" Some of the best lessons are learned from past mistakes. The error of the past is the wisdom of the future. "
— Dale Turner
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19.1 ; TERROR ALERT.
CAROLINE COULD SMELL THE smoky, warm aroma of coffee in the chilly mid-November air, even though the small coffee shop was still about a block away. Spurred on by the enticing smell, she tucked her coat tighter around her body as she picked up her pace to a brisk walk.
The sky had lightened since she left her apartment this morning and was now a milky grey, which made the air feel even cooler. The streets weren't as busy as she had ever seen them, but they were busier than she thought they'd be at seven in the morning. On the sidewalk, she passed the occasional jogger or businessman, keeping her chin tucked under the collar of her coat in an attempt to keep her face warm. She regretted not bringing a scarf.
Up ahead, she could see the warm yellow light of the coffee shop spilling out of its windows into the grey morning. The smell had grown stronger and she was all but salivating now. She was in desperate need of a caffeine fix before she could become a fully-functioning member of society.
The glass door opened easily, the bell hanging above the frame tinkling softly. The warmth of the shop enveloped her, causing her to tug her coat off and throw it over her arm. At this time of day, the cafe resembled the color fresh daises, it had a cheery look so different from the drab outside with bright light and colorful yellow walls. The sound of soft jazz music poured out the open door with the smell of rich, strong coffee mixed with the buttery, comfy smell of freshly baked croissants and muffins.
She paused and glanced around the small cafe. There were only two people in the whole place. The barista standing behind the colorful and pristine display counters gave her a tired smile. After giving a nod a warm small to the barista, she spotted her sister-in-law nestled in a corner table by the window, her attention solely concentrated on the newspaper in her hands. Her brown hair was pulled back in a long ponytail and she kept twisting a loose strand with her finger absent-mindedly as she read.
Caroline smiled a little as she approached her, draping her coat over the opposite chair. "So, what's the word?"
Rebecca glanced up at her over the newspaper and smirked. "Corporate America is lining the top one percent's pockets with more money as the economy struggles."
"Oh, so nothing new then."
"No, nothing new."
Rebecca folded the newspaper neatly on the coffee table before standing up and wrapping her arms around her. Caroline hugged her back, resting her chin on her shoulder. She could feel the hard baby bump, which had grown more pronounced in recent weeks, through her sweater.
"Thank you for meeting me here. I know it's early," her sister-in-law said as she looped her arm through Caroline's, gently steering them to the tired-eyed barista behind the cream-colored counter.
"It's no problem," she said. "I'm glad you called. How are you feeling? And the baby?"
Rebecca's answering smile was warmer than any of the fresh coffee in the shop. "We're both doing fine."
It had been two weeks since Rebecca and Chris had revealed their exciting news to the rest of the family over dinner. Both Caitlin and her aunt had teared up, while Caroline tailored a perfect response of glee and surprise (even though she had already known).
Cass had been the most excited out of all of them, which had come as a shock, but the almost-seven-year-old was convinced that their newest family member was going to be a girl that she could play dolls with. Caroline didn't have it in her to tell her youngest sister that it could be a boy, so she'd let her brother have that job.
Once they both got their orders—Caroline a hazelnut coffee with a blueberry muffin and Rebecca a herbal green tea that smelled like the inside of a dumpster—they both went back to the corner and sat. Caroline carefully cut her muffin in half and slid the other half on a napkin towards Rebecca, who took it gratefully.
"So, why'd you call? Not that I'm complaining," she said quickly once she saw her sister-in-law's face. She filed away that the pregnancy hormones were starting to kick in and she needed to watch her wording a little more. "It was just sudden."
"Well, I did want to ask you a favor," Rebecca said as she took a sip of her tea. "It's nothing huge and you can totally say no, but it'd really give me some peace of mind."
Caroline leaned over and squeezed her hand. "Anything, Bec. What is it?"
"Well, Chris and I have been talking. And if anything were to happen to us—"
"If anything were to happen to you?" Caroline shook her head, her blonde hair falling over shoulders. "Is Chris stressing you out? Because if he is, I swear I'm going to smack him. You guys are going to be fine. My brother's just...well, a baby, when it comes to children."
Which wasn't lie. It was almost comical to see her brother—a decorated Marine that can easily bench her as if she weighed nothing—get so freaked out around something so unthreatening as a crying baby.
Rebecca stuck her tongue out her briefly. "No, no, he's been fine. And I know everything will probably be fine," she amended quickly. "But, heaven forbid, if something ever happened to us, we'd like you to be the primary caregiver."
Caroline blinked, the words still processing in her head. "Me?"
"Yes, you. C'mon, you had to have seen this coming."
"I'm just..." She shook her head, suddenly at a loss for words. "I'm honored."
She didn't like using the word honored because it felt like too small a word for what she felt right now. She hadn't realized that they trusted her that much—so much so that they trusted her with their unborn child.
"Does that mean you'll do it?" Rebecca asked.
"Oh, God, of course!" Caroline exclaimed. "I'd treat him or her like they were my own."
"I know you would, that's why I asked." She sighed, her shoulder relaxing. "That's one less thing I have to worry about now."
"But nothing is going to happen to you," she repeated before taking a sip of her coffee. While she already loved her niece or nephew so much it physically pained her, she hoped it never came down to her getting custody. The thought of something happening to either her brother or his wife created hard knots in her stomach that made it painful to breathe.
Rebecca must've seen right through her because she reassured her in a soothing voice, "It's just a precaution, one I highly doubt we'll need."
She only nodded. The tightness in her stomach still hadn't faded away.
"But that's not the only reason I wanted to hang out," her sister-in-law said, desperate to change the topic. She appreciated the effort. "I barely get to see you anymore. I want to know what's going on in your life."
Caroline shrugged. "Nothing, really. I go to work and I study."
Rebecca's brow furrowed, the corners of her mouth drawn down. "That's it?"
She chuckled at the discontented look on her face as she nibbled on her half of the muffin. "Sorry to disappoint."
"What about that guy—the one you work with? Oh, what's his name again?" She snapped her fingers as the name struck her. "Spencer, that's it. Dr. Spencer Reid."
At the mere mention of his name, Caroline could feel the unstoppable heat growing in her cheeks. Her sister-in-law's eyes brightened eagerly at how quickly her face had turned beetroot red and she leaned towards her, her voice lowering to just above a whisper as if they were trading international secrets.
"I have never seen you blush over a guy," she said eagerly, a smile resembling the Cheshire Cat's spread across her face. "There's a story there, I can see it. I'm a journalist, mind you."
"There's nothing to tell," Caroline told her, her face feeling even hotter than before. Rebecca tilted her head to the side and gave her a look that practically screamed: I'm not an idiot. Even she had to admit, her words didn't sound all that convincing. "We're...friends."
"Right," Rebecca drawled, rolling her eyes. "Friends. Please. You don't blush like that about a friend."
She was right and Caroline knew it. She knew that a friend wouldn't cause her the butterflies in her stomach when he entered a room or her heart to race when he smiled at her. What she felt for Spencer was so much than friendship or even a simple crush.
For her, "crush" was such an infantile word compared to what she felt for him. She wasn't even sure if she could categorize what she felt for Spencer with just one word.
But they had toed the dangerous line between friendship—or whatever it was that they had— and something more for two years now, and nothing has come out of it because nothing could come out of it. The FBI had a fraternization policy and they both loved their job too much. It didn't matter how much she wanted it to be something more because it couldn't.
And yet, she was still confused and scared and nervous and weirdly thrilled. There were so many emotions in her head, in her heart, and she didn't know how to make sense of them.
It would be nice to talk to someone about what she feels for Spencer, someone who wouldn't judge her. Someone who'd listen.
"Okay, listen, you cannot tell anyone what I'm about to tell you," she told her quickly. "Not Caitlin or Aunt G or Chris. Especially not Chris."
Rebecca made a motion of drawing a cross over the spot above her left breast. Caroline rolled her eyes, but she felt oddly excited, like a teenager talking about her crush. The butterflies in her stomach were fluttering around wildly as she leaned closer to her, dropping the volume of her own voice.
"We've...kissed," she said, her fingers suddenly finding the need to be busy, so she picked at what was left of her blueberry muffin.
"What?" Rebecca's wide eyes stared into hers earnestly. "When?"
"Well, technically, we've kissed twice. Once a year ago and at the wedding."
"The wedding? Why didn't you tell me?"
She started to chew on the inside of her cheek. "Because I wasn't sure how I felt and I'm still not. There are so many things in the way and I just—"
"Like what?" Rebecca demanded.
"Like our job," Caroline shot back as she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. "There's a strict no fraternization policy in the FBI."
"You're telling me that there has never been a couple in the Bureau?"
Again, Rebecca was frustratingly right. Caroline had known of a couple of agents who had dated— and even gotten married—who still had their jobs. "Well, I—"
"And so what if you two date?" She was on a roll now. "It's a free country and the world won't end if two of their agents dated. The F-B-I can shove their 'no fraternization policy' up their bureaucratic ass!"
At that, Caroline had to laugh. "You better wash your mouth out with soap," she warned with a smile. "Such horrid language for a mother to be."
"Oh, shut it," Rebecca said, but she was smiling now. "You know what I'm trying to say. So what about work? It'll always be there. What's the real reason?"
Caroline glanced down at the destroyed muffin in front of her. Ever since they were teenagers, Rebecca has always—always—seen through her, more so than anyone in her whole family. It had been annoying then and it was annoying now.
But that didn't stop the words that came tumbling out of her mouth.
"He's never..." Caroline closed her eyes and took a deep breath, slowly exhaling before opening her eyes again. "I know I feel something for him. But I don't know if he feels something for me."
It was silent for a moment and she didn't look up from the large chunks of leftover muffin. She began to pick at them more, turning into nothing more than crumbs.
Finally, she heard, "Caroline Lucas, for someone so smart, you can be a real idiot sometimes."
She glanced up and frowned at her. "What?
"Are you kidding me? I barely know the good doctor but I've seen the way he looks at you." Rebecca's voice was soft now, gentle. "Honey, he definitely feels something for you and it isn't friendship. A friend doesn't look at another friend the way he looks at you."
Despite herself, she started to blush again. "H—How does he look at me?"
Rebecca sighed. "Like you're the sun, the moon, and the stars. I'm pretty sure you're the center of his universe."
It seemed too good to be true. There was no way—in no alternative reality that she could've predicted—that Spencer liked her as much as she liked him. It just couldn't be possible. He was brilliant and sweet and handsome. She had emotional baggage, nightmares, and intimacy issues. It was such an unfair balance that it seemed impossible it could ever work.
But it was nice to think, even if it was for just a second, that someone as beautiful as Spencer could ever feel that way about her.
"Look, I'm not going to pressure you to do something you don't want to do," Rebecca finally said, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. "But you could invite him to family dinner one night—just as a friend if that makes you comfortable."
Caroline bit her lip. "But Chris—"
"Chris will be nothing but kind if I have anything to do with it," she said with such fierceness that it made Caroline pause. She saw the sheer determination that passed over her face and suddenly felt a little scared for her brother. "But I don't want you to worry about him. He may be a real asshat sometimes, but I know that all he wants is for you to be happy, even if he goes about it wrong occasionally."
Rebecca took a deep breath before reaching over and taking her hand. "We all just want you to be happy, Caroline," she said with a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "You, of all people, deserve something good in your life. And I have never seen you smile as much as you do when you're around him."
Caroline sat in her seat, dumbfounded. She blinked a couple of times as she processed Rebecca's words. She was more observant than she originally gave her credit for.
Before she could formulate a somewhat intelligent response, her phone dinged from an incoming message. She mumbled an apology as she twisted in her chair to retrieve her phone from her coat pocket. Lit up on the display screen was a text from JJ that read: New case. Get to the office ASAP. Terror Alert.
She froze in her chair. This wasn't good at all.
"What's that face for? What's going on?"
Caroline heard the slight panic in Rebecca's voice and glanced up to see her worried brown eyes staring back at her. She looked a little taken back by how quickly her mood had changed. She quickly began to backtrack.
"It's nothing," she reassured her as she began to gather her things. "Just a work emergency. I've gotta go."
A work emergency was putting it nicely. Caroline has only seen one terror alert her whole life and it was September 11th, 2001—when she was a new recruit at the FBI academy.
Automatically, Rebecca exhaled at her reassurance, her shoulders relaxing. It had been too easy to lie to her, to dissuade her. She hated it.
"Well, how long do you think this case will last?" She finally asked as Caroline slid on her coat while she simultaneously attempted to text JJ back. "We're still going to take Caitlin and Cass to that new mall that's opening this weekend, right? I know you wanted to meet Haley and Jack for lunch afterward."
Damn it. She had forgotten about that. They were supposed to go shopping for baby clothes while Jack had his pictures taken.
"I don't know anything yet," she said tentatively, which wasn't a lie. JJ hadn't provided much information besides the potential terror alert. "I'll do my best, but go ahead and take the girls anyway if I can't go. I know they're excited."
Rebecca frowned. "If you say so."
Caroline gave her sister-in-law a quick, one-armed hug before ducking out of the cafe, leaving her coffee cold and the rest of her muffin uneaten. She waited until she was out of sight from the shop before taking off in a sprint.
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She had arrived at Quantico in under twenty minutes, something that Caroline considered quite impressive. After running back to her apartment and grabbing her go-bag, she had sped through the streets as fast as she could without dangering herself and others.
And it looked like she had gotten there just in time for the team briefing. Pushing her way through the glass doors of the bullpen, she brushed by the agents gathered in the office and headed to the round table where the rest of her team was assembling.
However, just before she sat down in her customary seat between Spencer and Morgan, she involuntarily glanced over at Elle's empty chair across from her. It was a bad habit she had picked up since she had left a month ago. No one had dared sit in yet.
Except for today, instead of an empty chair, there was someone there—a real person.
Caroline blinked as she stared at the newcomer at the table. She was striking, everything about her stood out—her shoulder-length jet black hair, her pale skin, her brown eyes that were so dark they almost looked black. She couldn't have been any older than in her early to mid-thirties. The way she held herself, although she could feel the nervousness radiating off her like a fog, was very professional. Perfect posture and composed features.
If she hadn't been trained to notice every little detail, she would've said the woman seemed calm, despite coming into a whole new environment where she knew no one. She had to have been trained before the BAU. It takes years to master the kind of composure she held now.
"Everybody, meet Agent Prentiss," Hotch said as a form of greeting, gesturing to the black-haired woman sitting across from her.
Caroline automatically stood up and held her hand out to the woman. A flicker of relief passed over her face then passed as quickly as it had appeared. Agent Prentiss stood and shook her hand.
"Caroline Lucas," she said with a small smile. "Welcome to the team."
"Emily Prentiss," she replied, a smile mirroring her own. "Thank you."
The rest of the team had their own small welcomes—Derek and JJ both shook her hand, Spencer waved timidly, and Garcia hugged her (no surprise there). Gideon had only given her a half-nod before ignoring her completely before turning his attention back to the file in his hands.
Caroline watched as Agent Prentiss's face fell a little after that, but she quickly regained her cool composure once she noticed that she was watching. She made a mental note to discuss Gideon's lack of social graces with her later.
"Last night, the DEA raided what they thought was a hardened meth lab right here in Northern Virginia," JJ began as pictures began to pop up on the screen behind her, "but they found this instead."
A device appeared on screen—two red tanks, both with hand pumps, connecting to a long, cylindrical green tank by plastic tubing a copper wiring.
"That could be a dispersal device for a chemical weapon," Morgan observed. "Sophisticated."
"Homeland Security's thinking Al Qaeda," JJ said.
Beside her, Spencer explained, "They've developed devices that span the spectrum of sophistication, some as simple as soda bottle and paint cans."
"They're called 'Al Ikhterra'," Prentiss said, her voice easily pronouncing the foreign word. "Literally 'The Invention'."
Spencer blinked at her once, surprise passing over his face. "They are."
"Do we know what the biological or chemical agent is yet?" Hotch asked.
JJ shook her head. "The cell members bailed out through a tunnel. The DEA recovered a Nextel two-way and managed to intercept a message."
The press liaison set the paper of the message on top of the table and Prentiss grabbed it immediately. "That's not the transcript," JJ told her.
"Yeah, it's in Arabic," Prentiss said as her eyes scanned the page. Then, to everyone's surprise, she began to read it to them. "'Our friends surprised us and eloped. We can no longer wait for the wedding as planned. We can deliver our gift at the next crescent.'"
When Prentiss looked up, the whole room was staring at her with expressions mixed with surprise and awe. She only said, "I lived in several middle eastern countries growing up."
Caroline couldn't help but stare at her now. Pretty, smart, and she spoke Arabic? She was a whole new level of badass. She almost felt a little intimidated. Almost.
Gideon was the only one who didn't seem impressed by Agent Prentiss. "Next crescent?" he asked, his face blank.
"Muslims sometimes use a lunar calendar," the newest agent explained as she pushed back a strand of her black hair behind her ear anxiously. "I'd have to look it up to know—"
"Next crescent moon is in two days," Garcia interjected softly, her hands still hovering over her laptop keyboard.
"So whatever they're attacking, it's happening in less than forty-eight hours," Caroline surmised.
Prentiss nodded. "That sounds like it."
"Payment for the Nextel is linked to this man." JJ clicked a button on the remote and a picture of a middle-aged Muslim man with a dark beard appeared on the screen. "Jind Allah."
"Literally soldier of God," Prentiss translated.
"That's pretty poor operational security for a sophisticated plot," Morgan said, his brows furrowing together.
"Two months ago, Jind Allah was captured leaving the U.S. using a forged Pakistani passport via Richmond International Airport," JJ explained. "He's been held as a ghost detainee in Guantanamo Bay ever since."
Caroline sighed as she ran her hand through her hair. "So technically, he doesn't exist."
"Soldier of God isn't a name," Gideon said.
"No, it's most likely a name taken on for the Jihad," Prentiss agreed. "Extremists claim it's a holy war."
"Yet the words 'holy' and 'war' never appear together in the Qu'ran," Spencer said.
Gideon turned to JJ. "Do we know his real name?"
"CIA interrogators have gotten nothing out of the guy," she answered. "But we do know from past intercepts that he's a recruiter. He came into this country to assemble the Omega Cell, a sleeper cell with an unknown mission."
"So we have forty-eight hours to do what the CIA hasn't been able to do in two months," Morgan said.
Yeah. That'll be a piece of cake, Caroline thought to herself. The CIA had two months to establish some semblance of a relationship with Jind Allah and had gotten nothing. They had two days. She knew her team was good at their job, but she felt the doubt start to creep in.
"And if we don't," Gideon said, "we could be looking at the first attack on our soil since 9/11."
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Amid the agents scrambling around the bullpen, Caroline stood at her desk, pulling her go-bag out from under it. Hotch and Gideon had decided to split the team up—something they very rarely ever do. Hotch and Morgan were staying back to investigate leads while Gideon decided to take her and Spencer to Guantanamo Bay for the interrogation of Jind Allah.
However, before they left, a decision had to be made about their newest member.
Caroline glanced over at Agent Prentiss, who now occupied Elle's old desk. She was staring up at the walkway where Gideon and Hotch spoke, heads bent as they engaged in conversation. Every so often, they glanced at her.
She had overheard a part of their discussion after the briefing. She heard enough to know that they were talking about Agent Prentiss and where to put her. She knew Hotch well enough to assume he'd want her in Guantanamo—she spoke fluent Arabic and studied behavior. However, Gideon seemed to be resisting.
Caroline turned towards Prentiss and told her, "Put your go-bag on your desk."
The new agent looked over at her, momentarily distracted from their superior's conversation. "What?"
"Your go-bag," she repeated. "I'm assuming you have one. You don't strike me as a woman who's unprepared."
Prentiss stared at her for a moment, lips pursed, before she reached beneath her desk and pulled out her bag. She set it on top of the polished mahogany, right in plain sight.
"How does this help?" She asked, her gaze drifting back to Gideon and Hotch.
Caroline slid her own bag over her shoulder. "Gideon's stubborn. He needs to see you're ready for anything if he's going to bring you to GTMO."
As if on cue, their superiors looked their way. Gideon's eyes automatically fell on Prentiss's go-bag. He stared only for a moment before he walked down the steps. As he passed her desk, he said, "Car leaves in four minutes."
"Yes, sir," Prentiss called after him, a small smile on her face. She turned to Caroline as she picked up her bag. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it," she told her as she scooped up the files on her desk. "Although, if I were you, I wouldn't be thanking me just yet. You haven't even been on the jet with Gideon yet."
Emily's brows furrowed. As Caroline brushed by her, she blurted, "Wait, what does that mean?"
Caroline didn't reply as she felt a smile creep on her face. Agent Prentiss was still calling after her as they walked to the carport.
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She stared at the chessboard laid out between Spencer and Gideon, both of them silently surveying the board. Spencer sat with his fist propped under his chin, his face puckered from concentration. Gideon was relaxed—or as relaxed as Gideon could get—as he waited for the young doctor's next move.
Caroline watched them play with quiet amusement. There was nothing else to do besides watch, they had all went over the files in about an hour.
However, she really wasn't paying attention to the match at all—she was too focused on Spencer. She always found his facial expressions to be hilarious whenever he played Gideon. She couldn't help but smile at the way his brows furrowed together, concentrating so hard on the game that a crease formed between them.
Agent Prentiss sat on the couch directly opposite from them, watching the match with quiet interest. It wasn't until she spoke up before Caroline remembered she was there.
"Excuse me, sir."
Gideon turned his head a fraction of an inch, his eyes still focused on the chessboard. Agent Prentiss mouth turned down with a slight frown but still said, "I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate—"
"Do not thank me."
Caroline and Spencer shared an apprehensive look. She should have talked to Prentiss in the car—warned her about Gideon's mood swings. She debated stepping in on her behalf, but she highly doubted it would be well-received on both ends.
Her face had dropped. "Sir?"
"It's not a favor," Gideon said, his focus never wavering from the chessboard.
"Of course," she said quickly, starting to backtrack. "I know that."
"You're coming to do a job." His voice had taken on a tense tone, his words clipped and hard on his tongue.
Prentiss seemed to realize that it wouldn't matter what she said next because the damage was already done. She simply sat straight in her chair with her head held high, refusing to let him see his words affect her.
Caroline decided to step in for the sake of the whole plane and cut through the awkward tension that hung in the air. She looked over at Gideon and asked, "Do you think the interrogation of Jind Allah will work in time?"
The older profile gave her a half-shrug. "Interrogation's the most dynamic form of profiling."
"That's not an answer," Prentiss stated. When Gideon looked up at her, his face hard, she automatically tacked on a quick, "Sir."
Spencer fidgeted in his chair, the interaction starting to make him uncomfortable. She didn't blame him, even she was starting to feel a little uneasy from the tension on board. She put a reassuring hand on his arm for a moment before pulling away. He gave her a grateful nod.
"He's been locked away in GTMO. He doesn't know we raided the cell's safe house," Gideon said once he focused back on the match. "That's an advantage for us. The main thing is to get him talking about anything. Then his language and body movements will betray him."
The newest agent nodded, hanging onto every word. It surprised her that after Gideon basically just gave her a verbal tongue-lashing, she could still look him in the eye. Before she had gained his trust, Caroline had received a couple of them herself before and she had a hard time looking at him afterward without feeling a little embarrassed, like a reprimanded student.
As much as she hated to admit it, she knew Gideon had a real talent to make others feel small when he wanted to. He very rarely ever did, and the times he did were with unsubs, but she's had his cold, hard gaze concentrated on her before. She knew how it had made her felt back then—small, weak like a child.
She couldn't help but be impressed at how Agent Prentiss handled the situation. She may even give Gideon a run for his money one day.
She bit her lip to keep the laugh bubbling in her chest from escaping. Oh, what she would pay to witness that.
"So, what do you need us to do?" Agent Prentiss asked the older profiler.
"I need you to listen. You're fluent in Arabic," Gideon told her. "I won't know the nuances like you. Every word, every phrase. Be on the lookout for subtext, ulterior meanings."
"What do you want us to do?" Spencer asked his mentor.
He glanced over at the two on them, sitting side-by-side. "I want you two to watch for tells. Non-verbals, microexpressions. Watch him when he's comfortable and relaxed, then note the behavioral changes when he's under stress."
"If we establish a baseline," Gideon explained, addressing all of them, "we'll be able to read him once I challenge his belief systems. Before I can get him to give up where or how they'll attack, I'll first have to cause him to reveal something of himself."
The older profile paused as he glanced out the window. He started buckling himself in as he said, "Game over."
Spencer frowned at him. "What are you talking about?"
Suddenly, the plane shifted at a ninety-degree angle. She watched as the chessboard slid off the table and clattering to the floor, scattering the white and black pieces everywhere. Gravity sharply pulled her to the right, her shoulders colliding against Spencer's as he gripped the arms of his chairs to keep from being thrown out of his seat.
Then, as quickly as the plane moved, it shifted back to its normal position. Everyone besides Gideon, who had safely buckled himself to keep from moving, straightened in their seats.
"GTMO's runway is perpendicular to Cuban airspace," Gideon explained as they all readjusted themselves. "So approaching aircraft have to negotiate a last-minute ninety-degree right turn in order to land. They call it the GTMO Twist."
Caroline threw the older profiler a hard look, one which he ignored. Couldn't he have informed them of this before they got tossed around like waves at sea?
Spencer glanced down at the chessboard laying facedown on the floor. "I was winning."
"Actually," Prentiss said, her voice a little breathless from almost flying across the cabin of the jet, "he would have had you in three."
The young doctor looked over at her then Gideon, who simply shrugged like it was a common fact. When he turned to Caroline, she only gave him a small, almost pitiful, nod of her head. She had noticed about four turns ago and didn't know how to tell him.
His mouth turned down into a small frown. That was another one of Spencer's chess quirks that she found oddly adorable: the "I-lost-a-game" frown. That was something else she had noticed about him; when playing with Gideon, he never saw checkmate approaching.
But Gideon played chess like he profiled—when he sees a good move, he makes a better one.
She hoped he could make the better move with Jind Allah before it was too late.
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Caroline didn't say a word as she followed the detention officer through Guantanamo. The small group of profiler had bypassed both security checkpoints and were instructed to head straight to the holding center where Jind Allah was being interrogated by the CIA.
While she had never been to Guantanamo before, she hadn't expected it to be such a big compound. The moment they got off the jet, they were greeted with barbed wire and electrified chain-link fences. Once inside, it was all metal walls, stained tile, and narrow hallways. She had been here for three minutes and had already made over ten different turns to get to one of the holding areas. She hoped that if she had to leave, she'd get an escort. Otherwise, she knew she'd most likely get lost.
Eventually, the detention officer stopped at a large metal door. He reached for the card attached to his belt by a zip-chord and swiped it on the card read to the left of the door. The small light on the doorframe flashed green and it swung open. The officer stepped to the side and let them brush by—Gideon and Spencer first, then Emily and Caroline.
"You must be the BAU boys."
Caroline looked over to see a short, portly man in his mid-forties walking up to them. He was dressed in khakis and a navy shirt with an FBI insignia over the left breast—probably from counter-terrorism unit.
"And gals," the agent said once he saw Prentiss and Caroline. "Pardon me."
Gideon extended his hand to him. "I'm Jason Gideon."
The agent shook his hand. "Andy Bingham, FBI."
Gideon gestured to the three agents standing beside him. "This is Agent Prentiss, Agent Lucas, and Dr. Reid."
Both Caroline and Emily shook his hand while Spencer opted for a polite wave. Once the small pleasantries were out of the way, Gideon dove straight into the case.
"You guys having a hard time getting Jind Allah to talk?"
Bingham sighed as he gestured them to follow him into the command center. "Not only can't they get him to budge, but two weeks ago, word got out that one of the other detainees was spilling secrets. Jind Allah managed to have a three-minute conversation with him in the shower line. That night, the other detainee committed suicide."
The command center attached to the interrogation room was small with three small TVs displayed over a large keyboard. Each TV had a different angle in the interrogation room. She focused on the one that had a clear view of Jind Allah's face.
Standing in front of Jind Allah was a large man dressed in green camo pants and a white tank, both his hands wrapped into fists around his shoulders, shaking him every now and again. The man seemed to be yelling. However, Jind Allah was calm.
He had on no clothes, only a pair of stark white underwear. There was a large brown bruise blossoming on the side of his thigh. His head was bowed and his lips were moving quickly as if he was speaking to himself.
"He's reciting the Qu'ran from memory," Prentiss said. "He's most likely a Hafez."
"He must have done it a dozen times since he's come to this facility," Bingham said as he rubbed the back of his head.
"Some Muslim children are able to do it since the age of twelve," Spencer stated matter-of-factly.
The GTMO agent shook his head. "Two months of interrogation, that's all the CIA's been able to get out of him."
Caroline leaned down to get a better look at Jind Allah's face. Although it was blurry, she saw the dark scratches on his face. "There are cuts and bruises under his right eye sockets," she said before turning to Bingham. "What kind of tactics are they using?"
"I control the actions to the detainees," he answered with a sigh, "but I can assure you, my protest about their methods has been ignored."
"Let the interrogation proceed normally," Gideon told Bingham. "I'm going to interrupt and demand they stop harassing him."
"Maybe I should tell them in advance?"
The older profiler shook his head. "No, it's better if they don't expect it."
"The reaction will be more visceral, more believable," she explained to the agent.
The agent turned to the screens in front of them and frowned at the CIA agent wrapping his hands around the detainee's throat. "You're really going to put on a show for these guys?"
"No, not for them," Gideon answered. "For Jind Allah. He needs to see me as a complete contrast to what he's come to expect from his captors."
"It's the best way to jump-start him into talking," Caroline agreed. "If he doesn't see Agent Gideon as a threat, he might get comfortable enough to open up some."
And Jind Allah had to tell them something and it had to be soon. They had less than thirty-six hours before the next crescent.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket bumping against her leg. She quickly pulled it out and answered without checking her caller ID. "Agent Lucas."
"We got a problem." Morgan's voice was tense, tight. It caused the hairs on her arms to stand straight up.
"What's wrong?" Now, all eyes were on her, waiting.
"Hotch and I went over the lab. We found a sheet of paper with a list of chemicals. I sent them to Garcia."
"What did she say?"
There was a hard exhale of breath on the other line. "It's a list of chemicals needed to weaponize anthrax."
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adaline is typing...
lol caroline simping over dr. spencer reid is a mood. also, emily prentiss is offically on scene. let the brotp begin :)
oh and new cover made by okaywickersham . ily abby!