❝I can't exactly describe how I feel, but it's not quite right. And it leaves me cold.❞

F. SCOTT FITZGERALD

✩

3.3 : a second family

OR

season 5, episode 1 : nameless, faceless

(tw: shooting [obviously], blood, vomiting)

THERE ARE CERTAIN WORDS THAT TAKE TIME TO SINK IN. "I love you." "I'm pregnant." "Will you marry me?" "They're gone." You hear them once, but it takes days, sometimes longer, to fully understand the gravity of the words you've heard.

Fin thought she'd heard every heartbreaking thing there was to hear. "He's not coming back." "We're over." "Say goodbye." "I don't love you."

But then Nick sat beside her in her apartment at four a.m. and told her, "I'm not the man you knew." And it broke her.

He's been taking care of her sister for months, when she couldn't even manage to text. Didn't have the time to call. He moved states away to keep her sister safe.

She went years thinking he was shit and then he shows up in the middle of the night just to prove he's not.

And he's not the one stalking her. She knows now that he's not.

But someone is.

Someone who knows Ollie's birthday and that Fin's favorite flower is–was–orange carnations.

There are only three people in the world who know those things.

Two of them are Nick and Lars.

Which leaves–

No. She's in prison. It's not possible.

But her name has been swirling around in her head ever since that night. They got called into a case in Ontario where the unsub was feeding his victims to pigs, and Fin's gotten a grand total of seven hours of sleep in the past few days. She's exhausted.

So Lars stays with Nick and Fin sleeps.

But not for long.

Her phone rings at six a.m. and it's got to be the most heartbreaking sound she's ever heard. But she pushes her hair out of her face and answers. "Hello?"

"I'm so sorry, Fin, but we've got a case," JJ says.

"This early in the morning?" The plane got in at two a.m. Fin didn't get in bed until three. She might actually cry.

"Local PD said it was urgent. They need us. I'll text you the address."

"Okay. Thanks, Jaj." Fin yawns widely and forces herself to step onto the cold floor with a groan.

"Again, I'm really sorry. I know you're tired."

"See you there." And Fin hangs up. She doesn't have time for a shower, so she grabs a blue blouse and some beige slacks, whipping her hair up into a quick knot on top of her head.

As soon as she can, she sends a text to the BAU chat, asking if they want her to bring coffee. Everyone replies with a resounding YES, so Fin makes a plan to stop at the coffee shop on the way to the crime scene and grab coffees (and a bagel for herself).

On the way to the coffee shop, she calls Nick. He'll be awake, he's got to be in class at eight. And sure enough, he picks up on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Nick, it's me. I got called in this morning, can Lars stay with you until I get back?"

"Of course." He yawns. "They called you in again? This early?"

"It's just part of the job," Fin replies softly. "Hopefully it won't take too long."

"Okay. Just call me when you get home."

"Nick?"

"Hm?"

"About the time you showed up at my apartment and I shouted at you–"

"'S fine, Fin."

"I'm really sorry, I was just–"

"It's fine," Nick repeats firmly. "I understand. You didn't know and you were worried. It's not a problem."

Fin still doesn't feel like she's apologized enough (which is rare, considering she hates apologies), but she lets it go. "Okay. I'll call you later."

"Be safe." And he hangs up.

Fin makes sure to grab everyone's usual orders (she has them memorized at this point), and arrives at the crime scene at 7:00 precisely. If she's anything, she's punctual.

Morgan, Rossi, Emily are already waiting there, and when Emily sees Fin, her face lights up. "Oh, my god, you're an angel."

"An angel bearing coffee." Fin hands her the steaming hot cup with her name on it. "Half sweet caramel latte, right?"

Emily almost moans in delight (it's coffee, shut up). "Thank you."

Morgan and Rossi accept their coffee with a smile, and they head into the apartment complex. The sirens and lights are hurting Fin's head. Could the crime not have waited another few hours?

The crime scene in question is an apartment on the third floor, and JJ meets them at the door. "You guys are already here," she says, almost surprised, and accepts her raspberry orange tea from Fin. "You guys remember Detective Walker?"

Walker, a tall black man who Fin's actually never met before, extends his hand. "Thanks for being here." When he reaches out to shake Fin's hand, he frowns. "I don't think we've met before."

"Hazel Finley." Fin attempts a smile. "I joined the BAU last year."

"Pleasure's mine." Walker nods curtly. "I understand none of you are working on much rest."

Leaning around Walker, Fin sees that Spencer's here, too, sitting on the bed, flipping through the case file and looking incredibly sexy in pink. She plops down next to him and hands him his coffee. He gives her a grateful smile and passes her the file wordlessly.

"Who's the victim?" Rossi asks, gesturing to the yellow tarp-covered body on the floor.

"His name is Nelson Martinez," Walker replies. "From what we can figure, he answered his door, was forced into the apartment at gunpoint, and then shot in the chest. It was all pretty sloppy."

Morgan looks unconvinced. "No disrespect, but I don't understand why you need us here."

Fin's pretty sure everyone else is thinking the same thing. She's very much missing her pillow at the moment.

"Two days ago, a local doctor named Tom Barton found a note addressed to him at the hospital," Walker says. "It says the person was planning to kill his son. If Dr. Barton tried to keep his boy hidden, one person would die every day in his place."

"And you think this is connected?" asks Emily, a little skeptically.

"The note is signed 'L.C.'," Spencer says, pointing at a sheet of paper in the file on Fin's lap.

"Yesterday we had another victim," Walker continues. "Multiple gunshots outside the apartment. The shooter wrote 'L.C.' in white chalk next to the body."

"Now, unless Dr. Barton puts his son in harm's way," Spencer says, pressing his knee against Fin's beneath the file, "we're going to keep having a victim a day."

"Where's Barton now?" asks Rossi.

"He's at home," JJ replies. "He doesn't know about this victim yet."

All of a sudden, Fin notices someone's missing. There's still a coffee cup, untouched, in the carrier at her feet. "Where's Hotch?" she asks, sipping her own latte. It's just espresso with a little cream; she needed something strong this morning.

"He's not answering his cell," JJ says, shrugging. "I assume it's on vibrate. He'll get the message when he wakes up."

Hotch never has his cell on vibrate. Fin has a bad feeling in her gut. Something's wrong. But she keeps her mouth shut.

"Try him again," Rossi says. "He can meet us at Barton's house."

✩

Dr. Tom Barton lives in a nice Tudor-style home in McLean. The sun warms the house, but somehow, Fin still feels cold. She keeps finding excuses to move closer to Spencer, who definitely doesn't mind.

They still haven't had any word from Hotch, and it's making Fin very anxious. That bad feeling just keeps growing inside her stomach.

Barton's son Jeffrey snuck out and went to school, which was a dumbass move, but Morgan, JJ, Rossi, and Detective Walker followed him, so that if the unsub does show up, they can catch him quickly. Spencer, Emily, and Fin stayed behind to go through Dr. Barton's records to see if they can find anyone with the initials 'L.C.' So far, the search is proving unsuccessful, and they're having a hard time keeping Dr. Barton still.

Currently, Emily's trying to explain everything to him, and Spencer and Fin are on the phone with Garcia in Barton's study. They're alone, so Fin's curled up next to Spencer, as close as she can be without actually sitting in his lap. Because, you know, that'd be weird.

"This guy's a trauma surgeon working a major metropolitan area," Garcia says, her voice tinny coming from Spencer's phone speaker. "We are talking thousands of surgeries."

"Confine it to the last six months," Spencer says.

"That's still hundreds."

"I know." Spencer sighs, runs a hand through his hair.

"Okay," Garcia says after a short pause. "Do you want biological information or full medical charts?"

"Can you get the full medical charts?" asks Spencer, almost sounding like a kid in a candy shop. Fin resists the urge to laugh.

"You know, for a smart boy, you still ask a lot of dumb questions. You'll have 'em in seconds."

"Pen, you're a saint," Fin singsongs into the phone.

"I know, dear, I know."

"Hey, Garcia," Spencer says.

"Yes, my love?"

"Has Hotch checked in with you?"

When he says 'Hotch', Fin's insides tighten instinctively. She reaches for Spencer's hand and squeezes it tightly. This whole thing reminds her way too much of her first case in New York. Hotch got blown up the last time they didn't know where he was. Where is he now?

"He's not with you?" Garcia asks, surprised.

"He's probably on his way," Spencer says, and by his tone, Fin can tell he's trying not to worry her.

"Thank you, Penna," Fin adds, doing her best to sound cheery, and making it look like she's just leaning into the phone, because Emily's just walked in with Dr. Barton. "Bye!" She hangs up for Spencer and looks up at Emily nonchalantly. "Penelope's gonna email the files over and we can print them out from here."

"I could have my office send over the files," says Dr. Barton, shrugging.

"No, trust us," Emily replies, heading back the way she came, further into his office. "This is faster."

"We need to dig through your life and try to figure out why this is happening," Spencer says, and now that Emily and Barton are out of sight, he rests his hand on Fin's knee, squeezing gently. She's probably never going to get over how comforting his touch is.

"Let's start with the most recent cases first," Emily adds. "Something set this guy off, and odds are, it's in your files."

So they set to work downloading the files Penelope sends over and connecting them to Barton's printer. It takes a while to print out all of them–six months worth of patients and their full medical history is a lot of paperwork–but eventually they get it done, and Fin sets about organizing them and assigning sets of files. Most of the work goes to Spencer, since he can get through it the fastest.

After a long period of silence interrupted only by the ruffling of paper, clearing of throats, and the occasional phone buzzing, Spencer says, "Let's concentrate on the note."

"Okay." Fin sets down the file she's reading over (Melinda Singh, forty-two, severe spinal cord injury) and looks over at him. "Hit me."

"For starters, we know that he's male," Spencer replies, setting down his own file.

"How can you be sure?" asks Barton, running a hand through his hair tiredly.

"Women tend to add adjectives and very specific details to their notes," Emily explains. "This has none of those."

"Men are also more direct," Fin adds. "The first sentence: 'I plan to kill your son.' Straight to the point, no running around, no extra-specific details."

"And their notes tend to be more about themselves than the person they're writing to." Emily gestures animatedly as she explains, while definitely manspreading in her chair. "'I watched you every day', 'I will watch you lose everything'."

"We know he surveilled you and your son," Spencer says, "which means he either has enough money to be away from a regular job or he's currently unemployed."

"Most likely a father and clearly grieving." Fin takes a deep breath. "He's taking great measures to make sure you feel his pain." Just like someone else I know.

Spencer pauses, watching her, and Fin suddenly feels warm, dizzy. Very dizzy. She fishes her phone out of her pocket, mumbles something about calling Garcia, and staggers out of the room and into the bathroom just in time to shut the door and empty the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

Her ears ring with words from a thousand years ago. Hazel Cameron, do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you, God?

I do.

Then be seated.

"Hazel?"

Spencer drops to one knee beside her, moving her hair away from her face, concern lacing his voice. "Hey, hey. What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Fine," she mutters, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Just...bad coffee."

But Spencer's not buying it. He helps her up and then leads her into the deserted kitchen, where he fills a glass of water and hands it to her, leaning against the counter next to her. "What's going on?"

"I said I'm fine," Fin replies, sipping it slowly.

"Hazel, please," Spencer says softly, brushing her hand with his. "Don't lie to me."

Fin takes a deep breath. She's doing her best to be more honest, right? Be more open?

So she tells him the Cliff Notes version of what happened with Nick and Lars.

Spencer keeps his mouth shut until the end, and when Fin's done, he takes a deep breath, runs a hand through his hair, and says, "So then who's stalking you?"

"I don't know," Fin whispers, and her lip trembles, unbidden.

Spencer slides his arms around her and pulls her into his chest like it's nothing, kissing the top of her head gently. "We have to tell the team," he breathes into her hair. "They can help us figure this out."

"No." I can't. "There hasn't been anything in a long time. I think they've stopped."

"Hazel–"

"Spencer, if we tell them, they'll ask questions," Fin says, pulling away from him. She feels sick again. "I don't want them to ask questions."

Spencer nods, swallowing hard, and runs a hand through his hair again. "Okay. Okay." He leans against the counter, thinking. "Then at least come stay with me for a while. That should throw whoever this is off your trail, at least a little."

Fin just nods. Sips her water. Focuses on not throwing up again.

And then they walk back into the study and pick up the files like nothing ever happened.

✩

Forty minutes after Emily leaves to go find Hotch, Spencer's phone rings. He answers it immediately without saying who it is. "Hey." And then his tone changes. "What? What–what are you talking about?"

"What's going on?" asks Dr. Barton suspiciously. Fin jumps into calm-agent mode to take the heat off of Spencer.

"Sir, it's just–"

"Is this about Jeffrey?"

"No, no, it's unrelated," Spencer says, but his eyes are telling Fin they need to go outside.

"We only have a few hours left here," Barton presses.

"I'm really sorry, we have to take this phone call, okay?" Spencer's starting to get angry, which means this is really important.

"What could be more important than my son right now?" Barton's getting angry, too, so Fin steps in.

"Sir, we'll only be a moment. Please, just keep looking, and I promise, we'll be right back."

Barton drops his file on the coffee table and storms through the door into his study. "Fine."

"What's going on?" Fin drops onto the sofa next to Spencer, leaning close so she can hear Emily's voice through the tiny speaker.

"Hotch isn't at his apartment and there's blood everywhere," Spencer whispers.

"Fin, is that you?" Emily asks.

"Yeah, Em, I'm here."

"Okay. There's a huge hole in the wall. Probably a .44, but there's no blood or tissue spray around it."

"Any idea how he got out?" Spencer asks quietly.

"If he was shot, there are no drag marks," Emily replies, surprisingly calm. "But a body could've been wrapped in something."

Fin takes deep breaths. It's harder for her to shut the personal side off sometimes. She's lost so many people she loved, and every time she tries to shut new people out, they always find a way in.

"And Bureau techs are on the way?" Spencer asks, and even his voice is trembling slightly. Fin slips her hand over his bicep and squeezes, out of sight of Dr. Barton.

"Any second."

"Alright, um..." Spencer swallows hard, leans closer to Fin. "Write down everything you see and we'll profile from your notes when you get back."

"How's Dr. Barton?"

Fin peers around the door. Dr. Barton's nowhere to be seen, so she leans back and whispers, "Doing as well as he can. It's a lot of cases to go through. I think he feels helpless."

"Okay." Emily sighs. "Don't worry about here. I've got this. Just stay focused."

Spencer exhales slowly and hangs up.

But the problem is, Fin thinks, she will worry about her. She'll worry about Hotch. She'll worry and worry and worry until she explodes. Because, she realizes, this is her second family. She's already lost the first. She can't lose another.

"Uh, Dr. Barton?" Spencer says, and Barton steps back into the room, albeit cautiously.

"Sorry about that. Agent Prentiss has been called away on an emergency."

Barton frowns at them. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Sir, I'm confident that the three of us can do this," Fin says calmly, but firmly. "But I need your full focus on this. Can you do that?"

Barton sighs, runs a hand over his head, and then nods. "All right."

And they set to work again. Spencer helps Barton narrow the files down to eleven potential candidates, and then again down to six. Six young Hispanic men, operated on during the same night a patient under twenty died.

Spencer and Fin take turns reading names off to him, trying to spark his memory. "Let's start with January 22nd," Spencer says, looking down at the file in his hands. "Tyler Hayes. Multiple gunshot wounds."

Barton shakes his head.

"Alright, February 13th," Fin reads. "Brian Douglas. Hit-and-run victim. Lacerated aorta."

"No." Barton shakes his head again.

"March 15th." Spencer's voice is calm, even. It's like he's doing a cognitive interview, and in a way, he is. "Devon Marks. Heroin overdose."

Nothing.

"Uh, Angela Harris," Fin says. "Car accident, single vehicle. Bleeding into her brain."

"This is no use," Barton mutters, leaning forward in his chair. "I would remember if I was threatened."

Fin sighs. His doubting is really costing them time. She wishes she could just slap him upside the head, but that's probably not best practice, all things considered.

"Did any of them ask you about your family?" Spencer says, leaning toward him.

Barton shakes his head, looks over at the clock. He's done that every fifteen minutes since they started this whole process.

"We have time," Spencer adds softly.

Barton looks back at them with difficulty. "Okay." But he doesn't sound convinced.

They run through the rest of the possibilities, and stop on a Hector Ledezma. January 3rd. A two-car collision. The other patient, a Jason Meyers, was dead on arrival. Barton didn't operate.

Fin pulls her phone out and calls Penelope. "Hey, Penna, I need you to find a patient in the system. Jason Meyers, 18."

There's silence for a moment, then Penelope says, "He was admitted January 3rd...put on life support... Oh, no."

"What is it?"

"He was taken off the ventilator and declared legally dead three days ago."

Fin sucks in a breath. "Okay. Okay, who is his father?"

"Yeah. Uh, Patrick Meyers, age 45."

"Penelope, I think this is our unsub. Can you get a photo to Morgan at the school?"

Penelope lets a small gasp escape. "Okay. Yeah. It's on its way."

Barton jumps to his feet, heads into his study, and returns with his coat, slipping it on. Spencer looks up, frowns. "Where are you going?"

"The note says not to deviate from my routine, and I always pick up Jeffrey on my days off," Barton says, sounding slightly uncertain. Fin can't tell if he's scared or lying.

"Then we're gonna come with you," Spencer says, pushing the files off his lap and onto the coffee table. Fin stands, and then her phone rings again. This time, it's Emily. She puts it on speaker and holds the phone between her and Spencer.

"Yeah, Em?"

"'L.C.' From the unsub's note. It stands for 'living children'."

"Uh, what?" Fin's very confused.

"It's administrative. It's when they're afraid a patient's gonna go on life support and they don't have a DNR order."

"Oh, my god..." Fin looks to Spencer, who's thinking the same thing she is.

"Fin?"

"What if the unsub was trying to tell Dr. Barton that he is actually the target and that he's going to leave his son without a father?" Spencer asks, all in one breath.

And then the front door opens.

Spencer and Fin both leap to their feet, Emily forgotten. "BARTON!"

They sprint to the front door, but Spencer's faster–

He tackles Barton down just as the unsub raises his gun–

There's a sharp BANG–

Spencer and Barton are on the ground. Fin runs to them, pushing Barton off of Spencer. "Are you hit? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine," Barton pants, but Spencer's breathing heavy–and then Fin notices his hand pressed to his left knee. And the blood. She inhales sharply.

Spencer notices and immediately grabs her hand. "Fin, I'm fine. I'm fine. Get your gun. Get it out."

Fin pulls her gun out and stands, pointing it directly at Patrick Meyers, who's walking slowly toward him, shouting, "Get away from him! Get away from him!"

"Drop the gun, Patrick," Fin warns, her hands steady and voice even.

"Don't protect him! He killed my son!"

"He did not kill your son!" Spencer shouts from behind her, pointing his own gun at Meyers. "Your son was killed by a car accident."

"Stand up!" Meyers shouts, but he's talking to Barton.

"Patrick, I'm gonna ask you one more time," Fin says, putting herself between him and Barton. Between him and Spencer. "I don't want to shoot you, so please put down the gun."

"Stand up, you coward!" Meyers sobs, his hands shaking dangerously, his finger on the trigger.

"Patrick, listen to me." Fin's eyes never leave his head. The place her bullet will land. "Dr. Barton did not kill your son. Your son died in a car accident. And he wouldn't want you to do this, so please put down the gun."

Sirens wail in the distance, and Fin sucks in a breath as Meyers slowly lowers his gun, tears pouring from his eyes as he stares Barton directly in the face.

"Don't do it," Spencer whispers.

"I'm sorry," Meyers sobs, and his gun flies back up–
BANG–

Fin fires. Doesn't flinch.

Meyers keels over into the grass, eyes staring blankly upward, a perfect hole in his forehead.

Barton gasps.

Fin lowers her gun and drops to Spencer's side, ignoring the rising bile in her throat. You killed him. "Spence–"

"I'm fine." Spencer forces a smile. "Just a flesh wound."

Barton's already at Meyers' side, checking his pulse, his heart. But he's gone. Fin knows it, deep in her gut. She moves so Spencer can lean against her, instead of supporting his own weight on one arm. He's still breathing heavily, hand pressed tight against his knee. She pushes his hair out of his face and he lets a breathy chuckle slip. "You know, if we were anywhere else, I'd be really comfortable like this."

An ambulance careens up to the curb, and two police cars pull into the driveway. As soon as the EMTs get there, Barton leaves Meyers and drops to his knees next to Spencer. "Looks like it went clean through," he says, examining Spencer's knee gingerly, and then hands Fin a rag from one of the EMTs. "Keep pressure on this, okay?"

JJ, Morgan, and Rossi jump out of one of the cars and sprint toward Spencer and Fin. Jeffrey climbs out, too, and stands there, confused.

"I'm good, I'm fine." Spencer waves Barton away. "Go to your son. Go!"

"You okay?" JJ asks.

"Yeah, fine," Spencer breathes.

"We'll get you to a hospital," Morgan says, picking up Spencer's gun.

Spencer winces, leans his head back against Fin. Fin looks up at them. "You need to call Emily. Find her, call her, something."

"Where is she?" asks Rossi, frowning.

"Something's happened to Hotch."

~

sorryyyy for the late update, i've had some personal stuff come up this last week and just didn't get around to writing. 

alsoooo next chapter is the last one before the break!!! get ready to be plot-twisted into a knot ladies and gents, because i've foreshadowed the HELL out of this and i'm so ready to write it!!

buckle up hehe