#the gambit

You nod slowly, as if that makes sense, as if it seems like a good plan, even though it terrifies you to hear it. In reality, you need to know his every move if you’re going to keep your team safe, if they make it to this cabin before you can figure something else out. Not that you don’t trust them to be prepared for anything, but you’ve witnessed just how unpredictable Carter is. You need to do your part to be one step ahead, even if he’s been five steps ahead this whole time.

“Where’s my gun?” you ask casually.

He laughs through his drink. “You think I’d bring that shit with us here? God, no. I’m not a moron. It’s in that car we drove to the edge of the woods.”

“Wait.” You had sort of figured he ditched the car, given that it was a government vehicle and all. “You…did you carry me here?”

“Fuck no, I used the four-wheeler,” he says. He leans back against the counter, eyes narrowing. “You’re asking a lot of questions.”

You mirror his stance and lean in the doorway. “I like to know what I’m getting myself into.” You keep on taking mental notes. There’s a four-wheeler you can use to get down the mountain, you just need to get out of this house. Somehow.

He hums, eyes narrowing. “So you can help me.”

“Sure.”

He stares for a second. “I don’t believe you.”

You sigh. “I don’t know why you would.”

“I want to.”

“Okay,” you shrug. “Then just trust me.”

“Fine,” he says, but he doesn’t sound too happy about it right now. “I have a gun you can use, but I’m not showing you where it is. I need to shower first.”

You roll your eyes. “Right.”

“So,” he pushes off the counter. “Can I trust you to stay put? You know how dangerous these mountains are at night, and the sun is gonna set any minute now.”

Fuck. “I don’t exactly want to be dinner for the bobcats, so yeah. I’ll be here.”

“Good,” he nods. He pats his pocket and you hear keys jingling there. “And I’m taking these with me.”

You make a show of plopping down on the couch, kicking your feet up and leaning your head back. “Cool. I’m taking a nap.” You are sluggish, probably still the after effects of the drug he gave you, and you hope he takes it as that.

You hear him chuckle before going down the hall, so you’re in the clear. There’s movement in one of the rooms, presumably his bedroom, until you hear a door shut. After a few moments, you hear the shower turn on.

You stand up, eyes searching every inch of the room. There has to be something useful in this stupid place.

You’re getting out of here one way or another. There has to be a spare key to the four-wheeler somewhere, or a phone for fuck’s sake. A phone might be more useful. You could call Garcia and she could find your exact location easily.

But of course, the only phone you see is a landline that probably hasn’t been connected in years. He probably doesn’t even pay for any phone service here, if he’s as strategic as he’s shown you to be.

You hear the shower curtain move aside. The clock is ticking. Fast. You don’t know how quickly he showers, but you can’t imagine he’ll take long since you’re here. You’re surprised he’s showering at all, and that he didn’t handcuff you to a bed or something, but you’re glad he didn’t. You’re glad that, for whatever reason, he decided to trust you.

You spin in circles in the living room, willing your brain to come up with something. You check the drawers in the kitchen quietly, but there aren’t any spare keys -- or keys of any sort. It’s all random things, kitchen utensils, other household essentials that are no use to you right now.

Out of sheer curiosity, you try the front door. It’s unlocked.

Your eyes dart to the bathroom as you hear the water splash. With the front door cracked, you weigh your options.

You have no idea how far up the mountain you are, or where you even are. You have no idea what or who is around. The sun is just starting to set, so you’ll likely be out there in the dark for some time if you don’t make it down to civilization in time. 

Or you can stay here, risk him drugging you to make you sleep through the night, or worse, risk saying something to set him off and risk him seriously injuring you like you know he’s capable of doing. 

He’s my brother, you think with deep, deep sorrow. He’s your brother, and in the cruelest twist of fate, he reminds you exactly of your father.

And that is why you can’t stay. That is why you have to do what you didn’t do when you were younger, because you knew no better back then. 

That’s why you run.

You don’t know how far you’ll make it, you don’t know if you’ll even make it anywhere worthwhile, but you know you can’t stay here. You know your chances are higher out there, with the possibility of running into a ranger, someone you can actually trust, with access to a satellite phone. You can’t stay here because you can’t change him, just like you couldn’t change your father, no matter how badly some days you wished that you could.

Carter is too far gone, and it seems he has been since he first kidnapped you when you were kids. It seems he’s always been this way. 

Tears stream from the corners of your eyes as you run, the wind whipping against your face as you follow the path down the road, hoping you’ll find someone, but knowing there’s likely no one up here, not even any neighbors -- at least not for miles.

It’s gut wrenching, and you wish you never knew he existed. You wish you never had this knowledge that you have a brother, that you’ve had one this whole time, and there was nothing you ever could’ve done to save him. He was doomed from the start -- and maybe you were too, just in a different way -- all because of your father. 

You glance over your shoulder quickly, worried you hear footsteps, but no one is there. No one but the trees, covering you, encouraging you to get away. We’ll hide you, they say. We’ll keep you a secret.

+++

“Garcia, give me an update,” Hotch says, hoping the connection hasn’t dropped as the trees thicken around them, swallowing the team whole.

“Keep heading straight,” she says. “You’re closing in.”

Hotch motions to the team to keep moving, and everyone picks up speed. With every passing second, the sun drops lower and lower, and they know time is limited. It’s dangerous in the mountains at night, especially without proper gear, but Hotch can’t care about that. All he cares about is getting to you, getting to the house with heat signatures in it that Garcia found. That has to be you.

“Woah, hold on,” Garcia’s voice filters through Hotch’s ears. “That’s weird.”

He doesn’t slow his pace, but he asks, “What are you seeing?” Rossi’s head turns at Hotch’s panicked question.

“The satellite updated, there’s only one heat signature in the house.”

Hotch nearly falls flat on his face. “She--”

“No, no,” Garcia says, and she almost sounds like she’s smiling. “I think she’s running. There should be a road to your right, follow it around the bend.”

Hotch motions to everyone and receives nods in return.

And that’s when he hears it. Sobbing. 

Your sobbing. It breaks his heart to realize that he knows the sound so vividly and distinctly, but it’s you. It has to be.

“Wait!” he shouts to the team and everyone halts, listening. A knowing look passes between them. 

They hear it. Sobbing, and running.

+++

What are the odds, you think, of running down this mountain and running into your team as they’re trying to get to you? Is it really so crazy to think that they’re on their way to you just as you’re trying to get away?

You don’t care how delusional it is, you try to imagine it. It keeps your legs moving. It keeps your fear at bay as you keep looking behind you, fearing you hear Carter behind you, but no one is there.

Until you come crashing into something hard. 

Arms wrap around you and for a moment you think it’s Carter, that he caught up to you and got in front of you, but then you take in what you’re feeling. A kevlar. Strong arms. A cologne that only Hotch wears.

“Aaron,” you cry, your entire body practically giving out in his arms. You bury your face in his neck as he holds you up and you take a deep breath, gripping him like he’ll slip away any second. Like he’s a figment of your imagination, another after effect of the tranquilizer, and hell, maybe he is, but you don’t care. If this is a hallucination, you’ll take it. It’s a nice one.

“I’ve got you,” Aaron whispers and it sounds so real.

You distantly hear him giving orders to the rest of the team, telling Morgan and Prentiss to go with Rossi to the house. Reid stays with you and Hotch, talking to someone over the phone, and you realize it’s JJ.

“Do you have her?” Garcia comes into Hotch’s ears, frantic.

“I’ve got her,” you hear him say, and then you hear him sniffle. “I’ve got her, Penelope, thank you.”

“Is that Pen?” you murmur, your face still buried in Aaron’s neck with no sign of moving. “I knew she’d know what to do.”

“I hear you, my angel, I know,” Garcia’s voice is thick with emotion. 

With every passing second, you realize this has gone on for too long, so the only explanation is that it’s real. You lift your head from Aaron’s neck, peering up at him with wide, watery eyes.

“Aaron?” you whisper, one of your hands cupping his jaw, fingers flexing against his face. “Oh my god, you found me.”

Tears slip from his eyes, wetting your fingers against his cheek. One of his hands covers yours, squeezing. “I’ve got you, honey, it’s me. We found you.”

Your head falls forward onto his chest, the emotion of it finally crashing over you. Your arms reach up to wrap around his neck, clinging to him ferociously now that you know he’s real, that this is real.

“I’m so sorry,” Aaron cries into your ear, arms wrapped around you just as tight.

“I never should’ve left,” you sob.

“I never should’ve let you,” he argues, muscles flexing, as if he’s trying to memorize the shape of you, to keep you against him forever. “We need to get you down the mountain,” he says, and without any hesitation, you feel him lifting you into his arms bridal style.

You have no energy in you to protest, and you don’t even want to. Your arms wrap around his neck for stability, and you let him carry all your weight.

Slowly, you hear Reid’s voice filter back in. “I see you guys, yeah, we’re coming down, Hotch’s got her, so we’ll be fine, we’ll meet you there.” A pause, then to Hotch he says, “The paramedics are waiting down there.”

“Good,” you hear and feel Hotch say. You keep your eyes closed, face turned toward his shirt as the world sways as he carries you down.

Your head grows dizzy as your body catches up with itself, the adrenaline finally waning, your heart finally settling now that you’re in Aaron’s arms.

You almost don’t hear the gunshot when it rings out, but your body tenses. The birds above scream and scatter.

You know what it means. Aaron does too. Neither of you say a word.

Once you’re down the mountain, Aaron reluctantly hands you off to the paramedics in the ambulance. 

“Wait--” you reach out for him, thinking he’s walking away, but he sits down. 

“I’m right here,” he says, placing a gentle hand on your arm. “They need to take care of you first, but I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You nod, a wave of nausea passing over you, causing your eyes to close. 

“He gave her something--”

“He said it was a tranquilizer,” you manage to get out. “Don’t know what kind.”

All of it is a blur. They say something, you feel a prick in your arm and your breath hitches, remembering before, but whatever they give you calms you down. You flex your arm at your side, searching for Aaron’s, and you find it, fingers loosely lacing with his. Everyone moves around you, and soon the rumble of the engine starting filters into your ears.

As the ambulance heads for the hospital, you rest your eyes, though you’re more alert than any of them are expecting you to be. But it’s because you have one thing on your mind, and your brain won’t let the thought rest.

“He’s gone, isn’t he?” you mumble after a while.

Aaron squeezes your hand. He doesn’t need to ask who you mean. “I’m sorry, honey.”

You nod, knowing it was inevitable. Knowing there was nothing you could do.

+++

You’ll hear this later from the team, but Carter was already gone when they made it inside the cabin. 

They heard the gun go off while they were on the porch. Morgan had just shouted, “FBI!” when they heard it. When they knew.

Morgan found Carter in the living room. He likely saw you were gone, heard the FBI at his door, and knew he had two options. So he made a choice.

Part of the team is glad they weren’t the ones to do it, given the fact that they knew it was likely to end that way. But mostly they are sorry it had to end this way at all, knowing the pain it’ll cause you, and the years of guilt you’ll have to unpack.

+++

When you come back to yourself in the hospital, Aaron is sitting beside you, typing rapidly on his phone. You barely move and his eyes dart to you, phone immediately forgotten when he sees you’re beginning to stir.

“Hey,” he whispers, hands reaching for you, one stroking your face, the other resting on your arm. As if he’s still trying to be sure that you’re back in arms reach.

“Hey,” you echo, tears filling your eyes, the memories instantly coming back to you. “I’m--”

“No, no,” he shakes his head, eyes watering too. “I’m sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I wish I had found him sooner,” you cry, tears escaping as quickly as your eyes can fill with them. “I wish I had gotten to him before my dad did.”

“I know, honey, I’m sorry,” Aaron says softly, shifting closer in the chair, but it’s not close enough.

“Come here,” you move over on the bed. “Can you hold me?”

He doesn’t care that the bed isn’t exactly big enough for both of you. You’ve asked if he can hold you, so that’s exactly what he’s going to do. He’s in the bed and pulling you into him faster than anyone can tell him no.

You tuck your head into his chest, sobbing as you fist his shirt, careful of the IV in your arm. “He was too far gone,” you can barely get the words out, “or I would’ve-- I would’ve tried to help him--”

“Shhh,” Aaron cradles your head, breathing shaky as he listens to you. “There was nothing you could’ve done.”

You know that. You do. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less, knowing that everyone is gone now. Your dad, your mom, and now your brother, who you only found out existed just yesterday.

God, was it really just yesterday?

Somewhere in the midst of your cries, a nurse comes in to check your vitals. All are fine, aside from your heart being a little fast as you’re worked up from crying.

But Aaron calms you down. It takes a minute, but soon your breaths even out, and the tears slow.

“Where is everyone?” you sniffle.

“They’re outside in the waiting room,” he says. “Do you want me to get them?”

You nod against his chest. “Don’t leave though.”

“I’m not,” he assures you. “I’m just going to text Dave.”

The team was clearly waiting for the go ahead to come visit you because barely a minute after Hotch texts, there are soft knocks on your door.

“Come in,” Hotch calls out, helping you sit up against his side.

JJ, Emily, Spencer, Dave, and Derek (with Penelope on the phone) filter in quietly, smiling softly when they see you.

“Alright, here she is,” Derek says, passing his phone to you.

“Hey Pen,” you say.

“Hi my sweet angel,” she answers, voice cracking. “You’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” you nod, trying not to let the emotions pull you under again. “Movie night when I’m back?”

“Done,” she says instantly. “Your pick.”

Hugs are passed around, everyone squeezing you tight and fighting tears.

When Dave gets to you, you see he has tears in his eyes, and that’s enough to make you lose it again. You wrap your arms around him, sniffling into his neck.

“Thank you for finding me again,” you murmur.

“Anytime, kiddo,” Dave whispers, rubbing your back. “I hope we don’t have to do this again,” he teases, making you laugh, “but if we ever do, I’ll always find you.”

“I hope we don’t do this ever again,” Derek says sincerely. “That’s enough excitement for the next decade.”

“I agree,” JJ laughs, leaning her head on Emily’s shoulder.

“It’d be a statistical wonder if it happened again,” Reid says, rocking on the balls of his feet. “But please don’t.”

You laugh, wiping your face as you lean back into Aaron’s side, his arm curling around your shoulders protectively. “Don’t worry guys, I don’t plan on it.”

His arm tightens just a little, a silent promise that you hear clear as day. I don’t plan on letting you go again.

You watch as practically all of the profilers notice Hotch’s arm around you, the way he pulls you closer, and the way you don’t argue one bit. If you weren’t so exhausted from the last twenty-four hours, you’d crack some joke about the two of you having gotten over yourselves, or about how the two of you can slightly tolerate one another’s presence now. 

You will tell them soon. There’s time. And it’ll make a good story, one to laugh about one day, once all the dust settles. 

For now, you let your eyes slip closed as the conversation continues around you. A smile tugs at your lips when you hear their back and forth, and you think, they found me. In more ways than one.

~~~