ABLOCATE ▇▇▇▇ VOLUME TWO
━━ ❛ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑 ❜

chapter no. 054!

❪ 𝙰/𝙽⠀:⠀𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙸𝚂 𝙾𝚅𝙴𝚁 𝟸𝟼𝙺
𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳𝚂!          𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙱 𝙰 𝚂𝙽𝙰𝙲𝙺 & 𝙴𝙽𝙹𝙾𝚈. ❫

❪ 𝚃𝚆 ⠀ : ⠀ 𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙷𝙸𝙲 𝚅𝙸𝙾𝙻𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴,
𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 𝙾𝙵 𝙿𝙷𝚈𝚂𝙸𝙲𝙰𝙻 ⠀⠀&
𝙿𝚂𝚈𝙲𝙷𝙾𝙻𝙾𝙶𝙸𝙲𝙰𝙻⠀⠀𝚃𝙾𝚁𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙴,
𝙰𝚂𝚂𝙰𝚄𝙻𝚃,    𝚂𝙴𝚇𝚄𝙰𝙻 𝙰𝚂𝚂𝙰𝚄𝙻𝚃,
𝙼𝚄𝚁𝙳𝙴𝚁,⠀⠀⠀𝚂𝚄𝙱𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝚄𝚂𝙴,
𝙶𝚁𝙾𝙾𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙶 ⠀ ⠀ 𝙰𝙽𝙳 ⠀ ⠀𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙴. ❫

❝ I WON'T LIE TO YOU. ❞
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﹙ FEBRUARY 24TH, 2018 ﹚

     THE SOUND OF INSISTENT KNOCKING ECHOED THROUGHOUT THE APARTMENT, AND CARA'S DEEP BLUE EYES FLUTTERED OPEN. Blinking slowly, the world faded from muddled pixels to crystal-clear glass, and she sat up groggily. Running a hand through her knotted hair, she yawned. She glanced to the right at the red LED lights that reflected the time and groaned.

     Knock knock.

     Goosebumps traveled across her body, and she held her breath. No one was supposed to be coming over this morning. Not at this time. Nothing but panic raced through her veins, and she flinched as there was another knock. Now, she was awake.

     Pushing the covers to the side, she stood and opened the drawer on her bedside table. Her gaze landed on the large kitchen knife she'd stored there, and she grabbed it. Exiting her room, she tip-toed toward the apartment door.

     Knock knock knock.

     Cara leaned forward and cautiously peered through the peephole to see that it was none other than Spencer Reid standing outside. A rush of relief flooded her nervous system, and she reclined. Unlocking all eight locks and sliding off the two deadbolts, she threw the door open, her right hand on the handle and the left gripping the blade.

     "It is literally three-thirty-two in the goddamn morning," she deadpanned, blinded by the fluorescent lights in the hallway. Acting on instinct, she squinted and raised her arm to shield herself from the brightness.

     "You weren't answering your phone!" Spencer defended, then noticed the weapon in her hand. "Why do you have a knife?!"

     "'Cause I was unaware that I was having a visitor this early and who the hell shows up at this time?! Nobody with good intentions, that's who," Cara yawned, not a fan of the yellow rays streaming down. "Not to mention, you could have been, oh, I don't know... Le?!" she retorted, stepping to the side and motioning with the knife for the doctor to get inside.

     Spencer eyed the weapon suspiciously as he walked in. "I-I don't think Le is the type of scumbag that knocks on someone's apartment door," he said, slipping off his shoes and placing his satchel down.

     "He's not," the blonde grumbled, rubbing her eyes with her free hand after locking back up. "I thought Dave gave you a copy of the keys for the apartment. You could have just let yourself in."

     "No, I couldn't have. You had it deadbolted as you should. Also, Rossi said he'd give them to me today at the BAU. Remember, you're coming with me?" He moved across the living room and reached for a lamp.

     Waving the knife haphazardly, Cara shook her head. "Nuh-uh. Don't turn that shit on. It's too early," she ordered sleepily.

     Spencer dropped his hand and gave her a look. "It is not that early," he argued, making his way over to her.

     "Spencer Reid, not even the goddamn birds are awake yet! I'm going back to sleep," she stated firmly, heading toward her bedroom. "You can watch TV, read, make coffee, join me, whatever. I don't care. I'm tired."

     The words "join me" caught his attention, and he paused. "J-Join you?" Spencer stuttered, eyebrows forming a jagged line.

     "Mm-hmm. I know for a fact that you and your insomniac ass didn't get more than three hours of sleep. We don't have to be at the BAU until... until... fuck. I don't know when. I know it is not this early, and I'm done conversing. Goodnight."

     Once she'd disappeared from view, he let out a quiet breath. Should he? Well, she did tell him he could.

     He shouldn't hesitate so much. Spencer knew that. He'd come to loathe that hesitation because the moment she went missing, he regretted every chance he didn't take to be with her. He didn't want to be in that position again.

     Just start walking.

     Cara had put the knife away and slipped back under the covers when a set of footsteps arrived. Plopping down, she tilted her head to see Spencer standing awkwardly at the foot of the bed.

     "You look like a confused celery stick that's just been broken off from its bunch," she mumbled sleepily, turning onto her side while her drowsy gaze remained on him.

     "I uh, do you want me to sleep under or on the covers?" Spencer asked, rocking on the backs of his feet.

     Cara managed to shrug, bringing the blankets closer to her. "Whatever you're more comfortable with," she yawned again, eyes fluttering shut, "I'm fine with either. I trust you."

     I trust you.

     Spencer's skin flushed pink and his heart swelled. That sentiment meant more to him than she would know. After everything she endured, she chose to continue trusting him.

     Biting the inside of his cheek, he wandered to the right side of the bed and peeled back the covers. He slowly lay next to her. Their shoulders brushed in the darkness, and he gulped. His heart was racing at full speed, and he was nervous. Extremely nervous.

     This was a big step forward in their relationship. For him, it was, at least.

     There had been a change in their friendship and dynamic a while ago. He was uncertain of exactly when, but it'd happened. Something changed and there was weight behind every physical interaction they had now.

     Cara shifted to the left side of her body and buried her head into the numerous pillows. A soft breath left her, and she allowed sleep to overtake her.

     While sleep came easy to the blonde, it did not for the man inches over.

     Silence had drowned every inch of the apartment, and Spencer was staring up at the ceiling with his eyes wide open. Every gear in his brain worked overtime as he was tempted to look over and stare at her. After minutes of resisting, he caved and turned to the right. Cara's face was pressed into a white pillow, and short pieces of hair were sprawled out against the fabric. He could see the outline of her body, every wrinkle in the blankets, and twitch in her muscles. Delicate and even breaths could be heard, and his lips curled upward.

     Although he couldn't see her face, he knew she was sleeping peacefully. And that gave him a great sense of peace and comfort.

     Time moved by steadily, and as it did, Spencer took off his tie and sweater vest, leaving him in a navy blue button-down and his pants. The more he'd relaxed, the more he'd grown uncomfortable in the multiple layers of clothes he'd worn. Once he'd found a good spot and his eyes began to close, a voice pulled him away from the abyss of rest.

     "Spen?"

     His eyes re-opened, and he hummed at seeing that Cara had woken up.

     "Can we cuddle? You're warm."

     The question was so quiet and simple yet incredibly endearing coming from her, and Spencer chuckled. "Yes. You don't have to ask," he replied, soon feeling her cheek rest against his rising chest and arms wrap around his torso.

     "I like this better," Cara murmured, falling back asleep quickly.

     Spencer couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face. "Me too."

────

     IT'D BEEN NINE IN THE MORNING WHEN CARA VALENTINE WOKE UP FOR THE THIRD TIME. At first, she was alarmed when she found herself spooning a brown-haired man from behind until she realized it was Spencer. A wave of confusion hit her, though, when she failed to remember how Spencer was let in. It took a second before she remembered the ridiculousness that'd ensued, and she relaxed.

    Then, it finally dawned on her that they were cuddling, and she froze. She'd completely forgotten that she asked him to. Yes, she was more than comfortable holding hands, hugs, kisses to the top of the head, and subtle touches, but this was a little different. Every inch of their bodies was pressed together; if she put her ear to his back, she could hear his heartbeat.

     Her right arm was wrapped around his waist and their hands were interlaced. Meanwhile, her left arm was positioned in the sliver between their bodies. Eventually, after she settled down, she adjusted her position and moved her arm so she could run her fingers through his hair.

     Cara stayed in bed for ten minutes and twenty-one seconds, playing with Spencer's curls and not thinking about anything in particular. She was content— it felt right to hold and be with him in this way, and she didn't want it to end just yet. She knew she had to get ready for the day, though. So, she begrudgingly untangled herself from Spencer and went to the bathroom, locking the door.

     None the wiser, Spencer continued to sleep soundlessly.

     Cara spent the next forty-four minutes and eight seconds showering, brushing her teeth, blow-drying her hair, and getting dressed. It'd been a tad intimidating tip-toeing around her room and grabbing clothes while Spencer slept. Every part of her prayed that the doctor didn't wake up and luckily, he didn't. That was an interaction she didn't favor having.

     Now, she was finishing her skincare and singing a Patsy Cline song quietly. "Anytime you're thinkin' 'bout me, that's the time I'll be thinkin' of you. So, anytime you say you want me back again, that's the time I'll come on home to you," she sang, swaying side to side.

     "Anytime you feel down-hearted, that will prove your love for me is true. Anytime you're thinkin' 'bout me, that's the time I'll be thinkin' of you. So, anytime you say you want me back again, that's the time I'll come on home to you."

     Unexpectedly, she was interrupted by a wobbly voice.

     "C-Cara?"

     Cara opened the bathroom door and peeped her head around the doorframe. Her eyes landed on a panicked Spencer Reid and her eyebrows drew in. "What's wrong?" she asked, reaching for the towel on the counter. Briefly moving out of sight, she dried off her hands.

     "Nothing," he breathed, falling back on the bed in relief. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed. This was real. She was there. Nothing about his nightmare was true.

     A figure flopped next to him, causing the mattress to dip. Blinking, he met a set of deep ocean-blue eyes and was reminded of how they still reminded him of the Challenger Deep— the absolute deepest point of any ocean. To this day, they appear almost dreamlike. It was as if the shade of blue was too beautiful to be real. An involuntary smile drew at his lips.

     "You're lucky I'm fond of your pretty face, or else I'd call you out on your shit before you could even attempt to lie to me," Cara stated, staring down at the genius.

     Spencer's jaw dropped after he snapped back to life and processed the statement. "I did not lie to you," he defended, reaching toward her.

     However, before he could touch her, the short-haired woman slid under the covers and turned her back to him. Raising a hand in the air, she wiggled her fingers, silently indicating that she wanted to hold his hand. A smile crept onto Spencer's face, and he interlocked their fingers. Lightly tugging him nearer, she brought their hands over her shoulder and held them to her chest.

     Adjusting his position, Spencer aligned his body perfectly with hers. Without thinking, he pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. Once he realized what he had done, he froze in his tracks.

     "I-I'm so sorry. I don't know why I did that," he stammered, feeling his face heat up. He was such an idiot.

     "It's okay," Cara reassured him, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. "I like it."

     Eyebrows shooting up, the doctor was a bit taken aback by her forwardness. "A-Are you sure?"

     Humming a yes, she melted into his embrace and accepted the way her stomach twisted. The days of her denying her emotions and stopping herself from showing how she felt were over. If she could spend the rest of her days like this, she would. "I'm... really glad you're here," she whispered.

     This was a side of Cara he'd only met in brief flashes— the soft, emotional, and vulnerable side where she lowered down those sky-high walls and let someone in. She reciprocated acts of affection and initiated them, which was out of character for her in the past. Now, it was a little more common. He liked this part of her equally as much as he liked all of her other facets.

     "Me too," Spencer muttered, inhaling deeply. "Thank you for letting me be here."

     "Mm-hmm. By the way, Dave texted me. Rossi, I mean," she corrected herself, aware that most of her friends and old teammates didn't refer to the Italian man by his first name. "We're still expected to be at the BAU by noon."

     Spencer nodded into her shoulder. "I... I wish we could stay like this all day." It was beginning to set in how close they were and had been the last few hours. This was something he'd dream about for longer than he'd admit.

     "Me too," she murmured, welcoming how warm her face grew.

     A beat of silence passed.

     "You curse a lot when you're tired and half-awake," Spencer randomly commented, smiling when she squeezed his hand. He returned the gesture.

     "And I'll curse more if you show up that early again," she mumbled, gazing at their intertwined fingers until a thought came to mind. "Why were you here that early?" Cara rolled onto her backside, keeping their hands together as she stared up at him.

     Biting the inside of his cheek, Spencer took a minute to soak in how beautiful she looked underneath the covers with a genuine, curious expression on her face and her deep blue eyes staring brightly at him. It almost made him breathless. "I uh..." Before he continued, he impulsively, yet hesitantly, pressed his lips to her forehead. Lingering for a moment, he felt her squeeze his hand a second time and run her thumb up and down his skin.

     When he pulled away, he was pleasantly surprised to see her wearing a blissful smile. "Thank you," she whispered, feeling a little out of her element. This was the most intimate they'd ever been, but she didn't hate it. It felt right. "Now, answer the question."

     A soft chuckle escaped him, and he glanced away. "I had a nightmare last night..." he admitted quietly, "where you had been taken again." Immediately, the atmosphere shifted. Cara's smile fell and she tensed. "I-I woke up in a frenzy and sent you eleven texts, hoping you'd respond. I called you twice. I didn't pay attention to the time, and when you didn't answer, I panicked and drove here as fast as possible. I needed to see you... make sure you were safe."

     A film of tears glossed over her eyes and she inhaled sharply. She never forgot that the team had vicarious trauma from her disappearance and case. It made sense and was a fact that she was working on accepting. Her disappearance and captivity were nobody's fault but the Founding Fathers'. Everyone was just dragged into a sick game that they never signed up to play.

     "Well," she cleared her throat, "I'm right here. I'm safe."

     He nodded. "I know you are, and I'm grateful for that."

     "Then what's still bothering you?" Cara asked, taking note of his scrunched-up nose. Spencer tilted his head, confused. "I can tell when something is troubling you, Spen."

    Sighing, he lay beside her. Under the blankets, he searched for her hand as she switched to lying on the left side of her body, facing him. Their fingers reconnected, and Spencer pulled her closer.

     Once they were a few inches apart, he took another breath. "I won't lie to you, but I don't want to talk about it right now. Can we stay like this? At least until we have to leave?"

     Not missing a beat, Cara nodded. "Yes," she replied, trying to ignore the budding pit of anxiety in her chest. The trust she had in him was solid and bulletproof. If he didn't want to talk about it, he didn't have to. If she needed to know, he would tell her. Whatever was bothering him was none of her business unless he decided otherwise. "We can stay like this."

     And they did.

────

     IT WAS EXACTLY TWELVE O'CLOCK WHEN THE ELEVATOR DOORS CHIMED OPEN AND CARA'S BREATH HITCHED. For the first time in nearly four years, she was back at the BAU. It was surreal; she was a visitor. These walls hadn't been home to her in a long time.

     Prior to arriving, never once had the sensation of nervousness or hyper-awareness of what was happening cross her mind or body. Not when Spencer parked his car and not when they went through security. Not until those elevator doors dinged, and her feet remained planted.

     A double set of glass doors entered her line of sight and she felt like she lost the ability to breathe. All of a sudden, all the reasons why she shouldn't have agreed to come in for questioning came flooding back. It was as if her body chemistry had sent them an open invitation and left the door ajar. Her fight-flight-or-freeze instincts were being called to battle and she chose to freeze.

     If she left the building, the ever-growing panic in her abdomen would lessen, but then someone would find her and she'd have to do this again. If she stayed, the panic would become a vortex of dread and temporary self-loathing. Either option wasn't ideal.

     "Ara?" The sound of the good doctor's voice was enough to interrupt her chain of thoughts and she flinched. Dragging her eyes to meet his, she swallowed harshly. "We can leave right now," he offered, recognizing the fear she wore.

     "I uh... I told JJ I'd do this," the woman stammered, still unable to take a step forward.

     Holding an arm out, Spencer kept the doors from sliding shut. "She'd understand if you changed your mind. Everyone would," he said, lifting Cara's chin with his index finger.

    "I want this to be one and done," she whispered, resisting the urge to rub her wrist. His endearing gaze eased her nerves a bit. "After today, I don't want to talk about any of this again unless it's on my terms or absolutely necessary."

     Spencer nodded in understanding. "That's a good boundary to establish. Everyone will understand and respect it. I do."

     Cara took in the small smile on his lips and the slight tilt of the head. It warmed her heart. He was being genuine. "Thanks," she muttered, feeling his touch leave her chin. "You're going to be here the entire time, right?"

     Her question struck a chord inside Spencer, and his heart stopped. "Of course," he replied, releasing his hold on the elevator doors and stepping closer to her. "I'm not leaving the viewing area until you do. I promise." With both hands, he cradled her face.

     In response, she placed hers on top of his and gulped. "O-Okay." She believed him. During all the time they'd known each other, he had yet to break a promise in her eyes.

     Suddenly, the elevator shut and the BAU disappeared from view. However, the shaft didn't change floors. The two were alone, similar to this morning, and Spencer could easily erase the distance between them. There was only a few inches separating them. The temptation had been there for years, but right now was most certainly not the time. He needed to pull it together.

     "You've got this," he settled on rubbing his thumb across her cheek and kissing the top of her head. Today was about her, not him, not the team, not the Red Scorpions or Founding Fathers. It was about Cara Valentine and her truth.

     Nodding, Cara forced a small smile. "Thanks," she finally found it in herself to move. Maybe it was because Spencer was so close that she could feel his breath fanning her face and it was heightening her anxiety. Maybe it was because she wanted to leave as soon as possible, and the only way that happened was if she got the interrogation over with. She didn't want to return to the BAU for the purpose of answering more questions. She had to do this.

     With a shaky hand, she pressed the open door button, and the elevator re-opened. Cara walked out and to the left where she remembered the interrogation rooms were down the hall past Penelope's office. The rest of the team was likely waiting there.

     Spencer picked up speed as he trailed behind the blonde, observing her body language. It didn't need to be said that she'd rather be doing anything else, and he wished she was. It'd been a year and eight months, but it still felt too soon.

     "Oh, my stars! Rose, my love!" Penelope exclaimed with a bright smile, waving the woman over. She hastily passed her caramel frappuccino to Luke and ignored his, "Hey!" with a dismissive hand.

     A nervous half-smile broke across her lips, and Cara returned the gesture. At the end of the corridor, standing outside the room they were going to be in for the day were Penelope, Luke, and Tara. "Hi, bubblegum," she greeted, reminding herself not to flinch at the incoming hug.

     Penelope rushed forward to meet her halfway, being mindful of how fast she moved with her six-inch hot pink heels on. A sigh of contentment escaped her as she embraced Cara tightly, rocking them side to side. "I know I saw you two days ago, but it was two too long," she whined, soon pulling away and tucking Cara's hair behind her ears. "You look gorgeous, by the way."

     Blushing lightly, she nodded. "Thanks." If Cara heard herself say that one more time, she might scream.

     The word was starting to itch at her, but it was the only response she could conjure up. What was awaiting her a little further down the corridor had her too rattled to come up with a lengthier reply. It was going to have to do for now.

     "Move it, Garcia. I want some love, too," Tara teased, nudging the analyst to the side. Penelope gasped and placed a hand on her heart, feigning offense.

     Once Cara and Tara parted from their hug, Cara saw Luke Alvez approaching. The last time she'd seen him was at Christmas, also known as when they met for the first time— Matt Simmons included. "Alvez, hey," she breathed, not going in for a hug. It was nothing personal and Luke knew that. It'd take her a while to warm up to him, hence the usage of his last name, and he understood. The same applied to Matt.

     "Valentine, it's good to see you," Luke smiled, passing Penelope her drink and standing next to Tara.

     "How's it feel to be back?" Tara asked with a curious expression, glimpsing over the short-haired woman's shoulder to see Spencer reaching the small group. "Hey, Reid."

     Luke averted his focus from Cara for a moment and jut his chin in Spencer's direction. "What's up, man?" He grinned at the doctor.

    "Hey, guys," Spencer mirrored the same awkward wave that the younger blonde gave moments ago.

     "It uh, it's peculiar yet bittersweet," Cara answered, addressing Tara's question. Everyone's attention swept to her. "I almost forgot what it looked like, to be frank."

     The comment dimmed Penelope's mood a bit, but she brushed it off. "Well, that's perfectly okay! I can give you and Newbie the grand tour later," she beamed, not meeting Luke's dropped jaw. Newbie was the nickname she'd coined for him when he initially joined the team.

     "Garcia, I've been on the team for over a year—"

     Covering one of her ears with her palm, Penelope turned her back to him and stalked toward the interrogation room. She didn't have the mental capacity to deal with him today. "La la la, not listening to you!" she sang.

     Smirking at their banter, Cara almost jumped when she felt someone place a hand on the small of her back. Part of her wanted to tense or pull away, but she knew better. It was only Spencer. She was safe.

     "Hotch and Rossi should be here shortly. JJ and Matt are already inside," Tara informed the pair, darting her eyes between them. It warmed her heart seeing them together.

     The only response Cara had to offer was a simple blink. Fear was creeping in again and her chest was gradually tightening. Please, let this go by quickly.

     Tara led the way while Luke went to hold the door for everyone, signaling for them to enter first. Spencer shot him an appreciative nod.

     Upon entering the waiting area outside of the eight-by-ten interrogation room, Cara noticed that the lights were quite dim and the walls were painted a dark grey color. A few feet ahead was a matte black door that led into the main room. To the right of the door was a two-way glass panel that was situated five feet up from the ground. The surrounding space was void of furniture and there was a small TV hanging from the ceiling in the upper left-hand corner of the window's panel. It displayed the security camera footage from inside the interrogation room.

     Overall, it was isolated and silent. Two things that once brought the young woman a great sense of comfort, but now instilled a sense of dread in her.

     "Valentine." A vaguely familiar voice called, and Cara's line of sight landed on Matt Simmons. A kind yet apprehensive smile was on his face and he held a set of manila folders. Cara didn't pause when she saw the folders, but she made note of their presence.

     Something was up.

     It'd been years since she was in the business of profiling, but she was still able to catch details here and there. Sometimes she pointed out her findings, other times, she didn't. This was one of those instances.

     "Hi, Simmons," she breathed, detaching from Spencer's side and allowing JJ to bound up to her, pulling her into a hug. Rubbing the older woman's back, Cara relaxed. "Hey, JJ."

     JJ closed her eyes and let out a soft breath. "I'm proud of you," she whispered, holding on for three more seconds until releasing the latter. It didn't need to be clarified what she meant by that.

     "Thank you," Cara murmured, braving a firm smile. The absence of Hotch and Rossi only made her more anxious. Hopefully, they'd be there soon. She wasn't sure she would ever fully settle down unless they were present.

     "Doesn't Rose look so cute?" Penelope suddenly asked, waving a finger up and down at the short-haired woman's outfit. It was an obvious attempt at easing the budding tension and starting a dialogue that had nothing to do with why everyone was really at work on a Saturday.

     Glancing down at her clothes, Cara's eyebrows scrunched together. All she was wearing was a set of black dress pants, a fitted dark grey long-sleeve shirt tucked into the pants, and an old oversized black blazer of Rossi's that she'd stolen with her worn-out loafers. It was nothing special in the slightest.

     "I look normal—"

     "Yeah, and your normal is cute."

     "Are you flirting with me?"

     "Do you want me to be? 'Cause I mean, I know you're totally into women—"

     "So this is how you get her to talk more," Luke gasped, jabbing a thumb toward Cara and scratching the back of his neck.

     Cara caught the action and swiftly evaluated his tense posture, which contradicted the playful nature of his words. His posture and his scratching of the neck indicated that he was either stressed or uncomfortable.

     She was right. Something was up, and nobody but Matt and Luke seemed to know.

     The rest of the team didn't exhibit any signs or microexpressions that revealed similar feelings or sensations. The uncomfortability and stress were solely shared among Matt and Luke.

     "I talk," she protested, not mentioning her observations.

     Luke gave the woman a pointed expression. "Are you sure about that?"

     Before Cara could respond, someone interjected.

     "You see what I was talking about, Rose? What I have to deal with?!" Penelope exclaimed, staring at Cara and ignoring Luke's playful eye roll. For a year now, she'd been complaining about Luke Alvez. Most of it was jokingly and rarely serious.

     Matt and JJ shared small smirks at the brewing argument.

     "Deal with?" Luke repeated, raising an eyebrow.

     Tara folded her arms across her chest, watching with an amused countenance.

     "Yes, deal with because you are somehow part of our exceptionally beautiful and brilliant team, and I have to put up with your—" Penelope waved a hand in a circular motion, eyeing him distastefully, "—that."

     Luke glanced at himself in confusion. "That?"

     "Yes, that," the colorful blonde groaned, slapping a hand to her forehead. "Are you in the business of repeating everything I say?"

     He rolled his eyes for a second time. "Only when you aren't making sense," he shrugged.

     "Making sense?"

     "Who's repeating who now, Garcia?"

     If Cara had to watch the duo argue for the rest of her life, she believed she would be relatively satisfied. It definitely served as a suitable distraction.

     Suddenly feeling a tug on her elbow, Cara looked over her shoulder to see Spencer wearing a slight frown. With a small jab of his head toward the hallway, he wandered away from the waiting area.

     A frown identical to his crossed her lips and she followed him, silently wondering what was wrong because it was clear that something was bothering him. And had been bothering him since he showed up outside her apartment. Sure, he'd told her one of the things that upset him, but not the latter.

     JJ noticed the exchange but didn't make a move to stop either from leaving. Evidently, something was going on that they weren't aware of. Hopefully, everything was all right.

     "What's going on?" Cara asked once the door shut behind them and they were a reasonable distance away.

     Spencer let go of her elbow and let out a soft breath. "You don't have to do this," he said, bringing his eyes down to meet hers. "You don't have to go into that room and answer the questions. None of them. If you want, we can leave right now."

     He'd said that earlier.

     Cara's eyebrows furrowed, and she stared at him solemnly. "This was the other thing bothering you, wasn't it? Today's interrogation." Spencer nodded, shifting his footing. "Look, it's almost been two years since you all rescued me and almost two years without any answers," she replied, clearing her throat when she realized how low her voice got.

     "But that doesn't mean you owe us any." He shook his head and stepped forward. "You don't owe us anything, Cara."

     "It's not about owing anyone anything. It's not," she whispered, reaching over and squeezing his arm. Without thinking, he lifted his hand and mimicked her small action. Both of them relaxed under the other's touch.

     It was quiet for a moment.

     "Then what is it about?" Spencer watched the blonde inhale deeply and close her eyes.

     "It's about ending this. Ending the Red Scorpions. The Founding Fathers. Owen. Le. My ties to all of it." Cara breathed, trying to arrange her desired statement in a way that was coherent. "It's about confronting what happened and being honest. Not just with all of you but with myself as well. It's about love and happiness. Two things I want in my life but will never fully experience until this is over. And lastly, it's about the team. About you."

     For a second, Spencer was taken aback. He was not expecting nearly any of that to be why she wanted to do this. Why she wanted to relive the worst things to ever happen to her and he especially wasn't expecting one of her main reasons to be him.

     A tense silence settled between the pair as Spencer didn't know precisely how to react. At least not at that exact moment, and Cara knew that.

     "Look, you don't have to respond to any of that. I just... I feel like you should know why I'm doing this. And do I feel like I owe all of you? Yes, but that feeling is not why I'm doing this. I'm doing this for me." Her hand dropped from his arm, and she took a step back, placing some distance between them. It wasn't intentional, but her chest was tightening, and being close to him right now wasn't helping. It was only adding to her nervousness.

     There was an aching pain in Spencer's chest as she pulled away. He didn't want today to affect her more than the past had. And he didn't want any space between them. If he could, he'd just hold her for the rest of the day. He'd keep her safe and far away from having to answer questions about what happened. However, he picked up on her brewing anxiety and knew that she needed space.

     "We should get back. Hotch and Rossi will be here soon," Cara murmured, taking another step back.

     Spencer ignored how his heart clenched the further she got away. He forced a nod. "Yeah. Right."

     The way he said those two words brought another frown to her lips, and Cara swept her gaze to the floor. Her eyes remained trained on her black Oxford loafers as they walked to the door that the rest of the team was concealed behind.

     Right as Spencer reached for the handle, Cara's name echoed off the empty corridors' walls. In unison, they looked to the right. Hotch and Rossi were approaching, and the sight of the men caused Cara to sigh. Spencer peered down at the sound of the relieved exhale.

     "Figlia mia," Rossi called, recognizing the blazer she wore. "Nice blazer."

     A crooked and genuine smile appeared for two seconds before it sank. Rossi's presence lifted her spirits a tad. "Thanks. I went thrift shopping in one of your closets," she said, almost chuckling at his appalled expression.

     "Thrift shopping? I'll have you know that blazer was made—"

     "Reid," Hotch addressed the brown-haired man as he and Rossi reached them. "Go ahead and go inside. We'll be joining shortly."

     Darting his eyes between the three, he lingered on Cara's unreadable demeanor for a second longer. Nothing on her face revealed any specific feeling or emotion, and it reminded him of how she behaved years ago. It was comforting, in an odd way, but also concerning. He didn't want today to be a setback for her.

     "Reid," Hotch repeated firmly, staring him down.

     Part of him wanted to object, but Spencer didn't know what for. There was nothing else to discuss. So, he pressed his lips together and complied, leaving them alone.

     Once the doctor was gone, Cara put some distance between herself and the doorway in case this was a personal conversation. Her hands hung limply by her sides, and Rossi stood next to her.

     "Cara, there's been a change of plans," Hotch announced, ensuring the door to the waiting area was shut so everyone else wasn't privy to their discussion. In three strides, he joined the blonde and Rossi.

     By his apologetic countenance that lasted for two seconds, Cara's heart stopped. She knew it. "You're not conducting the interview, are you..." she trailed off.

     "The director ruled that it's a conflict of interest." He maintained his stoic nature while her jaw slackened. "No member of the team that you worked with or who worked your case can conduct the interrogation."

     "Then who the hell—"

     "Cara..." There was a tone of caution in Rossi's voice. He knew that she was already getting worked up, and he didn't blame her. The only reason today was happening was because she thought Hotch would be the one asking the tough questions.

     "No. No," she protested, shaking her head. "I don't feel comfortable with anyone else asking me questions outside of the team."

     A slight smirk pulled at the Italian man's mouth. "He said no member of the team you worked with or who worked your case can conduct the interrogation."

     There was a beat of silence as the realization set in.

     Cara held back a sigh. "Alvez and Simmons are doing it." That's why Matt was holding a set of manila folders, and why Luke was so tense. Well, at least she knew them and felt relatively comfortable. Maybe that would help.

     "Correct," Hotch confirmed, taking in the woman's apprehension and stillness. "I know it's not ideal—"

     Cutting him off, she locked eyes with him. "Will you be there?"

     At the softness in her inquiry, his face dipped slightly. "Yes," he replied earnestly. Of course, he'd be there. "I'll be outside the door throughout the questioning. Everyone will be unless you request otherwise."

     Nodding, she let out a breath. It made her feel a little better knowing Hotch would still be there. Rossi, too.

     "If, at any point, you want to stop or leave, you can." Rossi wanted to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but he could tell from how she'd hugged her arms around herself that she didn't want to be touched. It was one of her self-soothing techniques that she'd picked up while being held hostage. "Also, when watching the DVD, segments of the videos can be stopped or skipped if you request so."

     Yesterday, she'd been informed about the existence of a DVD the Founding Fathers sent the F.B.I. in April of twenty-sixteen, and how she would be asked about it. The news didn't surprise her, though. Each of the men, minus Michael Le, did their fair share of recording their interactions. Not to mention, Leone told her that they were filming a movie for the F.B.I. She was just never sure if he'd said that off-handedly or meant it.

     The Unit Chief added, "Additionally, the second video has been omitted due to sensitive material."

     Cara didn't want to even imagine what the second video was or how many videos there were in total. It was hard enough living through it and knowing it'd been shared with others without her consent.

     "And Alvez and Simmons, they... they've seen everything?" she double-checked, resisting the urge to rub her wrist.

     It made sense why she was so nervous for today and nobody blamed her. This had been a long time coming. The effort and strength it took for Cara Valentine to get to where she was now required a lot from her. She had to sacrifice even more of herself in order to rebuild, begin healing, and move on. Today was just another instance where she would have to sacrifice pieces of herself to gain contentment and closure.

     The one thing that rattled her the most was the fact that all of her loved ones would be finally hearing her side of the story. She'd been comfortable with Rossi knowing everything and Hotch knowing a good chunk, but the rest of the team? Spencer? That's when she grew hesitant.

     After today, they might never view her the same way. That sounded melodramatic, but it's how she felt, and it terrified her.

     "Yes. They've been briefed on your case and all known details," Hotch spoke, giving her an encouraging nod. "The questions were composed by Cruz, myself, Captain Marvenhill, Commissioner Ridge at Surrey PD, and the RCMP."

     A small pit of dread settled at the bottom of her stomach. Cara forced a nod. The arms she secured around her torso tightened and she let out a slow and controlled breath.

     "Ready?" Rossi asked, putting on a brave face. Unbeknownst to everyone, he'd hardly slept last night; he was too worried about today's events.

     For the last year and eight months, he'd been by the woman's side, supporting and helping her recover. He witnessed the trauma she experienced in the hospital and long-term care facility. He witnessed several hospitalizations for suicidal ideation and attempts. He saw the darkest parts of Cara Valentine and what it took for her to make it to today alive. He knew it all and that's why he was worried.

     Rossi didn't want this to be the thing that set Cara back or overwhelmed her to the point of being hospitalized. It'd occurred before when she confronted what happened, and even though she'd gotten significantly better, he couldn't help but be reminded of the bad times.

     Upon meeting his stare, Cara read him like a book. At this point in their relationship, it was easy to.

     "No," she said bluntly. Rossi's forced optimistic smile dropped. "Let's do it anyway."

     An amused smirk decorated Hotch's lips for a split second. "That's the spirit," he muttered, stepping around her and going for the door handle.

     "Aaron, don't encourage—"

     Cara shot the Italian man a sharp glare. "Dave, shut up."

     "Caralyn—"

     "David—"

     Hotch cast them a pointed expression as he opened the door. "Both of you, shut up." Neither listened, but he wasn't expecting them to. The meaningless banter served well as a temporary distraction.

     The chatter in the waiting area came to an abrupt halt when the three entered. In the background, the other team members could hear what sounded like bickering between Cara and Rossi.

     "We've talked about this cynical—"

     "It's not cynical, it's realistic."

     "Is that what Vanessa calls this?"

     Narrowing her eyes into slits, Cara gave Rossi her signature death stare. Unlike most who received it, Rossi didn't flinch or recoil. Instead, he rolled his eyes and shut the door behind her.

     Despite not knowing what the argument was about, the team was relatively amused. Cara wasn't known for bantering with others or joking around. The only people who drew that part out of her were Derek Morgan and Rossi. However, she'd loosened up over more since Christmas.

     Hotch cleared his throat, and everyone's attention swiveled to him. "Simmons, Alvez," he addressed the two men. "Are we good to start?"

     The pair shared nods of agreement.

     "As long as Valentine's ready, we're ready," Matt responded, providing the short-haired woman with a small and reassuring smile. He knew that she'd prefer to have Hotch in charge rather than them, but he hoped that she knew she was in good hands. Neither he nor Luke wanted to make this more difficult.

     A look of confusion washed over JJ, and she stood taller. "Hotch, I thought you were conducting the interview," she spoke, eyebrows pinching together.

     Tara and Penelope glanced at each other.

     Spencer's gaze darted to Cara. She was rubbing her wrist and focusing on the two-way glass that offered insight into the room she'd spend the next few hours in. There was a slight frown on her lips and a particular sadness in her eyes.

     He knew that a main reason why she'd agreed to the interrogation was because Hotch would be administering it. Now, he wasn't, and Spencer was concerned about how that would affect things.

     "There was a change of plans." The Unit Chief left it at that; the finality in his words signaled to the team that they shouldn't press the issue.

     "I'm ready." Cara didn't meet anyone's eye when she spoke. She didn't want to see someone's reaction and talk herself out of this. If she made it this far, she could keep going.

     Luke left Penelope's side and walked to the door leading into the interrogation room. "After you," he said, motioning for Cara and Matt to go first.

     After they took their seats across from one another at the table, Luke went to join when he heard his last name being called. Turning around, he raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Hotch.

     "If, at any point, Cara wants to pause or end the interview, she has the right to do so. If she walks out, she walks out. If she does not want to or does not answer a question, don't push. If it's deemed that she could be a danger to herself or others, the interview is over. No exceptions. Is that clear?"

     "Yes, sir," Luke said firmly. He and Matt had no intention of ever violating Cara's rights or boundaries. She would be safe and protected with them.

     "And remember," Rossi added, taking a step forward, "the second video is omitted."

     Luke nodded in understanding. "Copy." Before he left, he locked eyes with Spencer. Out of everyone, he knew that the doctor was against this the most. Not him and Matt questioning Cara, but the interrogation as a whole. He was scared, and Luke didn't blame him. He and Matt hadn't known Cara long, but it was obvious how much the team cared about and sacrificed to find her. Cara was family and they didn't want to see her in pain. Especially if they could do something to help it.

     Luke gave Spencer a small yet reassuring smile, lips pressed together. He wasn't sure if it would ease his mind or not, but it was the thought that counted.

     With a slam, the door shut behind Luke, and he walked over to the tripod that was positioned off to the side. A camera was fixed on it and plugged into the wall, waiting to start recording. The tripod was a few feet from the table and trained on Cara Valentine's stiff posture.

     "Am I good to hit record?" Luke checked, glancing at the two. Both Matt and Cara nodded. He pressed the circular red button on the camera and took the seat on Matt's right.

     "Can you please state your full name for the record?" Matt leaned forward and touched one of the many black buttons on the speaker. It was positioned in the middle of the metal table between both parties. In case anything went wrong, technologically speaking, a camera and voice recorder were being used.

     "Caralyn Rosan Valentine," Cara stated, relieved that she didn't sound as shaky as she felt.

     Luke cleared his throat and opened the file Matt had slid to him. "Will you state the date and time for us, please?"

     There was a pressure on her wrist and Cara separated her hands under the table. Breathe. "February twenty-fourth, two-thousand-and-eighteen. It's twelve forty-four pm."

     Part of her wished she could fall back into the habits and behavioral traits of who she used to be. If the Cara from twenty-fourteen was doing this, it would have been equally as uncomfortable, but she would have been able to conceal her emotions and thoughts. She'd be a blank slate and brick wall. Now, she was nowhere near that. That was a version of herself that was out of reach, and this was one of those times when she was missing her desperately.

     "Thank you," Matt spoke, meeting her weary eyes. "On the night of May second, two-thousand-and-fourteen, you disappeared. Then, you weren't found until May fourth, two-thousand-and-sixteen. Two years and two days later."

     An awkward beat of silence passed before Cara realized that she was supposed to respond.

     "Yes, that's correct."

     "Miss Valentine, can you walk us through what happened the night of May second, two-thousand-and-fourteen?" Matt asked, giving the blonde an encouraging smile.

     Right. Right, they had to start at the beginning.

     Bracing herself to retell the events of that night for the second time this week, Cara inhaled deeply. Her palms spread across her thighs, the tips of her fingers gripping at the fabric of her pants and the skin beneath. Luckily for her, she'd just finished piecing together that entire night with Vanessa. The plan wasn't to recount every minuscule detail but to provide enough that no further questions were given.

     It was no secret that this particular moment had been a long time coming. The team had been waiting to hear the details of what truly happened that night. Each had their own theories, but today they were getting official confirmation. Blake and Morgan were missing from the group, but they would be relayed the information on Monday.

     "We, the members of the twenty-fourteen BAU team, flew in from a case we'd worked in Long Beach, California. I don't remember the exact time at night. After landing, SSA Dr. Spencer Reid and I took the Metro to our usual stop, the station closest to our apartment complex. We got off and went to Dr. Reid's favorite coffee shop, Petit Café. We each paid for our own small cups of black coffee with five-dollar bills, left a tip, and said, "Goodnight," to Marcello Romano, the shop owner.

     "Then, we walked to our apartment complex and threw our finished coffee in a nearby trash can. We reached the complex and walked upstairs. Dr. Reid's neighbor, Mrs. Maddox, greeted us before going into her own apartment."

     JJ raised a brow. "Wow. Her ability to recall that much detail already from that long ago is impressive."

     Rossi hummed in agreement. In his opinion, Cara was cursed with too good of a memory sometimes. The memories didn't always make sense, but she still remembered them.

     Off to the side, Spencer had his arms crossed and eyes locked on the short-haired woman. Every word she'd spoken thus far had almost been identical to the initial statement he gave Cruz three days following her disappearance.

     "I was about to go into my apartment, I'd twisted the doorknob when Dr. Reid tugged on my elbow. I left the door cracked open and turned to face him. He told me that he was there for me. I'd recently gotten quieter than usual. It was my way of internalizing my fear and anger about Konaam Shirzad's confirmed sighting at Owen Sánchez's prison. It was also my way of maintaining control over something in my life since the rest was out of my reach.

     "I reassured Dr. Reid that I knew he was there for me. Seconds later, I decided to take a chance to warn him of what was coming without violating the terms and conditions of Operation Azrael. I closed the door to my apartment and stepped away from it. I provided him with a cryptic metaphor involving Paradise Lost by John Milton and Persuasion by Jane Austen. I said something along the lines of how I perceived the navy and war, in Persuasion, similarly to Milton's second circle of Hell in Paradise Lost. As well as my connection to the Red Scorpions. Both were inevitable but nearly impossible to predict.

     "At this point, I'd purposefully lower my voice so only Dr. Reid could hear me. I could tell that he didn't fully understand what I was saying. He asked if the second circle of Hell was coming, and I didn't answer. I couldn't. I... I could feel them watching me."

     Spencer's jaw clenched as he stood outside the room. That night, feet behind the door to her apartment, stood the Founding Fathers. They were there the entire time and she went out of her way to warn him without jeopardizing his safety and violating Operation Azrael. He should have seen through her actions. He should have stayed with her or done something.

     Closing his eyes, he stifled a sigh of frustration.

     "I'd had this gut feeling that my time with the team was coming to an end for a while. I didn't say anything to anyone. I didn't want to worry or burden them. After all, the Red Scorpions and Founding Fathers were my mess and my responsibility, as much as I hated it. If anything happened to the team, or to any member, I wouldn't be able to live with myself.

     "That night, I had two options. One, I chose myself and violated Operation Azrael, told Dr. Reid who was waiting for me inside my apartment, endangered the team and nearby tenants, possibly got Dr. Reid killed, and stayed in Quantico or got taken regardless. Two, I chose to keep the team and nearby tenants safe, and I accepted what I perceived as my fate. The choice is a no-brainer. It was either them or me, and I chose them."

     Behind the two-way glass, the team shared solemn glances. All of their thoughts were running parallel to one another.

     She disappeared to protect them.

     Cara sat up in her seat and cleared her throat. "I was careful with my wording and told Dr. Reid that what I said to him would make sense eventually. I thanked him for a compliment he gave me earlier that day on the jet, kissed his cheek, and thanked him. I never clarified what I was thanking him for, but I was essentially thanking him for everything he'd done for me up until that point.

     "Then, I took a step back and re-opened the door to my apartment. I told him, "Goodnight," and entered my apartment, closing the door. When I got inside, the lights in the kitchen were on. I'd turned them off four days ago. On the TV, Oh, My Darling Clementine was playing.

     "I didn't move for a moment. I waited until I heard a door closing in the hallway to speak. I asked what I did to deserve all this and if we were making up for Valentine's Day. I thought Michael Le was there since he associates the song with me, and the only person who knew that other than myself, the team, and Le was Joseph Arthur, who was murdered in prison recently during that time. Konaam Shirzad was the one who replied.

     "I turned around and saw Shirzad standing there with Matthew Johnston and Stephen Leone. None of them were wearing shoes, only socks. I believe the intent was to make as little noise as possible since people lived below me. I bickered with them for a minute until Shirzad got impatient. I'd already decided that I was going to leave, but I wasn't going to go quickly or easily. At the very least, I wanted to defend myself and fight back.

     "Shirzad attacked me first. Johnston was next. I sent him and Shirzad to the floor. Leone came over and tried to stab me with a knife. I jumped back and he eventually pinned me to the wall, dropping the knife. He attempted to strangle me, but I was able to drag us a few feet away. I flipped him over my back. There was a loud thud, and if the neighbors below were home, they likely heard it.

     "I saw that Johnston was no longer in the room and that Leone's knife was close to Shirzad. I took the chance to grab it, but Shirzad knocked it out of my hand. He kept trying to hit me until I shoved him over the couch and his head hit the coffee table.

     "Leone came at me again with the knife. This time, I kicked it out of his hand and slammed him into the wall. I dislocated his shoulder. Suddenly, we were both lying on the floor and Leone was unconscious. This was the second thud that was loud enough that someone could hear it.

     "Johnston had been the one to shove us. I stood up and saw that he held the knife. He charged forward and cut the side of my arm. I managed to bust his nose. He tackled me to the ground and that was the third thud. I headbutted him and broke his nose. We fought for a bit longer.

     "The fight finally ended with him calling Shirzad over. I was lying on my stomach and coughing up blood. Before I knew it, I was being injected with something and forced onto my back. The last thing I saw clearly was Shirzad waving an empty syringe in my face. Everything goes black after that. I only remember waking up in a run-down clothing factory."

     For many people, this was the most they'd ever heard Cara speak. The woman wasn't known for her conversational skills or excessively talking. She was quiet and reserved much of the time.

     Nothing was said for a moment as everybody took in the new revelations. The truth of that night was finally out in the open and it healed a small part of Spencer, JJ, and Penelope's hearts. Rossi and Hotch already knew what happened and had gotten closure on that night long ago. This was just the first time they'd heard it in chronological order.

     "For the record, can you provide the full names of the men in your apartment that night?" Luke asked, folding his arms on top of the metal table.

     "Konaam Shirzad, Matthew Johnston, and Stephen Leone were there. I don't know their middle names. Quang Vinh Thang Le, or Michael Le, and Hennessy Jameison Lu, formerly Person Y, were not present."

     The transparency and straightforward, thorough answers were appreciated. Details, even the diminutive ones, were important. If this was kept up, the odds of Cara ever having to do this again were considerably low.

     "On the morning after your disappearance, two police officers arrived on the scene of your apartment at nine-forty-nine. BAU Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner called in to report your absence at work. They found no sign of forced entry. All of the locks were secured, including the windows. It was reported that the apartment looked like a bedroom from an open house listing. The type where you go and tour a model of a home," Matt read from the official police report.

     "The bed hadn't been slept in and there weren't any signs of water usage. The garbage disposal was empty and so was the fridge and freezer. The officers called C.S.I.s to the location due to the fact that it'd been reported that a federal agent was possibly abducted. They wanted to be thorough and do their due diligence. The C.S.I.s couldn't find a single trace of DNA in the entire apartment apart from a strand of blonde hair on a red sweater that'd been hung in your closet. The hair was later revealed to be a DNA match for you. No fingerprints, latent or partial fingerprints, fibers, or biological material such as fluids were found.

     "At approximately ten-fifty-eight, the F.B.I.'s BAU team arrived on the scene. After two walk-throughs, it was deemed that none of the furniture, pillows, books, or decorations had been moved. A day later, the police and incident reports were transferred to the F.B.I. and the case was handed over to them. An officer Maxfield reported that the apartment looked like it belonged to a ghost as there was no evidence that proved anybody was actively living there."

     Oh, wow.

     The Founding Fathers went out of their way to erase her from her own living space. The amount of time it took to scrub the entire place and make it a ghostland was impressive— she had to give them credit for that.

     "Do you recall any of the men wearing gloves or bags around their feet when they were there?" Luke asked.

     Cara shook her head. "No, I don't. Just the socks on their feet."

     "Do you know if any of them stayed behind to clean the place?" Matt questioned next.

     "No, I don't. Shirzad drugged me. Like I said, I only remember waking up in a run-down clothing factory, the Delaplane Lace Company."

     Scratching his jaw, Luke read over the police report in his file. "According to the tenants that lived below you, they did, in fact, hear something thud three separate times. The rest of the nearby tenants did not report hearing anything that night."

     "The security cameras at the apartment complex and for the surrounding five miles were wiped clean for the entirety of May second and third. The BAU's technical analyst, Penelope Garcia, examined all the security footage dating back six months since you joined the team at the complex and the surrounding files miles. She was unable to find anything." Matt was about to continue when Cara cut in.

     "The F.B.I. had nothing to go on."

     Matt nodded.

     "That was until three months after you disappeared," Luke said, providing her with nine photographs. "The BAU received a total of ten poems from what is believed to be the Founding Fathers. Five were from Paradise Lost, one was from Macbeth, one was from Othello, two were from Tim Burton, and one was written by the Founding Fathers."

     Cara tilted her head to the side curiously and she shifted through the images. Each one contained lines she was familiar with.

     "Do you recognize any of them?" Luke asked, glancing from the stack to her.

     "All of them," she replied honestly, pausing when her eyes landed on a picture of a typewritten poem with a signature at the end of the page that was penned in dried blood. There were four letters that spelled out her name.

     The men noticed which photograph she was stuck on, and Matt decided to take the reigns on this one.

     "That one arrived on March twenty-sixth, twenty-sixteen. The F.B.I.'s forensic department ran a blood and fingerprint analysis on it. It came back as a match for you, Miss Valentine."

     Brows forming into a jagged line, Cara averted her stare upward. "I don't remember signing my name," she admitted. "I only recognize the poem itself. It's from Book One of Paradise Lost."

     "That's all right if you don't remember," Luke reassured her, placing a hand on the table. "Do you have any idea why poems from those specific books and authors were sent?"

     "Well, Paradise Lost for obvious reasons. It was my favorite book for much of my life. Michael Le has been infatuated with me since I was a child and knew it was my favorite. So, he used the book to his advantage. He found ways to incorporate it into everything the Scorpions did and how they viewed themselves.

     "When I was a kid, he had me read to him. Macbeth and Othello were two prominent ones. He also used to recite Tim Burton poems to me. The one that he recited the most was Roy, the Toxic Boy, which is in here. He liked The Girl with Many Eyes, too. That's also in here. You said the Founding Fathers sent ten poems, though. I only counted nine, where's the tenth?"

     Matt explained, "We'll address the tenth one later on. That's the one they wrote themselves. Do you know if those poems in particular were sent with purpose or were they merely taunts?"

     Shrugging, she brushed some hair out of her face. "I didn't know that they were sending the F.B.I. poems, so I can't answer your question with one hundred percent certainty. My guess would be both. Le likes to have a double meaning behind everything he does. He always has an ulterior motive."

     Matt's eyes squinted a tad. "You mentioned the Delaplane Lace Company. Do you know how long you were there?"

     The space was filled with silence as Cara wracked her brain. Creases broke along her forehead in thought. Time was a foreign concept to her when it came to those two years. What felt like four days could have been four hours.

     "Uh, maybe a week, maybe more," she estimated, sounding unsure. "I know that I was there for three days before Le showed up."

     "How many times did they relocate you?" Luke asked.

     Cara shrugged. "I don't know. Every time we moved, I was drugged and unconscious. Then, wherever we stayed, they kept me in dark rooms that had no distinguishable features. The only time I knew for certain where we were was when we stayed in Fairbank, Arizona. I overheard Lu and Shirzad mention it during a conversation once. At Balmoral Tower, I knew I was near civilization because I could hear cars driving above the basement. That's it, though."

     Matt's chin upturned. "Did you ever interact with anyone outside of the Founding Fathers or Stephen Leone?"

     Shaking her head, the blonde sighed quietly. "No."

     "Do you know what means of transportation they used whenever they relocated? Or how they paid for travel, food, and necessities?" Luke drummed his fingers against the table.

     Again, she shook her head. "No." Part of her felt bad because they were searching for anything that could aid in their search for the remaining Founding Fathers, but she had nothing to offer. She genuinely didn't know.

     "At any point, were you almost found or rescued by anyone outside of the Founding Fathers or Leone?" Matt doubted that ever happened, but it was something the government wanted to know.

     Everyone waited with bated breath. This was something a few of them wondered but never asked.

     Cara inhaled deeply, feeling the button in her pants press against her stomach. "No," she exhaled, watching as the two agents visibly frowned ever so slightly.

     No one real, at least. Shirzad had drug-induced plenty of scenarios where she thought she'd been found, but they were never real.

     "Did any of the Founding Fathers or Leone ever threaten anyone's life outside of your own?" Luke asked, turning over a page in his file. They were now onto the second set of questions.

     Swallowing harshly, Cara wet her lips. "Yes," she replied, maintaining eye contact with him. "The BAU team as a whole, specifically Dr. Reid and Penelope Garcia, my father, and Owen. They're my weakness."

     Matt pressed his lips together, fighting off the frown he instinctually wanted to wear. "Before we dive into some of the more difficult topics... You confessed to killing Hennessy Lu on June eighteenth, twenty-sixteen. An official report was made on June twenty-third. Is that correct?"

     Immediately, her vision burned. It was only going to get harder from here. "Yes. It uh," she cleared her throat. "It is. It was an act of self-defense."

     "Yes, that's what it was ruled and documented as. It was reported that he died due to blunt force trauma to the head. Possibly suffered from a fractured skull. Do you mind walking us through what led up to his death one last time?" Matt questioned, noting the tears gradually forming in her eyes.

     Yes, she did mind, but she wasn't allowed to today.

     "Yes. I'm not sure when it happened. Time didn't exist when I was with them. I know it happened after my father... was murdered," she subconsciously winced. "It was an accident. Lu was taking my clothes off, and I was trying to stop him. I kicked him, twice, and he slipped in a pool of my blood. His head hit the ground. I dropped to the floor and tried to resuscitate him, but he wouldn't respond. He wouldn't wake up. Johnston found us shortly after."

     Matt nodded, giving the woman an appreciative smile. "Thank you, Valentine." He could tell that wasn't a memory she was fond of going back to.

     Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Luke opening the laptop that'd been placed to the side. Luke typed in the password and pulled up the DVD they were about to discuss.

     "While you were being held hostage, the BAU was sent a DVD containing a series of videos. All of which you were in." Matt cleared his throat, and Luke turned the computer around. The footage was paused on the screen, but Cara could clearly see an image of herself from over three years ago. She was tied to a black wooden chair and hunched over, teeth clenched in pain. Presently, a chill raced down her spine. "Do you recognize this?"

     Forcing a slight nod, she bit the inside of her cheek. Everything she'd been dreading was beginning now.

     "Were you aware that you were being recorded?" Luke asked, mindful of his tone. He figured this would be one of the hardest parts of today.

     A shaky breath fell from her mouth. "Not always," she whispered, feeling the pad of her thumb press into her wrist.

     "When they were recording, did Stephen Leone's or the Founding Fathers' behavior change any?" Matt questioned, watching her shift uncomfortably.

     "On camera, they all eased up. It was off-camera that they did their worst." Cara answered, and a flash of Shirzad hovering over her in the shower came to mind. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she let out a slow breath, remembering the strategies she'd learned in therapy to help prevent the onset of panic attacks.

     Happy place. Happy place. Breathe in through the nose, and out through the mouth.

     It was quiet for a moment.

     "In the videos, Le never once physically appears, and Lu seems to be the primary aggressor in the beginning. Why is that?"

     Cara replied without missing a beat. "Le viewed our interactions as more intimate. Sacred. So, he never filmed them. He wanted what happened to be something that stayed between us. That, and he didn't want there to be footage that could ever be used against him in a court of law. Lu was the primary aggressor on and off-camera when he was alive. He believed I was the reason why his son was murdered in prison. He wanted revenge."

     Luke pressed his lips together. "SSA Dr. Reid and Sánchez stated that the relationship with Le began when you were a child, and he sexually abused you." She nodded. "Was it the same way when you were being held?" Another nod.

     "I uh," she cleared her throat and sat up. "I know both of you have to ask about the sexual encounters I had with the Founding Fathers while I was being held. Not just Le. So, I ask this with all due respect. Can you give me all the questions right now? While we watch the DVD? Please?"

     The emotion on her face consisted of only pain, and Luke and Matt exchanged glances. They seemed to have a silent conversation with only eye movements and minimal facial expressions. Finally, Matt looked at the file in front of him and nodded. They could do that. "Can you name the men who sexually assaulted you while you were held captive?"

     "Michael Le, Konaam Shirzad, Matthew Johnston, Hennessy Lu." Her thumb pressed deeper into her skin, and she inhaled deeply.

     "Do you remember what each of them did to you? And can you confirm that none of it was consensual?" Matt's face fell slightly when their eyes met. Hers were glossed over, and she bit down on her lip. She'd tensed up and was slowly drowning in her memories.

     "None of it was consensual, and I don't remember what each of them did." Cara shook her head. "After my father was murdered by Lu, I tried escaping and got... punished. That's the word they used to describe what they did. I-I was drugged for a chunk of time. I don't know for how long or what happened during that period. Bits and pieces come back to me randomly. T-There are gaps in my memory. I remember some of what they did in particular instances, but not everything."

     Considering the traumatizing events she'd experienced and how consistently she was drugged, that made sense.

     Luke couldn't help but remember that they had forgotten someone. "I noticed that you didn't mention Stephen Leone."

     Cara drove the pad of her thumb further into her wrist. "I didn't because he didn't sexually assault me," she explained. "He did when I was in my early twenties, but not while I was being held captive."

     "He has in the past?" Matt's ears perked and he was befuddled. Neither he nor Luke had been informed about this.

     "Uh, yes. I can tell by the looks on your faces that neither of you knew," she paused, jutting her chin in their direction. "Nobody, aside from Owen, Leone, and SSA David Rossi, knows. I'm unsure if the Founding Fathers knew. It wouldn't surprise me if they do."

     Luke hummed. "Do you mind if we come back to that in a bit? I have a few questions."

     Did she have a choice?

     Nodding, Cara glanced at the computer and inaudibly sighed at the freeze-frame. It was hard enough living through the events that she was about to view from a third-party perspective. Her having to watch them would only add insult to the half-healed wounds.

     "This is the first video. At the end of it, can you tell us who was present?" Matt asked, nudging the man beside him to play it.

     Luke rewinded the clip to the very beginning and pressed the space bar on the keyboard.

     The sound of TV static filled the room and the blonde fixated her attention on the recording. This was footage she'd be able to see without having an emotional response. She can do this. A time stamp appeared in the bottom right corner.

     May 5, 2014.

     "Let's play a game, shall we?" Stephen Leone's nasally voice blared through the speakers. The screen faded from black to a wall with white and blue-painted bricks. The lower half of the wall was coated in blue, while the upper half was basked in pure white. In the center sat a version of Cara Valentine that Cara recognized very well.

     The thirty-year-old woman wore the same outfit she'd last been seen in: black jeans and a dark grey tank top that was stretched. Her hair was a knotted, disheveled mess, and black eyeliner and mascara rested under her eyes. There was a gash on her forehead and dried blood that streaked down the right side of her face. Her nose was red and dried blood trailed from her left nostril to the top of her upper lip. Bruises covered her arms. Exhaustion was written across her face, and she was panting, her chest rising up and down vigorously as she fought to catch her breath. Beside her was a small wooden, rectangular table with a glass of water on it.

     Yup. She remembered this well.

     "It's called Truth and Scream. Ever heard of it?" Leone asked from behind the camera. 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. Her eyes scanned something behind the camera from left to right for a moment— she was watching dust and dirt blow off the brick wall. A couple of seconds of silence followed until the voice spoke again. "I asked," he paused, and Cara heard a soft buzzing noise. The woman on screen squeezed her eyes shut. "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?"

     "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.

     "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."

     Leone emerged from the shadows and entered the camera's view. The backside of him was visible, and he loomed over her. 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, then and presently, filled her chest at the sound of bone cracking and the sight of blood on Leone's face. He stumbled back, taken aback.

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

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

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

     Abruptly, the screen filled with static and that was the end of the first clip.

     Blinking, Cara met Matt and Luke's patient countenances. "Initially, it was only myself and Leone in that room. Johnston, Lu, and Shirzad were present in the factory, awaiting Le's arrival. What isn't shown is Leone tackling and strangling me right after I asked him to go fuck himself. I almost lost consciousness when Le showed up and intervened. Apparently, Leone and the others were ordered to keep me alive and not touch me."

     "It looks like none of them obeyed Le's instructions. I doubt you inflicted those injuries on yourself," Luke noted.

     Holding back a chuckle even though nothing about this was funny, Cara shook her head. "Only the bloody nose was my doing. I headbutted Johnston the day before and accidentally caused mine to bleed too," she pressed her lips together before quietly adding, "It was worth it."

     Both men fought back the urge to smirk.

     "Are you ready to move on to the third video now?" Matt checked, raising an eyebrow. It'd been ordered that the second video not be shown due to the context of it. The prospect of forcing Cara Valentine to watch Ross Valentine being murdered was immoral. At least the bureaucrats crafting these questions were the tiniest bit considerate.

     No.

     "Yes."

     Reaching forward, Luke fast-forwarded the footage on the laptop and turned up the volume. "Can you remember this?" He pressed play and sat back.

     In the clip, the blonde only wore a blood-stained and ripped white button-up and underwear. She was suspended in the air with chains cuffed around her wrist and her toes dragging against the floor.

     Furrowing her eyebrows, Cara wasn't sure which instance this was. A lot of her time was spent hanging in midair.

     "Don't say his name." The Cara in the video snapped, anger creeping into her words.

     Somebody gasped. "Why not? Someone missing their boyfriend?" It was Hennessy Lu.

     "Why? Are you missing yours, Hen?" she questioned, raising a mock-curious brow. "After all... it must be suffocatingly horrible to live with the fact that you killed the only man that ever loved you."

     Never mind. Cara knew exactly when and what this was.

     Lu emerged from behind the camera and marched toward her, punching her straight across the face. He backed away, and Cara laughed, shaking her head. "It seems like I'm not the only one who has a soft spot for men with brown hair," she breathed, spitting out blood.

     "Watch it." Someone else called sharply— it was Matthew Johnston.

     "Or what? Will you hurt me? Rape me? You've already done both, so what will it be this time?" Cara shouted.

     "Do you want us to send Le in? Do you want to be left alone with him again?" That was Konaam Shirzad.

     She narrowed her eyes. "At least he'd get straight to the point rather than badger me."

     "Oh, you want to get straight to the point?" Lu scoffed.

     Presently, that question struck a sense of dread down Cara's spine and she rubbed her temple. "Jesus Christ," she muttered, pitying the younger iteration of her. Her vision was getting foggy, but she could still see everything perfectly fine. This memory was buried in the crevices of her mind and she'd almost forgotten about it. Luckily she had this interrogation to remind her.

     "Why did you betray the Red Scorpions?"

     The Cara on-screen scoffed. "Seriously? This again?" Hennessy grabbed the back of her head and yanked it, so they saw eye-to-eye. "I already told you it was an accident," she grunted, blowing her hair out of her face. "I didn't mean to make that comment to the F.B.I. It wasn't until later that I sold you assholes out to protect my father."

     Hennessy shook his head. "We already know that. We need to know what you told him."

     From outside, Spencer watched Cara's eyes flash to the window where she knew he was standing behind. She all but confirmed what the team assumed— that the Founding Fathers were talking about Spencer. Her blue irises were blurred and she was biting the inside of her cheek. This wasn't a memory she wanted to visit.

     "Every time you ask, I always say the same thing: nothing. I didn't tell him anything."

     Cara averted her stare back to the laptop to see a knife pressed to her throat in the video.

     "We both know that's not true. I know those loose lips of yours talked," Hennessy hissed.

     "I don't know who 'we' is, but I know that I didn't. You're wasting your time. Go back to selling vitamins," she snapped as he stepped closer and stabbed the blade into her side.

     Flinching away from the computer, a tear fell down Cara's cheek.

     "Lu," Johnston warned.

     "You're the reason my son is dead. I will get you to talk," Hennessy snarled, ignoring Shirzad calling his name in the background of the video.

     The world was in a haze when an ear-piercing scream spread throughout the eight-by-ten room. Cara was lightly shaking and straining herself to pay attention. Every part of her wanted to instinctually dissociate, but she knew that she had to be present for this. She wasn't going to zone out and jeopardize any of the interview. She refused to do this again.

     "Is this necessary?!" Spencer exclaimed, flashing his stare to Hotch and Rossi. A spark of anger had been lit in the pit of his chest. All of this felt excessive. After everything she'd endured, the last thing Cara needed or deserved was re-living her captivity.

     Hotch met his enraged expression. "According to the federal government, yes. I don't like it either, but unless Cara requests otherwise, the clips have to be played out in full." None of this was up to him, but he wished it was. That way he could spare the woman the pain she was experiencing now.

     "One turn of the knife, and I hit your spinal cord. You're already beginning to bleed out. Are you sure you want to stay silent now?" Hennessy questioned.

     "Even if I told him something, what makes you think I'd tell you?" Cara grunted.

     "Change of heart, perhaps?" he mused, eliciting a groan. From the camera's point of view, nobody could see what he'd done. For Cara, she knew exactly what happened— he'd swirled the end of the blade around in her back. "To live?"

     "No."

     "This is your last chance."

     "No."

     Shirzad stepped into the frame. "You would kill yourself for him? Right now?" This moment made him realize how deeply she felt for Spencer Reid. It was why he produced hallucinations that included the doctor.

     The younger Cara merely nodded, eyes clenched shut in agony. "Yes."

     The team saw this years ago... All of them. That meant they were aware that she'd been on a suicide mission and was willing to end it all to protect Spencer. Suddenly, Cara felt incredibly exposed and like a part of her privacy had been stripped away. No wonder Rossi and Hotch hadn't told her what was in the tapes.

     Erasing the tears on her cheeks, Cara gathered herself and sat back up.

     "We trained you. We took you in. We made you part of our family!" Shirzad yelled angrily.

     "I never wanted to be part of this family," Cara choked out, beginning to cough up blood.

     "Don't lie to yourself." Johnston stepped into the frame. All three of the men's backs faced the camera. Only in little slivers between them was the woman visible.

     In between coughs, she spoke. "I never... had a choice. Le... he took that away from me, but Spencer?" she paused, spitting out a mouthful of blood. "He gave me... what no one else would. A chance. A chance to be whoever I wanted to be... and nothing you do to me... will change that."

     Shirzad snarled, "We'll see about that."

     Pausing the footage, Luke moved the laptop to the side. Across from the pair of agents, Cara was blinking back tears as the memory entirely played out in her head. She remembered.

     "I remember," she choked out, quickly brushing away another fallen tear.

     Sensations of guilt filled Matt's heart. He hated being one of the people in charge of today. "In that video, who were you and the Founding Fathers talking about?" The answer was obvious, but he still needed to ask for the record. The beginning portion had been skipped for a reason. They needed to know if the four had been talking about Spencer without Cara hearing Hennessy Lu say his full name.

     Cara inhaled deeply and tucked her hair behind her ears. "SSA Dr. Spencer Reid."

     All attention in the observational area darted to Spencer, and he pressed his lips together. This was something neither of them had discussed together.

      "Since it was mentioned in the video by you that Hennessy Lu had raped you... Can you confirm which men raped you aside from Lu during captivity?" Luke had a sinking feeling that he already knew her response, but he still had to ask. Multiple questions needed answering for clarification. This was one of the rare occasions where he disliked his job.

     Cara swallowed harshly. "Le, Shirzad, and Johnston."

     He was right.

     Luke nodded. "In the past, had any of them assaulted you before?"

     "No. Just Le."

     "Sánchez stated that the Red Scorpions had boundaries. Unspoken lines were established. Family was off-limits. The other Founders were upset when it was revealed that Le had been sexually abusing you years ago. So, why did the other Founding Fathers break that now?" Matt chimed in.

     Cara could not look away from the freeze-frame of her suspended in the air and glowering at Hennessy Lu, whose back was to the camera. She still remembered how it felt when he struck the knife into her side. She remembered exactly how it felt when the end of the blade drove into her back and the sick sensation she got when he twisted it. And she could still hear her groans and screams of pain and how she'd prayed that he'd allow her to bleed out and die.

     She'd never wanted her life to end so desperately until that day.

     "Valentine?" Luke noticed her unwavering gaze on the computer screen. "We can take a break, you know."

     She appeared to snap back to life at his words as she quickly shook her head. "No. No breaks. I only have it in me to do this once." Her eyes were drowning in a flood of tears that she was doing her best to hold back.

     Behind the two-way glass, JJ had a curled fist pressed to her lips. "She's strong."

     "Incredibly." Tara agreed.

     Spencer frowned from where he stood behind the women, foot-tapping anxiously against the floor. He did not like this.

     Back in the room, the pair reluctantly nodded, respecting her wishes. Matt and Luke were aware of how long it had taken her to get to this point and how she wanted to help in any way she could.

     "I'll repeat the question: Why did the other Founding Fathers break that now? The rule that family was off-limits?" Matt repeated.

     Cara shook her head. "I don't... I-I can't answer that," she shrugged as a tear fell. "I don't know why."

     All was quiet for a few seconds.

     "Was sexual assault used as punishment, or was it an action the Founding Fathers executed whenever they wanted?" Luke kept himself composed, but he was slowly regretting the decision to partake in today's interrogation. Usually, he didn't mind it. This was part of the job, but this time it didn't sit right with him. He didn't like the prying they were doing that day. It felt invasive and left a sick sensation in his stomach.

     "Both. Each of them carried out... sexual assault... but they also had their preferences." Cara forced down the lump in her throat as her stomach churned. The mere mention of what they did to her and what they forced her to do was enough to make her physically sick, and she was doing her best not to get nauseous.

     It was easier to discuss this in therapy. There, she was alone with someone who legally couldn't repeat a word she spoke. Here, she had an audience who would go on to send the footage to select law enforcement officials and the court. This wasn't confidential and secret in the way she wished it was.

     "What were their preferences, and can you specify in what instance they would conduct them?" Luke followed up with.

     Swallowing harshly, the blonde could already feel her stomach twisting and chest tightening. "Johnston preferred sexual assault for punishment and personal satisfaction. He liked... He liked it when I fought back more than the others. He liked the chase and how I would "play hard to get." He preferred ripping and tearing apart what little clothes I was given to wear. Sometimes he would buy specific outfits for me to wear, only for him to destroy them. Out of the four, he and Michael Le favored..."

     Goddammit. This was getting more challenging.

     "They liked being with me sexually, in whatever capacity that entailed. In regards to Shirzad, I don't know how many times he raped and assaulted me. His thing was drugging me. He would only take advantage of me sexually if I wasn't sober. I can recall times when he was assaulting or raping me, but not everything. My brain has blocked out a lot of events. For Lu..."

     The queasy feeling in her stomach had worsened, and she swallowed again. Her hands began to tremble. "Lu used me as a punching bag. Out of the four, I believe he was the one that raped and sexually assaulted me the least." Cara wiped away the few tears that'd managed to travel down her cheeks. Her voice was hoarse, and her words were quick as she tried to get this over with as soon as possible.

     "Lastly, for Le, he didn't care. He did what he wanted when he wanted, but he had two rules that were not up for debate. One, no one was to bother... us," she squeezed her eyes shut and let out a shaky breath, "Two, I-I... I-I had..." Cara clasped her hands together, attempting to control how badly she was beginning to shake.

     She couldn't bring herself to say it. She knew she could, but there was a barricade.

     The second the words left her mouth, there was no taking them back. There was no more hiding from what he did to her and forced on her. This also meant that the team— her friends and family— would know, and that thought made her wildly self-conscious and disgusted with herself. She knew what happened was not her fault, but that didn't erase the dirty feeling she got all over.

     "He forced you to reciprocate his actions." Matt finished, coming to her rescue. Although the interrogation was being recorded and would be used in court, he couldn't sit there and silently watch the woman struggle to speak.

     Cara managed to nod slightly, eyes closed as she tried to envision her happy place.

     Happy place, happy place. Focus on how the water crashed against the shore and the sea foam it left behind. Focus on the hypnotic sound of the waves and how peaceful it was. Focus.

     It was heart-wrenching— sitting there and watching Cara Valentine unravel and be in such mental anguish. The entire team, both in and out of that room, absolutely despised it.

     Gradually, her breathing slowed down, and she could feel her body relax into the metal chair. She'd done it. Opening her eyes, she wiped away more of her tears and inhaled deeply.

     Matt and Luke remained silent until she gave them a nod, telling them that they could continue.

     "I want to circle back to someone. In the past, it's been stated on the record and in the news that the Red Scorpions have a history with Stephen Leone." Luke began, folding his hands together. "Two months before the Surrey Six killings in two-thousand-and-seven, there was a shooting between the Red Scorpions and a rival gang you referred to as the Green Snakes. According to you, they never had an official name. The Red Scorpions double-crossed them in a drug heist and to enact revenge, one of their top men, Stephen Leone, kidnapped you. The Green Snakes held you hostage for five days before Owen Sánchez found you. Am I right to assume this is when Leone raped and assaulted you?"

     Cara nodded.

     Luke returned the nod before continuing. "So, Sánchez rescued you while other Red Scorpion members initiated a shooting as a distraction. Leone got shot and the public was under the presumption that he died. However, Sánchez revealed in a twenty-thirteen interrogation that Leone faked his death. He'd been living in the Oaks-Rose apartment complex in Ucluelet. The apartment was checked out and Leone was nowhere to be seen.

     "Then, for the first time since his death had been announced, Leone appeared in the videotape from May fifth, twenty-fourteen. This was three days after you disappeared. It is confirmed by you that it was him in the footage."

     Matt entered the conversation by adding, "On May third, twenty-sixteen, Leone arrived at the Vancouver police precinct. He was holding a gun to his head. Has this incident been shared with you before today?"

     Blinking for the first time in three minutes and five seconds, Cara clenched her trembling fingers together. "I've been informed that he's dead. This particular event, though? No. I-It hasn't," she answered truthfully.

     "As I said, Leone was holding a gun to his head," Matt continued. "SSA's Hotchner, Rossi, and Dr. Blake attempted to talk him down. Leone stated, and I quote, "The best minds of the F.B.I., my ass. I gave you the poems, her blood, and the DVD. Johnston hand-delivered the riddle right to her doorstep and you still haven't found her! It's too late. Your mistakes have been a toxin. Think twice. Go back to that day." Then, he shot himself point-blank in the head. He died instantly."

     Cara blinked again. This did not surprise her and she didn't feel one way or another about it. Dead was dead, and Leone meant nothing to her. He abused, tortured, and rape her. He wasn't the first to do it and he wasn't the last. What he did was traumatic and it crossed her mind every now and then, sure. He wasn't special to her, though.

     Across from her, the men stared expectantly. All trembling and shaking had slowly disappeared. It seemed this was welcoming news.

     "If you're waiting for an emotional, physical, or verbal reaction from me, I don't have one." She was matter-of-fact and confident in her words. There wasn't an ounce of remorse, grief, anger, or anything interweaved in her microexpressions or body language. She was simply indifferent.

     Luke rolled his shoulders back. "Why is that?" He was curious.

     "I told Leone to go fuck himself," Cara stated bluntly. "Clearly, he did."

     It took everything for both of them not to snort at the comment.

     "Damn..." Tara muttered outside before chuckling. "That's cold but good."

     Rossi smirked. "'Atta girl."

     "She's not wrong," Hotch added quietly, noticing Penelope's dropped jaw and how JJ wore a crooked grin. Spencer had a half-smile pulling at his lips, but it was evident he was in deep thought.

     "Do you know anything about why Leone was at the precinct that day?" Matt didn't think she did, but it was something he had to ask.

     Cara sighed silently. "No, I don't."

     Luke drummed his fingers on the desk. "You mentioned that Konaam Shirzad's thing was drugging you. Can you elaborate on what you mean by that?"

     Of course, everybody knew what Cara had meant, but for clarification and legal purposes, they had to be thorough. Especially if she wanted to avoid being asked as little questions as possible when the Founding Fathers were arrested and the case went to court.

     Nodding, Cara almost let out a breath of relief. Finally, they'd gotten to a topic that was much easier to talk about. "Yes, I can," she untangled her fingers and smoothed her palms out on her dress pants. "Shirzad would make his own concoctions, mixtures of different substances, none of which I know the names of, and test them out on me. He wanted to see how far he could go— he'd take me to the brink of an overdose and then yank me back. I know for a fact that he would inject me with hallucinogens and psychedelics. He liked to interact with me while I was intoxicated. He would create scenarios that never happened but felt real to me.

     "For example, he once manipulated me into believing that he had taken Owen from prison and brought him to the house we were in. The one in Fairbank, Arizona, where my father was murdered. That never happened. Owen was locked in Millhaven the entire time I was held in captivity. However, I didn't know that and wasn't thinking straight or sober, so I believed Shirzad.

     "Other times, Shirzad would trick me into thinking I'd been saved, found, or rescued. He would role-play as strangers or medical personnel, and pretend to take on the form of people I cared about to extract information. Information ranged from small things such as my favorite color or song to what I told my past team members at the BAU about the Red Scorpions and my past. I don't remember if I told him anything specific.

     "From what I've been able to piece together, I didn't tell Shirzad or any of the Founding Fathers anything when I was sober. That could be false though, given the fact that I was malnourished, dehydrated, and my body experienced numerous traumatic injuries."

     The space was filled with silence as Matt and Luke took in what'd just been shared. It was a lot to process and neither could begin to imagine how difficult it had been for Cara to survive Shirzad's torture. 'Cause that's what it was— torture.

     Matt was the first to recover. "Right after you were found in May, you were in the hospital for quite some time." Immediately, Cara tensed. This didn't go unnoticed. "During the first two months, it's reported that you only allowed specific members of the BAU to visit. According to SSA Hotchner, this was because you'd disclosed to him that you experienced hallucinations of particular members. You were unsure if they were real or not, and it was overwhelming seeing them. Is this true? If so, can you name the members you recall having hallucinations of?"

     Back to the difficult shit.

     The period of time being talked about was one that she was not fond of revisiting. It was only something she spoke to her therapists about, not even Rossi. Nobody had ever heard her speak about this.

     "Y-Yes, that is true." And put much nicer than she would have. "I experienced hallucinations of SSA's Jennifer Jareau, Penelope Garcia, Dr. Spencer Reid, and Dr. Alex Blake."

     Three out of the four individuals mentioned were present and they took a quiet collective breath. It'd been a while since any of them had thought about that.

     "Is there a reason why you did not have hallucinations of SSA's Hotchner, Rossi, and Derek Morgan?"

     This was a question the team had been pondering over for quite some time now. None of them knew if there was a particular answer behind it, but they were about to find out.

     Cara blinked. Someone finally asked. She wasn't expecting them to, but it made sense seeing as Hotch and Rossi assisted in the question-making process.

     "While I was being held, it was revealed that Johnston and Leone had been watching me. I knew that someone was, but unsure of who. Since I worked for the F.B.I. and they were reported dead, they knew they had to be careful when it came to surveillance. They would take turns watching me at my apartment. Out of everyone on the team, SSA's Jareau, Garcia, Reid, and Blake visited the most. Neither SSA's Hotchner nor Rossi did. SSA Morgan did, but only once.

     "So, Johnston and Leone operated under the assumption that I was closest with those four. This information was relayed to Shirzad, Lu, and Le. I believe that Shirzad created hallucinations of them because of that. I could be wrong, though. I don't know for certain."

     Back in the waiting area, JJ let out a breath. "That makes sense," she muttered.

     "I... I don't know what I thought her response was going to be, but that makes me feel better. I think," Penelope sighed, placing a hand on her heart.

     Spencer didn't say anything.

     "You knew you were being watched? Was this something you knew prior to the creation of Operation Azrael?" Luke asked, glancing down at the list in front of him for a split second.

     Cara wanted to grimace; she was aware that the truth might upset some people. Rossi already knew and he hadn't reacted negatively, but she wasn't sure about the others. However, the point of today was to end this mess and be honest. So, with a deep breath, she nodded.

     "Yes. I knew the night I left the Vancouver PD precinct and was put in a black Suburban. The BAU team was taking me to the Pink Dolphin." Her mind was screwed beyond complete repair, but she could remember this memory clearly. "Across the street, there was someone dressed, head-to-toe, in black clothing with a red bandana wrapped around their neck. The person raised a single finger in the air. It was a reference to the first circle of Hell from Paradise Lost. It was a warning to keep my mouth shut. I knew ever since then."

     Behind the two-way glass, Hotch looked at his team. "Did anyone know about this?"

     Everyone but Rossi shook their head.

     "Cara told me when we were in Canada," the Italian man replied, picking up on the disapproving expression already forming on the Unit Chief's face. "She's entitled to privacy, Aaron. She doesn't have to share every little detail about her life or the case with people. Besides, the person she saw is dead and her seeing him does nothing to benefit the case."

     "Dave—"

     "Who did she see?" Spencer interrupted the pair, unknowingly preventing a small argument from breaking out. He didn't care that Cara hadn't told him; he'd come to accept the fact that she wouldn't tell him everything a long time ago. He just wanted to know who it was.

     At the same time, Matt asked Cara the same thing.

    "Stephen Leone." Her voice brought the team's attention back to the more important conversation at hand. "I didn't realize it was him at first. I thought he was dead until Owen said he wasn't. Then, the actuality set in. Leone also confirmed it was him while I was being held."

     Aware that it was more than time to return to the DVD, Luke took a moment to fast-forward to the next and penultimate video. "All right, um..." God, how had Cara not walked out of here already? If Luke had to do this, he knew he wouldn't have lasted nearly as long as she had. "Were you aware that your father's murder was filmed?"

     Wincing as if the question had cut her, Cara felt a lump appear in her throat and it tightened. "I uh, I..." That's why the second video wasn't shown.

     Sounds of gurgling and Ross choking on his own blood filled the room. He was red in the face and convulsing in Hennessy's arms until he was dropped to the floor. A loud smack echoed as his head hit the concrete, but his eyes remained open. He and Cara were locked in a never-ending staring match while she watched in horror, incapable of reacting to what she was seeing.

     Only a few seconds passed until all noise came to a stop. The rise and fall of Ross's chest halted and he stilled.

     Ross Valentine was dead.

     And it was all Cara Valentine's fault.

     That resounding thought played on a perpetual loop as Cara stared at her father, silent tears streaming down her face. Before she knew it, the zip ties around her wrists and ankles were cut and she was running to the left corner of the room. Crashing to the floor, she ignored the pulsing shots of pain that shot up her legs. All she cared about in that moment was her father.

     Cara grabbed at him desperately, cradling his body to her chest. "No no no," she whispered, shaking her head. Bright red blood dyed her navy blue button-up, seeping through the rips in the fabric of the sleeves. "Dad? Dad. S-Say something."

     Empty brown eyes reflected back at her, unchanging. He was staring right through her. No response would ever come from him again.

     "Dad... Daddy," she whimpered, lips trembling. In an attempt to self-soothe, she gently rocked him back and forth. All of her visible skin was stained crimson; she was almost bathed in it. "I'm sorry," she continued to rock him, brushing his hair out of his face and leaving behind streaks of blood. "I'm so so sorry."

     "Valentine?" Matt Simmons' voice broke through the memory and Cara flinched.

     The death and murder of Ross Valentine was a historical moment in Cara's life that forever changed it. Out of everything she'd experienced and survived, that day left the deepest scar.

     It haunted her in her dreams and nightmares. It was a constant reminder of the guilt and shame that clothed her shoulders and muddled her mind. It rarely left her alone and had been something that drove her to the brink of suicide. It'd been one of the main stressors that led to her being hospitalized numerous times over the last year and eight months.

     "Valentine?" Luke felt terrible for even bringing it up after seeing the remorse in her eyes and the way she blanched. It was required that they talk about it without showing the video.

     Cara's mouth was dry and the corners of her eyes crinkled as she tried to keep the waterworks at bay. Wetting her lips, she cleared her throat. "Yes, I know it was recorded. Hennessy Lu, Matthew Johnston, Konaam Shirzad, and Stephen Leone were present. Michael Le was not. Lu was the one to slit my father's throat with a knife. I don't know what the video shows, and I don't care. I'm not answering any more questions regarding it."

     The sentences she spoke were messily strewn together and rushed out in less than ten seconds. She didn't care if nobody understood what she said. She wasn't going to talk about her father and that was final. Nothing anyone told or asked her would change that.

     A tense stillness basked the interrogation room. It took up every available space. The only thing any of them could hear was the sound of the clock ticking on the wall.

     Neither Luke nor Matt wanted to be the one to break the silence first. It was clear that the blonde would reach her final breaking point if Ross Valentine was brought up again. The two shared identical glances, wordlessly agreeing to bypass the questions related to the murder. If the bureaucrats had an issue with that, they could take it up with the BAU.

     Matt fixed his posture, rolling back his shoulders. "W—"

     "Play the next video." Cara couldn't take the silence anymore. It was slowly suffocating her and causing her anxiety to rise. "Please." She couldn't meet their stares. Not without crying. She needed a distraction; she needed to keep going before she ran out of steam.

     So, with an uncertain expression, Luke complied.

     Five soundless seconds passed before someone could be heard mumbling weakly. Averting her gaze from where it'd been locked on the table, Cara saw a blur of pepper-and-salt-colored static on the computer. "Two... one... t-twelve..." Her eyebrows furrowed a tad as she scarcely heard herself speaking.

     "Thirteen... fifteen, eighteen... one... twelve... two... one... nineteen..." A time stamp appeared in the bottom right corner of the screen— October 19th, 2015. "Five... thirteen... five... fourteen... t-twenty..."

     The screen gradually faded to black and a younger Cara appeared. She was on a concrete floor, lying on her right side with her right arm extended out, the side of her face resting against it. This time she only wore a white silk slip-dress, but it was littered with streaks of crimson blood. With half-closed eyes, she was mumbling to herself.

     The only source of light came from a singular swaying lightbulb. Shadows danced across Cara's body, radiating enough light to where fresh scars were visible through the thin fabric of the dress. There was quite a handful and presently, Cara almost glanced down at the same scars. They were still etched into her skin and gradually becoming lighter.

     "Two... one... t-twelve..." The Cara in the video murmured, weakly. There was a slight slur to her words. From what she was able to recall, Cara believed it was from leftover drugs in her system in conjunction with extreme fatigue. Parts of this memory were fuzzy to her. "Thirteen... fifteen... e-eighteen... one... twelve... two... one... nineteen..."

     A set of boot-clad feet walked into the frame and Cara instantly recognized who it was. Slowly, he lowered himself to the ground next to the woman. Reaching out, Matthew Johnston brushed his fingers across her forehead as she continued to mutter random numbers to herself.

     "Five... thirteen... five... fourteen... t-twenty..."

     "I think buying you this dress is one of the best decisions I've made this week," Johnston hummed, not acknowledging how Cara wasn't there mentally. She wasn't focused on this encounter in the slightest. "I certainly know I enjoy taking it off."

     Those eight words created a rancid sensation in Cara's stomach, and she had to look away. It didn't take a genius to know what was eventually coming.

     Suddenly, a realization dawned on her. The team had seen this. They saw all of this years ago and never once brought it up to her. A shaky breath exited her lips, and she wanted to cry. However, there was a piece of her that was grateful for them not bringing it up. There was no telling how she would have reacted if they had.

     "Hmmm... Your bruises are beginning to fade. We can't have that now, can we?"

     "Two... one... twelve... thirteen... fifteen... eighteen... one... twelve... two... one... nineteen... five... thirteen... five... fourteen... twenty..."

     "You're gonna make me have to work for it this time, aren't you?"

     "Two... one... twelve..."

     "You and that stupid counting."

     Cara looked to see Johnston looming over her body on the laptop. He wore a sinister smirk and she gulped, yet not an inch of fear was on her face. It was until Johnston's hands pulled her dress up past her breastbone that she showed any reaction fueled by emotion.

     Disgust washed over her and she was swift to grab him by the neckline of his shirt, yanking him down toward her. As she sent a punch into his jaw, she pulled her knee up and slammed it against his pelvic bone. Johnston groaned loudly, teeth gritted together as he instinctually hunched over. Taking advantage of this moment of weakness, Cara kicked him off of her. She scrambled to her feet and the dress fell back down, concealing her body. Then, she ran out of view.

     On the floor, Johnston was gradually pushing himself up. "We can do this the hard way or we can do this the easy way," he called, straightening out his shirt. "We both know fighting back only prolongs the inevitable."

     The sound of metal clanging filled the room and Cara involuntarily flinched. She was still straining herself to observe and remain cognizant.

     Johnston's line of sight settled on something in the distance, presumably the younger iteration of her, and he moved out of view. Soon a sharp crunch came from somewhere and the beaten blonde stumbled back into view. She held her arms in front of her, blocking the throws Johnston threw at her. Her blocks were catching him off guard. He wasn't expecting her to have the strength to fight back, and she used that to her advantage.

     The next time his fists were thrust in her direction, she grabbed them tightly. Drawing him closer, she kicked him square in the chest, knocking the air out of him. Johnston misstepped, and she threw a blow to his head. Both Cara's winced when they heard her knuckles crack at the impact.

     "I'm gonna kill you," he growled, blood pouring from his nose.

     She ducked as he swung, shuffling her feet away from him. "And Le will kill you," she reminded him, rushing backward as he lunged at her.

     The pair disappeared from sight, but Cara could hear someone slam against what was likely a wall. Forked breaths could be heard and Cara recognized the breathing pattern. Either she or Johnston was being choked. She didn't remember.

     "If you wanted my hands around your neck, all you had to do was ask."

     Great. It was her.

     "Go... t-to Hell."

     "We're already there, princess."

     In the frame of the camera, a flash of long blonde hair appeared for only a second. The left side of her body was then thrust into view before it was jerked back. A blow was thrown, and multiple bones cracked. She was flung to the floor and groaned when she met the ground. Her head slammed against the concrete with a thud that made Cara flinch for the millionth time. She watched as she was coughing roughly, blood bubbling from her mouth while she turned her head with great difficulty.

     Grabbing her by the biceps, Johnston brought Cara back to her feet. It was evident that her consciousness was faltering as she swayed, blood trickling down her chin. There were already bruising handmarks staining the skin on her neck. Blinking slowly, she met his hardened stare. Her legs were shaking and she put her hands on his arms to steady herself.

     A sadistic smile spread from ear to ear and Johnston tugged her to his chest. His gaze flickered down to her lips and back up to her eyes, stopping when there were less than six inches between them. "The broken and battered woman stereotype fits you so well," he mused, running a hand through her blood-soaked hair.

     Cara could feel her stomach tightening at the images playing in front of her. She might be sick. Swallowing down the bile crawling up her throat, she squeezed her eyes shut as her throat clenched.

     "But I don't think you're quite there yet."

     "You won't break me. I fucking promise you that I could hurt myself way more than you ever could me."

     "You wanna bet?"

     Re-opening her eyes, Cara managed to catch sight of Johnston throwing her toward the back of the room they were in. Her body rolled over and over before she eventually landed on her chest. It took a second, but she tried to shake it off. Pressing a hand to the ground, her arm was visibly shaking as she tried to sit up. Marching up to her, Johnston kicked her arm, making her collapse.

     For the next minute and twelve seconds, everyone watched Cara sit in near tears, forced to witness the abuse she went through from a third-person lens. It was painful for each of them, but torturous for the blonde. She was shaking from head to toe and scarcely keeping it together.

     "Gotta give it to ya, sweetheart," Johnston's voice bounced off the walls. "Le made quite the resilient bitch outta you."

     In the recording, Cara was lying on the ground, her eyes swollen and slowly closing. Scratchy rasps of air fell from her lips.

     "Should we go another round?" Johnston chuckled, staring down at her. When she didn't respond, he narrowed his stare. "I said," he grunted, booting her in the stomach, "should we go another round?!"

     Cara wheezed as the wind was knocked out of her again. "You talk too much," she gasped weakly.

     Finally, the screen was taken over by black-and-white TV static. A collective breath of sorrow and relief passed around the group. That was the portion that always seemed to take forever to get through and was one of the hardest to witness.

     Rather than pausing the DVD and asking if the woman recognized anything she saw, Luke and Matt let the final clip play out. The date March 1st, 2016, appeared in the bottom right corner of the computer.

     "One... eighteen... twenty... eight... t-twenty-one... eighteen..."

     Just like before, the screen gradually faded to black, and the woman appeared in the same room. She hung from the ceiling with a set of chains cuffed around her wrists, keeping her held up. The sight of them made Cara's blood run cold. Another set of chains was locked around her ankles and attached to the floor, the tips of her toes barely brushing against them. Her head was bowed. The only source of light came from the same singular swaying lightbulb.

     This was a very familiar image, and it wasn't welcomed. Cara could have gone the rest of her life without seeing another set of chains again and be perfectly okay.

     "Twelve... five..."

     The words she uttered were scarcely audible and Luke hesitantly turned up the volume.

     "Twelve... twenty-one... nine... fourteen... nineteen... twenty-one... eighteen..." A door slammed somewhere in the distance. Cara winced. "Eighteen...five... twenty-five..." The sound of someone approaching neared closer. "Fourteen... one... eighteen... fifteen...fourteen... seven.... fifteen... fourteen... twenty... eighteen... five... one... nineteen... twenty-one... eighteen... five..."

     Just like last time, Cara could only recall bits and pieces of this. She remembered what she was doing and why she was counting, for she did it for weeks on end in hopes that it was caught on camera, but that was it. The rest was a blur.

     "T-Twelve... fifteen... t-twenty-five..." she murmured, weakly. There was a slight slur to her words again. "One... twelve... t-twenty... twenty-five..."

     A dreadful voice flooded the speakers, singing, "In a cavern, in a canyon, excavating for a mine dwelt a miner, forty-niner, and his daughter, Clementine."

     All color drained from her body and a rush of panic slivered down her spine. It was him. She didn't know that he was there— she forgot. Cara's face fell, and the hair on her arms rose. Neither action went unnoticed, and she could see Matt and Luke stiffen in the background. They'd been informed of her tells prior to today.

     The two could see the fear in her. And she knew they could. Everybody could. This had caught her off-guard. This was the most amount of fear she'd shown thus far. Cara never once expected Michael Le to make an appearance of any sort on film, but here he was, keeping her on her toes after a year and eight months. She shouldn't have expected any less.

     An all-too-familiar hollow pit settled in her chest and a lump rose in her throat. It was taking every ounce of self-control she had not to end the questioning and run out of the room.

     "Yes I loved her, how I loved her, though her shoes were number nine. Herring boxes, without topses, sandals were for Clementine."

     Outside, Spencer stared at the blonde with a remorseful expression. If he had enough nerve and didn't care about overstepping, he would storm in there and take Cara home. He'd hold her in his arms and whisper words of reassurance, ensuring that she understood that none of this was her fault and she was safe. He'd shield her from everything and everyone for as long as she wanted.

     There was a major difference between seeing her in pain and suffering in film and then in person. In a video, he only saw what happened. In person, he witnessed her unravel and lose control of herself; he witnessed her go through symptoms of PTSD and fight to hold onto reality; he witnessed her visibly shaking and crying while clinging to her consciousness for dear life. It was agonizing.

     "Fifteen... three... twenty... fifteen... two... five... eighteen..."

     "Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling, Clementine! You are lost and gone forever; dreadful sorrow, Clementine."

     Goosebumps intertwined themselves down everyone's spine at Le's sick and psychotic tone. The agents had heard Michael Le speak before, but he never failed to make them feel uneasy. Nobody could imagine how he affected Cara Valentine.

     "Nineteen... nine... twenty-four..."

     "Drove the horses to the water every morning just at nine. Hit her foot against a splinter, fell into the foaming brine."

     This was the infamous song that Michael Le had been associating Cara Valentine with for decades. It meant something to him. It meant something to them. The song marked the beginning of Le and Cara's entangled relationship— if one could even call it that.

     It was a song embedded with ghosts of the past and predatory undertones. It was a song that would never leave Cara for as long as she lived. Her childhood would invariably be attached to it.

     "Twenty... fifteen... twenty-three... five... eighteen..."

     "Ruby lips above the water, blowing bubbles soft and fine, but alas, I was no swimmer, so I lost my Clementine. Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling, Clementine! You are lost and gone forever; dreadful sorrow, Clementine."

     Le's final nine words were drawn out, sung in a sweet tone that held nothing but malicious intent. A gloved hand then swept into view and covered the camera lens. The screen faded to black, and the DVD came to an end.

     It was over.

     A stringent silence settled over the enclosure.

     "Valentine..." Matt trailed off, giving her time to slowly meet his soft gaze. Those deep blue eyes of hers with swimming in an ocean of tears and her jaw was set. A mix of anger, fear, and sadness danced across her countenance. "Why were you counting in the final two clips?"

     For a moment, it appeared as if the questions went straight over her head. Confusion drew at her lips and eyebrows. "W-What?" her voice was wobbling and she was a tad disoriented.

     "You were counting in the last two videos... Do you remember why?" Matt's tone was gentle and caring.

     Cara's thumb drove into the pad of her left wrist and she gulped. "I uh," she was struggling to respond, "I don't, I-I don't w..." Darting her stare to the blackened computer screen and back to Matt, she faltered.

     Concern etched itself onto Rossi's face and he went to the door in case he needed to intervene. Cara's lack of focus and obvious disorientation from the way she was lightly swaying side-to-side was troublesome.

     "Hey, take your time," Luke told her, nodding.

     Blinking, Cara glanced at the computer again. She could see her shaken reflection and how distressed she was. This was a version of her that she hadn't encountered in a few months. She'd been doing so well; she'd accomplished so much and today made her feel like she'd just taken ten steps backward.

     Yes, she was facing and conquering her demons to a degree and making progress toward ending this cycle of torment, but it hurt. She wasn't naïve; she knew it was going to, but that didn't lessen the sting spreading over her body and the vice tightening around her heart.

     With a deep breath, she forced her eyes away from the laptop and her attention back to the conversation at hand. The longer she took to respond, the longer today would take, and she wanted it to be done with. This was exhausting.

     "I-I uh, I was speaking in code," Cara stammered.

     In the past, everything she did held a meaning behind it. Whether it was something she said, a metaphor or fact she shared about herself, or physical action, there was an explanation or motive lying beneath the surface. So yes, she was counting out loud. Even while she was being held, she knew that she did her best to covertly signal to the team where she was or what her surroundings were when the Founding Fathers recorded her. She did what she could to get out of the predicament she was trapped in.

     "I was aware that the videos were b-being sent to the F.B.I. eventually," she paused, letting out a breath. "Leone told me they would. I-I used an A1Z26 cipher to discreetly give clues as to where I was. I knew that Spen— Dr. Reid— would figure it out."

     "Why Dr. Reid specifically?" Luke asked, tilting his chin up.

     Cara pressed her thumb further into her wrist, working to stay calm and focused. The tears in her eyes were gradually fading. "H-He knew me best," she answered lightly as if it was obvious. "He knows that I don't do or say something without purpose. The Red Scorpions trained me b-better than that."

     "Do you know how the BAU was able to find you?" Matt checked. It was something he wondered, but also something he had to inquire about.

     "Uh, I uh, I know my cipher aided and Fairbank, Arizona, is part of it. Other than that, n-not really," she answered honestly. Knowing all the details of how she'd been rescued wasn't a priority of hers. She was only grateful that she had been and didn't have it in her to ponder over how it happened.

     "They were able to find you due to a riddle that was sent to the F.B.I. shortly after receiving the DVD and the cipher. The tenth poem from earlier," Matt replied, and Luke pulled out a plastic evidence bag that contained a slip of paper.

     Dozens of letters written in chicken-scratched font entered her field of vision and she peered up from the letter that'd been placed in front of her. "Riddle?" she repeated.

     "A Founding Father, Stephen Leone, or someone working for the Founding Fathers visited your old apartment on the morning of May first, twenty-sixteen. Security cameras caught them on the feed. The individual wore a red ski mask to disguise their face, but they had a copy of the key. They were in and out in sixty seconds. Dr. Reid and Section Chief Mateo Cruz found that." Luke nodded at the evidence bag.

     Matt noticed the way the woman hesitantly reached for the paper, handshaking. "Do you recognize the handwriting?" he asked.

     Tracing over the jagged yet smooth letters with her eyes, Cara wracked her brain. It wasn't her handwriting, she only wrote in cursive. It didn't belong to Le, Lu, or Shirzad, she knew what theirs looked like. Maybe it was Johnston's or Leone's?

     "No, I-I don't. It's not mine. It doesn't belong to Le, Lu, or Shirzad either. It might be Johnston's or Leone's," she suggested, shrugging.

     Humming, Matt glanced at Luke before going to the next question. They were slowly nearing the end of the interrogation. "Can you read the riddle and break it down?"

     "Break... Break it down?" Cara didn't quite understand.

     "There are fourteen stanzas in total with clues scattered all throughout it. The BAU was able to decipher its true meaning. We'd like to know if their findings align with yours," Matt explained, motioning to the plastic bag. "Can you verify that you've never seen or read this before today?"

     Nodding, Cara cleared her throat. "I've never seen or read this before today. I didn't know it existed." Expectant gazes shone her way and she took the implicit cue. It was time to get to reading.

The final show is here,
And you're in for a ride.
Here's to hoping dear Clementine
Makes it out alive.

In this terminal round, prison bars will be of aid,
As long as your emotions remain beneath a blockade;
One among us five will let you move ahead,
While another will, unfortunately, drop dead.

Two among our family live before you in disguise,
Four of us are killers, working with snake eyes;
We deal in dope lines and treasure loyalty,
Finding what Cara left behind should be of your first priority.

Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind;
Dr. Spencer Reid has the answers,
And you best hope he has a change of mind.

To unlock the door to paradise,
You will be forced to think twice;
So proceed with caution,
Mistakes can be a toxin.

It will not be easy, nor will it be hard,
Yet this chase may leave you quite scarred.
We're done with hiding and want to be free,
To locate her body, find the two words missing from me:

I am damaged at best,
And am slowly falling apart;
I am a whisper, I am a ghost,
I am what people fear most.

When in action, I cross out names,
No one is safe; these are dangerous games;
I live for the glory, yet thrive in guilt,
My actions cannot always be rebuilt.

Compare me to none,
For I am one of a kind;
If you search hard enough,
You'll see I live in your mind.

I am embedded in your DNA,
And trapped in your veins;
No matter what you do,
My voice will never stray.

Long have you all pursued me,
But never could locate,
Yet, the key to finding her,
Relies upon my fate.

I am what Cara Valentine desired but never received,
I am what she set out to find yet failed to achieve;
I am what Ross Valentine lost his life for,
I am what's keeping Spencer Reid from walking out the door.

I am something you treasure but consider a burden,
I am something the doctor knows yet can never be certain;
I am something the missing woman left the F.B.I.,
I am something that will make you say goodbye.

I am _ _ _   _ _ _ _ _.

     Cara almost muttered, "A piece of shit," under her breath when she finished examining the riddle. It was infuriating to read the taunts and mockery, but it was one of the many Red Scorpion signatures. After all, "Taunt them... Mock them... Distract them..." were the last whispered words Cara heard from Jarrod Bacon over the phone the night before she was arrested years ago.

     Overall, the note contained a lot of underlying messages that she immediately picked up on. It was easy to when this was her life. She also knew the answer to the riddle. It was obvious. Hopefully, the team had figured out it quickly, too.

     "I am the truth."

     When she glanced up, Cara blinked at the startled expressions the two men wore. She wasn't mistaken, right? Surely, that had to be the answer. All the Founding Fathers focused on was the truth, and she'd done her best to tell Spencer the truth about what was going to happen the night she disappeared. Everything in the riddle made perfect sense to her. So why were they staring at her like it shouldn't have?

     "Is that incorrect?"

     "No, no. It's not," Matt replied, snapping out of his stunned daze.

     Luke puffed out his cheeks and let out a breathy laugh. "Not at all. You just made the rest of us look like idiots." It'd taken him and Matt a long time to figure it out— longer than either cared to admit.

     "How long did it take everyone else?" the blonde questioned, looking between them. Finally, she was able to fixate on something that didn't drag her to an emotional breaking point.

     "It took your team a day. It took us," Luke darted a finger from him to Matt, "much, much longer."

     Blinking again, she didn't say anything.

     "What does each stanza mean? To you," Matt added, sitting back in his chair.

     Cara cleared her throat, separating her thumb from her wrist and sliding her palms against her pants. Sweeping her line of sight to the paper, she took a moment to gather her thoughts. Then, she began to explain.

"The final show is here,
And you're in for a ride.
Here's to hoping dear Clementine
Makes it out alive.

     "The first stanza is an introduction. Nothing more, nothing less. Um...

"In this terminal round, prison bars will be of aid,
As long as your emotions remain beneath a blockade;
One among us five will let you move ahead,
While another will, unfortunately, drop dead.

     "First, the lines regarding prison bars and keeping emotions beneath a blockade is a nod at Owen. He's locked behind prison bars and known me longer than most. He can be of aid as long as their, I'm presuming the team since this was sent to them, emotions remain beneath a blockade. Owen is naturally uncooperative and an asshole— always has been. However, he tends to be more open-minded when he's approached in a civil and emotionless manner.

     "Next, five men were involved in my disappearance and everything that followed— Le, Lu, Johnston, Shirzad, and Leone. The one of the five that dropped dead is likely Leone considering what he said at the precinct the day he killed himself. It could be Lu, though. As for who will let the team move ahead in their search for me, that's likely Johnston when reflecting upon Leone's words. Of course, this only works if the lines are taken at face value.

"Two among our family live before you in disguise,
Four of us are killers, working with snake eyes;
We deal in dope lines and treasure loyalty,
Finding what Cara left behind should be of your first priority.

     "Here, it's implied that two Red Scorpion members were living around Quantico or were close by— again, likely Leone and Johnston. They were the ones keeping tabs on me when I worked for the F.B.I. Um... There were four Founding Fathers involved in this mess. Each had committed murder, and Leone was one of the top players for the Green Snakes gang. The next line is self-explanatory. The Red Scorpions dealt in "dial-a-dope lines" and treasure loyalty. As for what I left behind..." Cara paused, a little unsure. This was the only portion she wasn't certain about. Back then, she hadn't left anything behind of importance.

     Furrowing her eyebrows, she tilted her head to the side. "I suppose this could be referencing my copy of Persuasion by Jane Austen that I gifted Dr. Reid years ago. I don't have many physical objects that hold any semblance of meaning nor did I purposefully leave anything behind. There are three areas in the book that are underlined, they're my favorite quotes. On the inside of the front cover and on the last page, I'd drawn some Daffodils.

     "Daffodils symbolize honesty and truth. Perhaps that line was included to aid the team in figuring out the answer at the bottom of the page. However, that only works if they made the connections between it all. I don't doubt that one of the members did.

"Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind;
Dr. Spencer Reid has the answers,
And you best hope he has a change of mind.

     "As I mentioned previously, Dr. Reid knew more about me and my past than anyone on the team during this time period. I'm aware that knowledge proved beneficial during the case. Hence, Dr. Spencer Reid has the answers, and he had a change of mind by telling everyone.

"To unlock the door to paradise,
You will be forced to think twice;
So proceed with caution,
Mistakes can be a toxin.

     "The first line is a nod to Paradise Lost. It used to be my favorite book, and it inspired a lot of the Red Scorpions' actions and motives years ago. Now, according to what Simmons shared were Leone's last words, Leone referenced this particular stanza. I'm estimating that it was a mistake when the team believed I was in Fairbank, Arizona, and they were being told to reassess— think twice." Cara noticed the inquisitive expressions Matt and Luke wore. "SSA Rossi and Hotchner informed me of how members of the BAU were sent to Fairbank in hopes of finding me. That was disclosed while I was staying at a long-term care facility in Canada.

"It will not be easy, nor will it be hard,
Yet this chase may leave you quite scarred.
We're done with hiding and want to be free,
To locate her body, find the two words missing from me:

     "This stanza is simply a transition piece. There's nothing to see here.

"I am damaged at best,
And am slowly falling apart;
I am a whisper, I am a ghost,
I am what people fear most.

     "Uh, I uh, I might be overthinking it, but I doubt I am. The poem or riddle, either applies, says, "I am a whisper, I am a ghost." Fairbank, Arizona, has been regarded as a ghost town for decades. It was where the Red Scorpions and I were originally moving to in October of twenty-thirteen. So, that singular line is important. I imagine it's what gave away the fact that I'd been there at some point during captivity.

     "Other than that, the rest of this stanza is an extended metaphor of how people can view the truth. The same applies to the next four.

"When in action, I cross out names,
No one is safe; these are dangerous games;
I live for the glory, yet thrive in guilt,
My actions cannot always be rebuilt.

"Compare me to none,
For I am one of a kind;
If you search hard enough,
You'll see I live in your mind.

"I am embedded in your DNA,
And trapped in your veins;
No matter what you do,
My voice will never stray.

"Long have you all pursued me,
But never could locate,
Yet, the key to finding her,
Relies upon my fate.

"I am what Cara Valentine desired but never received,
I am what she set out to find yet failed to achieve;
I am what Ross Valentine lost his life for,
I am what's keeping Spencer Reid from walking out the door."

     Ouch. That hurt.

     This was the first part of the riddle that cut deep and took her aback when she initially read it. The words were true, each one.

     "So, uh," Cara swallowed thickly, gathering her thoughts. "The truth... The truth is what I desired from my father and Owen, but I never received it. They didn't tell me how they became moles for the gang on the day of the Surrey Six. At least not until it was too little, too late. Then, my uh..." her voice cracked and she grimaced, lips twisting to the side. "I don't know for a fact, but um, maybe the truth of what happened to me is what kept Dr. Reid from giving up searching. I-I don't know."

     Nobody commented on how she dodged the line about Ross Valentine.

"I am something you treasure but consider a burden,
I am something the doctor knows yet can never be certain;
I am something the missing woman left the F.B.I.,
I am something that will make you say goodbye.

     "There's nothing special about the first line. It's inconsequential. On the night I disappeared, I provided Dr. Reid with a metaphor by using the themes of Persuasion and comparing them to Milton's second circle of Hell in Paradise Lost, the Red Scorpions, and the Founding Fathers. I-It was the best thing I could come up with that was cryptic enough so the Founding Fathers didn't understand the full meaning. It was my way of warning him.

     "After I told it to him, maybe he realized something was wrong, but wasn't certain. The Founding Fathers were there that night. They heard what I said. Hence, that line was included. Then, I left behind Persuasion, but the third line could be referring to how I left behind the truth of who took me via the metaphor. I'm not sure.

"I am the truth.

     "And that's it." Cara finished, letting out a breath of relief. With a steady hand, she slid the evidence bag over to the agents. That took a total of eight minutes and forty-one seconds. It'd successfully distracted her to a point where she'd momentarily forgotten about the digital horrors she'd seen.

     Luke let out a low whistle. "That uh," his eyebrows flickered up as he spoke, "that was impressive."

     "Everything you said aligned with the BAU's findings," Matt stated, reviewing the document in his file. It detailed every annotation and note that Blake had made when deciphering the riddle. There were no questions to ask.

     Cara smoothed out her palms against the fabric of her pants. She figured as much. "Anything else?" She needed this to be over.

     "A few more things," Luke said, providing a small nod. "Did Le, Johnston, Shirzad, or Leone ever mention where they were going before they left Balmoral Tower?"

     The memories she had surrounding that part of her captivity were fuzzy. There were bits and pieces she could remember, but it wasn't much.

     "Not... Not that I can recall," she replied slowly, not confident in herself. "Hennessy was dead. Shirzad had pumped me full of drugs and done something, but I'm not sure. I-I think he stabbed me in the belly button." Creases broke across her forehead and she faltered. An involuntary image of her bleeding out on what she thought was the ground played in her mind.

     Coughing again, this time more harshly, blood splattered on the concrete. She almost grimaced as the pain across her chest and torso returned. It felt like someone was tightening a vise around her lungs and skull as the pounding intensified. In some sick way, it felt nice because at least she knew she was cognitive enough to recognize and feel pain.

     From somewhere in the distance, she heard something rumble but ignored it. The rumbling had been a consistent sound for months now. It was nothing new and symbolized nothing. Despite how loud she'd managed to scream and cry, nobody had heard her. They weren't ever going to be able to, that was the whole point of why she was being kept underground. Close enough to society for her to hopelessly hope that someone would save her, but far away to remind her that no matter what, she belonged to them.

     Blinking, an involuntary shield of tears clouded her vision. All around her, strange shadows of varying colors crept toward her slowly, before quickly retreating. She was losing her grip on reality.

     "Starlight." A familiar voice hushed, and her eyes flickered up for a second.

     "Dad," she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut as Ross Valentine suddenly sat beside her. Oh, she was certainly dying now. Her eyes lazily followed his movement when she re-opened them, but they couldn't focus.

     Ross smiled sadly at her. "Hey, Starlight."

     There was an awkward pause, and Matt and Luke glanced at one another. It was obvious that Luke's question weighed a lot heavier on her than they thought it would. The pain of trying to answer was etched all over her face.

     "Valentine..." Matt was promptly cut off.

     "Johnston c-carved long lines along my arms. He was the f-first to leave, I think." Cara snapped back to life, blinking rapidly and attempting to erase her father's ghost from her brain. If she didn't, she'd linger on it and break. "Shirzad left after him. Leone w-wasn't there. Le told me that we'd reunite when the time was right. Then, they were gone. I-I could be wrong, though. I was out of it."

     Luke nodded again and took a peek at the last question in his file. "Do you have any ideas or theories as to where they went?" he asked, shutting it. Hopefully, she'd feel relieved when she found out that they were done.

     Any ideas or theories? Sure, but nothing concrete and worth looking into. In her opinion, at least.

     "I..." Cara was getting fatigued, and she took a deep breath. This was taking all the energy she had, and leaving her drained. All of this was too much. "I don't. I mean, they aren't dense. Le knows that they cannot go anywhere that has any ties to them or the Red Scorpions— the RCMP routinely checks all known locations in Canada, and have never found anything. I-I doubt they'd be nearby."

     Fair enough. Nobody was expecting her to know. If she did, she would have said something long ago.

     "There's one final question and then we're done," Matt gave the blonde an encouraging smile. He could see that this interrogation was harming her, but she was trying to keep it together. It was both admirable and heart-breaking.

     Luke merely glanced over at his partner, not letting on that he was confused. He'd already given the final question. What else was there to inquire about?

     Only one left. Only one. She can do it.

     Cara nodded, signaling for the black-haired man to go ahead.

     "In your own words, why do you think the Founding Fathers left you in Balmoral Tower's basement and let you be rescued?"

     Now, they wanted to hear her opinion on the matter. This wasn't based on factual events and the truth anymore. They wanted to hear directly from her what she thought, and that was both comforting and disquieting.

     "Uh..." It was apparent to everyone watching that the woman was taken aback. The way she'd angeled her body away from the two agents and straightened out her posture indicated that. Involuntary tears burned her eyes and she gulped.

     "So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear. Farewell remorse: all good to me is lost; evil, be thou my good. Dear Clementine, needn't you worry. We'll reunite when the time is right."

     Those were Le's final remarks to her and the last time she'd heard from any of the Founding Fathers. He'd spoken them after he'd picked her off the floor and strung her up in the air while she bled out. He'd kissed both her cheeks and walked out of the room. It was a moment between them that had faded from her paranoia, but she still occasionally recalled it.

     The quote he'd recited originated from Paradise Lost in Book Four, lines one-hundred-and-eight to one-hundred-and-ten. It referred to the instance in the story where Satan had convinced his troops to commit themselves to evil. However, the small plot twist was that Satan was still having to convince himself to do the same.

     Those lines were Satan giving himself a pep talk and bidding farewell to hope and remorse while embracing the resolve to divide God's kingdom. His decision was driven by pride, just as Le's decision to leave Cara behind was.

     Two years of dominating, controlling, and torturing the ex-trafficker could only be satisfactory for so long until Le and the other Founding Fathers reached a point where it was no longer fun or pleasurable. She no longer met their needs. So, by spending more time with her, Le was compromising his power and intimidating reputation. She was no longer afraid of any of them or of use. So, what was the point in continuing?

     A total of two minutes and fifty-four seconds of silence passed before the team received a response.

     Cara wet her lips and blinked. "It..." her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. "It's hard to torture someone who has nothing left to offer or lose."

     No one was sure what they were expecting the woman's answer to be, but it wasn't that. And it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Something about her words was chilling, though. They offered insight into her self-awareness of the situation she'd been in, how she saw herself then and possibly now, and her understanding of how the Founding Fathers operated.

     "Thank you for your time, Miss Valentine. The interview concludes here." Matt said, closing the file in front of him.

     "You did great," Luke gave her a supportive smile and got up to turn off the camera. All she could do was nod meekly.

     When the camera finally stopped recording, Cara took a heavy breath and turned to the right. It was over. Every inch of her body was trembling. She pressed her lips together harshly— doing her best not to lose it in front of everyone. She could physically feel the sobs trapped behind her ribcage, fighting to break free, and it hurt.

     There was nothing but an inescapable silence suffocating her, and she could feel her chest tightening. A painful lump rested in her throat as the tears began to form gradually. Time seemed to slow as her breathing became shallow, her lungs screaming for air.

     Blinking, she gulped down the mass in her throat to hinder the waterworks, but her actions failed. Feeling tears running down her cheeks, she licked her lips and wiped them away.

     "Do you want us to send Le in? Do you want to be left alone with him again?"

     Her chest began to rise up and down rapidly as she was quickly losing control. Shirzad's questions were suddenly on repeat in her mind. She couldn't shake them. Raspy breaths fell from her lips, and she placed a hand over her heart, gasping for air.

     This was all the panic and fear she'd been holding back for however long the interrogation went. This is what she was fighting off until they were done.

     "She's having a panic attack."

     "Move. Get back."

     Rushing into the room, Rossi made his way to the blonde's side and crouched down so they were at eye level. "Hey, hey, figlia mia," he murmured softly, placing his hands over hers. "Breathe. Breathe. Happy place, remember? Try to focus on it."

     Cara weakly shook her head and let out a sob. Her body shook even more. "I-I can't... I-I can't," she whimpered; her breath came out in stuttered rasps, cutting one another off, desperate for the taste of air. The muscles and veins in her neck were straining themselves while she tried to cling to the sound of Rossi's voice. She was almost red in the face.

     Wrapping his arms around her, the Italian man shut his eyes. "Imagine the dark blue water and the sea foam bordering the shore. The air smells of salt and cheap sun lotion. Focus on the sound of the waves crashing. Think about how peaceful the world was." His heart ached as she sobbed into his chest, gripping his button-down. The happy place technique wasn't working.

     It felt as if the walls were caving in on Cara. The never-ending memories of pain and suffering were more than overwhelming. A river of inescapable panic whirled in her stomach, and she felt like she could barely breathe. The memories were suffocating every inch of her and she sobbed silently. Her lungs no longer contained the capability to let out a single noise.

     The sound of her breathing was raspy and fast-paced. She felt like she'd run a mile without stopping and was just now trying to catch her breath.

     An idea came to mind, and Rossi pulled back a bit. "Spencer. Think about Spencer's eyes," he whispered, voice low enough so only she could hear him.

     Within the past few months, he'd learned that the woman once found great comfort in the genius's eyes. They somehow helped her calm down, which was why Spencer was the only person who could wholly and successfully bring her back from a panic attack for a while. Spencer had no knowledge of this, but Rossi did, and he knew it was a good strategy.

     Despite having the doctor nearby, Rossi knew she wouldn't let go of him. At least not until she'd calmed down enough to or until she passed out.

     In the beginning, most, if not all, of her panic attacks resulted in her losing consciousness. The ability to breathe during her fight-flight-or-freeze instincts had become foreign to her. It'd taken a long time to get to where she was now: only passing out a third of the time. Hopefully, this was one of the times when she didn't.

     Cara's mind was empty and unfocused.

     Whenever she tried to fixate on the sight of Spencer's eyes, she lost concentration. The agony she was enduring hurt too much. It must've come in waves; seconds of sobbing broken apart by pauses for breaths of air that scarcely touched her lungs before hurling back into another set of cries.

     "Focus on his eyes," Rossi whispered, rubbing his hand up and down her back.

     "I-I can't... I can't stop hearing his voice."

     "Voice?" Luke repeated, eyebrows knitting together.

     Rossi turned, giving him a look. "Don't."

     Nodding, the agent got the message loud and clear. They were done.

     The sound of their voices itched at Cara, and she shook her head. It took a second, but she managed to pull away from Rossi. "Home," she choked out. "I-I wanna go home."

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

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Figlia mia ━━ My daughter

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     hey everyone!! i hope you all enjoyed the fifty-fourth chapter!

     (cara is the big spoon confirmed. i feel like it fits her and spencer's dynamic so well.)

     answers! answers! answers! we got some answers!

     this chapter is one of my absolute favorites and had me tearing up every time i worked on it (which was for over a year). cara's strength is unmatched.

     it took a long time for cara to get to this point in her journey, but she's come so far. there's more room to go and more to be revealed, but progress is progress. please let me know your thoughts on the chapter!

     i've been working so hard on this chapter every day for the last few weeks, and off and on for a year. it's gone through a lot of rewrites, but i finally settled on something i love— i hope someone loves it too. it's the longest chapter i've ever written (over 26k words wtf) so i better not hear shit about the lack of updates or to update asap. this took so so long and was excruciating to put together in a way that made sense, but i think it's good!

     ps... for all those who have been patiently waiting for something to happen with #spara... the next chapter is going to be very satisfying. you're welcome in advance. it will be out sooner than this chapter, i swear.

     here is a lil edit i made for this episode (i'm so obsessed with this manip, it looks so legit!):

     &&& meme time ━━ the first is my favorite tbh because like... it's sooooooooo accurate.

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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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