apartment was chaotic before, she was sorely mistaken. Instead of simply searching for boxes that contained books, she decided to organize all of them into distinct piles based on what was inside. So far, the categories included toiletries, cleaning supplies, clothes, kitchen supplies, decor, bedding, and literature.

     And this process wasn't going well because the only boxes marked were the ones containing books. Like an idiot, she didn't label the rest. So, she'd been opening everything and moving them based on what group they fit in. But at one point, she realized she was in over her head and grew annoyed for deviating from the original plan.

     Now, she was forcing herself to focus on the original goal before she became too overwhelmed.

     "And as the skies turn gloomy, night winds whisper to me. I'm lonesome as I can be," Cara sang quietly, placing a box down. The second bedroom was completely empty aside from a few boxes and had no windows. It was going to be the perfect hiding spot after she installed bookshelves going around the entire place and set up her record player.

     In the distance, a phone suddenly began blaring and the blonde flinched. A year and eight months had passed by, but loud noises still startled her. Major progress had been made, but that was one of those things that hadn't budged. Thankfully, her reactions had improved.

     As quickly as she could, Cara dashed out of the spare room. In the hallway, she accidentally tripped over a small bin and almost yelped. "Goddammit," she muttered, catching herself in time before falling over. When she reached the kitchen, she checked the caller's I.D. to see that it was the main office. "Hello?" she breathed, running a hand through her hair.

     "Ms. Wyatt, a Spencer Reid is here. I have him in our system as a pre-approved guest, but I wanted to double-check with you."

     Cara recognized the voice as belonging to Claudette Liles— the onsite property manager. A smile pulled at her lips. "Yes, it's good. He's good. Thank you for checking, Mrs. Liles."

     "Of course. I'll let him in. He should be arriving shortly."

     "Thank you." At that, she ended the call and made her way over to the front door. Unlocking all eight locks and undoing the two deadbolts, she resumed moving the green-labeled boxes. Well, the ones she could find amongst the dozens left unsorted.

     By the time there was a knock at the door, a total of eleven boxes had been transferred. Thankfully, the space they left behind provided more walking room that didn't involve the risk of tripping. If Cara misstepped again, she'd curse at more inanimate objects than she'd like.

     "Come in!" Cara shouted, wiping the sweat from her forehead. Now, she was regretting letting Travis leave. He and his men could have been beneficial to keep around longer.

     The entrance to the apartment opened and she peeked over her shoulder from where she stood in the kitchen. With one hand on her hip, the other held a water bottle to her lips. She lowered it, though, when she saw the brown-haired doctor entering with grocery bags in his hands. A particular warmth filled her chest and she looked away for a moment.

     Spencer went to shut the door behind himself and paused at the sight of eight different locks and two deadbolts. Oh. Rossi wasn't kidding when he stated that he was going to need eight different sets of keys to get into Cara's place.

     Once he sealed it up, the genius did a one-eighty. "Hey," he breathed, feeling out of breath the second his eyes landed on her. She looked beautiful. The chaos around him didn't matter, all he cared about was her.

     Screwing the cap back on the water bottle, Cara placed it on the island and turned around. "Hi," she greeted, resisting the urge to rub her wrist due to nerves.

     It didn't make sense to her why she was so nervous to see Spencer. She saw him not two weeks ago in person and last night on a video call. Perhaps it was because this was the first time they'd been completely alone together. No longer was Rossi, a licensed doctor, or nurse nearby. It was just them.

     "Did security give you any trouble after calling me?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

     Spencer shook his head. "Not at all. They were surprisingly friendly," he answered, slipping off his shoes. "Do you mind if I put these in there?" Lifting the plastic grocery bags up, he jutted his chin in her direction.

     Cara nodded, motioning him to come over. "What'd you bring?"

     "Nothing too exciting," he replied, watching where he stepped. As the distance between them shrunk, he noticed the corners of her lips inching upward. "I can see you starting to smile..."

     Cara Valentine used to never smile. Most of the BAU team, minus Spencer, had never seen her fully smile in all the years they'd known her up until last Christmas.

     In December, Morgan and Savannah hosted another Christmas Eve dinner party. Unlike the one in twenty-thirteen, though, this didn't involve Cara being forced to wear a dress and uncomfortable heels and did not extend to anyone outside of the team and their family members. The celebration had been kept to a relatively small group of people. That had been due to everyone wanting to ensure that Cara felt safe and comfortable. The only new people Cara encountered were Morgan's son, Hank, Blake's husband, James, JJ and Will's sons, and the newest members of the team— Luke Alvez and Matt Simmons, along with Matt's wife and their four children.

     It'd gone well, all things considered.

     For most of the party, though, Cara floated between three mediums. One— being stuck by either Rossi or Hotch's side. Two— simultaneously spending time with the children and Spencer. Three— keeping to herself and not talking to anyone. It was the third that she spent the majority of the time doing.

     However, toward the end of the night, Jack Hotchner managed to convince her to dance with him. It'd taken a lot of pleading and him weaponizing the classic puppy dog eyes before he got Cara to agree. And while they danced, the pair tripped over each other's feet several times, laughing as they went. It was at that point that everyone saw her smile.

     And since then, she'd been smiling more frequently.

     With how well she'd been doing physically, mentally, and emotionally, she was feeling better than she had in her entire life. Things were going quite well. Therefore, she had a lot to smile about and be grateful for. Cara no longer tried so hard to hide how she was feeling if she could help it.

     "I'm smiling because your version of exciting is drastically different than mine," Cara argued, unable to stop.

     "That's because you find anything exciting nowadays," Spencer pointed out, moving past the woman and onto the other side of the kitchen island.

     Rolling her eyes, she spun on her heel and made her way over. "Mmm, not anything. Just anything that has to do with you," she corrected him, reaching for a bag.

     Flushing pink, Spencer couldn't help but mirror her smile. The compliment meant more than she could possibly know. "Thanks," he muttered, unsure if she heard him. "Is your coffee maker set up? The one Rossi got?"

     "Mm-hmm. It's the second thing I did after putting up all of my coffee cups. A pot just finished brewing."

     "Oh, perfect!"

     Without thinking and almost robotically, Spencer located the cabinets holding the mugs and grabbed two. He positioned them in front of the coffee machine and reached for the pot. Off to the side was cane sugar and creamer that had yet to be put up. He had an inkling that those were the only things remotely close to food in the apartment.

     "Wait, why did you buy five cans of olives, a jar of pickles, hot sauce, and six packs of Sour Airheads?" Cara suddenly asked, eyebrows knitting together as she stared down at the contents of the grocery bag. Yes, she'd only opened one so far, but she was already puzzled.

     Spencer blinked as if it were obvious. "You like them," he shrugged, filling up one of the empty cups.

     Out of the corner of her eye, the blonde could see him beginning to fix her coffee just the way she liked it. Another smile almost drew at her lips, but she stopped it when a thought crossed her mind. "So..." she peered up through her eyelashes, "you bought all of this just because I like them?"

     "Yeah," he stated, agreeing with her.

     Cara's jaw slackened and her face heated up. "What— do you think of me while you're at the grocery store?"

     "Yeah, why wouldn't I?" Spencer questioned, perplexed as to why she was so taken aback at this. It seemed natural and evident to him why he would be thinking about her at the grocery store. He cared about her and was already on his way over to help her unpack. The apartment was new and he knew she hadn't had time yet to buy any food. Creamer and cane sugar definitely didn't count. Why not bring her some of her favorite snacks?

     Struggling to conjure up a response, Cara simply shut her mouth. Her cheeks were bright red and her stomach was churning at the incredibly thoughtful gesture. Ducking her head, she settled on pulling everything out of the bags.

     To the right were three other grocery bags. One of them contained paper towels, one held paper plates and utensils, and another had two boxes of frozen pizza.

     After Cara retrieved everything, she felt a presence beside her.

     "Here you go!"

     A cup of coffee was set on the kitchen island and she immediately went for it. The scorching hot temperature of the drink didn't bother her and she gulped it down regardless. Fresh coffee was worth burning her tongue for.

     "Thank you," Cara said, feeling the brown-haired man place a hand on the small of her back. Part of her wanted to tense, but she knew better. This was Spencer. She was safe. "Not only for the coffee but also the food. You didn't—"

     "I know," Spencer cut her off, giving a gentle smile.

     For a moment, the world came to a standstill, allowing the pair to stare at the other. No longer was there a screen separating them. Their eyes were locked, each of them searching for the feelings they weren't quite ready to express but hoping the other felt.

     "How are you?" Spencer's voice was soft and low, almost a whisper. Part of him didn't want ever to stop staring at her, but the latter was well aware that he would feel more than inclined to do something stupid and potentially make Cara incredibly uncomfortable. Physical touch was still something she was acclimating to. Also, he didn't know if they were even remotely on the same page when it came to how they felt about one another.

     Blinking, Cara cleared her throat for a second time. If he hadn't broken the silence, she's fairly certain she would have kept staring at him until the end of time.

     Cara placed her coffee to the side and slid the groceries away. Then, she turned and placed the palms of her hands on the surface of the island. She jumped and slid her body backward, sitting on top.

     "I uh," she started, looking down and to the right at the doctor. "I'm all right. Tired from moving so much stuff, but relieved to be in a place of my own. Other than that, not much has changed since we spoke last night."

     "Good." Spencer nodded, repositioning his body to lean his left side against the counter. There were only a few inches between them. "I was worried that today might've been too much, but I'm glad it went well."

     Cara let out a breath. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little anxious earlier, but it's fine. I got everything transported and moved in. That's all that matters."

     As she was talking, Spencer subconsciously reached for her hand and began to intertwine their fingers. Once he realized what he was doing, he froze in his tracks. He knew hand-holding and hugging was more than okay with her now, but he still got apprehensive.

     Cara picked up on the movement and looked to see their hands loosely wrapped around each other's. Slowly, she spread his fingers apart and overlapped them with hers. They both relaxed and she squeezed his hand, soaking in the feeling of his touch.

     In response, he returned the gesture and she didn't ignore it like she used to years ago. Instead, she welcomed it and was no longer discomfited with how her stomach twisted. The two of them felt right holding the other in this way.

     All was silent until Spencer spoke quietly. "I missed you." The corners of his lips unconsciously tugged upright when he felt her grip on him tighten.

     "I missed you, too." Her voice was small and delicate. "Even though I saw you on the phone yesterday."

     Chuckling, he met the blonde's sincere stare. "That's true," he murmured, running his thumb along the side of Cara's hand. Her shoulders dropped an inch.

     Another peaceful and welcomed stillness washed over the apartment. This time, Spencer's full and undivided attention was locked on Cara while she was focused on their interlaced fingers.

     When he looked at her, the first thing he noticed was the obvious— her hair. From the day the F.B.I. and Vancouver PD arrested her in October of twenty-thirteen, everyone associated the name Cara Valentine with the striking long platinum blonde, almost white, hair she wore perfectly. Nobody recognized her any other way.

     Then, when she was taken, the platinum grew out and exposed her natural brunette roots. By the time she was found, her hair had grown to her hips and was half-platinum/half-brunette. That was how her hair stayed until she cut all the blonde off, leaving her with only brunette locks that rested below her ribcage.

     It wasn't until Cara returned to Quantico that she made the decision to go back to platinum. At the same time, she decided to chop off over a foot of hair. Now, the strands fell to right above her shoulders. It was short. Shorter than Spencer and everyone else had ever seen it, but he liked it. The new look was beautiful on her.

     Without realizing it, the brown-haired man had inched closer. Cara did, though. She easily caught the movement, yet kept her mouth shut. It was evident to her that he wasn't aware of this subconscious action and it didn't matter to her. She didn't mind the diminishing distance between them.

     Out of the corner of her eye, Cara could see his hair gradually falling in front of his eyes as he moved. Since she last saw him in person, it seemed like it'd only gotten longer. Those curls of his were growing outward rather than downwards. He no longer bothered to gel back or use products to style his hair. Instead, he left it how it was in its natural, fluffy state. The sight of it made her smile; she much preferred it that way. He was also sporting facial hair, which he didn't used to.

     Inhaling deeply, she met his unwavering stare. "I never mentioned it before, but I like the natural curls and facial hair you have going on," she murmured, reaching over and tucking brown strands behind his ears.

     Blinking, Spencer's face burned. "Thanks. With work and my mom, I haven't taken the time to get it cut," he muttered, feeling her hand rest against his cheek.

     The topic of Diana Reid and her current state of health had been discussed in the past. Cara was well aware of what was going on and knew to only acknowledge the subject if Spencer brought it up himself. Even then, though, she could tell when the right time to talk about it was and that wasn't right now. With the way he was staring at her and how close they were, she knew the last thing he wanted was to talk about his mother. So, she didn't comment on it and let it go.

     "It's a good look for you," Cara shrugged, absentmindedly running her thumb over his skin while her eyes scanned the subtle changes in his appearance. He looked older than the last time she saw him in person, too. Perhaps it was the hair or clothes, she wasn't sure, but she liked it.

     "Thanks," he breathed again, his thoughts muddling together as he soaked in the feeling of her skin against his. He'd missed her so much, and every minute they spent together like this only strengthened his longing and feelings for her.

     After a moment, she removed her hand from his face in an attempt to keep her thoughts from wandering too far. That, and to avoid doing something premature that held the potential of embarrassing herself and making things awkward. "It's really good to see your pretty face in person instead of on a screen," she said softly.

     Meeting her deep-blue eyes, Spencer felt his stomach churn. "It's really good to see yours, too." This time it was he who brought his hand up. He cupped her cheek and she immediately leaned into his touch. "During those two years..." he paused, apprehensive with what he wanted to say next. "I wasn't sure if I would ever see you again."

     Those ten words hit her like a dump truck, and tears instantly blurred Cara's vision. Those two years and what happened within them had only been brought up between the pair a handful of times. It wasn't something they verbally acknowledged often. Similar to how Diana was a sore spot for Spencer, that time was a sore spot for Cara.

     The mood in the apartment shifted.

     "Yeah, me too," the blonde choked out, swallowing harshly. Yes, she was much more familiar with crying than she wished she was nowadays, but that didn't mean she liked it. "I-I know I've never said this before, I-I probably should have, but I'm sorry for not telling you."

     Creases of confusion spread across his forehead. "Not telling me what?" he asked, readjusting so he was standing in between her knees rather than leaning on the counter beside her. Their hands were still interlaced.

     "That the Founding Fathers had followed me here. To Quantico," she clarified quietly. "I should have told you, but I didn't and I'm sorry. I-I didn't want you to get hurt because of me." Cara's voice cracked and she cleared her throat, averting her line of sight to the floor.

     Her confession struck a chord inside Spencer, and his heart dropped. After all these years, she was still blaming herself. "Hey, Cara, look at me," he dipped his head, attempting to catch her eyes. "Please, look at me."

     At his pleading tone, Cara peered up. Everything was a blur and she could barely make out the outline of Spencer's figure.

     "Listen, I know why you didn't explicitly tell me. I'm not upset. I get it. I do. I swear to God I do," he stressed, releasing her hand and cradling her face. He needed her to believe him on this. "You did your best to warn me under the circumstances with Operation Azrael being active. I also know that you wanted to protect me and the team. You did your best, Cara. All right?" Spencer stared at her desperately, hoping that he was getting through to her. It took a second, but she nodded in understanding.

     "You are alive and sitting in front of me. Right now. We're talking; we're together. That's worth more than anything else."

     A tear managed to break free, but Spencer brushed it away before it landed on her cheek. He gave her a small, reassuring smile. It was his silent way of telling her that if she needed to cry she could. He wasn't leaving her.

     If she said anything right now, Cara was fairly certain it would be nothing but a blubbering mess or she wouldn't even have a chance to speak before breaking down. Neither of which she wanted to do. So, in response, she curled her fingers around the fabric of Spencer's sweater and tugged him toward her.

     No words needed to be exchanged for the doctor to know that the blonde wanted him to get closer. Without a second thought, he moved until there was little to no space between them.

     Once they were more than close enough, Cara wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her head into the crook of his neck. Right away, Spencer returned the embrace and ran a hand down her back. Both of them shut their eyes.

      Exhaling slowly through her lips, Cara melted into his arms. She allowed herself to feel and accept how fast her heart was beating against the bare bones of her ribcage and how anxious she still was. She allowed herself to feel and accept every little thing flying through her brain and every emotion she felt. She allowed herself to be present in the moment and let go of everything else. And she allowed herself to be grateful and believe everything Spencer told her.

     She did her best.

     A total of fifty-one seconds passed before someone spoke.

     "I-I don't know when you were planning on letting go," Cara said, her words shaky and muffled against his chest, "but don't."

     Holding onto her a little tighter, Spencer's lips quirked up. "I won't. I promise," he chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head. "Just tell me when to."

     Almost smiling against the fabric of his sweater, she let out a soft laugh. A few tears fell, but she ignored them. "Not for at least one minute and twenty-three seconds," she stated, referring to the longest amount of time they'd hugged previously.

     Spencer couldn't help but grin. "Deal."

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 fifty-first chapter!

     (new author's note banner for the new era + cara's haircut!)

     we're entering our #spararedemption &&& cara feels bits and pieces of happiness era!!

     i am so sorry for not updating sooner! i recently published a new book and work has been really intense the past month. (being an adult and working in a very emotionally heavy field is draining, but rewarding. i just don't have it in me to write some days.) i am also facing some health issues that have been affecting my everyday life and i've been having to go to see doctors regularly. i promise i'm going to be all right! i'm just having to spend more time taking care of myself and my health before anything else.

     hopefully, the next chapter will be out soon! it's not a particularly long one. it's more of a breather and filler chapter before things kick off in chapter 53.

     (if anyone watched quantico— the show that cara's faceclaim is from— i hope you caught the "ms. wyatt" bit at the beginning. johanna braddy played shelby wyatt on quantico and that's how i discovered her. also, the name tammy for her alias "tammy wyatt" comes from the name of the character she portrayed on criminal minds in season 7 episode 2. johanna played a character named tammy bradstone! of course, that isn't necessarily canon to this story and in no way affects it, but i just wanted to add those lil easter eggs. hehehe.)

     (i have way too much time on my hands if i'm putting THAT^ much thought and effort into cara's alias. oh, my god 😭)

     ps... i decided to add memes to the end of each chapter until the end of the book, enjoy!!

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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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