❝I felt a tremendous distance between me and everything real.❞

HUNTER S. THOMPSON

✩

2.6: steel reserve and winstons

IT IS TWO LONG, UTTERLY AGONIZING DAYS OF STARING AT COMPUTER SCREENS BEFORE PENELOPE AND FIN FIND SOMETHING NEW ON ESTHER. Fin thinks she might have memorized Esther's prison Internet history (she stalked Lars' Facebook page a lot), and every time a video of the trial comes up, Penelope hisses and clears the tab out, like it's something entirely offensive. Fin isn't annoyed; in fact, she finds herself loving Penelope more than ever.

 But today is their breakthrough day. Fin is eating a turkey and avocado panini–Spencer surprised her with lunch from her favorite sandwich shop–and watching Penelope create a database of security cameras based on Esther's proximity to Fin's old apartment, the BAU, and the abandoned building in downtown Quantico, when her phone rings.

Quickly, Fin swallows her bite of sandwich and pulls it out. It's Ethan. She pushes her chair back, hurrying back out into the hallway so she doesn't bother Penelope, and answers it. "Hey."

"We've had a breakthrough." Ethan's voice is low, excited, nearly out-of-breath. "We've had a bloody break!"

"What are you talking about?" Already, Fin's heart is beginning to race.

"You remember when we went to the building in Quantico, and we looked at the photos, and you said that she likely stole a credit card, yes?"

"Yeah..." Fin replies slowly, attempting to keep her voice level so Penelope doesn't think something is wrong. Ethan's starting to scare her. "Why?"

"I had Blair's team searching for credit cards reported stolen and purchases matching the types of camera and lens she bought, and we weren't coming up with anything at all, even when we searched in Mississippi, in surrounding states, and in Virginia. There was absolutely nothing."

"Ethan, get to the point, for God's sake." Fin rubs her forehead with her fingertips, her heart thudding in her throat. "The suspense is killing me."

"So then, just yesterday, I had a rather insane thought," Ethan continues, more excited than she's ever heard him. "What if she didn't steal a credit card in America? What if she thought she'd be clever and steal one in Mexico, so that she'd be off ours and the Prison Bureau's radar?"

Fin's heart stutters. Oh my god. "And?"

"Three months after she was released from prison, a man named Jorge Vasquez and his wife Juana were stabbed to death in their home in San Fernando, and when the police searched their house, both their credit cards and all their cash was missing, but nothing else. In light of the recent massacres, they assumed it was cartel-related and no further investigation was done. But Jorge and Juana were dual citizens. They moved back from Corpus Christi to take care of Juana's mother, who was ill. The credit cards she stole were American."

"Did you–?"

"Already done," Ethan answers, before Fin can finish. "A year ago, Juana's credit card was used to buy an Olympus E-5 camera in Burke, and a month after that, Jorge's was used to purchase a 150-300 mm lens in Dumfries."

"Oh, my god." Fin can hardly breathe. She presses a hand against the wall, steadying herself. "We've got her."

"And the fact that she crossed the border and murdered two people in Mexico gives Interpol official jurisdiction," Ethan continues. "Which means I can give you my full support, instead of working through Blair and her team. I'm working on getting Esther put on Interpol's official wanted list and I've had Blair send your technical analyst all the information. I've heard stories about Penelope Garcia and figured she might do a better job than these CIA interns."

Fin is far too out of breath to chide Ethan for his pettiness. She closes her eyes, willing her heart to calm down.

"Fin, are you all right?" Ethan asks after a moment, lowering his voice.

"Yeah." She exhales slowly, her hands trembling a little. "I'm fine. It's just...so sudden."

"Do you need me to call you back later?"

"No. I'm fine." Fin stands up straight, forcing herself to ignore the goosebumps on her arms, the churning of her stomach. "What's the plan now?"

"Well, we have no way of knowing whether Esther has used up all the cash or not," Ethan replies. "And it's likely that if we freeze the credit cards, she will realize we are onto her, panic, and steal another, which would likely involve more killing. Or she would rush her endgame, and we have no idea what that entails, except that it involves you and your sister. It's a risk we can't take."

"So...we let her keep using the credit cards?"

"For now. Blair and I agree that since we now know which cards she's using, we'll be able to track her purchases and potentially triangulate where she's based out of. We're playing it by ear for now, waiting until she reveals herself. The goal has always been to wait until we can surely force her into making a mistake."

"Okay." Fin nods, despite the fact that Ethan can't see her over the phone. "I'll let the rest of my team know. Thank you."

"I'll call you when I know more," Ethan says, and then hangs up.

Fin closes her eyes, exhaling slowly again, focusing on her hands, willing them to stop shaking. This is meant to be good news, and yet she's filled with an odd sense of grief for Jorge and Juana Vasquez. It's not her fault that they died, but she feels like in a way, it is. She'll get Penelope to find out if they had more family, and when this is all over, she'll make a trip to apologize in person.

Just as she reaches for the door handle to head back into Penelope's lair, it jerks open, almost sending her flying into the room. Penelope's face appears in the doorway, eyes wide and serious. "Oh, my goodness, come here! I just got an email from–"

"I know, Ethan just called me," Fin replies, but Penelope is shaking her head.

"No, no, no, I got the credit card information, and I ran it, and there was a hit an hour ago at a gas station six miles from here."

It is no use attempting to keep her hands from shaking. Fin just sits down in her chair, her heart beating so loudly she's sure Penelope can hear it, her ears beginning to ring with memories.

"And when I looked back, I saw another hit a week ago," Penelope continues, her voice trembling as she points to the screen, where there's a long list of transactions and dates. "It was for the exact same amount, which was weird. So I looked at the gas station and I found that they have cameras, and–" She sucks a breath in, giving Fin a wary look, before pressing a button.

A grainy video feed appears on the screen, black and white, of a gas station counter. A man is behind it, ringing up what looks like a six-pack of beer and several small boxes. And there is a woman on the opposite side of the counter. She is wearing jeans and a dark-colored hoodie, hood pulled up over her head, but dark hair peeks out. And when she accepts the bag from the cashier and turns to leave, facing the camera slightly, Penelope pauses it.

Fin cannot breathe.

She has not seen that face in thirteen years.

Even through this screen, it is more lined.

She is thinner, gaunter.

But the face is the same.

It is a woman she used to call "Mama".

"That's her," she whispers, her ears beginning to ring again.

And in a whirlwind of time and space, suddenly Fin is in the conference room with Penelope and the rest of the team, explaining everything Ethan said and showing the security footage they found. Spencer intentionally finds the chair next to her and takes her hand beneath the table, moving his thumb over hers gently. His touch is the only tangible thing in this room full of thoughts.

"How far is this gas station from the safe houses?" This is the first question out of Hotch's mouth when Penelope and Fin finish explaining.

"Um..." Penelope types quickly, squinting at her laptop screen. "Eight miles from Fin's and five from her sister's."

"And six from here," Morgan says grimly, crossing his arms across his chest. "So she has a comfort zone."

"That makes sense." Rossi nods. "She's been in the area less than a year, and she's surrounded by government agencies who know she's out of prison. It's a dangerous game to play. I'm not surprised she's staying in a ten-mile area."

"So she's gotta be staying somewhere in that area, too," Emily adds. "Garcia, have you looked at motels, abandoned buildings, anything like that in her comfort zone?"

"I'm running a search right now." Penelope nods.

"Dave, head down to that gas station," Hotch says, brow furrowed seriously. "Talk to the cashier, find out anything you can."

"I'm going, too," Fin says quietly, as Rossi nods and turns to leave.

Hotch shakes his head. "No. It's too–"

"Dangerous? Hotch, you drove to your house alone, knowing full well that George Foyet was there and that he wanted to kill you." Fin is surprisingly calm, her voice even, her hands still. Spencer squeezes her hand warningly, but she is fine. She will be fine. "This isn't any more reckless than that. I know more about her than any of you. I should go."

Hotch's mouth flattens into a thin line, and for a moment, Fin worries he might yell at her. Maybe she shouldn't have brought up Foyet. Although it has been a year.

But then he sighs. "Fine. Just...be careful."

"He means don't be stupid," Emily says, a wry smile on her lips. "Don't be like me."

Hotch gives her a look that's a mixture of exasperation and amusement, and his gaze lingers on her perhaps a moment longer than it should. Fin should probably have a talk about that with him. Emily's "death" might have set them back, but she's not about to let them ignore the obvious tension.

It is hot outside, typical of an August day in Virginia, but cloudy at least. Fin is thankful that the sun hasn't turned the black government-issue SUVs into ovens, especially since Rossi chooses the one nearest them, which is sitting in absolutely no shade.

Rossi starts the engine, adjusting the seat and steering wheel, while Fin finds the gas station address on her phone's GPS. It is unnaturally awkward and slightly tense between them, the only sounds the rumble of the engine and the quiet drone of news radio in the background.

"So," Rossi says finally, putting the SUV in reverse and backing out of the parking lot, "how you holding up, kiddo?"

Fin sighs in relief. This is not the question she was expecting, but it is a welcome one. "I'm...okay. Doing as well as I can, I guess."

"Are you talking to anyone?"

"You, right now."

Rossi gives her a disgruntled look. "You know what I mean."

Fin shrugs, staring into her mirror as the FBI building quickly retreats into the far distance. "Spencer, sometimes. Lately I've just been busy. And it's too much to put on him." To put on anyone.

"The Bureau has several EACs on payroll," Rossi says slowly, carefully. "I've been to a few. They're good at what they do."

"EACs?"

"Employee Assistance Counselors."

Oh. "So therapists."

"Sort of."

"You think I should see a shrink?" Fin raises her eyebrows at him.

"It's not the worst idea," Rossi replies ambiguously. "You've been through a lot the past couple years. Bottling it all up won't help."

"I'm not bottling it up," Fin says, knowing full well that she's lying through her teeth. It is a waste of time to lie to a profiler's face, but she's got nothing else to do. "Anyway, I'm thinking about copying you."

"Hm?"

"Writing a book." This idea, born of many sleepless nights, she has not admitted to anyone yet, not even Spencer. But somehow, Rossi seems the appropriate person to confess to.

Rossi's eyebrows shoot up. He glances at her before turning left at an empty intersection. "Really? About what?"

"About...everything. Where I came from, what happened to me, where I am. I know there are more kids like me out there, who have dreams, but who think that because of what happened to them, they won't get anywhere. I just–I want them to know that it's not impossible, you know?"

A small smile appears on Rossi's face. "Yeah. I know." He pauses for a moment, then says, "If you ever need writing advice, my door is always open."

"Thanks." Fin smiles back. The atmosphere has gone from tense to warm in a matter of minutes. Rossi has always been understanding. She has never felt judged by him.

"And if you ever just need to talk..." Rossi glances at her again, eyes serious this time. "I will always be around. Always."

Fin is unsure how to respond to this, an obvious declaration of love, so she just nods and returns to staring out the window.

The gas station appears out of nowhere, the only marker of civilization on the otherwise uninhabited edge of Prince William County. It is run-down, rusty, and would not look entirely out of place in a particularly rough area of any major city. There are no other cars at the gas pumps. If Fin didn't know any better, she'd question if this gas station was even in business at all.

A tinny bell above the front door announces their arrival, and a greasy-haired man glances up from behind the counter to their right. He says nothing, just registers their appearances–Fin wearing a white tank top and black slacks, Rossi in a white button-down and gray blazer–and then returns to the magazine he's perusing.

"Excuse me." Rossi clears his throat, stepping up to the counter. "Are you the manager here?"

The guy shakes his head lazily. "Nah. That's Jim, and he only works mornings."

"Were you working here an hour ago?" Fin asks.

Again, without looking up, the guy nods. "'S my job, ain't it? What's with all the questions, anyway?"

Fin and Rossi both whip out their credentials and slide them across the counter, right beneath his nose. The man pauses mid-page turn, stares at their badges for a moment, and then slowly lifts his eyes to meet theirs. "I ain't done nothin' wrong," he says, eyes wide. "I swear."

"This isn't about you–" Fin squints at his faded name tag– "Kyle. Do you know this woman?" She pulls out her phone and finds Esther's drivers' license photo, turning it around so Kyle can see.

Kyle frowns at it, pushing a strand of oily hair back from his face. "Don't know her name, but she was in here about an hour ago. She comes in every couple weeks. Real Southern accent. Kinda rude, but a nice ass anyhow."

"What did she buy?" Rossi asks, oddly calm, hands deep in his pockets.

"Six-pack of beer, cigarettes." Kyle shrugs. "Usual shit."

"Steel Reserve and Winstons," Fin says, and Rossi and Kyle both look at her, confused. "That's what she bought, right?"

Kyle pauses, clearly thinking hard, and then nods. "Yeah, I think so. Hey, how'd you know that?"

"Does she always pay with a credit card?" Rossi asks, changing the subject abruptly.

Kyle shakes his head. "Nah, usually cash."

"She must've run out of cash," Fin says quietly to Rossi, who nods.

"Why's the FBI asking about her?" Kyle glances between Fin and Rossi, clearly confused and slightly concerned. "She do something wrong?"

"What kind of car does she drive?" Fin crosses her arms over her chest.

"Uh... gray SUV, maybe a Pilot or a Durango. Not old, but kinda banged up."

"Does she fill up here?"

"Sometimes. Why?"

"Did you ever see the license plate number?"

Kyle frowns indignantly. "No, what am I, some kinda cop or something? I don't go snoopin' around other people's shit. What did this lady do anyway? She some kinda terrorist?"

"Kyle, do you have cameras outside this gas station?" Rossi asks, leaning his elbows on the counter. Fin resists the urge to grimace; she's not sure when that counter got cleaned last, and she wouldn't personally come close to touching it.

"No, just the one right there." He points to a single camera on the wall to his left, presumably where Penelope got the footage from. "Just to keep thieves from getting too cocky. That way, I got proof."

"Tell you what, son–" Rossi fishes into his jacket pocket and passes Kyle a business card– "next time she comes in, get that license plate number and call me as soon as she leaves."

"What's in it for me?" Kyle asks, inspecting the business card, as if to check whether it's real or not.

"You get to be part of a federal investigation," Rossi replies. Kyle looks uninterested.

"And if you mention we were here at all, if you say anything to her, you will be charged with accessory to murder and conspiracy," Fin says menacingly, glaring at Kyle, who withers under her gaze, pocketing Rossi's business card and nodding fervently.

"Nice one," Rossi mutters, as they leave the disgusting gas station and step out into the humid August air.

Fin shrugs. "I can be intimidating when I want to be."

"So she'll be easier to track now that she's using credit cards only," Rossi says, as he pulls out onto the road again. "Unless she's stealing cash from other places."

"That's more dangerous," Fin replies. "She's more likely to get caught that way."

"Kyle said she buys beer and cigarettes every few weeks." Rossi purses his lips thoughtfully. "She's got to be getting real food from somewhere, right?"

"If she uses the credit cards again, we'll know," Fin says. "That'll help us narrow down her comfort zone, and then we'll get her."

Now Fin can only hope that everything falls into place before Esther decides to roll out her endgame. Otherwise, they're screwed.

~

love the rossi-fin relationship <3 he's such a cutie. and fin's book announcement?? any title guesses?? (hint: it's super obvious)