2 | GREEN LIGHT. [SPENCER REID]

PROLOGUE.

PROLOGUE ; SEVEN THIRTY-SEVEN.

IT WAS A Friday. The sun was shining, the sky was the bluest anyone in the state of Virginia had seen it all year. The air was cool. March was just ending and April was being kindly welcomed by all. It truly looked perfect.

It always did on this day. Always.

The Behavioral Anaylysis Unit liked to think that it was her way of telling them that she was okay. It was their attempt to make the situation better. And at times, it worked.

But sometimes it didn't. Not today.

It had been two years to the day. Two years since the escape of Joseph Lawrence. Two years since the disapperance of Kyle Masters. Two years since the passing of Quinn Carson.

It only made sense that Kyle Masters would choose to reappear on this day. It only made sense that he would choose this day to alert all who knew him that he and his new band of criminals were ready to wreak havoc.

When the time is right, Masters had written. Those five words were the only thing he sent out, plastering his message across the internet, text bolded and prominent. That was his message. He and his team were coming. He was untracable. They were untracable. They were the true Horsemen. They were brilliant.

The date stared Aaron Hotchner in the eye as he sat in his chair, evaluating his options. Though the desire to avenge their friend was prominent, there wasn't much that the BAU could do but wait. It was excruciating, knowing that the group responsible for the death of one of their own was out there, awaiting the right moment to strike again.

Aaron moved his gaze away from the date as he heard footsteps entering his office. Spencer Reid stood before him, hurt written across his face. His left hand trembled as he clenched it. The leader saw the slight glaze in his eye as he attempted to contain his emotions. "He's back?" His words were venomous; something uncharacteristic for the doctor. Hotch was taken back, never having heard his voice filled with so much rage.

"It seems that way," Hotch replied, a certain anger evident in his words as well.

Spencer bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head. "He had to pick this day?" he asked softly. His eyes began to well up with tears, finger nails digging into his palm. A shade of white splayed across the tops of his knuckles."Of all days, this one?"

"That's who he is," the leader answered. "Dates, places, and people are important to him. He wants to make a statement."

"Yeah, well," Spencer breathed, a humorless smile appearing on his face as he threw his hands up, "message received." He ran a hand down his face, wiping away the tears that had fallen. His fingers stayed cupped around his lips as he covered his mouth, restraining himself from saying things he could later regret.

"Reid," Aaron began, choosing his words carefully, "I know this is difficult for you. It's hard for everyone else on the team, too. But, when the time comes, I need you alert. I can't have your anger clouding your judgement."

Spencer clamped his hand tighter around his mouth. He nodded, showing his boss that he understood. His jaw clenched as he blinked rapidly. There was no emotion but anger. Grief, sadness and hurt had all passed over his head. Anger remained. It was prominent. It was red hot.

Hotch watched his teammate cautiously. Spencer looked as though he were going to turn away from him and walk out, but he shifted back toward the desk. Their eyes met and Spencer sighed softly. "Is she alive?"

The words were quiet and Hotch almost missed them. Almost.

"What?" the leader asked, confusion contorting his face.

"Is she alive?" Spencer asked, voice louder than it had been all day. Hotch did not reply. He watched Spencer fish through his bag, finding the worn out note that he had kept with him everyday for two years. The genius unfolded the piece of paper, slamming it down on Hotch's desk and pointing to the two words on it. "This note was wrapped up in the sweater you returned to me seven hundred and thirty-one days ago. These two words were what we messaged each other to let the other know that they were safe and okay." It was silent. "Is she alive?" he demanded.

Hotch mentally swore, closing his eyes for a moment too long. She hadn't followed protocol when it came to Spencer Reid. Predictable. He should have realized who he was working with. Spencer looked at him incredulously as he glanced up. His bottom lip quivered as he ran a hand down his face.

"You cannot tell anyone." Aaron's tone was icy and left no room for argument.

Spencer shook his head. "Who else knows?"

"No one," Hotch replied. "Just you and I." Lie. She had taught him better than to believe that.

"Where is she?"

The leader closed his eyes once more. "I'm not at liberty to tell you that."

Spencer let his mouth drop open as he felt his heart crack. He let out a labored breath, biting the inside of his cheek again. "Hotch-" he said, his soft voice being cut off by the man who stood before him.

"Reid, no," he snapped, shaking his head. "This is for the good of everyone. For us and for her. No one can know." A humorless laugh escaped the lips of the once joyful doctor. He looked away from Aaron, unable to believe exactly what he was hearing.

Spencer Reid then stormed out of his boss' office with a single tear rolling down his face. This tear however, wasn't sad. It was a mixture of anger and disbelief and joy and relief all wrapped up into one drop of salt water. Somewhere in the bottom of his stomach, he always knew. Quinn Carson was alive. Quinn Carson lived.

A heavy sigh left Aaron Hotchner as he sat down in his chair with one hand covering his face. He reached for his phone and unlocked it, scrolling through his contacts before pressing on the desired one. He placed the phone to his ear. He sat up straight. He glanced around, making sure that no one was close to his office. They couldn't know. Not yet.

The dial tone stopped as a woman picked up her end of the line. "I was wondering when you'd call," the familiar voice said, sounding quite rushed. Bustle was prominent in the background of the call, voices speaking, phones ringing. "I assume you're aware of what just happened."

"Unfortunately," Hotch replied with a strenuous breath.

"How's everyone taking it?"

"How you'd assume. Reid's taking it the hardest, Garcia and JJ aren't too far behind him. Morgan's torn apart, but volunteered to return and aid to the team when necessary."

She sighed. Things got quiet now, and Hotch assumed she had slipped into her office. "This can't happen again, Hotch. We can't have the real Horsemen destroying the world."

Hotch nodded, although she couldn't see him. "Prentiss," he muttered, readjusting the phone to his ear. "It's time."

Emily Prentiss went silent for a moment before asking, "As in time for Project Lazarus?"

"Yes," he sighed, eyes drifting around his office. "It's time to bring Quinn Carson back from the dead."

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looks like we're back ??