❝If I cannot bend the will of Heaven, I shall move Hell.❞

VIRGIL

✩

3.2 : emotionally compromised

IT IS VERY RARE FOR A MAP TO LOOK CONFUSING TO SPENCER, BUT TONIGHT IS ONE OF THOSE RARE OCCASIONS. He's racked his brain for hours, attempting to map out possible hideout locations in Esther's comfort zone, and so far, there is absolutely nothing. It is past midnight, which means they've missed the deadline, and they're playing from behind now. The conference room is rightfully tense, no one speaking, everyone worried.

 Spencer wonders how Hazel is taking it. She left the room over half an hour ago, saying she was going to use the restroom, take a look at Esther's file again, but Spencer knows that's not really true. She wants to be alone, away from the worry and fear that everyone else is emanating right now. Spencer understands; he's been there before.

He rubs his eyes, feeling a headache beginning to form just behind his forehead. The coffee in the mug behind him is lukewarm and bitter, but it's better than nothing. He feels so powerless, and feeling powerless makes him afraid. And fear makes him do irrational things.

He's walked into a room with a suicide bomber. He's locked himself into a room with anthrax. He's confronted an unsub unarmed with nothing more than a headache ruse as a plan. Statistically, he should not be alive.

Statistically, they only have twenty-one hours that Lars is guaranteed to be alive.

But statistics are not always accurate.

"Garcia, anything?" Hotch asks for the umpteenth time. At this point, it's hopeless to ask; he'll get the same answer he's gotten the past hundred times. But it's good to feel like you're doing something.

Garcia shakes her head, swallowing hard. "I've checked every camera I have in the comfort zone. There's nothing there."

"Dammit!" Morgan hits the table with his fist, covering his face with shaking hands. "How the hell didn't she show up anywhere? Why can't we find her?"

Spencer glances out the window, looking down into the bullpen, shrouded in darkness, looking for Hazel. Wondering how she's doing.

But even in the darkness, it's obvious she isn't there.

He reaches into his pocket for his phone, to text her, to ask her where she is–

But his phone is not there.

Spencer pauses, thinking back to when he last had his phone. Hazel teases him about his "forgetfulness", knowing full well that it's not that he forgets about it, it's just that he's geriatric when it comes to technology.

He remembers setting it on his desk, on the verge of tears as Hazel cried in JJ and Prentiss's arms. He had to look away. The knowledge that there was nothing he could do or say to assuage her was more than he could bear.

"Where are you going?" Prentiss asks, as Spencer turns and heads toward the door.

"Left my phone on my desk," he replies, speeding up into a jog, hitting the stairs quickly and turning the corner toward his desk.

Spencer flicks the switch on his lamp, sending the shadows across his desk fleeing for cover, and swears quietly under his breath when his phone is nowhere to be seen. Where could he have possibly left it? There's nowhere else it could be, and there's no one here that would take it.

Unless–

There are quiet footsteps behind Spencer, and he whips around expectantly, his heart rate quickening in the hope that it might be Hazel–

But it is not. It's Ethan Chamberlain and Blair Tran, both dressed casually in comparison to their normal work attire, both holding large to-go coffee cups.

"Dr. Reid." Blair gives him a polite nod.

Spencer shakes her hand and then Ethan's, his stomach squirming at the contact, but he's hearing Hazel's voice in his head: The likelihood that you get sick from shaking someone's hand is very small, Spencer. If you're so worried about it, just go wash your hands. You can't let fear control you forever.

If Hazel can confront the trauma of having a psychopathic serial killer for a mother, Spencer can be uncomfortable shaking hands.

"What are you guys doing here?" Spencer asks, resisting the urge to wipe his hand on his pants.

"Fin asked us to come down," Ethan replies. "She said something about her sister being in danger, that it was urgent. Where is she?"

"I haven't seen her in a while." Spencer shrugs. "She needed some space after... well, you know. The past few weeks have been really hard on her."

"She was meant to brief us when we arrived." Ethan pulls his phone out of his pocket, frowning. "I texted her that we were here."

Spencer's stomach begins to churn again, but not at the thought of shaking hands. Something feels off. "Did she respond?"

"No." Ethan shakes his head. "I'll try calling her."

His phone rings once. Twice. Three times. There is no answer. Spencer's heart pounds against his ribs, anxiety sending chills down his spine.

It is eight long rings before Ethan's phone clicks, and then Hazel's tinny voice says: "Hey, this is Fin. I can't come to the phone right now, but leave a message and I'll get back to you as quick as I can."

"She wouldn't let it go to voicemail," Spencer says quietly. "Not right now. Not unless–"

But Blair and Ethan are thinking exactly what he's thinking. They follow him up the stairs and back into the conference room.

"Garcia, I need you to track Hazel's phone," Spencer says quickly, as every head in the room turns to face him, frowning in confusion.

"Um, okay." Garcia types quickly, pulling up her tracking program, and Spencer watches as her system pings towers in the area, drawing a closer and closer circle until–

"Her phone's still here." Garcia points to the red circle right over top of the BAU.

"Reid, what's wrong?" Hotch asks, arms crossed over his chest.

"I haven't seen Hazel in–" Spencer checks his watch– "forty-seven minutes, twelve seconds. She's not in the bullpen and I'd hazard a guess that she's not in the restroom, either."

"She texted Blair and I hours ago, asking us to come down," Ethan adds grimly. "But then she never responded to my text, and when I called her just now, it went to voicemail."

"What's going on?" Blair asks. "She didn't tell us anything over text."

"Esther raided Lars's safe house," Rossi replies. "She killed two agents and we believe she's blackmailing another one for added muscle. As far as we know, both Lars and the agent are still alive, but they're being held somewhere."

"And we have no damn idea where," Morgan grumbles.

"Fin wouldn't let her phone go to voicemail with all of this going on." JJ purses her lips worriedly. "Especially not if she knew you guys were coming."

"What if she went after Esther on her own?" Prentiss asks quietly.

The room goes silent for a moment, except for the pounding of Spencer's heart in his throat. The headache behind his eyes is building, throbbing painfully.

"She wouldn't do that." Morgan shakes his head fervently. "Not without telling us first."

"She went to Greece without telling us," Garcia says softly, almost inaudibly.

"She regretted that decision very much." Ethan's voice is calm, even, and it angers Spencer. They're talking about the love of his life who could be in real danger, and he's not even worried? "I can tell you that she wanted to explain everything, that she desperately wanted to come back. It was her genuine care for all of you that kept her away so long."

"Garcia, check the cameras outside," Hotch says finally, after another achingly tense silence. "See if she left the building."

It takes all of thirty seconds for Garcia to gasp loudly, and for everyone in the room to crowd around her laptop. She rewinds the tape to eleven-forty, and Spencer's heart quickens as he watches Hazel walk toward the elevators. Garcia clicks to the camera outside the BAU parking lot, and at eleven forty-three, Hazel walks out the doors and turns to the right.

Another click, and the time is eleven forty-four. Hazel opens the passenger door of an SUV and leans in, her back to the camera. She takes a step back and puts something small and rectangular in her back pocket.

Then suddenly, without warning, she whips around, right hand on her holster. There's a figure, half in the shadows, facing Hazel. There is no audio, so Spencer and the others are clueless as to what's going on.

But Hazel's shoulders relax and her hand drops to her side. The person, whoever they are, is not a threat. Spencer breathes a sigh of relief.

"What's she doing?" Garcia whispers, and Spencer's heart leaps into his throat. Hazel's raising her left hand into the air, her eyes trained on the figure in front of her, while her right hand unfastens her holster and lays it on the ground. She then pulls the small object from her back pocket and places it on the asphalt next to her holster. In the dim light of the lamp poles, Spencer can tell it's a cell phone.

Hazel stands back up and then opens the back door of the SUV, climbing in slowly. The figure moves out of the shadows, shutting the door behind her. Partially illuminated, Spencer sees that it's a man, wearing a boxy jacket, and as he walks around the front of the car, the light falls on the holster on his left hip.

The man climbs into the drivers' side of the SUV and reverses it, turning toward the exit, and Hotch says, "Garcia, freeze it!"

She pauses the feed obediently.

"Now zoom in on his face."

Three clicks and Spencer's mouth goes dry. Adrian Bauer is driving the SUV.

"Esther has Fin," JJ whispers, hand over her mouth.

Prentiss has gone white with shock. Morgan closes his eyes, swearing fiercely under his breath. Garcia's eyes well with tears.

The blood is rushing in Spencer's ears as he processes the information. Esther has Hazel. She's in danger. She's been gone for forty-five minutes and they didn't do a damn thing.

He doesn't even realize he's walking out the door until Morgan's firm hand yanks him back in. "Reid. Reid, stop. We can't do anything until we know where Esther's holding them."

"Not doing anything might have gotten her killed, Morgan," Spencer hisses, wresting his shoulder from Morgan's grip.

"Garcia, you haven't had any luck with abandoned buildings in the comfort zone?" Hotch asks.

Garcia wipes her face with the back of her sleeve, shaking her head. "No, sir. There's too many, and we don't have enough information for me to narrow it down. It would take hours for you to get to them all."

Spencer is angry, but he is not angry enough for his brain to stop working. It is still processing information, and slowly, it's fitting puzzle pieces together. Fin's phone is in the parking lot... Tracking says it's here... Misplaced his phone... Not on his desk...

"Garcia, rewind the cameras back to eleven thirty," Spencer says quickly, leaning back over her shoulder. "And look at the ones in the bullpen."

Garcia frowns, confused, but does so anyway. There are three cameras in the bullpen, and Spencer watches intently, hoping to God that Hazel's as smart as he thinks she is. Hoping that she's giving them a way to save her.

His heart rate quickens as he sees her walk into frame at eleven thirty-six. She is at her own desk, opening a drawer, pulling out a file. Undoubtedly it is Esther's.

And then, mercifully, thankfully, she looks over at Spencer's desk. Spencer leans closer. His phone is right there, sitting next to his computer. Where he remembers leaving it now.

And Hazel picks it up at eleven thirty-eight.

Shoves it into her front pocket.

Pauses.

Replaces the file on her desk. Runs a hand through her hair.

And then walks toward the doors.

Hazel Finley, you are a genius. I love you.

"Now go back to the parking lot camera at eleven-fifty." Spencer's hands are shaking as he points to the small square on Garcia's laptop screen.

And sure enough. When Hazel places the phone on the pavement, it's from her back pocket. It's the phone she retrieved from the SUV.

Oh, my god.

"Reid, what are you getting at?" Morgan asks.

"Hazel has my phone," Spencer murmurs, outside sounds suddenly muffled by the blood rushing in his ears. "She has my phone."

"Reid." Rossi puts a hand on his shoulder and suddenly the world comes whirling back into focus. "What is it?"

"Garcia, Hazel has my phone," Spencer says, loudly and clearly. "Can you–?"

Garcia's already nodding. "I'm on it."

Forty seconds later, there's a small red circle, but it's not over the BAU this time.

"Oh, my god." Garcia's jaw drops. "I found her. I found her! This is the last tower she pinged."

"What is it?" Ethan asks sharply. "Is it a building?"

"Uh..." Garcia types faster than Spencer's ever seen her type before, pulling up addresses, property records, birth certificates, tax returns, everything she can find. "It's a dairy farm, previously owned by the Lindberg family, and it was super successful until 2008, when the economy crashed and sent Mr. Robert Lindberg out of business. He filed for bankruptcy and then died two years ago of a heart attack. Unfortunately, he was the last remaining Lindberg, so the title to the land passed to his ex-wife–"

"Doris Lindberg." Blair and Spencer say this at the same time.

"Who's Doris Lindberg?" Prentiss asks.

"She's the one who helped Esther find Fin and her sister on the internet," Blair replies grimly. "If Esther's holding them there, then we've got Lindberg for accessory to murder and kidnapping."

"Alright, let's go." Hotch shrugs off his suit jacket, draping it over a chair and rolling up his sleeves. "I want everyone geared up and ready to leave in five. Garcia, text everyone the address."

"Already on it," Garcia replies, head bent over her laptop."

Spencer follows Morgan and Rossi out the door, but Hotch stops him. "No. I need you here with Garcia."

"Absolutely not." Spencer shakes his head fervently. "I'm going."

"You're emotionally compromised," Hotch says. "I need everyone objective–"

"Agent Hotchner, we're all emotionally compromised." Blair turns around, pausing briefly on the stairs to look up at them. "I spent eight months as Fin's closest confidante, and I love her like a sister. You guys have known her for a lot longer than that, and I have no doubt that you are her family. She tends to touch people like that." Blair's eyes turn to Spencer, softening at the look on his face. "And I'm guessing she's more than that to you?"

Spencer nods, unable to speak around the lump in his throat.

"We're wasting time, Agent Hotchner," Blair continues. "We all want to get Fin home safely. Let him go."

Hotch stares at Spencer for a moment, his gaze cold and searching, and then sighs. "I need you outside the building at all times unless I tell you otherwise. You do not disobey my orders. If you do anything contrary to my orders, you'll be suspended without pay. Is that clear?"

Spencer swallows hard, nodding. "Yes, sir."

Hotch places a hand on his shoulder, lowering his voice. "Reid, I want her back as much as you do. So I need everyone to pretend as if we don't know her. She is just another victim."

But that's the thing about Hazel, Spencer thinks as they sprint down the stairs toward the parking lot. She is absolutely unforgettable. He can't pretend to not love her more than he could pretend to not know how to read.

She is the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

So he focuses on that. On the softness of her skin. The way her hair smells of honey. The way she always squeezes his hand three times. The way she can't sing at all, but it's still the cutest thing in the world. How she reads his favorite books and pretends it's not because he likes them.

God, if you let Hazel come home alive tonight, I swear I'll never let her go. I'll keep her safe for the rest of my life. Just let her come home.

~

i kid you not, my heart was absolutely pounding writing this chapter. i'm so stressed and i actually know what happens at the end.

(just a happy lil reminder to check out the fanart contest on my profile <3 it's gonna be super awesome and i would love for you to participate. i posted the google doc with details on my profile)