We're gonna time jump to the next episode, Mayhem, which is the continuation of Lo-Fi.
Recap because I didn't write this stuff: Emily and Cooper chase down an unsub, he commits suicide by cop and Cooper gets shot. The team figures out it's terrorism, and an SUV blows up (the team doesn't know which one, but we know it's Hotch and Kate).
warnings: mentions of drug addiction, graphic depictions of violence, mentions of suicide
Spencer jogs onto the fourth floor of the field office, eyes frantically searching for any member of his team. "David, I heard on the radio. I tried the others, but—"
"The cell phone system is crashing," Rossi says, his voice calm despite what is currently happening.
"A car bomb. Did they say where?"
Spencer's nervous—he's worried. He had tried calling everyone, and no response. He thinks back to when the team left—who got in the car with whom. Think, Spencer, think. Emily. Y/n went with Emily. He bites the skin on his bottom lip, glancing at the news footage.
"No. Can you recall every site where the shootings occurred?"
Spencer glances at the ground. "Uh, Hell's Kitchen, Murray Hill, Lower East Side, Chinatown."
"Alright. If our profile is correct and all eight murders were tests to gauge response times, we're looking at eight suicide bombers who are about to hit every one of those locations." Rossi points at Spencer. "Now call Homeland Security. Tell them to pour troops into all of those sites."
Spencer scrunches his brows. "Actually, if we're correct, there'll be sixteen suicide bombers."
"Sixteen?"
Spencer nods. "Yeah, we predicted that they'll hit the second wave of emergency responders, also."
"The bomb appears to have been placed in a black SUV parked six blocks from twenty-six Federal Plaza."
Spencer's eyebrows raise at the sound of the voice on TV, eyes flicking to Rossi, panic flashing through them. Rossi thinks for just a moment before picking up the phone, hitting Garcia's speed dial button.
He holds the phone to his hear, exhaling with relief as Garcia answers. "Where are you? Can you see anything?"
Spencer swallows, his heart fucking racing. Someone on the team could be dead and he doesn't know who it is. He clenches his right hand into a fist, lips parted in subtle shock.
"We got on the news it was an SUV that exploded," Rossi explains to Garcia. "A black SUV within blocks of the Federal Plaza. Now, do you have eyes there? I'm here with Reid but I don't know where anyone else is. And Garcia?" He pauses for a moment. "Find them."
He hangs up, and Spencer looks at him, fear in his eyes. Rossi puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing. A gesture of comfort. He clears his throat and moves back to the clear board, Spencer following him even though his legs feel like jelly. He needs to know his team is safe—it's like he can't think straight.
Rossi starts taping pictures up from all of the murder sites, the black and white photos haunting to Spencer. He doesn't scare very easily—not since he was kidnapped. But this is scaring him, shooting white hot fear through his veins. He glances at the pictures, arms crossed.
"These are stills from all of the murder sites," Rossi mutters.
"Garcia had us on conference and the system crashed," Spencer hears from behind him.
He breathes a sigh of relief as he watches Prentiss and Y/n walk up to the pair, his eyes immediately flicking to Y/n. She's wearing a long-sleeve blue button down tucked into a pair of slacks, her hands in her pockets. Her face is slightly frantic, obviously worried about the other members of the team. She meets Spencer's eyes for a brief moment before looking away.
"Emily!" JJ exclaims, approaching the team.
"Oh, thank god you're alright," Prentiss says to JJ. "Where's Will?"
"He's stuck at the airport," JJ says. "As soon as I heard I went straight to twenty-six Fed. They're evacuating the building. Where is everyone?"
"Morgan's alright, but there's no word from Hotch," Y/n explains, biting her bottom lip nervously.
"The bomber! The bomber!" Garcia's voice rings out from the video monitor. "Derek's chasing after him!"
"What?" Spencer mutters, eyebrows knitting together as the group crowds around the monitor.
"The bomb—it was in Kate's SUV or under it," Garcia explains. "Hotch is out there with her. He seems okay, but she looks really hurt. He hasn't moved her."
"Where was Kate's SUV parked?" Rossi asks.
"Two blocks east of Federal Plaza."
Spencer starts writing on the board, hearing the conversation go on behind him.
"Two blocks east and they target Kate's SUV?" Prentiss asks, confusing in her tone.
"Have you IDed the bomber?" Y/n asks.
"Lisa's running him and the dead guy through ViCAP."
"Call Homeland Security," Rossi tells JJ. "They should be at all the murder sites. See if they found anything."
"I'm on it."
"Garcia, find out how we can help Morgan."
"Yes, sir."
•••
"Homeland Security has poured tactical teams into all of these locations," JJ says, gesturing at the board. "Uh, SWAT, bomb techs, HRT, hazmat, the works. They found nothing."
Spencer's mouth is hanging open in concentration, eyebrows scrunched as he looks at the board, drawing small stars in certain locations.
"Reid," Y/n says, trying to get his attention.
"All except one," Spencer mutters. "Kate's SUV." He turns toward the group. "None of the shootings are anywhere near it."
"Maybe it's personal," JJ guesses. "This death card they gave us—they delivered on it."
"That's just it—they haven't," Spencer retorts. "With a cell as large as this one and multiple targets to choose from, they target a single SUV?"
"It doesn't make sense," Y/n agrees, rising from her chair.
Spencer meets her eyes again, and she holds his gaze for a moment before looking past him to the board. Spencer's eyes flick down to her covered forearms. Knowing what lies beneath the thin fabric of her shirt sends a pang of hurt through Spencer. His attention is torn away when another agent hands him a small stack of papers, topped with a photo of who he can only guess is the guy who planted the bomb.
Prentiss' phone rings, and she answers. "Prentiss." She listens for a moment before exhaling in relief. "Morgan's okay," she says to the team.
"Good, thank god."
"This is the unsub Morgan chased into the subway," Spencer murmurs, tacking the picture to the board. "This is the one Prentiss shot. Garcia's running them through ViCAP."
"These are smart, well-educated kids," Rossi states. "Hand-picked and trained to be martyrs. They're not gonna be in any government file and they won't have rap sheets."
"Hotch and Kate are at St. Barclays hospital," JJ says, speed-walking up to the group.
Prentiss head flicks up, the phone still pressed to her ear. Spencer breathes a small sigh of relief.
"How are they?" Rossi asks.
"Well, Hotch is in the ER, Kate's in surgery. Morgan's on his way down there now."
Prentiss hangs up. "The media's reporting this as a failed attack on twenty-six Federal Plaza."
"Well, it's not," Y/n answers, her voice firm.
"They're not the only ones," Detective Brustin says. "Homeland Security feels the same way."
"They're wrong."
"They found nothing at any of the sites that you told them that these guys were targeting," he shoots back. "Maybe this thing is over."
"Or maybe that's exactly what they want us to think," Rossi mumbles. "As soon as the bomb techs identify the device, I want to know about it."
"Of course," Brustin says, writing something on his notepad.
Spencer takes a seat next to Prentiss. "Can you get in tighter on the bomber?" He asks Garcia.
"There," Rossi whispers. "In his hand. He's using his cell phone."
"Why not wait until they both get into the SUV?" Prentiss asks.
"Guess he figured he was close enough," Brustin replies.
"Wouldn't you wait until they were in it?" Y/n asks, raising her eyebrows.
"So far these guys have accomplished nothing," Spencer states.
"Nothing?" Brustin states, taking off his glasses. "My partner was shot. Eight people are dead, two agents blown up, not to mention Emily's suicide by cop. Is that not enough?"
"That was memorable," Rossi says, jutting his chin up at the picture of the Twin Towers. "This isn't." He thinks for a moment. "Everything, everything they've done so far has appeared to be something it's not."
Spencer stands, glancing at the board. His mind is going a million miles a minute, trying to put the fucking pieces of this puzzle together
"What do you mean?" Brustin asks.
"The seemingly random acts of murder, the attempt to hack into our security surveillance systems," Spencer explains.
"The suicide by cop to make us all believe that it was over," Y/n continues.
"Don't forget the death card telling us they know we're watching," JJ murmurs.
"All diversions," Rossi says.
"To ensure our attention and an analysis of any given situation would then incorrectly inform our profile," Spencer finishes.
"So the first responders were not the real targets?" Brustin asks, glancing at the table.
"Hotch and Kate were a diversion, too," Prentiss realizes.
"For what?"
JJ answers her phone. "Guys, it's Morgan. Hotch wants you guys over there now."
•••
"Are you okay?" Prentiss asks, glancing at Hotch.
Hotch walks out of the room, dressed in new clothes. "Yeah. I just want to understand why I'm still alive."
"We think the idea was to maim, not to kill," Spencer explains, rocking back and forth on his heels.
"Did you identify Sam the bomber?"
"Garcia put Sam and the other dead unsub into every known database," Y/n replies. "Nothing."
"We know how terror cells evolve," Rossi states, eyebrows knit together. "They learn from one campaign to the next. How to stay off radar like the London bombers."
"Yeah, but they, uh, they hit at eight-fifty in the morning with a series of coordinated blasts aimed at the London transportation system," Hotch answers, pulling on his FBI vest. "This cell targeted a lone SUV where the only people on the street are two federal agents.
"It's not multiple targets," Morgan says from the back of the group. "It's one target. One target, one bomb."
"Garcia said the device was placed under Kate's SUV."
"It was likely made with oxidizing agents, including chromates, peroxides, perchlorates, chlorates, and red mercury, all jammed into a device no larger than a cell phone," Spencer explains, glancing at the team.
"Imagine what a bomb the size of an oil drum can do," Y/n mutters.
"Yeah, but to make something that big, you'd need a chemical engineer," Hotch says, wincing slightly as he pulls the towel away from his bloody ear.
"Stop the bomber, stop the bomb," Prentiss states.
"To do that, we need to know how they would deploy something that big," Morgan says.
"Hotch," Spencer says softly, pointing down at the small laptop screen.
The screen plays the video of the SUV bombing, Hotch staring down at the screen. He thinks for a moment, the whole team silent.
"Did you ever find Sam's cell phone?" He asks.
"Yes."
"Did he call nine-one-one?"
"No. He dialed one number six times every few minutes," Morgan explains.
Rossi glances at Hotch. "It was a disposable cell."
"Garcia tracked the number, but it went dead a few minutes after Sam died," Y/n tells Hotch, looking up at him. "Whoever had it destroyed it.
"Well if he didn't have a secondary device to detonate, there's only one reason he stayed with us," Hotch thinks out loud.
"To make sure the ambulance got to you," Rossi murmurs.
"And in a city on lockdown, an ambulance with its siren blaring and lights on, it's gonna make it through every roadblock virtually uncontested." Prentiss inhales deeply.
"And straight into a hospital with a bypass order on it."
"What?" Y/n asks, furrowing her brows.
"Secret Service has a bypass on this hospital," Hotch explains.
"Who are they protecting?" Rossi asks.
"That's who Sam was calling," Spencer says, the pieces finally coming together in his mind. "The paramedic on the ambulance."
"The ambulance which I drove in here. This hospital is their target. Let's go."
Hotch moves, and the team follows, moving through the hallways until they get to the nurse's station where one of the Secret Service members is at.
"Hey, who do you got in here?" Morgan asks.
"Why is that information important to you?"
Spencer tries to bite back his anger. There's a fucking bomb in the hospital and the Secret Service wants to fight with them? Now is not the time.
"The ambulance I drove in here—where is it now?" Hotch almost interrupts.
"In the basement, why?"
"There's a bomb in it."
"What?"
"It's rigged," Hotch explains.
"It's rigged to assassinate whoever it is you're protecting," Prentiss urges. "You need to get them and everyone else out of here now."
"Hit the alarms," the Secret Service agent says. "And we can't do that. He's undergoing surgery as we speak."
"The paramedic I came in with—do you have eyes on him?" Hotch asks.
The agent nods, pointing at the screen. Spencer cranes his neck, eyes landing on the figure of the paramedic walking down a hallway.
"Is that a cell in his hand?" Y/n asks.
"Garcia, can you remote access the cellphone grid I'm in and jam all the frequencies?" Rossi speaks into his earpiece. He listens, his voice becoming urgent. "There's a bomb in the basement of this building."
"Look, he's coming back," Prentiss notices. "He's gonna detonate the bomb manually if he has to."
"Where did Morgan go?" Hotch asks, looking up.
"He went to find the ambulance," Spencer says, eyes widening.
"Let's head down."
The team moves into action, Spencer unholstering his gun as the team moves to the stairs, walking down them to the basement. Rossi leads, and Spencer holds his gun up as his feet hit the basement floor. Prentiss and Hotch check doors along the way, Y/n walking next to Spencer. Spencer moves up a small set of stairs to the elevator, grimacing as he sees all of the dead Secret Service agents. He sees bloody footprints, scrunching his brows together.
"Prentiss, Y/n..." he whispers.
They follow the footprints, Spencer's gun held in front of him. They round the corner, Spencer's eyes landing on a chain-link fence where the unsub is sitting. He waves to Hotch and Rossi, the five of them rounding in on the unsub.
"FBI," Rossi says.
The unsub holds a knife to his throat. Hotch moves closer to him.
"Put it down. It's over."
The unsub hesitates a moment before slashing his throat, and Spencer hears Y/n gasp softly. His eyes flick to her, and she slowly lowers her gun, averting her gaze from the scene in front of her. Spencer holsters his gun, and the team—minus Y/n—move closer to the unsub.
They take one last look at him, Hotch picking up the gun, before walking away, leaving the dead unsub on the ground.
•••
The team is quiet as they sit on the jet, all of them too drained and too shocked from the case to say anything to one another. Hotch and Rossi had to drive back to D.C., the injury in Hotch's ear not allowing him to fly. Rossi had decided to ride with him to try to console him. Kate's injuries were too severe—she died in surgery. Prentiss, Morgan, Garcia, and JJ are all sleeping, Morgan's headphones on his ears. Spencer's eyes flick to Y/n. She's seated in the back, chin in the palm of her hand as she looks out the window.
Spencer gets up from the couch, crossing over to sit in front of Y/n. She continues to stare out the window, and he clears his throat softly. She finally turns to look at him, meeting his eyes. Her eyes are bloodshot, the dark circles prominent under her eyes.
"How are you feeling?" Spencer asks softly.
"This case sucked," she whispers. "I've never...seen anyone—"
"I know," Spencer replies. "A lot of unsubs decide to do that—commit suicide. It gets easier to stomach."
She nods slightly, glancing down at the wooden table in front of her. She scratches at the wood, and Spencer scrunches his brows.
"Y/n...can we talk?"
"About?"
"You know what," Spencer whispers.
Her eyes flick back up to meet his. "I don't want to talk."
"No, but you need to."
She shakes her head. "Spencer, I don't want to. I just...you don't know my life, okay? You don't know me."
"I can try." Spencer leans forward slightly. "You don't know me, either."
She's silent for a moment. "I just...not right now."
"Then when?"
"I don't know." Her tone is slightly defensive, and Spencer searches her face.
He's silent for a moment, his lips turning up at the corners. "You should get some sleep."
"I can't," she whispers.
Spencer's chest aches with empathy and understanding. Because he knows. He knows how she feels. "Try."
She scratches at her covered forearm, Spencer's eyes flicking down to watch her before settling back on her face. She gives him a small nod and he hesitates a moment before getting up and going back to the couch. Stretching out, Spencer closes his eyes, but he can't seem to fall asleep, no matter how hard he seems to try.
——————————————
Author's Note
I promise the next couple of chapters WON'T be case chapters, thank god. This chapter felt like it took me a thousand years to write omg.
Y'all, please understand Y/n isn't being mean to Spencer—she's being defensive. She's acting how Spencer acted when Emily tried to talk to him in season 2. She's going through something right now. Just try to be understanding.
I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! <3