ABLOCATE ▇▇▇▇ VOLUME ONE
━━ ❛ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒊 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒅 ❜
chapter no. 035!
❝ ONE MORE PUZZLE PIECE. ❞
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BUSINESS AND NO PLEASURE. That was the attitude carried amongst the trio as they walked through the doors of the café. It was the attitude they held when the manager had come out from the back and met them at the countertop. Ordering a coffee was the last thing on their minds, for once. Despite how divine the place smelled.
"Do you recognize any of these people?" Blake asked. Four photographs of the victims— Wayne Campbell, Helen Mitchell, Carlos Ortega, and Janice Cheswick— were laid out on the counter.
"I don't. Sorry." Brian shrugged, looking between the agents. "What's this about?"
Spencer tilted his head to the side, unconsciously inching closer to Cara. She didn't notice. "We're investigating a series of murders, and we think the killer may have seen one or more of these victims at this coffee shop."
"Victims? You mean..." Brian gulped, "All these people got killed?"
"Yes," Cara said bluntly, not paying any mind to the taken-aback expression the manager wore at her tone. This was the first time she'd spoken to him.
Suddenly, Blake moved her head to the right, peering around the man. "Excuse me," she said, capturing everyone's attention, "is that a pinhole camera?" She pointed at a camera protruding from the center coffee box perched on the top shelf of the bookshelf running beside the entrance to the backroom.
"Uh, yes," Brian answered uncomfortably, cheeks flushing. "You should uh, follow me to the office."
Blake was the first to follow him, maneuvering around the counter and toward the open doorway. Behind her, Spencer shot the blonde a small smile, gesturing for her to go first. "After you," he muttered, ignoring how his heart fluttered at the appreciative nod she gave him.
Following behind the manager in an orderly fashion, they turned left and eventually reached the door at the end of the cramped hallway. Again, Spencer insisted Cara enter first.
They all gathered around the desk at the back of the room, watching as Brian pulled up the software that contained all the saved security footage. It took a moment for it to load, but when it did, Cara's brows raised an inch as she saw all the saved tapes displayed on the right side of the application.
That's a hell of a lot of data. Did the workers even know they were being surveilled?
"You secretly videotape your employees?" Blake raised an unimpressed brow.
Clamming up, Brian avoided their stares. "Well, n-not the employees, just the cash register area." Blake and Spencer shared a glance. "Yeah, well, I guess that means the employees." Cara closed her eyes, feeling her patience running thin. "W-We've got a pilferage problem."
"How long has this surveillance been going on?" Spencer asked, darting his eyes from the computer to the manager.
Brian scratched behind his neck. "Uh... five weeks."
Unable to help herself, Cara rolled her eyes so hard that her head swiveled in his direction. She gave him a deadpan expression. In her peripheral vision, she could spot the corners of Blake's lips curling up at the action.
Spencer, however, had taken no notice. "Go to four-seventeen p.m. on the twenty-third," he instructed, taking a step forward.
Obliging, Brian pressed a few keys on the keyboard. It took nine seconds, but the exact footage they were searching for popped up. The three agents watched diligently while Brian looked at the screen, unsure of what exactly they were searching for.
Eyes narrowing, Blake pointed at the computer screen. "That's her." One of their victims was in the frame, standing in line with a small group of people.
Spencer's jaw slackened at the sight. Wait... "That's all of them."
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THE THREE WATCHED THE CAFÉ SECURITY FOOTAGE WITH ALERT EYES. All was silent for a minute until a certain doctor broke it.
"The UnSub must be just out of camera range," Spencer suggested, pointing out how only the victims were in the frame. "This is the moment he selected all his victims."
In her peripheral vision, positioned a foot away from her fellow doctor, Blake could spot the youngest member of the team leaning against the same wall from yesterday, subtly peering through the window blinds. Her dark blue eyes were fixated on the sea of officers in the precinct. Her arms were folded over her chest. She'd intentionally separated herself from the team again.
"It ties in with his idea of fate, that these four were in the wrong place at the wrong time," Hotch spoke, intently watching the video. "Let's bring in Benjie Ruiz and the bartender and see if they recognize anyone who came in that day as the man they saw."
Spencer nodded at his order absentmindedly, suddenly aware of Cara's missing presence. His eyes swept the room as he turned his head, searching for her. It took a second, but he soon spotted her on the opposite end, leaning against a wall and staring out at the rest of the precinct.
She was on edge.
He didn't know how to explain how he knew that because based on observation alone, she was simply standing there. If anything, she looked calm or solemn, but not on edge. However, his gut was telling him otherwise.
"There's another identification we need to make, and fast," Blake said, bringing Spencer's focus back to the conversation at hand. Blake inched closer to the TV, raising an arm and tapping a navy-blue painted finger against the screen. "The next in line."
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"I'M UNSURE IF I CAN BEAR ANOTHER MESSAGE. NOT FROM HIM." Cara could hear her words from two days ago ringing in her ears. Her attention rested on one of the many case files on the conference table. It was closed and staring back at her dauntingly. The manila folder was identical to the one she held in Hotch's office, and it didn't sit well with her. All it did was cement the imminent danger she was under. There was nothing left that could maintain the security of safety she had with the FBI. There was no direction left to go in that would save her skin.
Joseph Arthur and Kirk Farell had been murdered. Michael Le's message at Castaway's Mansion. Owen had been attacked again. Matthew Johnston was speculated to be alive, but it hadn't been confirmed by hard-cold evidence. However, Konaam Shirzad was confirmed to be alive. Then, there was the blood-stained Paradise Lost cover.
That was the final straw. It was too late, and the file in front of her was reminding her of it.
"I wouldn't have informed you about this unless I believed it was crucial and that you could handle it."
Handle it? Sure, she was handling it. If "handling it" meant disassociating, separating herself from others, not eating, barely talking, replaying the last six months on a loop in her head, rubbing her wrist so hard it was raw and she had to place a large bandaid around it, and concealing her shaking hands.
"Do you recognize or know what that illustration means?"
Blinking, Cara inhaled sharply. If she didn't distract herself, she was going to spiral into her second panic attack of the day. The first one had happened before she left the hotel that morning and didn't last long. She had a feeling, though, that a second one would.
There was no one in the conference room aside from her now, as the team had dispersed, but she knew that Morgan and Spencer were somewhere in the precinct. Perhaps they could act as a good distraction, get her mind back on the case.
So, she pushed away from the table and left. It didn't take long for her to track down where the two were. She could hear their voices down one of the hallways, following the sound of them. Soon the room they were tucked away in came into view— it was the surveillance room.
As Cara inched closer, she could hear Morgan and Spencer talking clear as day. Morgan's back was to her while Spencer stood across from him.
"They couldn't identify any of the other custom—" Spencer paused mid-sentence at the sight of the blonde approaching them. "Cara, hey," he breathed, an involuntary smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Cara gave a slight wave, inserting herself into the discussion. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Morgan giving him a knowing look. He cleared his throat. "Uh, right. So, they couldn't identify any of the other customers as the man they saw at the auto shop or sports bar."
"The killer is picking his victims in the moment, right?" Morgan clarified, casually holding his fist out to the left. Cara spotted his extended hand and quietly bumped her fist against his. "You, you, you, and you," he said, pointing at an imaginary person each time he said the word "you." His brows furrowed. "No advance planning."
Spencer nodded, crossing his arms. "That's how it looks."
"Yet he later stalks each one, learning their habits." Morgan pointed out, head tilting to the side.
"How does he manage to do that if they all scatter after they get their coffee?" Spener wondered out loud, growing a tad disoriented.
"Parking lot." Spencer and Morgan swept their gazes to Cara. She spoke with an indifferent manner. Every inch of her was dedicating itself to concentrating solely on the case. "He sees them through the windows, waits until they come out one by one, and drive away. He writes down their license plate numbers, then does research at a DMV. Boom."
That was a sensible deduction.
A beat of silence followed before Detective Tavez walked in. "None of the coffee shop employees can identify the fifth woman in line," he announced, coming to a standstill next to Cara.
Spencer hummed. "Detective, can you make the surveillance video go any faster?" he asked, already in the midst of heading toward the long desk positioned in front of the windows, across the room.
Nodding, Tavez followed him. "It'll go any speed you want."
"Go back to the beginning," Spencer instructed, sitting down. "I need to watch all five weeks in the video."
"But that's—"
"Five-hundred-and-twenty-five hours."
"Yeah," Tavez said with emphasis, eyes wide. "We don't have time for that."
Behind the two, Morgan smirked and crossed his arms. "Reid, tell him what you did this morning for breakfast," he said. Then he gestured to the ex-convict beside him. "Valentine, you too."
Without thinking twice, Spencer answered, "I read War and Peace. Re-read it, actually," he corrected himself, glancing at the detective. "This time in the original Russian."
Cara promptly added, "I re-read Les Misérables in the original French. Almost finished before him." She jutted her chin in Spencer's direction, and he gave her a lopsided smile. Her stomach twisted and she gave him a half-smile that only lasted a second. Les Misérables had acted as her mind-numbing distraction that morning so her brain didn't linger on the panic attack.
Tavez's jaw slackened. There's no way that's... Right?
"Trust me, detective. There's enough time." Morgan smirked, folding his arms over his chest.
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THIRTY-ONE MINUTES AND THIRTEEN SECONDS HAD PASSED SINCE THE SEARCH FOR THE NEXT-IN-LINE BEGAN. The process of sitting there, watching security feed speed up so fast it was making Morgan's head spin, yielded no results thus far. And it was starting to feel like a waste of time. All of the footage for the month of March was nearly done, and they had nothing.
"How do you do that?" Tavez asked, glancing from the computer to Spencer, and then back. It had been silent for far too long, and he was still baffled by how the man next to him could process every blur on the screen.
Spencer replied in a nearly robotic tone, "By employing the same principles used in speed reading. I minimize the subvocalization of the images and reduce cognitive load by—"
"Wait." Cara cut the men off, hovering over Spencer's shoulder. "Back up the feed." They both looked at her, not the security feed. They were focusing on the wrong thing here. With a roll of her eyes, she leaned over Spencer and brought her hands forward. Spencer was situated in between her arms, her head hovering above his right shoulder as she hunched over. His backside was pressed against her front, and he gulped. Her eyes were fixated on the screen and she brushed Tavez's fingers off the keyboard. The two were moving too slowly for her liking, so she was going to rewind the security feed herself.
Suddenly, she stopped the video. "There," she pointed at the screen with her right index finger, placing her left hand on Spencer's shoulder to keep herself balanced.
Tavez's face lit up. Finally, they'd caught a break in the case. "That's her."
The statement momentarily caused Spencer to snap out of his daze. "Can we zoom in on her name tag?"
Cara hummed, "Yeah." Her lips were a mere few inches away from his ear and shivers ran down his spine when he felt her breath hit him. It only took four clicks, but she'd zoomed in and enhanced the quality of the video. "Taylor," she read, peering over her shoulder.
Morgan noticed the 'you-better-call-your-baby girl' look she was giving him, and he nodded. "I'll call Garcia."
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LEANING THE BACK OF HER HEAD AGAINST THE WINDOW, CARA NODDED AT JJ AS SHE HANDED HER A FRESH CUP OF COFFEE. Sure, it was eight o'clock at night and this officially made it Cara's fifth cup of coffee of the day, but she didn't care. The case was over and they were headed home. She needed to prepare her body for another sleepless night with her trusty frying pan, hammer, and an assortment of kitchen knives.
So far, the trip back to Virginia had been silent. The team would be landing in three hours, but time seemed to be dragging along painfully slowly. Blake slept in the seat across from the ex-convict at the small table with JJ beside her texting Will while Morgan slept next to Cara on her right. Hotch and Rossi were at the front of the jet, out cold as well. Nearly everyone was out. Excluding JJ, the BAU's resident genius, and Cara.
As the plane jostled, Cara blinked and held onto the coffee mug tighter. At the same time, she felt the grip on her legs stiffen. She sat with her back to the plane's wall, head leaning against the window while her legs were pulled up and sprawled across Morgan's lap. His arms were draped over her legs and he'd rested a hand on her knees. He wore his headphones as he slept, a neutral expression painted on his face. A small smile pulled at her lips at the subconscious gesture, but she refused to let it show.
With a soft sigh, she brought the steaming cup to her lips, humming lightly as the hot liquid weaved its way down her throat. A set of eyes landed on her and it took a second, but she eventually glanced to the right. Her gaze landed on a half-awake Spencer Reid. He sat on the couch with her personal copy of Persuasion she'd gifted him in his hands, legs crossed. The sight of the book made her heart warm.
The moment their eyes connected, she felt her stomach twist. Unlike all the times before, however, she didn't force herself to look away. Instead, she allowed herself to soak in the moment, burning it into the back of her brain. She'd be departing soon; she needed to appreciate what was right in front of her. So, she did.
Under the dimmed, saturated lights of the plane, Spencer's honey-cooper eyes twinkled. As always, they were spellbinding and melting into golden rays, circling an eclipse. The golden rays reminded her of the first time they met and she couldn't help how the corners of her lips quirked up. His eyes mimicked the color of sun-warmed earth, shadowed by dark lashes and set in a deep complexion of amber.
Cara was drowning in the smoothness of his eyes, visibly relaxing the longer they held eye contact. She allowed herself to feel the beat of her heart against the bare bones of her ribcage and how anxious she felt under his stare. It wasn't a bad anxious, though. And she allowed herself to soak in this minuscule moment that may not have meant a thing to him but meant the world to her.
Meanwhile, JJ witnessed the exchange with a small smile. The development of Spencer and Cara's ever-growing relationship was admirable and heartwarming. Somehow, someway, he'd gotten under her skin to a certain extent, and vice versa. There was a connection between them that wasn't hard to notice, and it was only getting stronger the more time passed.
The longer the pair stared at the other, the more they felt themselves wind down. A small smile was tugging at the corner of Spencer's lips and every muscle in his face was relaxed. He was at peace. And so was Cara, for the first time in a long time.
Absentmindedly, her line of sight drifted back to the book in his grasp.
Unwrapping the present, he placed the discarded wrapping paper on the table and a small smile appeared on his lips. "Persuasion by Jane Austen?" Spencer questioned, raising a brow.
"Yeah. It was Austen's last completed novel before she died. Aside from a few British lit classics, this story continues to be a favorite of mine. I don't know if you've read it, but it's a mature love story filled with humourous and somewhat charming observations of human behavior. It also offers readers a glimpse of redemption by giving the message that we change as we grow, and the mistakes made in our youth can be overcome." Cara explained, gesturing to the book as she spoke.
"I wouldn't have pegged you as someone who reads romance novels," he mused, running his hand over the cover.
She rolled her eyes. "I wanted you to have my copy as somewhat of a personal letter of gratitude. You gave me a second chance at life and the opportunity to redeem myself. My life has been... abnormal to say the least but now, because of you, I finally have real room to grow and change. I don't have to remain defined by my past and the mistakes I've made."
At her confession, his gaze softened. "Thank you. This is incredibly thoughtful and I will be reading this tomorrow morning." Spencer smiled.
Cara nodded, biting down on her lip. "Let me know what you think," she replied gently, tempted to break into a small smile at the sight of his widening.
Snapping back to the present, Cara tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear and gestured to the book. "You never let me know what you think of it," she spoke softly; her tone of voice caught his and JJ's attention.
Spencer bit the inside of his cheek as the corner of his lips twitched upward. He liked it when she was soft-spoken. "Oh, yeah. Yes. That's true. Well," he stammered, clearing his throat, "this book lead to me reading the rest of Austen's work." His words caused the blonde's jaw to slack.
"Really?" she asked, brows raised.
Nodding, Spencer caught the gentle look in her deep-blue eyes. He had her complete, undivided attention. All of her focus was solely on him; she was ready to listen to every word without interruption. "I noticed that all of her novels tend to have a generally comic tone. However, with Persuasion, it's more nuanced. It shows how Austen dealt with the nature of profound existential questions within the confines of limited settings and characters. There's this bittersweetness to it that I did not get with Austen's other work. I found her writing in this particular book to be quite fulfilling. Everything is narrated almost perfectly. There's a colossal depth of thought beneath the surface, and I find that intriguing," he breathed, using his hands as he spoke. The drowsiness he felt minutes ago was long gone.
From across, Cara listened attentively, pushing her glasses up with her index finger. "I'm listening," she said, motioning for him to continue.
JJ smiled down at her phone. It was rare that she got to witness a conversation between the two where they weren't discussing anything work-related. Then again, she hadn't spent time with both of them, at the same time, outside of work much.
"When I re-read the book last week, I made a connection between it and her earlier novel Sense and Sensibility. Did you notice it?"
Cara's head tilted to the side in thought. "Are you referencing the similarities between the main characters and the plot? Like how Eleanor and Anne are both older and more mature than the typical heroine Austen writes?" Spencer nodded. "I caught that too. Especially as compared to her other works, all of which are satisfactory, but Persuasion is the best. For me, at least. I really appreciate the acknowledgment of how sexism is ingrained in society and the condemnation of it. It makes it more thematically meaningful."
"I agree. Do you have a favorite line from it?" he asked curiously. This is the most she'd talked in days, and he didn't want it to stop.
"Yes, but I can't pick only one. I have three," she answered, careful not to wake up Morgan as she shifted in her seat. "First: "We live at home, quiet, confined, and our feelings prey upon us." Second: "I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope." And third: "She had been forced into prudence in her youth, she learned romance as she grew older: the natural sequel of an unnatural beginning." What's yours?" It was safe to assume he had one given he'd posed the question.
"I do regard her as one who is too modest for the world, in general, to be aware of half her accomplishments, and too highly accomplished for modesty to be natural of any other woman." Spencer recited, not mentioning why it was his favorite line. Out of the corner of his eye though, he could see JJ sending him a knowing smirk. They both knew that the line represented how Spencer regarded Cara, and he ignored the fact that his face was burning pink.
Suddenly, a husky voice entered the conversation. "You two talk too much."
The only three people left awake on the plane turned to Morgan, who'd just woken up.
"I could hear you nerds talking over my music," he grunted, holding onto Cara's legs as he readjusted his posture.
Cara's eyes narrowed. "Your phone died exactly an hour and twenty-three minutes ago. You weren't listening to anything," she said, resting her head against her seat.
A playful glare was cast at her as he realized she was right. "Like I said— you two talk too much."
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LITERATURE PUNS WERE THE KEY TO GETTING CARA VALENTINE TO LAUGH AND SPENCER REID HAD JUST FIGURED IT OUT. He felt quite cretinous for having taken this long to figure it out, but he was grateful he had. An arsenal full of literature puns was stored in his mind, and he finally had someone to share them with. What made it better was that person understood the pun's true meaning. It was nice.
The entire walk back to their apartment had been filled with shared laughter and a sense of tranquility. Neither of them could recall the last time their chests had felt this light and forced smiles hadn't basked their faces. For a small chunk of time, their worries were out of sight and out of mind. Particularly Cara's.
Her ever-looming paranoia had taken a backseat for the first time in a while. She could breathe and have the air reach her lungs without getting caught in her throat. And it felt good.
Laughing as Cara unlocked her apartment door, a happy smile rested on her face. She twisted the doorknob, ready to head inside, and bid Spencer a 'goodnight' when she felt him tug gently on her elbow. Leaving the door cracked open, she turned around.
"I uh..." he stuttered nervously, fingers still wrapped around her arm. "I don't know what's going on with Hotch, Cruz, and Rossi... but I know that you've been in a dark place." Cara's smile slowly faded. They hadn't spoken about anything besides literature since the ride on the jet, but his words brought her back to her jarring reality. "I'm not going to ask because I know that you don't break promises, and if you could, you would tell me."
Their eyes remained locked as he took a step forward. Cara shifted her footing and stood straighter, unsure of where this conversation was heading.
"I-I don't like seeing you upset," Spencer muttered, dropping his hand. "I just... I need you to know that I'm here."
Immediately, she nodded. "I know you are," she whispered, frowning.
"I care for you... a lot, and so does everyone else. Don't forget that."
"I won't," she replied, pausing as a thought came to her mind. This was her last chance to give him one more puzzle piece. Her last chance at warning him. "W-What I'm about to say isn't going to make sense right now, but I promise it will eventually." She closed her apartment door and stepped away from it. Spencer's brows drew in, confused. "As humans, we change as we grow, and our mistakes can be overcome. This is one of the main themes in Persuasion. The other themes are love and war. While war can bring two people together, it can also be their biggest threat.
"The main characters, Anne and Wentworth, know that what brought them back together was ultimately war. What they also know is that if their romance has taught them anything, it's that you can't entirely trust an ending to stay ended. The book concludes with that sobering reminder that the navy is part of the military, which means that if war should come again, they're the first to be affected. Wentworth will be taken away again to return to the battlefield." Cara let out a heavy breath as she came to a stop.
Spencer replayed her words over in his head as he stared at her, perplexed as to why she was telling him any of this. Of course, her words could be a metaphor, but for what? He wasn't sure.
Cara could see the gears churning in his head as his eyes never left hers. "I perceive the navy and war, in Persuasion, similarly to Milton's second circle of Hell in Paradise Lost. As well as my connection to the Red Scorpions. Both are inevitable but nearly impossible to predict." The volume of her voice had lowered incredibly.
The mention of the second circle of Hell and the Scorpions caught the doctor's attention. "The second circle of Hell is almost here, isn't it?" His question was unanswered as the sensation of someone watching the blonde returned. "Ara?"
At the sound of the nickname, she blinked. Shit. "As I said, what I told you will make sense eventually," she replied quietly, careful of her phrasing. One wrong word and she'd jeopardized his life right then and there.
Something was up. That much Spencer could deduce.
"Uh, by the way," she paused, stepping back, "I appreciate the compliment."
Spencer's eyes widened, cheeks flushing. His suspicions were abruptly tossed to the side. Could she be referencing what he said on the jet? "T-The uh," he stumbled, clearing his throat as he glanced away. "The what?" he asked, furrowing his brows.
A beautiful laugh left Cara's lips as they spread into a smile. The sight of it made Spencer's heart race. "I like it," she admitted quietly, shifting awkwardly at the curious gaze he gave her. "When you're flustered. It's cute." His face flamed red. "And there we go," she mused, pointing at him knowingly.
"Cut your cheeky shit and shut up," he muttered, swatting her hand away.
Cara's jaw dropped. "Hey! Get your own catchphrase," she scowled, ignoring the grin he was sporting. "Is this one of those infrequent occasions where Spencer Reid curses?"
"I think it is," he answered, trying not to reach for her hand. "Today on the jet, and this is the most you've talked in six days. I missed your voice."
This time it was the blonde whose face burned red. "That now makes two compliments I want to thank you for," she took a step backward. "I do regard her as one who is too modest for the world, in general, to be aware of half her accomplishments, and too highly accomplished for modesty to be natural of any other woman," she recited, biting the inside of her cheek.
The hallway filled with a particular silence as nothing else needed to be said. They both knew his favorite quote from Persuasion was a reflection of how he viewed her. And it meant more to Cara than she would ever let on. Both the quote and the fact that even though he knew bits of her past, he still highly regarded her.
Before she could think twice about it or stop herself, she made her way back to him. Her heart was hammering against her ribcage as she inched closer, and she felt a tad out of her element. Once they were face to face with less than a foot between them, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his cheek.
Every part of Spencer's body froze and he tensed, eyes wide again. This was the most intimate form of physical contact she'd ever initiated with him.
Only two seconds passed until she pulled away. Upon meeting his stunned expression, she felt her stomach twist. "Thank you," she choked out, forcing the words out of her mouth. It wasn't just the compliments she was thanking him for— it was for every small, minuscule thing he'd done for her— it was for saving her— it was for paying attention to her and taking the time to get to know her— it was for memorizing her coffee order and her daily routine— recognizing her nervous ticks and comforting her. This was her last chance to express her gratitude, and she needed to before it was too late.
Spencer numbly nodded, unsure, yet again, of what to do as they'd only ever been this close once. And that hadn't gone all that well, specifically on his end.
Without realizing it, Cara brought her left hand up and cupped his cheek, running her thumb over it softly. He relaxed. Blinking, Spencer darted his eyes to her hand and back to her face, brows furrowing slightly. Why did this feel so right and natural to him? Perhaps it was because he was beginning to acknowledge and validate his feelings for the woman in front of him. Perhaps Morgan was right in what he said months ago. He was more ready than he'd realized until now.
Their eyes remained locked, neither daring to break or increase the distance between them. It was as if they were at a standstill, frozen in time.
The longer Cara stared at him, the more she accepted that she didn't want to do this. She didn't want to imagine what it'd be like to go more than a few days without seeing him or the team. She didn't want to learn to live without them as much as she knew she could if push came to shove. She didn't want to re-learn the lifestyle of the Red Scorpions. She didn't want to play Le's inescapable game. She never wanted to be called Clementine ever again. She didn't want to have to go another day seeing those greedy green eyes piercing her soul every time she shut her own. She didn't want to experience another hand-crafted hellscape nightmare or wake up hyperventilating and crying.
She was tired of the paranoia and sleepless nights. She was tired of feeling powerless and as if every day held no purpose for her because she knew she'd eventually be taken back to British Columbia. She was tired of not knowing how many days she had left. She couldn't take having an invisible time clock hovering above her anymore. She was done sleeping with a goddamn frying pan, hammer, or kitchen knife. She was done looking over her shoulder or in the rearview mirror, paranoid she was being followed.
She wanted to be able to talk to Spencer and not hide things in fear of his safety. She wanted to trust the rest of the team and learn how to open up more. She wanted to buy another cactus so Hartley would have a friend without fear of the cacti dying because she wouldn't be around to care for them. She wanted to get to a place where she felt an indefinite sense of peace within her. She wanted to learn to live.
She wanted to stay. She didn't want to disappear.
She wasn't ready and never would be. However, the longer she prolonged the inevitable, the more danger she'd bring to her friends' lives. If anything were to happen to them because of her, she wouldn't be able to live with herself. And for that reason, she let her hand fall back to her side and forced her feet to back-peddle. It was either them or her.
When her fingers eventually wrapped around a circular object, Cara blinked. Spencer stood across from her with an unreadable yet endearing expression that made her stomach twist again. She couldn't quite decipher what he was thinking or feeling, but she engraved the image of him standing there into her mind nonetheless.
"Goodnight, Spen," she said quietly, opening the door to her apartment.
"Uh, goodnight, Ara," he replied, struggling to process their interaction.
Right before the door closed, Spencer got one last glimpse of that heart-warming, small smile on Cara's lips. However, it didn't quite reach her eyes this time. He didn't have much time, though, to notice the wistful look she was giving him. The door shut and he stood there befuddled, wondering what the hell just happened.
She kissed his cheek... She kissed his cheek.
What did that mean? Was she flirting with him? Did they just flirt? Did the physical act mean something or was he reading too much into it? Wait, did she just tell him that the second circle was here? Was limbo over? And what did her words mean? What was the underlying message? Why hadn't her smile reached her eyes?
Part of him was tempted to knock on the door and check on her one last time, but he didn't. Instead, he took a step back. He was unaware that if he had knocked, maybe, just maybe, that wouldn't have been the last time anyone ever saw Cara again.
But it was.
𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆 ─── ❪ CRIMINAL MINDS ❫
act one: 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝚂𝙲𝙾𝚁𝙿𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂, ¹
╱ ✹ ▬▬ ❛ © CARDIIAC 2023. ❜
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𓄹 ━━ 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑤𝑒 𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑙 ࿐ ໋₊ ˖
hey everyone!! i hope you all enjoyed the thirty-fifth chapter!
DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNN... and that's a WRAP on VOLUME/ACT ONE!!!
it has taken me since 2018 and a bunch of rewrites, but we are finally here and i could not be happier. this is my favorite part of the story, so much is in store for our beloved characters and poor, sweet caralyn. buckle up, everyone. it's about to get, quite literally, insane.
the Volume Two chapter will be up in a few days, but chapter 36 won't be out for a week. i want to give people some time to catch up with the most recent chapters before continuing to the second arc!
also, i know that this chapter is relatively short, but i didn't want to write the rest of the case and wanted to get straight to the point. so, here you are. (it took longer to get out because i work three jobs, two of which are full-time, so i am very busy and very tired.)
(side note: i love how cara went from prolonged moments of eye contact with spencer meaning something to them meaning the world to her. development is development, people.)
and before anyone mentions it, yes, i have been editing past chapters and redoing the aesthetic layout of this book. (as you can tell from the beginning of this chapter.) i've been wanting to change it and finally had a bit of free time to do so.
&&& here is a lil edit i made for this episode (it's not my best but i wanted to keep the tradition going):
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˒⠀𝑹𝑬𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹. . . ▬⠀⤸
Thank you all for taking the time out of your day to comment on this story. It means a lot and helps the story be spread to a broader audience &&& allows me to grow as an author. All I ask is that people vote on each chapter, please. As a creator, it takes time to write and develop stories. Especially ones such as this that take a while to write and dedicate time to. So please, vote on every chapter. It means a lot more than I could ever express.
Don't forget to vote & comment!
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˒⠀𝑪𝑶𝑷𝒀𝑹𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻. . . ▬⠀⤸
❝ All Rights Reserved.
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