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Chapter Text

FBI Headquarters

The BAU conference room was tense as the team reviewed the details of the latest case—a series of high-profile murders tied to corruption in government ranks. The unsub had left no evidence behind, and their only lead was a name buried deep in an encrypted database: Skye Ashford.

Garcia’s voice came through the speaker, uncharacteristically serious. “I’m telling you, this girl is a hacking genius. She broke into a database so secure it makes Fort Knox look like a sandbox. And here’s the kicker—she wasn’t even trying to find anything about the unsub. She stumbled onto it.”

Hotch nodded, his face unreadable as always. “And she’s in juvenile detention for it?”

“Yep,” Garcia confirmed. “She’s been in juvie for six months. She got caught trying to access classified government files. It’s a miracle they didn’t lock her away for good, but her age worked in her favor. Barely.”

Derek crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. “So, she’s a kid with a knack for getting in over her head. What makes her connected to our case?”

“Because,” Garcia said, her voice dropping, “her hacking triggered a fail-safe in the database. She decrypted a list of names—people connected to our unsub’s activities. But before she could do anything with it, boom. Caught.”

“Does she know what she uncovered?” JJ asked, brows furrowed.

“Doubtful,” Garcia replied. “But if we want to crack this case, we need her cooperation. She’s the only one who’s seen the list. The data’s completely wiped now—thanks to the unsub’s fail-safe. She’s our best shot.”

Reid tapped his pen against the table thoughtfully. “A 17-year-old with access to that kind of information could be in danger. If the unsub knows she has it…”

“She’s already a target,” Emily finished grimly.

Hotch surveyed the team. “We need to speak to her. The question is, who’s going?”

Derek straightened. “I’ll go. Kids like this? They respond better when you call them out. She needs to know we’re not here to play games.”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “And how do you plan to do that? Intimidate her into cooperating? She’s already distrustful of authority. That approach could backfire.”

“Which is why you’ll go with him,” Hotch said, cutting off the debate. “Derek, you play the bad cop. Emily, you’ll handle the good cop role. She’s young, and she’s been through a lot. We need her to trust us.”

Emily nodded, her tone firm. “I can handle that.”

“And me?” Reid asked.

“You stay here,” Hotch said. “Keep analyzing what we’ve got on the unsub. If Skye gives us anything, we’ll need you to connect the dots fast.”

JJ leaned forward, concern etched on her face. “We should be careful with her. If she’s really been through the system, she’s probably defensive. We can’t push too hard, or she’ll shut down.”

“That’s why Emily’s going,” Hotch said simply. He glanced at the clock. “You leave in an hour. Garcia, get them everything we have on Skye—her background, her charges, everything.”

Garcia’s voice brightened slightly. “Already on it, bossman.”

Rossi, who had been quiet until now, added, “One more thing. If this girl really has the key to unlocking this case, we need to make sure she knows we’re not the enemy. Emily, that’s on you.”

Emily glanced at Derek, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Don’t worry. I’ll balance out his charm.”

Derek smirked. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of charm. She’ll crack in no time.”

Juvie Center

Skye sat in the cold, sterile room of the juvenile detention center, her arms crossed over her chest, staring blankly at the far wall. The hum of fluorescent lights above her and the occasional shuffle of guards beyond the door only served to remind her of how trapped she was. The headache was back, throbbing in pulses, sharp and unrelenting. She had learned to live with it—sometimes it lingered, sometimes it disappeared just as quickly as it arrived. Today was one of the worst days, making everything feel more unbearable today and Skye could barely keep her focus on anything for more than a few minutes.

Her hands twitched in her lap, an unconscious reminder of the ways she used to deal with things—scratching at her wrist until it bled or sometimes digging her nails into her palms until the sharp sting was the only thing she could feel. But she’d stopped doing that a while ago. Not that it made anything easier.

Now she chooses other things to distract herself. Her fingers tap against her arms in a rhythmic, almost methodical pattern, a coping mechanism to keep herself calm and to drown out the persistent throb in her skull.

She had been in this room for hours now, waiting for whoever the hell they were sending to talk to her. She didn’t care. Not about the headache, not about the endless parade of juvenile counselors who gave her that look—like she was some tragic case who needed saving. Not about the fact that the FBI had finally caught wind of her activities and was now here to deal with her. She had hacked a high-level government database. Big deal. The world was full of hackers. Maybe they should have better security next time.

The guards had already warned her that there would be "important people"—FBI, Behavioral Analysis Unit, whatever that meant. They were just another set of people trying to squeeze information out of her.

Skye's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. 

“You’ve got an hour,” the guard said to the person behind him as he stood aside, letting in a woman first, followed by a man. 

The woman was tall, her posture perfect, and her face carefully controlled. Skye’s sharp eyes caught the slight twitch in her eyebrow, as if she was already assessing her. The man, on the other hand, had a more imposing presence. He had an air of authority about him, like someone who didn’t ask twice. The tattoos peeking out from his sleeves added a sense of danger to him—someone who Skye would usually avoid at any cost.

The woman didn’t waste any time. She slid into the seat opposite Skye, eyes never leaving hers. The man took a step back and leaned against the wall, folding his arms across his chest as if to keep his distance.

“Skye, I’m Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss, and this is Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan,” the woman said, her voice calm and steady, betraying none of the irritation Skye’s indifference seemed to evoke. “We’re here to talk to you about a case. Something important.”

Skye didn’t react. She leaned back in her chair, letting her gaze drift back toward the wall. The headache throbbed again, this time a little sharper, but she ignored it. She’d been through worse.

“We don’t want to waste your time, Skye,” Emily continued. “But what you know could save a lot of people. People who have no idea what’s going on around them. You’re smarter than you look. You’re the one who cracked a system like that—so I know you know how much is at stake.”

Skye snorted, not even bothering to look at her. “I don’t know anything,” she muttered, almost to herself, though loud enough for them to hear. “You’re wasting your time.”

Derek spoke up, his voice deep and firm. “We’re not here to play games with you, kid. You hacked into a government database, and now you’re involved in something bigger than you know. You don’t get to walk away from that. But we can help you if you help us.”

Skye finally lifted her eyes to Derek’s. His tone—stern, yet almost playful—got under her skin in a way she didn’t expect. “Help?” she repeated, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah, right. As if I’m the one who needs help.”

“We’re not here to threaten you, Skye. We’re not your enemies. We’re offering you a chance to make things right.”

Skye scoffs. “Really? Then who exactly am I supposed to trust? The people who lock me up or the ones who want to use me to clean up their mess?”

Derek’s expression softens slightly, his posture relaxing as he tries to level with her. “I’m not here to use you. I’m here to protect you, Skye. We need you, yeah, but we also need to make sure you’re safe from whoever’s coming after you.”

Skye doesn’t respond, her lips curling into a tight, cynical smile. “Safe?” She shakes her head, her voice laced with bitterness. “You’ll just leave me high and dry the second you’re done with me.”

Derek stepped closer, his posture intimidating. "You think you’re clever, don’t you? But let me make one thing clear—you don’t get to call the shots here. You’re in this mess because you made a mistake. Now, you’re gonna help us fix it, or we’re gonna make it real hard for you."

Skye closes her eyes and leans her head back slightly, trying to block out their voices. The headache is growing, sharper now, a steady pulse in her temples. She grits her teeth, fighting the urge to wince. It’s getting worse.

Derek looks over at Emily, signaling her to step in. Skye’s sharp intake of breath doesn’t go unnoticed by Emily, whose instincts kick in immediately. She approaches Skye, but her tone remains calm and non-threatening.

“Skye,” Emily says softly, her voice like a balm against the cold room. “We’re just trying to help. I know you don’t trust us, but we’ve seen what you can do, and we need you.”

Skye’s head snaps up at Emily’s words, though her eyes remain shut. “Oh, great, now you're playing the good cop routine," she muttered, her voice laced with irritation. "Unfortunately for you, I don't need your help. I've survived this long on my own, haven't I? I can take care of myself."

But Emily doesn’t back off, maintaining eye contact.  "Have you, really?" she asked, her voice gentle but firm. "You're in a juvenile detention center. You’ve been on the run. That doesn’t sound like you’re doing fine to me."

Skye’s fingers tap a faster, erratic rhythm now, her breathing shallow. She feels the walls closing in on her, the oppressive weight of her headache threatening to overwhelm her. It’s not just the headache that’s making it worse—it’s the tension in the room, the feeling of being cornered. She doesn’t want to show weakness. She won’t let them see it.

Emily and Derek see the way Skye’s fingers twitch and her breathing quickens. Despite her defiant words and aloof act, it's clear that she’s fighting something more than just the situation at hand. Emily leans in a little closer, her voice softer.

“Is everything okay?”

Skye’s eyes open, their usual steely hardness slightly dulled by pain. Her hands tighten into fists, knuckles white. The headache is relentless now, and she can’t keep up the act anymore.

“Yeah, just peachy,” she mutters through her teeth, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Anyway, I’m living the dream in here—great food, exciting activities, and the company? Terrific."

Emily’s expression remains calm and collected, but her observant eyes notice every hitch in Skye’s breath and the rapid, agitated movements of her hands. She knows something else is going on here. Something beyond the tough facade. It’s all starting to make sense now

“Derek, can you get me some water?”

Emily asks, keeping her eyes locked on the teen in front of her. A moment of realisation crosses over Derek’s face as he reads his colleague’s expression. He nods and excuses himself to get the water.

As Derek steps out of the room, Skye leans back in her chair, closing her eyes again, her fingers still drumming erratically against her arms. Emily shifts slightly, making her presence known without appearing threatening.

“You don’t have to trust us right now,” Emily says gently. “I know how that sounds. But we’re not here to make your life harder, Skye. We’re here because we need your help, yes, but also because we can help you too.”

Skye scoffs, her voice weaker than before. “You people think you know everything, don’t you? You show up with your fancy suits and think you can fix everything with a few words.”

Emily doesn’t flinch at the sarcasm. Instead, she leans forward slightly, her voice steady and calm. “I don’t think I know everything, Skye. But I do know what it’s like to feel trapped. To feel like no one has your back. And I know how hard it is to let anyone in.”

Skye clenches her fists tighter, her nails digging into her palms. The pressure in her head spikes, blurring her vision just for a second. Her breathing comes faster now, like she’s fighting an invisible enemy inside her own body. She closes her eyes, trying to block it all out. She’s not going to cry, not in front of these people. She’s not going to give them the satisfaction of seeing her weak.

Emily watches her closely, never breaking eye contact, reading every small shift in her expression, every shift in her body language. The struggle is clear. She can see that Skye is on the verge of breaking, but the girl’s pride won’t let her admit it.

Before she can press further, the door opens, and Derek walks back in, a bottle of water in his hand.

He pauses by the door when he sees Skye’s tense posture. He doesn’t say anything at first, just takes a careful step into the room, his presence a steadying force. He places the glass down on the table between them, but his eyes are trained on Skye. 

“Drink,” he says, his voice gentle but insistent.

Skye doesn’t immediately respond. Her fingers still tap a nervous rhythm against her arms, but her breathing is erratic now, uneven. The headache is like a vice, tightening around her skull. The pulsing pressure is so sharp now that she can barely focus on anything. The light from above feels too bright, the air too thick.

Then, reluctantly, she reached for the bottle, unscrewing the cap and taking a cautious sip. The water was cool against her dry throat, and while it didn’t help much with the headache, it gave her something to focus on.

Derek leaned against the wall, watching the interaction silently. His usual approach—direct and no-nonsense—wasn’t going to work here, and he knew Emily was better equipped to handle this kind of conversation.

“You don’t trust us,” Emily continued gently, “and I get that. But right now, we’re the only people standing between you and the people who want you dead.”

Skye froze, her fingers tightening around the water bottle. “Dead?” she repeated, her voice sharp.

“Yes,” Derek said, his tone steady. “Whoever’s behind this case, they don’t leave loose ends. And you, Skye—you’re a loose end. You stumbled onto something big, and they’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t talk.”

Skye’s eyes darted between Emily and Derek, her breathing quickening. “Why should I believe you?” she demanded. “For all I know, you’re just trying to scare me into talking.”

Emily leaned forward again, her voice firm but compassionate. “I’m not trying to scare you. I’m trying to protect you. But I can’t do that if you don’t let me. You’re smart, Skye—you know the kind of people we’re dealing with here. You saw enough in that database to understand the stakes.”

Skye’s grip on the bottle tightened, her knuckles white. She didn’t want to admit it, but Emily was right. She had seen things—names, transactions, and connections that didn’t add up, all pointing to something much bigger than a simple hack. But admitting that meant admitting she was in over her head.

Finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to find it. I was just... looking for something to pass the time. I didn’t think it would be anything important.”

Emily nodded, her expression softening. “I believe you. But you’re here because what you found scared someone enough to cover their tracks. They don’t want anyone connecting the dots, Skye. That means you saw something important—even if you don’t fully understand it.”

Skye opened her eyes, her vision swimming slightly. “Maybe,” she admitted, her voice quiet. “But it’s all gone now. That fail-safe wiped everything. I didn’t have time to put the pieces together.”

“Then we’ll help you,” Derek said, stepping closer, his tone less stern now. “We’re good at putting pieces together, but we need you to give us what you can remember. Names, dates, anything.”

Skye’s headache pulsed again, this time so sharply that it made her wince. She gripped the edge of the table with one hand, the other still clutching the water bottle. She wants to keep resisting, to keep pushing them away, but a part of her is tired. So tired. And the pounding in her head is making it impossible to think straight.

“I don’t know if I can remember anything else,” she muttered, her voice thick with frustration. “It’s all a mess… and—” Her sentence cut off as a sudden sharp pain surged through her head, and she gasped, clutching her temple.

“Skye?” Emily’s voice is sharp with concern as she immediately moves closer.

Skye tries to wave her off, but her vision blurs, and she feels something warm trickle down her upper lip. She reaches up with trembling fingers and touches her nose—blood. A thin stream of crimson drips onto her hand, and she stares at it in confusion. “Oh, great,” she mumbled, her voice shaky. “This is just what I needed.”

“Skye,” Emily said sharply, moving closer. “You’re bleeding. Sit down—”

“I am sitting down,” Skye snapped, though her voice was weak. She tried to wipe the blood away with her sleeve, but the dizziness overwhelmed her. 

“Hey, hey, we’ve got you,” Derek says, moving quickly to her side. “Stay with us, Skye.”

But the pain is too much. The room spins violently, and her legs give out beneath her. Emily catches her just as her knees buckle, lowering her gently to the floor.

“Call for medical!” Emily shouts at the guard standing outside the door, her voice calm but urgent. Derek is already pulling out his phone to alert the team.

Skye’s breathing is shallow, her face pale as Emily keeps a firm grip on her shoulders. “Skye, listen to me,” Emily says, her voice soft but insistent. “You’re going to be okay. Just hang on.”

Skye’s eyelids flutter, her body trembling slightly. She tries to say something, but the words don’t come out. A moment later, her eyes close, and she goes limp in Emily’s arms.

“Stay with me, Skye,” Emily murmurs, her tone filled with determination. “We’re right here.”

As Hotch, Derek, and Emily stood in front of the doctor’s office, a heavy silence hung in the air. After Skye fainted, they’d rushed her to the medical bay, where a team of nurses and doctors had quickly attended to her. She was stable now, but her condition—particularly the recurring headaches—had become a subject of intense concern.

Dr. Daniels, the physician in charge of juvenile health at the center, sat behind a desk littered with files. She looked at the BAU agents, her glasses perched low on her nose, her expression thoughtful but serious.

"Skye’s condition is... complicated," Dr. Daniels began, shuffling through a few documents. "She’s had these recurring headaches for months. Sometimes they’re manageable, but at other times, they’re crippling. I’ve asked her about them, but she’s... not forthcoming. She also refuses to undergo a more thorough examination. Says she’d rather tough it out.”

Derek frowned. “And you let her?”

“We can’t force medical treatment unless it’s life-threatening,” the doctor replied. “She’s a stubborn one. I suspect there’s more going on than she’s letting on, but she won’t open up.”

Emily sighed. “At the very least, you should have known what’s causing them?”

The doctor shook her head. “It’s hard to say without more tests because she herself is not forthcoming about it. But I know she’s been self-medicating with over-the-counter painkillers, but that’s a band-aid at best. The nosebleed could be a symptom of something more serious.”

Derek crossed his arms, his jaw tightening. “Something like what?”

“Chronic stress could be a trigger, but it might also be something neurological—an untreated injury, a tumor, or even some kind of anomaly,” the doctor explained. “The fainting episode isn’t uncommon when someone’s under extreme stress or dealing with severe pain, but it’s a red flag in her case. She needs a CT scan and follow-up care, not just detention. And if I’m being honest, this environment isn’t doing her any favors.”

Derek ran a hand over his face, frustration evident. “So what? We just let her keep pushing through until she collapses again?”

“She needs to rest,” the doctor said firmly. “And if you’re here to question her, I’d suggest you tread carefully. Stress seems to aggravate her condition.”

Hotch nodded, his expression unreadable but his tone decisive. “Thank you. We’ll make sure she gets the care she needs. But for now, we still need her cooperation on this case.”

The doctor hesitated, clearly wanting to argue, but instead said, “Don’t push her too hard. She’s fragile, whether she wants to admit it or not.”

Emily and Derek exchanged a look. They’d both seen enough in their careers to know what the doctor meant.

Skye blinks into consciousness, her head still pounding, but the pain is dulled, almost muffled. She blinks again, trying to clear her foggy vision, but the brightness of the room overwhelms her senses. The harsh, fluorescent lights buzz overhead, reminding her of where she is—the sterile, oppressive environment of the detention center.

She groaned, pressing the heel of her palm to her forehead. The headache was still there, but at least it wasn’t as intense as before. She let out a shaky breath, trying to calm her racing pulse.

It didn’t take long for Emily to notice that Skye had regained consciousness. She stepped into the room, her presence as calm and reassuring as it had been earlier. Derek was close behind, his face softening when he saw that Skye was awake.

"Hey," Emily said gently, crossing the room to sit beside the bed. "How are you feeling?"

Skye didn’t answer right away. She turned her head slightly to avoid looking at Emily, her face tight with discomfort. "How do you think I’m feeling?" she muttered, her voice raspy.

Emily gave a sympathetic nod, then placed a glass of water on the nightstand. "I get it, Skye. You’ve been through a lot. And I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I need you to listen for a second. We’re here to help you. No games. No tricks. We need your help, and you’re the only one who can provide it."

Skye’s lips twitched into a bitter smile. "Yeah, right. Like I’m gonna trust you," she muttered, her eyes still avoiding Emily’s gaze.

Derek stepped forward, his expression softening as he leaned against the wall. "We’re not asking you to trust us just yet, kid. But we do need your help."

Skye finally turned her head to look at them, her sharp eyes narrowing. "What’s the catch? You’re not doing this out of the goodness of your hearts, are you?"

Emily shook her head. "No catch. You’ve got information that we need, Skye. You’ve seen something—something big—and it’s dangerous. We can’t do this without you."

Skye didn’t respond immediately. She looked away again, her thoughts swirling as her fingers twitched nervously at the edge of the bed. The room was too quiet, too suffocating. Her mind was racing, her headache still thumping dully in the background.

Skye frowned, her hands gripping the edge of the blanket covering her. “Why does everyone keep saying that? You want me to help you, fine, but what’s in it for me? Because I’m not about to risk everything for nothing.”

Derek leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “Fair enough. What do you want?”

Skye hesitated, clearly caught off guard by their willingness to negotiate. She chewed her bottom lip, her gaze flickering between the two agents.

“First,” she said slowly, “I want out of here. No more juvie. If I’m going to help you, I don’t want to do it from a cage.”

Emily nodded. “We can arrange that.”

“Second,” Skye continued, her voice gaining strength, “I want guarantees. You don’t just drop me after this is over. You said you’d help me, so I want proof you mean it.”

“We’ll make sure you’re taken care of,” Emily said firmly.

“And third, if you want my help, you’re gonna have to leave me the hell alone when I need space. No one is to pressure me, or I walk. Got it?"

Emily nodded. "Got it. We’ll respect your boundaries, Skye. But we need you to help us—this is bigger than all of us. Lives are at risk."

Skye stared at them for a long moment, the tension thick in the air. Finally, she nodded slightly, as if agreeing to some silent pact. She wasn’t sure if she was making the right choice, but at least for now, it seemed like the only choice.

“I’ll help,” Skye said softly, her voice raw, “but don’t push me.”

Emily gave a small, satisfied smile. “We won’t. We’ll go at your pace.”

Skye narrowed her eyes. “And I want access to a computer—one I can actually use, not one of those locked-down ones they give us here.”

Derek snorted. “Let me guess—you want the good stuff. Top-tier specs, high-speed connection, the works?”

“Obviously,” Skye said, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Emily smiled faintly. “We’ll see what we can do. But you have to agree to work with us. Full cooperation. No holding back.”

Skye hesitated, her walls flickering back into place for a moment. Then she exhaled, the fight seeming to drain out of her. “Fine,” she said grudgingly. “But if you screw me over, don’t think I won’t find a way to make you regret it.”

Emily straightened, her expression softening. “Deal. But we won’t let you down, Skye.”

For the first time, something in Skye’s eyes shifted—a flicker of trust, tentative and fragile, but there.

“Let’s hope you mean that,” she muttered, leaning back against the pillow. “Now, can I please get something for this headache?”

Derek chuckled, pushing himself up from his chair. “On it, kid.”

As he left the room, Emily remained, watching Skye carefully. The girl’s bravado might have been intact, but beneath it was someone who was beginning to realize she wasn’t alone anymore.

“Skye,” Emily said softly, not wanting to startle her. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you made the right choice.”

Skye cracked an eye open, her gaze weary but curious. “You’re awfully optimistic for someone who barely knows me.”

Emily tilted her head, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. “I don’t need to know everything about you to believe in you.”

Skye scoffed lightly, though there wasn’t as much bite to it as before. “You’re weird, you know that?”

Emily chuckled, standing to her full height. “I’ve been told.”

As she turned to leave, Emily glanced back over her shoulder. “Get some rest, Skye. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.”

Skye let out a slow, shaky breath, squeezing her eyes shut to block out the pain. “Whatever.”

Chapter Text

Skye leaned back in the uncomfortable bed, her arms crossed as Emily and Derek stood at the door. 

“We’ll be back tomorrow.”

Skye raised an eyebrow. “Not done babysitting me yet?”

Emily smirked faintly but didn’t rise to the bait. “We need to finalize the documents to transfer you into our custody. That takes time. And we want to make sure you have everything you need.”

Derek chimed in, his tone slightly teasing. “Which doesn’t mean we’re giving you free rein. Don’t get too comfortable.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Emily stepped closer, her tone softer. “You’ve got tonight to think things over. If you need anything, let us know. But remember—this is a two-way street. We’ll hold up our end if you hold up yours.”

Skye met her gaze, something unreadable flickering in her eyes. She didn’t respond, but her silence felt less hostile than before.

FBI Headquarters – Briefing Room

The BAU team gathered around the round table, each member focused as Hotch outlined the next steps.

“We’re officially taking Skye into our custody tomorrow,” Hotch said, his voice firm. “She’s agreed to cooperate, but this transition isn’t going to be easy for her—or for us. Everyone needs to be on the same page.”

Garcia’s hand shot up like an eager student. “Permission to make her feel like a VIP hacker queen?”

The team turned to her, a mix of amusement and curiosity.

Hotch sighed but nodded. “Garcia, you’re in charge of setting up her tech. Make sure the laptop she uses is equipped with everything she needs—under supervision.”

“Supervision, schmupervision,” Garcia said, grinning as she scribbled notes on her colorful clipboard. “Consider it done, sir. And I’ll give her the grand tour of my lair when she gets here. I might even throw in some cookies.”

JJ smiled at Garcia’s enthusiasm but quickly refocused on the task at hand. “I’ll handle making sure she’s comfortable once she’s here. It’s going to be a big adjustment for her, being under constant observation. I’ll coordinate with the team monitoring her, so she has some space while still staying safe.”

“Make sure the monitoring feels as unobtrusive as possible. We don’t want her feeling cornered.”

JJ nodded, already mentally preparing for the delicate balance of trust and authority. “Got it. I’ll start by giving her a rundown of everything—what she’s going to have access to, and how we’re going to keep her safe. I’ll make sure she doesn’t feel like a prisoner, but I won’t sugarcoat anything. She needs to know there are consequences if she crosses the line.”

“Good,” Hotch said, a hint of approval in his voice. “Now, I’ll be working on the legal documents. We’ll need to get her into the system under a new identity once the transfer is complete. Let’s make sure everything is finalized before tomorrow morning.”

Rossi leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. “I’ll take some time to get to know her once she’s settled in. Maybe get her to open up a little about what she’s been through. Her technical skills are impressive, but we should also focus on understanding her intellectual and emotional capabilities. If she’s going to work with us effectively, we need to figure out how she processes information and stress.”

Derek smirked. “I’ll keep an eye on her attitude. She’s sharp, but she’s got a mouth on her. If she starts acting out, I’ll step in.”

Hotch looked to Reid, who had been quiet so far. “Reid, any thoughts?”

Reid adjusted his tie, his mind clearly racing with possibilities. “I’ll take care of the logistics. I’ll go through the case files and prepare a summary for Skye, so she knows exactly what we’re dealing with. I don’t think we should overwhelm her, but she needs to understand the gravity of the situation.”

Hotch nodded. “Excellent. Make it concise, Reid. We don’t want to lose her attention.”

Emily, seeing the pieces fall into place, stood and began gathering her things. “I’ll talk to Skye tomorrow. Make sure she understands the expectations and that we’re respecting her boundaries. But I’m also going to let her know that this is her chance to make a real difference. She needs to feel like this is her fight too.”

“Anything else?” Derek asked, rubbing his chin as he thought.

“We’ll need to coordinate with the medical team,” JJ said, glancing at Emily. “Skye needs her neurological exam done, and we need to make sure she gets the care she needs.”

Emily nodded. “Agreed. We’ll make that a priority.”

Hotch looked around the table, his expression serious. “Now that  everyone has their tasks, let’s make sure this transition goes smoothly. Skye’s cooperation is critical to this case, but we also have a responsibility to her. Let’s not forget that.”

Garcia’s Office

Garcia was in full decorator mode. Her desk, already a colorful explosion of knick-knacks, was getting an extra layer of sparkle. Fairy lights were strung across her monitors, and a small welcome sign sat propped against her keyboard.

“Operation Teen Genius is officially underway!” She announced to no one in particular, spinning in her chair.

She paused, typing furiously on her keyboard to set up a secure laptop for Skye. “You’re going to love this, kid,” she muttered, her voice filled with excitement. “Top-tier processing power, lightning-fast internet, and just the right amount of pizzazz to make it feel special. But not too special—don’t want to scare you off.”

As she worked, she couldn’t help but feel a small pang of anticipation. Skye was a challenge, sure, but Garcia had a way of breaking through people’s walls. And she was determined to do the same with this guarded, sharp-tongued girl.

“The best for the best,” Garcia whispered to herself, a smile on her face.

JJ’s Office

Meanwhile, JJ was busy preparing for the more personal side of things. She’d been tasked with ensuring that Skye would feel comfortable with the constant surveillance she would be under. As much as Skye had agreed to help them, JJ knew this kind of life—one where you could never truly escape the eyes of others—was a difficult adjustment.

JJ was a master of easing tension, of building trust, and she wasn’t going to let this be any different. Her empathy and ability to relate to others would be crucial in Skye’s transition.

“Let’s make this as smooth as we can,” JJ muttered, her pen tapping against her notepad. “She’s been through enough already.”

First, she reached out to Skye’s medical team to ensure that all her health concerns were addressed. There was no way Skye was going to be left with lingering pain or any unresolved medical issues. 

Then, she made sure the facility where Skye would stay would have the resources to make her feel at ease: a dedicated space where she could work without feeling trapped, a routine that wouldn’t overwhelm her, and someone available for her whenever she needed to talk.

After wrapping up the calls, JJ paused, taking a breath as she reviewed everything once again. She’d always been the one people trusted to talk things through, and now, she hoped Skye would open up to her too.

She made a note to talk to Emily later about how best to approach Skye. If anyone could reach the girl, it was Emily. But JJ wanted to do her part, too.

The Next Day

The next day dawned with the BAU team in full gear, each member focused on their assigned tasks. Skye’s transfer was imminent, and they wanted everything to be perfect—not just to ensure her cooperation but to make her feel like she wasn’t walking into another prison.

Garcia had taken on her role with characteristic enthusiasm. Her office, now decked out with fairy lights, colorful throw pillows, and a strategically placed bowl of candy, looked like a haven for creativity. The secure laptop she’d prepared for Skye sat in the center of her desk, its sleek exterior adorned with a custom sticker that read: “Hack the Planet (but Legally).”

“Perfect,” Garcia whispered, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “Now, time to charm the pants off our little tech prodigy.”

JJ had been equally meticulous in her preparations. She’d double-checked the layout of Skye’s living quarters within the facility, ensuring it felt more like a workspace and less like a cell. The space was modest but thoughtfully arranged—a comfortable bed, a desk with a state-of-the-art computer setup, and a bookshelf stocked with a mix of technical manuals and light reading.

She also worked closely with the security team to set up an ankle monitor for Skye, ensuring it was lightweight and non-restrictive. It was a necessary precaution, but JJ wanted to present it in a way that wouldn’t make Skye feel humiliated or trapped.

Rossi had already spoken to a contact in Juvenile Services to ensure Skye’s legal paperwork would be expedited. “She’s officially under our custody,” he told Hotch. “Everything’s cleared.”

Hotch nodded. “Good. Derek, Reid, you, and I will stay here and monitor her integration remotely. Emily and JJ will handle the transfer.”

Emily and JJ arrived together, both dressed in casual yet professional attire to avoid intimidating Skye. As they entered the facility, Emily carried a sealed envelope containing the finalized transfer papers, while JJ held a tablet with all of Skye’s immediate information.

Skye sat stiffly in a chair, her fingers drumming an impatient rhythm against her thigh. When she saw Emily and JJ, she gave a small, sarcastic wave. “Great. The cavalry’s here.”

Emily smirked faintly but didn’t rise to the bait. “Good morning to you too, Skye. Ready to go?”

Skye shrugged. “Do I have a choice?”

JJ smiled gently, stepping closer. “Not really. But we’re going to make this as smooth as possible for you.”

Skye glanced at her but didn’t respond.

Emily handed her a bag. “Your things. They cleared it before we got here.”

Skye slung the bag over her shoulder and followed them out to the car, her steps hesitant as they led her to the car.

The car ride was quiet at first, with Skye staring out the window and Emily focused on driving. JJ, sitting in the back seat beside Skye, broke the silence.

“So, here’s the deal,” JJ began, her tone warm but professional. “When we get to the headquarters, we’ll give you a full tour and set you up in your space. You’ll have access to a secure laptop, and Garcia—our tech analyst—has been working on making sure it’s up to your standards.”

Skye didn’t respond as her gaze still fixed outside.

“For security reasons,” JJ continued carefully, “you’ll be wearing an ankle monitor. It’s not negotiable, but it’s discreet. You’ll have freedom within the facility, and as long as you stay within boundaries, you won’t even notice it.”

Skye frowned, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Just another way to keep me on a leash.”

Emily glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “Think of it as a safety net, not a leash. It’s not about control—it’s about trust. We don’t know what we’re walking into yet, and this is one way we can make sure everyone stays safe, including you.”

JJ nodded. “We’re not here to micromanage you, Skye. But if you cross the line—if you jeopardize this mission or anyone’s safety—there will be consequences. I’m not going to lie to you about that.”

Skye frowned, crossing her arms. “And if I ‘cross the line,’ as you guys like to put it?”

Emily leaned forward slightly, her voice calm. “You won’t like it. But if you play by the rules, you’ll have our support. Full access to resources, a team that’s got your back, and maybe even a future outside of this mess.”

Skye snorted. “Anything else?”

JJ’s tone softened slightly. “Yes. If you need anything—anything at all—let us know. We want to make this work for you, but it’s a two-way street. Deal?”

Skye hesitated, then nodded. 

The rest of the drive passed in relative silence, but the tension had eased slightly. Skye seemed less hostile, though she kept her walls firmly in place.

FBI Headquarters

When they reached the FBI headquarters, Skye’s nerves were palpable despite her stoic exterior. Emily and JJ led her through the halls, JJ explaining everything along the way.

“This is where you’ll be staying,” JJ said as they reached the secure area designated for Skye. “It’s not the Ritz, but it’s comfortable. You’ll have access to a workspace, your laptop, and anything else you need to help us with the case.”

Skye eyed the space cautiously, her fingers twitching as she surveyed the setup. “And the monitor?”

Emily stepped forward, holding the ankle monitor. “It’s a precaution. You’ll barely notice it, and it doesn’t limit your movement. But if you try to leave the building without permission, we’ll know.”

Skye rolled her eyes but extended her leg, letting Emily secure the device. “Basically, I’m still a prisoner in a different place then?” She said bluntly.

JJ shook her head. “A guest,” she corrected. “We’re not charging you with anything.”

Skye raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Yet.”

“Trust me, we don’t like this any more than you do,” Emily said, attempting to reassure her as she closed the cold metal anklet around Skye’s slender ankle.

“Right,” Skye muttered.

JJ smiled. “Now, let’s continue the tour, shall we?”

Then JJ and Emily continue showing Skye around, explaining the layout of the building and where she’d be working.

“This is your space,” JJ said, gesturing toward the tech lab where Garcia is. “You’re sharing with Garcia. She’s excited to meet you, by the way.”

“Can’t wait,” Skye said dryly, though there was a flicker of curiosity in her tone.

As the doors opened to Garcia’s tech lab, the sight of the tech analyst’s brightly decorated office made Skye pause. The fairy lights, colorful decorations, and welcoming atmosphere were a stark contrast to the sterile detention center she’d come from.

Garcia popped out from behind her desk, beaming. “Welcome to Nerdvana, my dear!” she said, arms outstretched. “I’ve got the coolest tech setup waiting for you. Come on, let me show you!”

Skye blinked, taken aback by the colorful whirlwind that was Penelope Garcia. But as the analyst led her into the office, explaining each gadget with excitement, a small smile tugged at the corner of Skye’s mouth.

Skye stepped further into the tech lab, her sharp eyes scanning every detail. The room was a vibrant mix of organized chaos—monitors of varying sizes filled the walls, adorned with stickers and quirky doodles. Strings of fairy lights blinked rhythmically, casting a warm glow over the colorful keyboards and high-tech gadgets that seemed to overflow every surface.

She approached the desk Garcia gestured toward, where her laptop sat waiting—a sleek machine that practically radiated power. Next to it was a custom-built desktop tower, its transparent casing revealing a dazzling array of LEDs and state-of-the-art components. A high-resolution monitor curved across the desk, flanked by a mechanical keyboard and an ergonomic mouse.

“Not bad,” Skye murmured, her fingers brushing over the laptop’s cool surface. Her tone was neutral, but the glint of appreciation in her eyes gave her away.

“ Not bad ?” Garcia gasped in mock offense, placing a hand dramatically over her heart. “Sweetheart, this setup is top-tier, crème de la crème , the Ferrari of tech labs. I handpicked every piece of equipment just for you. You’re looking at a system that could run circles around most government networks without even breaking a sweat.”

Skye raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Ferrari, huh? Let’s hope it doesn’t crash as often as one.”

Garcia gasped, a theatrical gasp this time, but the grin tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement. “Oh, you wound me! But I promise you, this baby is crash-proof. Well, as long as you don’t do anything too wild with it. Though I’d bet you’re the kind of genius who could make magic happen on this thing.”

Skye sat in the rolling chair at the desk, letting her hands rest lightly on the keyboard. She typed a few commands, testing the system’s speed and responsiveness. As the results flashed across the screen, she couldn’t suppress the impressed tilt of her head.

“Okay,” she admitted grudgingly. “This is... decent.”

“ Decent !?” Garcia exclaimed, her arms flailing dramatically. “You’re killing me here, kid! But I’ll take that as a compliment. Barely.”

Emily, leaning against the doorframe, chuckled softly. “Translation: She loves it, Garcia. Don’t let her fool you.”

Skye didn’t respond, but the faintest hint of a smile played on her lips as she continued exploring the setup. She noticed subtle touches—like the custom wallpaper on the monitor that displayed her name in sleek, modern font, surrounded by a soft galaxy design.

“Did you... customize this for me?” Skye asked, her voice quieter, almost hesitant.

Garcia’s expression softened as she leaned on the edge of the desk. “Of course I did. This isn’t just a workspace; it’s your space. I wanted it to feel like it belongs to you. We’re on the same team now, after all.”

Skye glanced away, her walls flickering back into place for a moment. “Thanks, I guess,” she muttered.

Garcia grinned and gave her a playful nudge. “Oh, don’t thank me yet. Wait until you see what this baby can really do. And remember, if you need any extra bells and whistles, you just come to me, okay? My office is your office. Like, literally . We basically share the office now.”

Skye’s fingers drumming lightly on the desk. Finally, she shrugged, the faintest hint of a smile lingering. “Guess I can work with this.”

“Fantastic!” Garcia said, clapping her hands. “And just so you know, if you ever need a break, I’ve got snacks, a fully stocked mini-fridge, and access to all the memes you could ever want. Seriously, I’ll show you later—there’s an archive.”

“Snacks and memes,” Skye said dryly, though her tone was lighter than before. “Guess I really have hit the jackpot.”

“Obviously! With me here, you won’t get any less than this.” Garcia clapped her hands together. “Alright, Skye, get comfy and explore your new toys. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to grab a celebratory latte and I’ll be back in a few. Welcome to the BAU, my dear!”

As Garcia bustled out of the room, Skye watched her go, a mix of amusement and disbelief on her face. “Is she always like that?”

“Always,” JJ confirmed, smiling. “You’ll love her in no time.”

Skye looked back at the glowing monitor and shrugged lightly. “If you said so.”

Emily exchanged a glance with JJ, both of them quietly hopeful. “We’ll leave you to settle in, but remember, Garcia’s just next door if you need anything. And we’ll check in later to go over the case details.” Emily said. Which only Skye responded to with a nod.

Skye leaned back in her chair, her gaze flicking around the tech lab again. The bright, chaotic warmth of Garcia’s space was a stark contrast to the cold efficiency of every other environment she’d been in recently. She tentatively began exploring the setup, her fingers gliding over the mechanical keyboard as she tested the responsiveness of the custom OS Garcia had installed.

She couldn’t help but be impressed. The system was seamless, every program optimized for speed and precision. It was the kind of setup she’d only dreamed of having in her old life—back when she was building tech out of salvaged parts and hacking into networks from dingy cafes.

“Not bad,” she muttered to herself, though her lips twitched upward at the corner.

The door opened again, and Garcia swept back in, a steaming latte in one hand and a box of donuts balanced on the other. “I’m back, my little tech protégé! Thought you might need some fuel while you’re getting acquainted with your new toys.”

Skye glanced at the donuts and then at Garcia, skeptical. “You bribing me with sugar now?”

“Absolutely,” Garcia said without hesitation, setting the box down on the desk. “Sugar is brain food, and you’re going to need all the brainpower you can muster once we start tackling the big stuff.”

Skye hesitated before reaching out and plucking a glazed donut from the box. “Thanks,” she said quietly, though she avoided Garcia’s gaze.

Garcia perched on the edge of her desk, sipping her latte. “So, how’s it feeling? Everything running smoothly?”

“Yeah,” Skye admitted. “It’s... amazing.”

Garcia grinned, her eyes lighting up. “I knew you’d appreciate it! And just wait—you haven’t even scratched the surface of what this system can do. I’ve got a sandbox environment set up for you to test anything you want, and there’s a direct link to me if you need help. Or, you know, just want to chat.”

“Chat?” Skye raised an eyebrow, her tone wry.

“Hey, tech buddies need to stick together,” Garcia said with a wink. “You and me, we’re going to be the dynamic duo of digital justice. Think Batman and Robin, but with more sparkle.”

Skye rolled her eyes, though the faintest smile tugged at her lips.

Before Garcia could continue,  a knock sounded on the doorframe. JJ stepped in, her expression professional but warm. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”

Garcia waved her in. “Not at all! Just introducing our resident genius to the wonders of Nerdvana.”

JJ smiled. “Glad to hear it. Let’s go to the briefing room. We’re going over the case details.”

“Roger that, bossman!” Garcia chirped before turning to Skye. “Time to suit up. Well, metaphorically. Let’s go be brilliant.”

Chapter Text

Skye followed Garcia and JJ out of the lab. As they made their way to the briefing room, Garcia chatted animatedly about the team, giving Skye a rundown of everyone’s quirks and strengths.

“Hotch is all business. He’s got this whole brooding superhero thing going on—like Batman without the cape. He’ll scare you at first with his intensity, but underneath all that, he genuinely cares about his team. Just don’t test his patience.”

“Then there is Rossi, our resident sage. Rossi is like a fine wine—gets better with age. He’s the guy with the stories, the wisdom, and the charm. And let’s not forget, he’s a total foodie.”

“Now, Reid is our resident genius. I’m talking off-the-charts IQ, eidetic memory, and the kind of brain that makes you question if he’s even human. But don’t let the stats fool you—he’s also one of the sweetest people you’ll ever meet. And his factoids? Endless and adorable.”

“Then there's Morgan, you already met him in the juvie yesterday. He’s your classic action hero—muscles, confidence, and a heart of gold. He’ll probably call you ‘baby girl’ once he warms up to you, and when he does, you’re in for the best hugs ever.”

Garcia paused dramatically, giving a warm smile at JJ, who rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “You’ve met her, but you should know JJ’s the glue that holds us together. She’s got a calm, collected vibe that makes her amazing under pressure. Plus, she’s an absolute badass when the situation calls for it.”

“Ah, last but not least, Prentiss. She’s got layers. Mysterious, tough, fiercely loyal—you’ll see. Don’t let her calm exterior fool you, though. She can be terrifyingly intense if you cross her. But if she’s on your side, you couldn’t ask for a better ally.”

“What about you?” Skye asks.

Garcia grinned, twirling dramatically as they walked. “Oh, honey, I’m the heart and soul of this operation. The tech goddess, keeper of secrets, master of databases, and purveyor of sass. Basically, I’m the one who makes sure everyone else looks good while I work my magic behind the scenes.”

JJ chuckled softly. “What she’s not saying is that she’s also our rock. Garcia’s the one we turn to when things get dark. She’s got a way of making everything feel just a little bit brighter.”

Garcia waved her hand dismissively, though her smile softened at JJ’s words. “Stop, you’ll make me blush.”

Skye smirked faintly. “So, you’re the team’s morale booster.”

“And a darn good one,” Garcia replied with a wink. “You’ll see. Stick with me, kid, and you’ll have the best snacks, the best tech, and the best pep talks money can’t buy.”

Skye tilted her head, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. “Guess I’ll hold you to that.”

Garcia shot her finger guns. “You won’t regret it.”

By the time they reached the briefing room, Skye felt as though she’d been handed a crash course in the Behavioral Analysis Unit’s team dynamics. She didn’t admit it, but the insights made her slightly less apprehensive about facing the rest of the team.

Inside the briefing room, the rest of the team was gathered, their expressions a mix of curiosity and caution. Hotch stood at the head of the table, his stern gaze meeting Skye’s as she entered. Rossi leaned back in his chair, an assessing look on his face. Reid sat forward with an open curiosity, while Morgan’s arms were crossed, his posture protective but not unwelcoming.

Garcia gave a dramatic flourish as she introduced Skye. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the newest addition to our tech crew—Miss Skye! Please note her brooding genius vibes and killer hacker skills.”

Skye glanced at Garcia with a bemused expression but didn’t correct her. Instead, she gave a curt nod to the team. “Hi.”

Hotch’s tone was calm but firm as he addressed her. “Skye, welcome. We understand this isn’t an ideal situation for you, but our goal is to protect lives. I hope you’ll work with us toward that end.”

“Okay,” Skye replied evenly, her gaze steady.

“Great,” Rossi said with a smile that was both welcoming and probing. “I’m sure Garcia’s already given you the unofficial dossier on us. Don’t worry; we don’t bite. Well, most of us don’t.”

Morgan chuckled. “If you play nice, we'll do the same.”

Reid, fidgeting slightly, piped up. “If you have any questions about the case, I’d be happy to explain. Or if you want to know about, um, anything else. Like... quantum theory. Or chess strategies.”

Emily smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Or you could start with something a little more relevant, Reid.”

Skye’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Hotch brought the room to order, his commanding presence immediately shifting the atmosphere. “Let’s focus on the case. Garcia, if you’d bring up the profile.”

Garcia clicked a few keys, and the large monitor at the front of the room lit up with images of the crime scene, bodies, and text. “Alright, team. Here’s what we know: A series of high-profile murders, all connected to government corruption, have been carried out over the past year. No witnesses, no forensic evidence, and no clear pattern until recently.”

“Gross.” Skye mutters silently while frowning at the images of the bloody bodies. The rest of the BAU seems to notice it but choose not to comment on it.

Hotch took over, his tone authoritative. “The unsub has targeted individuals tied to illegal financial activities, bribery, and embezzlement—high-ranking officials, business tycoons, and even law enforcement officers. Their precision and ability to cover their tracks suggest a professional background.”

JJ added, “This unsub operates with the kind of surgical precision we rarely see. Every murder has been executed flawlessly, making it nearly impossible to trace back to them.”

Hotch nodded, his expression grim. “Enter Skye, who accessed that encrypted government database.”

Skye shifted uncomfortably under the weight of their attention. “I wasn’t looking for anything about your guy—” she said defensively. 

“Unsub.” Reid interrupts Skye. “Unknown subjects. We use that to call the unknown perpetrator of a crime.”

“Okay...” Skye tilted her head slightly, then continued. “As I was saying, I didn’t even know they existed. I was just trying to…well, let’s just say it was unrelated.”

“And yet you stumbled onto the unsub’s hidden network,” Rossi said, leaning forward. “Sounds like you’re the luckiest hacker alive—or the unluckiest.”

“It wasn’t luck,” Skye said, her voice defensive. “It was skill. That database was secure, but it had vulnerabilities. I exploited them. That’s what I do.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly did you find?”

Skye hesitated, her gaze flicking to the glowing screen. “A list of names. People connected to whatever this guy is doing. But before I could dig into it, their fail-safe triggered. It wiped everything clean and set off every alarm in the system. Next thing I knew, I was in cuffs.”

JJ frowned. “So, the list is gone? There’s no way to retrieve it?”

“Not from the original database,” Skye said. “But…” She paused, reluctant.

“But what?” Emily pressed, her sharp eyes narrowing.

Skye exhaled slowly, then tapped her temple. “I remember some of it. But like, it actually wasn’t that much.”

Reid perked up. “Actually, even fragmented memories could help us reconstruct the list. Sometimes the brain retains information we don’t realize we’ve absorbed.”

Skye shot him a skeptical look. “You want me to play human flash drive?”

“Not only that,” Reid tilted his head, his voice thoughtful. “The fail-safe may have wiped the data, but it wouldn’t have destroyed every trace. Complex systems like that often leave residual information—fragmented code, metadata, timestamps.”

Garcia stepped in. “With your skills, you can help us dig into the unsub’s digital trail. I’ve got a setup ready for you to work with me. We’ll be looking for anything—patterns, financial transactions, aliases.”

“It’s a long shot. And even if I find fragments, they might not lead anywhere. Anyway,” Skye frowned, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “Why can’t you do that?” she asked, tilting her head toward Garcia. “You’re the tech genius here, right? If it’s just digging into digital trails, why does it need to be me?”

Garcia smiled, but there was a flicker of hesitation in her expression. “Good question, my little skeptic. Here’s the thing: I’m good—amazing, actually—but you’ve already been inside their system. You saw how they operate, the way they protect their data. You’ve got insights I can’t replicate. Together, we can cover twice the ground. And let’s not forget, you’ve got a knack for thinking like them.”

Skye narrowed her eyes, unconvinced. “Thinking like them? That’s a nice way of saying you think I’m just like your unsub.”

“No,” Garcia said quickly, her tone earnest. “What I mean is, you see the cracks in the digital armor, the places where systems can break. That’s not just a skill—it’s an instinct. And we need that to find this person.”

Skye considered this, her gaze flicking between Garcia and the monitor. Finally, she sighed. “Okay, but explain this: Why would I even be a target? I barely got a glimpse of that list. It’s not like I know anything useful.”

Emily leaned forward, her tone calm but firm. “Because to the unsub, it’s not about how much you know—it’s about the fact that you know at all. They’ve gone to extraordinary lengths to keep their activities hidden. The moment you decrypted even a fragment of that list, you became a loose end. And if they think you could lead us to them, they’ll see you as a threat.”

Hotch added, his voice steady, “They’ve killed to protect their secrets before. There’s no reason to believe they’d hesitate with you.”

Skye’s jaw tightened, her fingers tapping the edge of the table. “So, I’m bait?”

“No,” JJ said gently. “You’re not bait. You’re an asset. And we’re here to keep you safe. That’s why you’re working with us, not going at this alone.”

Skye let out a bitter laugh. “Safe. Sure. From the sounds of it, this unsub is some kind of ghost. How are you supposed to protect me from someone like that?”

Morgan leaned forward, his tone confident. “Because we’ve taken down ghosts before. You might think they’re untouchable, but trust me, nobody’s invincible. Not even this unsub.”

Garcia chimed in with a bright smile. “And with your help, we’re going to shine a giant, glittery spotlight on this ghost and bring them down.”

Skye studied the faces around the table, skepticism warring with the faintest glimmer of hope. “I’ll try,” she said finally. “But don’t expect me to believe in the glittery spotlight just yet.”

Emily smirked. “Fair enough.”

“We’ll take anything you can give us,” JJ said gently.

Skye exhaled sharply, her headache flaring briefly as she pressed her fingers to her temple. JJ noticed and frowned. “By the way, Skye, are you okay? You’ve been rubbing your head since we got here.”

“I’m fine,” Skye replied curtly, dropping her hand. “It’s just a headache.”

Rossi raised an eyebrow. “You get them often?”

“Not really,” Skye lied. “It’s nothing.”

Emily’s sharp gaze didn’t waver as she spoke, her voice calm but firm. “That’s not what the physician at the detention center said. According to their records, you’ve been dealing with recurring headaches for months. Sometimes they’re bad enough to keep you from functioning normally.”

Skye stiffened, her jaw tightening as her eyes darted to Emily. “That’s exaggerated,” she muttered. “I manage.”

Emily didn’t back down. “The doctor also noted that you weren’t exactly forthcoming when they tried to ask about it. And you refused to undergo a more thorough examination. Instead, you opted to tough it out and rely on over-the-counter painkillers. Why?”

Skye crossed her arms defensively, her posture stiff. “Because it’s my business, not theirs. It’s just headaches. People get them all the time.”

“Not when they’re this frequent and debilitating,” JJ interjected gently. “If it’s affecting your ability to focus or work, it’s something we need to address. We’re not just concerned about the case, Skye. We’re concerned about you.”

Skye scoffed lightly. “That’s touching, but I’m fine. I don’t need anyone fussing over me.”

Rossi leaned forward, his tone less probing and more reassuring. “Toughing it out might feel like the easiest solution in the moment, but ignoring something like this doesn’t make it go away. You’re a key part of this operation now, and if something’s wrong, we need to know.”

Skye hesitated, her fingers curling against her arms. She glanced down, avoiding their gazes, before muttering, “I’ve had them for a while, okay? But I’ve dealt with worse. They’re not gonna stop me from doing my part.”

Emily’s voice softened slightly. “You don’t have to tough it out alone, Skye. If these headaches are connected to something more serious, it’s better to find out now. Ignoring it isn’t strength—it’s a risk.”

Garcia chimed in, her voice bright yet empathetic. “And hey, if you don’t like doctors, I can totally help you find one who’s not all doom and gloom. Maybe someone who wears fun socks. We’ll make it less scary.”

Skye’s lips twitched in a faint, reluctant smirk at Garcia’s attempt to lighten the mood, but she quickly masked it. “I’ll think about it,” she said, her tone dismissive, though her expression hinted at a crack in her resolve. “But for now, I’m good. Can we move on?”

Hotch’s steady voice broke the silence. “We’ll take your word for it—for now. But if we see signs it’s affecting your work, we’ll revisit this conversation.”

Skye nodded stiffly, a noncommittal gesture that left the topic unresolved. Still, as the team shifted their focus back to the case, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being genuinely cared for—a foreign and unsettling sensation she wasn’t sure how to handle.

“Alright,” Hotch said, bringing the conversation back to the case. “Garcia, I want you to cross-reference Skye’s description of the names with any records we have. Morgan, Emily—work on establishing a timeline for the murders. Rossi, JJ—dig into the victims’ connections and see if we missed anything. Reid, after Skye is done with the list of names, you can help her to analyze any fragments she recovers. Let’s get to work.”

As the meeting broke up, Garcia leaned over to Skye, her voice low. “Hey, I’ve got some extra painkillers in my desk if you need them. Just saying.”

Skye smirked faintly. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

Garcia gave Skye a knowing look, her voice soft but teasing. “Suit yourself, tough cookie. But the offer stands. And hey, if you ever need a distraction from all the doom and gloom, I’ve got a secret stash of chocolate too.”

Skye allowed herself a brief smile, appreciating Garcia’s attempt to lighten the mood. “Noted.”

As the team dispersed to their assignments, Skye lingered in her seat, her gaze fixed on the glowing monitor. The gruesome images and text blurred together as her thoughts spiraled. She wasn’t sure if it was the headache or the weight of the situation, but her mind felt unusually heavy. 

She didn’t even notice when Garcia left the room with a cheerful, “See you soon, sugarplum!”

A target? Just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Great. Just great.

“Skye,” Emily’s voice broke through her thoughts, grounding her. Skye blinked, turning to find Emily standing near the door, her sharp gaze softened just enough to convey concern. “Coming?”

“Yeah.” Skye muttered, standing and following Emily into the hall. They walked side by side toward the tech office Garcia had claimed for herself—and now, for Skye as well. The quiet between them was charged but not uncomfortable. Emily’s presence was steady, her movements deliberate.

After a beat of silence, Emily glanced at her. “You’ve got a lot on your plate,” Emily said after a moment, her tone conversational but with an edge of concern. “Between the headaches and the unsub, it’s a lot for anyone.”

“I’m handling it,” Skye said quickly, her defenses rising again.

Emily glanced at her, the corner of her mouth curving into a faint smile. “You’re tough. I can see that. But tough doesn’t mean invincible.”

Skye didn’t respond, her gaze fixed ahead.

Emily continued, her voice softening. “I know the idea of a more thorough exam probably feels invasive, especially when you’ve been on your own for so long. But sometimes, letting someone help doesn’t make you weak—it makes you smart.”

Skye glanced sideways at Emily. “You sound like a broken record. First Rossi, then JJ, now you. Do you all have a handbook on how to lecture people?”

Emily smirked faintly, unfazed by the sarcasm. “Not a handbook, no. But we do have experience. I’ve seen too many people try to push through pain or ignore something serious until it’s too late. I’m not saying you’re like them, but…” She trailed off, her meaning clear.

Skye sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I’ll think about it,” she said again, her tone less biting this time.

Satisfied with the response for now, Emily shifted topics. “As for the unsub—Hotch was right. They’ve killed to protect their secrets before, and they won’t hesitate to do it again. Don’t underestimate them. They’re meticulous and calculating, but they’re not infallible. The fact that you cracked their system proves that. You’ve already shown you’re capable of matching them. Now, it’s about making sure you’re in the best position to do that.”

As they approached Garcia’s workstation—an eclectic space overflowing with colorful decorations and glowing screens—Skye gave a small shrug. “I don’t even know how much help I’ll be. I barely remember anything from that list.”

Emily stopped just short of the threshold and turned to face Skye fully, her expression serious but encouraging. “Even if it’s just one name, one detail—it could be the break we need. Sometimes, the smallest piece of information can unravel everything.”

Skye met Emily’s gaze for a moment, then nodded. “Okay.”

They reached the tech office, where Garcia was already typing away at her desk, multiple monitors glowing with scrolling data. She looked up as they entered, her face lighting up. “Ah, my apprentice returns! And with a Prentiss escort, no less. How official.”

Skye rolled her eyes but smirked faintly as she moved to her workstation. Emily lingered by the door, watching as Skye settled into the space. She caught Skye rubbing her temple again and decided to leave her with one final thought.

“Just remember,” Emily said softly, her gaze steady. “You’re not alone in this. Whether it’s the unsub, the headaches, or anything else—we’ve got your back.”

Skye didn’t respond immediately, her hands hovering over the keyboard. Finally, she glanced at Emily and nodded, a quiet acknowledgment before turning her attention to the screen.

Emily took that as a small victory and stepped out, leaving Skye and Garcia to dive into their digital investigation.

“Let’s get cracking, shall we?” Garcia asked excitedly.

Skye rolled her eyes faintly but couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at her lips. “Let’s do it.”

As Skye dove into the digital labyrinth, the hum of the computers filled the room. As she’s trying to ignore the dull throb in her head and the strange, unwelcome sense of safety that being around the team was beginning to stir. It was a feeling she wasn’t used to—and wasn’t sure she wanted.

Chapter Text

Skye leaned forward in Garcia’s office, her hand curled loosely around a pen as she scribbled on a yellow notepad. Names came in fragments, half-remembered faces tied to usernames that no one outside the dark web should’ve known. 

She muttered as she wrote, brow furrowed.

“RedJack… always posted links but never spoke directly. NovaCure was a buyer, I think. Then there’s ‘BlackParade’—he was the one with codes. I don’t know his real name, but he slipped once, said he was in Maryland.”

“Okay, sugarplum, I’ve got half a dozen RedJacks, three of them with records that make my toes curl—and not in a good way.”

Hours passed. Cross-references. Dead ends. Garbled trails of IP addresses bouncing off proxies in four countries. The air grew heavy, frustration settling in.

Finally, Skye dropped the pen and rubbed her temples. “This is stupid. I’m giving you scraps.”

“Hey, these scraps are still threads. Threads can unravel a whole sweater if we tug hard enough.”

But when Hotch and Emily came in, his expression said it all. “We're out of time. The unsub is on the move again. We’ll need more.” 

His gaze shifted to Skye. “Details you might not even realize you remember.”

“What are you saying?”

“Hypnotherapy,” Hotch said. “It could help you recall things buried under stress or trauma.”

“You want someone to crawl inside my head.”

“Not someone,” Hotch said. “Rossi. He’s done this before. It could help.”

“No. Absolutely not.” She pushed off the desk like the suggestion was a trap. “I don’t let people mess with my head. I'd rather just go back to juvie.”

“It’s an option, not an order. But I believe it’s worth considering.”

The the idea of letting someone—especially an adult, especially a man—into her head was terrifying. It was a line she had never crossed. Her past was her own, a fortress she had built brick by brick. Her gut screamed no.

Emily must’ve read it instantly, because she stepped in. “You don’t trust people. I get that. Especially older men.”

Skye froze mid-step, eyes flicking toward her. Sharp. Guarded.

Emily’s voice gentled. “I know it sounds terrifying. And I know you don’t trust easily. But Rossi won’t hurt you. He’s not that kind of man.”

"Do you know how many people told me that? It’s just a matter of time before they back on their words.”

“You’re right,” Emily said softly, surprising Skye. ““A lot of people make promises they don’t keep. And you’ve paid the price for that more than anyone should.”

Skye folded her arms, shoulders stiff. Her gaze darted between Emily and Hotch, but it lingered on Emily.

“But here’s the difference—this isn’t about Rossi control you. It’s the opposite. Rossi guides, but you decide. You’ll have full control. If at any point you want to stop, we stop. No questions asked. You say the word, we’re done.”

“That’s what they all say too.”

“Then don’t take it from them. Take it from me. I’ll be there the whole time. You don’t have to do it alone, and you won’t. If you open your eyes, you’ll see me first. Not Rossi. Me.”

That landed. Skye’s expression flickered, the mask slipping just a hair. The fortress walls creaked, though they didn’t fall.

“You really think I’d let some guy mess with my head?” 

“I think,” Emily said carefully, “you’re strong enough to decide what risks are worth taking. And I think you care enough about stopping this guy that you’ll at least consider it.”

“You sound like a damn commercial. ‘Help people to feel better, but side effects may include dredging up every horrible thing you’ve ever seen.’”

Emily allowed the corner of her mouth to twitch. “I won’t lie to you, it could hurt. Digging into buried memories usually does. But it might also stop people from getting killed. That’s why we’re asking.”

“God, you people and your noble crusades.” Skye dropped into the chair again, legs kicked out, pretending like she didn’t care. “Fine. But I want something in return.”

Hotch’s brows lifted slightly. “What kind of something?”

“Come on, don’t look at me like that. You think I don’t know how this works? You want me to crack myself open for your case, you gotta make it worth my while.”

Emily tilted her head, careful not to dismiss her. “What do you want?”

“I want one day outside. Supervised, whatever, but not just from here to juvie or juvie to here. Somewhere normal. A diner, a supermarket—I don’t care. I just want… a normal day outside.”

Garcia let out a low whistle under her breath, eyes darting between the girl and Hotch. The room felt like it had tilted—Skye had just flipped the power dynamic on its head.

Hotch’s gaze stayed on her, steady. “That’s a big ask.”

“So is asking me to hand over my head like it’s a diary. Take it or leave it.”

Hotch was silent, weighing, but Emily stepped in first. “That’s not impossible.”

Skye narrowed her eyes. “That’s not a yes.”

“Because it depends. If Rossi says you gave him everything you could? Then I’ll take you. Anywhere you want. A diner. A supermarket. Even a stupid arcade if that’s your thing.”

For just a second, Skye’s expression slipped. 

Her eyes widened, just a flicker, and something bright sparked there—like the word had tugged on a memory she didn’t mean to show anyone. 

A second later, she slammed the mask back into place, snorting.

“An arcade? Please. Who do you think I am, a child?” She crossed her arms, leaning back in the chair with a scoff. “Wanting to go to an arcade. That’s ridiculous.”

Emily didn’t miss it. Neither did Garcia, who bit the inside of her cheek to keep a grin from breaking through. The two women shared a glance, holding back smirks like they were in on a secret Skye would rather die than admit.

Hotch, though, didn’t say a word. He just studied Skye for a long moment, his gaze softening almost imperceptibly. 

Skye noticed none of it, or pretended she didn’t. She tapped her fingers restlessly against the desk, daring them to push her.

Emily gives the kid a small smile. “Like I said, anywhere you want.”

“You’re serious?” 

“Completely.”

Skye huffed and slouched deeper into the chair. “You people are way too good at this guilt-trip thing.”

“It’s not a guilt trip, cupcake. It’s called emotional intelligence.”

Hotch leaned a fraction closer, folding his arms. “But understand this, Skye. This isn’t bargaining for fun. If you agree, it means you commit to trying. No half-truths, no holding back on purpose.”

Skye rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I get it. You want honesty.”

“Then we’ll set it up. Tomorrow morning.”

“Wait, tomorrow?” Skye sat straighter, eyes flashing. “What, you think I need time to psych myself out? No. If we’re doing this, we do it now.”

Hotch studied Skye. The defiance in her tone was a mask—underneath, there was fear.

“All right,” Hotch said. “Then I’ll tell Rossi and you can came to him whenever you’re ready.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Emily, Garcia, and Skye in the small office. The hum of Garcia’s computers filled the silence.

Skye slouched back, kicking her legs against the floor. “This is insane. Like, actually insane. Letting some guy rummage around in my brain while you all watch.”

Emily crouched slightly, meeting her at eye level. “Not rummaging. Guiding. And like I said—you call it off, we stop. You’re in control. Not Rossi. Not me. Not anyone else.”

“And you’ll be there? The whole time?”

“I’ll be there,” Emily promised.

Something in Skye’s shoulders eased, though she quickly masked it by grabbing the pen again and twirling it like she didn’t care. “Fine. But you better not ditch me halfway through. I hate being ditched.”

Emily’s chest tightened at that—something raw threaded through the girl’s words. She wanted to reach out, but she didn’t. Not yet.

Rossi’s Ofifce

The room was dim, quiet, deliberately softened to take the edge off. Rossi sat in his armchair, posture calm, voice gentler than Skye expected. 

Emily leaned against the wall nearby, arms crossed, eyes steady on her.

Rossi stepped in, his eyes warm but assessing. “I hear we’re going to try something a little unconventional.”

“Don’t make it sound like a spa treatment.”

“Fair enough. Then let’s just call it what it is: remembering. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Emily stayed close, watching as Skye stiffened, jaw set, like she was preparing for battle.

Skye perched on the couch, stiff as a board. “This feels like a setup. Like I’m about to get tricked into spilling every secret I’ve ever had.”

“You won’t,” Rossi said evenly. “I’m not here to dig where you don’t want me. Just to guide your focus. You’ll stay in control the entire time. Think of me as a… flashlight, helping you see what’s already in the room. You don’t have to force anything. Just… let it come. And if it doesn’t? That’s fine too. You decide how far we go.”

Skye shot a look at Emily—sharp, uncertain, questioning.

Emily gave the smallest nod. And somehow, that was enough. Barely.

“Fine,” Skye muttered. “But if you start doing creepy ‘look into my eyes’ crap, I’m walking.”

“Deal.” Rossi smiled faintly. “All right, Skye. Just start by sitting however you’re comfortable.”

Rossi gave Skye a moment to shift on the couch, dragging her sneakers up onto the couch so she could sit cross-legged, arms folded across her chest. She looked less like someone preparing for hypnotherapy and more like a kid daring him to try.

“Okay,” Rossi said easily, unfazed. “That works. And now I’ll start the recording just in case, yeah?” He asks as he put down a small recorder in the table between them.

Skye only nod as an answer.

Emily leaned a shoulder against the wall, close enough that Skye could see her in the corner of her vision. She gave the faintest nod, that silent reassurance again.

“Close your eyes,” Rossi continued. “You don’t have to. But sometimes it helps.”

Skye shot him a flat look. “You people and your ‘if you’re comfortable’ lines.”

Emily leaned forward slightly. “He means it, Skye. You’re running the show here.”

Skye hesitated—then shut her eyes, arms still crossed tight across her chest. “This feels stupid already.”

“It might,” Rossi agreed lightly. “But stupid or not, your mind still holds pieces we need. So let’s start simple. Close your eyes if you’re comfortable.”

Skye hesitated, then exhaled sharply through her nose. “I’m not five. I don’t need—”

Emily’s voice, low and even, came from her corner. “Humor him. Just this once.”

Skye sighed but relented, her lashes lowering as she leaned stiffly against the back of the couch.

“Good,” Rossi said. “Now, think about something. A color, a shape, anything that feels safe.”

Skye frowned. “Safe’s not really my thing.”

“Then something neutral,” Rossi corrected gently. “The kind of place your mind goes when it wants to wander.”

Skye hesitated, fingers twitching. Then her voice softened.  “Gray. Walls. Old concrete.”

Emily’s breath caught quietly. Juvie.

Rossi didn’t press. “You see gray walls. What else?”

Skye swallowed. “A ceiling fan. It squeaks every time it turns.” Her brows furrowed. “But that’s not—this isn’t it. This isn’t what you want.”

“I don’t want anything,” Rossi said calmly. “You’re the one guiding this. Just let the memory move.”

Something flickered behind her eyes. A quick inhale, a tightening in her chest.

“There was—” She stopped, shaking her head. “No, I don’t want—”

Emily stepped closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re okay. You’re here with me. You can stop if you need to.”

Skye is fighting the sting at the corners of her eyes. “I’m fine.”

She wasn’t. But she didn’t stop.

“The walls weren’t gray,” she murmured suddenly. “Not that time. The walls were cream. I was in the public library when I accessed the site.”

“Now,” Rossi continued, “we’re going to shift. You said earlier you remembered fragments—usernames, voices, things from the dark web. We’re just going to look at them. Like you’re scrolling through a screen in your head. You don’t have to push, just notice what comes up.”

Skye frowned faintly, but her voice softened into a whisper. “There’s… code. Pages that flash and reload too fast. I see ‘NovaCure.’ He’s chatting with ‘RedJack.’ They’re arguing about dates. About timing. About the method to take people out.”

Emily’s eyes flicked to Rossi. He stayed still, pen unmoving.

“Keep going,” Rossi said gently. “You’re doing fine. What else do you see?”

“‘BlackParade’…” Skye’s brow furrowed, words tumbling faster now. “He’s got the list open. Full names. Addresses. No usernames, just—real people. Executives, journalists, senators—”

Her voice rose slightly, a tremor threading through it. “There’s a woman—Monica Hale—she’s on it. There’s a man, David Armitage. And—”

Her hand twitched on her knee, nails digging in as her pace quickened. “Then there’s—wait—something about Maryland, again. Same user, BlackParade. He said, ‘We’ll take her out like the others. Just like last time.’”

Emily leaned forward slightly. “Skye, who’s he talking about?”

Skye didn’t answer right away. Her breath hitched, barely audible, like her lungs had forgotten how to work for a second.

Rossi waited, still as stone. Emily took a slow step closer—not touching, not crowding, just anchoring herself in Skye’s peripheral sense of safety.

Skye swallowed hard. “I—I don’t know,” she whispered. “The chat kept refreshing. It was so fast. I couldn’t keep up.’”

“You’re doing great,” Rossi said softly. “Just follow the thread. Don’t force it.”

Skye’s fingers tightened into the hem of her jeans. “There was… a timestamp. It was late. After midnight. They were talking about the next target, but—”

Her breath trembled.

“Something was wrong with the list,” she murmured, voice thin. “There were… extra names. Ones that weren’t public. Not people in the news.”

Emily’s eyes sharpened. “What kind of names, Skye?”

Skye’s brows pinched, a flicker of fear behind her eyelids. But she didn’t pull back—not yet.

“I saw personal files,” she said quietly. “Not like the others. More detailed. Like… dossiers. They had backgrounds. Patterns. Notes. ‘Exposures,’ they called them. People who knew too much.”

Emily stepped closer—slow, steady, a tether. “What did they know too much about?”

Skye shook her head. “Something the FBI hasn’t figured out yet. Something big. There were files about… pressure points. Influence. Political structures. It was like—like they were playing chess with real people.”

Rossi’s voice dropped even softer. “You said earlier you saw names with addresses. Was anyone labeled differently? Marked or starred?”

“Yes.” The answer was immediate.

Emily exchanged a sharp glance with Rossi.

Skye continued, voice tight. “BlackParade had a personal file folder. I clicked it. I wasn’t supposed to—I could tell. It had… six names. Only six. All marked ‘priority.’”

Emily stepped even closer to the couch. “Do you remember any of them?”

Skye’s fingers curled, knuckles white.

“One,” she breathed. “One for sure.”

Rossi leaned in a fraction. “Take your time.”

Skye’s lips parted, her voice barely audible. “Monica Hale… had a star. She was marked ‘priority two.’ But there was a ‘priority one.’”

Emily’s heart kicked. “Who?”

Skye’s jaw clenched. Hard. Like the memory hurt. “I don’t know her name,” she whispered. “It wasn’t written out. It was coded—just initials.”

Emily felt Rossi still beside her. “What initials?” Rossi asked quietly.

Skye’s lashes fluttered, breath unsteady. “Three letters… all capitals. I think the first two were… C and J. Or maybe J and C. It flashed too fast.”

Skye kept going, voice trembling. “And there was a note. A short one. It said: ‘When she steps out of line again, clean it up properly this time.’”

Emily froze. Her stomach dropped.

Rossi’s expression darkened—calculating, concerned. “Skye,” he said carefully, “who was the note addressed to?”

Skye’s brows furrowed deeper. “BlackParade. I remember the header. ‘To BP,’ something like that.” She took a shaky breath. “But the sender… the sender used a symbol. Not letters.”

“What kind of symbol?” Emily asked, her voice steadier than she felt.

“A crown,” Skye whispered. “Just a little icon. And then a number. Roman numerals. Maybe a… maybe a four? No—no, a seven. VII.”

Emily and Rossi both stiffened.

That symbol wasn’t random.

It wasn’t about murder-for-hire.

This wasn’t some petty dark-web hitlist.

This was organized. Hierarchical.

Someone high-level. Someone with reach.

Skye’s breathing quickened, panic edging in.

“I shouldn’t have seen it,” she said, voice cracking. “I wasn’t supposed to. The second I clicked that file, everything started deleting. All at once. Like someone was wiping the board.”

Emily stepped fully to the couch now, crouching slightly so she was eye-level even though Skye’s eyes were closed.

“You’re safe,” Emily whispered. “You’re not alone. You’re doing exactly what we need.”

Skye’s lips trembled. “But I didn’t see it all. I only saw fragments. I don’t know what any of it means.”

Emily’s voice gentled. “You remembered more than you think.”

Rossi spoke quietly, carefully. “Skye… other than the file from BlakcParade, do you see any other important files, text, or anything?”

Skye stilled. And then—barely a whisper. “…Yes.”

Emily’s now the one to ask the question. “What did you see?”

Skye swallowed, the memory slicing through her like a blade.

“I see—” Her voice shook. “I see numbers. Timelines. Estimated chaos. They were supposed to aim for something bigger. A larger target. A bigger event. I saw their projections before everything went dark.”

Rossi leaned forward slightly, voice low. “Do you remember what the bigger event was meant to be?”

Skye flinched.

“There were plans,” she whispered. “Blueprints. Not buildings—routes. Travel paths. Flight manifests. They were comparing them. Organizing names by… importance.”

Emily’s breath stilled.

“Importance?” Rossi echoed. “To who?”

“To the country,” Skye murmured. “Government officials. Cabinet members. High-profile CEOs. People whose deaths would cause… ripples.”

Her eyes squeezed tighter, and for a moment it looked like she was drowning behind her own eyelids.

“I didn’t understand it then,” she rasped, “but now—now I think they were trying to figure out who to hit. Who would cause the biggest impact. Who would… break things the most.”

Emily felt the hairs on her arms rise.

Skye’s breathing shifted—faster, shallower—but she didn’t stop. Once the floodgate cracked, everything came pouring out.

“There were more names,” she whispered, almost feverish. “Senators. Defense contractors. Someone from the Treasury Department—uh—Harrington? No, no, Harrison. And—there was… a list of airports. DCA. BWI. Reagan. They were cross-checking departure times. And routes—routes that didn’t match up. They were looking for choke points—places where security would be weakest.”

Emily exchanged a sharp glance with Rossi, but neither dared interrupt. Not while she was giving them the thing she’d spent years burying.

Skye kept going, voice rising in a frantic whisper. “There was a folder labeled ‘Cascade.’ And another one—‘Pillar.’ Pillar was about… leadership structure? I don’t know. Cascade looked like… fallout predictions. Charts. Arrows. Blasts—no, not blasts—shockwaves. Social shockwaves.”

Rossi stayed perfectly still, pen frozen over his notepad. Emily didn’t move from her spot near the couch.

Skye wasn’t talking to them—she was just spilling, like the words were tumbling straight out of the memory.

“And there were more names,” she said, hands curling into fists. “Lydia Cranford. Matthew Keene. Mathew Morales. And—and—”

She broke off, breath catching on something.

Something sharp.

Something that snagged her like barb wire.

Rossi leaned in just slightly. “It’s okay. Don’t force it. What name do you see?”

Skye’s face tightened, like the word itself hurt. Her voice came out barely audible.

“Garrett.”

Emily’s eyebrows drew together. “Do you recognize that name?”

But Skye didn’t answer.

Her body stiffened instead—shoulders locking, breath stuttering.

As if the name belonged somewhere else.

Someone else.

Skye’s voice hollowed. “No… no, no, no—”

Her inhale broke. She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead like she could push the memory back in.

“Skye?” Emily stepped forward immediately, crouching next to the couch. “Hey, hey—look at me.”

But Skye wasn’t here anymore.

The concrete walls were back.

The cold. The smell. The dark.

A basement.

Him.

The man who dragged her there when she was younger. The one who told her to keep her mouth shut. The one who locked the door and left her in the dark until morning.

John Garrett.

Not the victim.

The man who was supposed to care for her. The man who never did any good things to her. The one whose name had been carved into Skye’s memory for all the wrong reasons.

The world in her head snapped closed like a guillotine.

“No,” Skye gasped, head shaking hard, voice spiraling into panic. “No—stop—stop—I’m not—I don’t want—I don’t want to go back there—”

“Skye.” Rossi’s voice cut through firmly—not loud, but absolute. “I’m pulling you out now. You’re safe. You’re done. You’re coming back. Right now.”

A sharp snap of fingers—not near her face, but near her space.

A grounding point.

“Skye,” Rossi said again, stronger. “Open your eyes.”

Emily’s hand hovered near Skye’s shoulder—not touching yet, not crowding, just there.

Skye’s breaths came fast, frantic.

“Come back,” Emily whispered, steady but soft. “You’re not there. I’m here. Right in front of you. Open your eyes, come on…”

Another beat.

Then another.

Skye’s lashes fluttered—once, twice—and then her eyes opened, staring straight at Emily with wild, glassy fear.

Emily exhaled in relief. “Hey… good. There you go. You’re with us.”

Skye swallowed hard, chest heaving.

Rossi leaned back, giving her space. “We’re done for today. No more. You handled that better than anyone could ask.”

Skye didn’t answer.

Didn’t move.

She just sat there, shaking, like the basement door was still creaking somewhere behind her.

Emily slowly lowered herself to the ground, sitting beside the couch so she was eye-level.

“Skye,” she said gently, “you did exactly what you said you’d do. You stayed in control. And you stopped it when you needed to. You did nothing wrong.”

Skye’s hands curled tight into her jeans.

“I don’t want to go back there,” she whispered, voice small in a way Emily had never heard from her.

“You’re not,” Emily replied immediately. “Not now. Not ever. I swear.”

The words hung between them—quiet, steady, a promise Skye hadn’t realized she’d needed.

She blinked hard, something hot burning behind her eyes.

Rossi spoke softly from the chair. “You gave us more than we’ve had in months. More than we had any right to ask for. That was brave, Skye. Whether you feel it or not.”

Skye didn’t say she wasn’t brave.

She didn’t say anything.

She just kept breathing, shaky and uneven, clinging to the one anchor she had left in the room: Emily.

Skye wiped at her face fast, turning away from both of them. “I hate this. I hate remembering. I hate feeling like—like this.”

Emily crouched in front of her, steady and unflinching. “I know. But you did something incredibly brave. And you kept your end of the deal.”

Skye looked up sharply, chest still shaking. “So you’ll keep yours?”

“Absolutely. You pick the place. I’m taking you.”

Skye blinked hard, swallowing past a lump in her throat.

“…Okay,” she whispered.

Emily didn’t move right away. She stayed crouched in front of Skye, grounding her with nothing but quiet presence and steady breath. It gave Skye room, a space to come back into her body without feeling watched or judged.

When Skye finally managed to look up again, her eyes were rimmed red, lashes damp. But there was something else there now too—something fragile, flickering, uncertain.

Hope wasn’t the right word.

Trust, maybe. Or the beginning of it.

Emily softened her voice. “You don’t have to pick right now. We can wait until you’ve had water. Or until your hands stop shaking. Or tomorrow. Whenever you want.”

Skye’s gaze dropped to her hands, trembling in tight fists against her knees. She unclenched them slowly, fingers stiff, jaw clamped tight with embarrassment.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, even though she clearly wasn’t. “I just… need a minute.”

“That’s allowed,” Emily said quietly. “Take all the minutes you need.”

Rossi stood, giving her room. “I’ll brief Hotch. You two take your time.” And with a gentle nod, he slipped out of the office, closing the door softly behind him.

Skye’s breath finally began to level out, no longer sharp or panicked, just uneven. “I don’t—” She swallowed. “I don’t like people seeing me like that. Weak.”

Emily shook her head instantly. “That wasn’t weakness.”

Skye scoffed. “Looked like it.”

“That was trauma,” Emily said simply, without hesitation. “And you handled it better than most adults I know.”

Skye’s lips twitched—half a laugh, half a flinch. “You say that like it’s supposed to make me feel better.”

Emily shrugged lightly. “It’s the truth. Whether you like it or not.”

A beat passed.

The silence wasn’t comfortable.

But it wasn’t sharp anymore, either.

Skye wiped the heel of her palm under her eyes again, pretending she wasn’t doing it. “You’re really gonna take me. Anywhere I pick.”

Emily nodded. “Yeah. I am.”

“Even if I choose something weird?”

“Skye,” Emily said with a small, wry smile, “I have taken Garcia to a medieval-themed cat café before. I can handle weird.”

Skye blinked. “…There’s a medieval cat café?”

“There was. We don’t talk about it.”

A faint huff of air slipped out of Skye, almost a laugh. She leaned back slightly, the tension in her shoulders easing for the first time since the session started.

Then she whispered, “Can we… go to a carnival or maybe an arcade? But somewhere that’s not too crowded. Somewhere I won’t… freak out.”

Emily smile at the request—not in a teasing way, not in a see, I knew you’d want something childish way. She just softened. Warm, gentle, steady.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “We can do that.”

Skye looked up quickly, as if searching for a catch. “You mean… today?”

“If you want today, then today,” Emily said, tone soft but solid. “Or later. Or tomorrow. Whenever you’re ready.”

Skye swallowed, throat tight. “Right now I just… don’t want people staring. Or touching. Or—” She cut herself off, shaking her head like she’d already said too much.

“Okay,” Emily murmured. “We’ll pick something small. Off-hours. Somewhere you can breathe.”

“I don’t want people behind me. Or close. Or… watching.”

“Then we’ll avoid all of that,” Emily reassured. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Skye’s breathing finally slowed enough for her to think past the panic. And then, she hesitated.

“…Can it be the one near the old pier? The small one with the neon sign that flickers? The games are old, but… it always looked kinda fun.”

Emily nodded without hesitation. “Yeah. We’ll go there.”

Skye blinked, stunned by how easily the answer came. “You don’t think I’ll make a scene?”

Emily’s voice lowered. “I think you’ll tell me if something feels wrong. And I’ll handle the rest.”

That did something—softened Skye’s shoulders, loosened her clenched jaw. Like for the first time, she believed she wouldn’t be punished for reacting or flinching or needing space.

“Besides,” Emily adds, “you kept your end of the deal. So I’m keeping mine. That’s how trust works.”

The word trust made Skye’s shoulders lift, like she wasn’t sure she deserved it.

Or like the sound of it hurt more than the memory.

She folded her arms loosely, not defensive—just trying to hold herself together. “I don’t… trust people. Not really.”

“I know.”

 Emily didn’t sound disappointed. She sounded patient. Kind.

“And I’m not asking you to trust everyone,” Emily continued. “Just me. For today. For this.”

Skye stared at her for a long time.

Finally, Skye’s voice softened to a whisper. “I don’t know how to do that.”

Emily didn’t move closer. 

Didn’t tell her she already was.

Didn’t reach out to touch her.

She just kept her voice steady and warm, like a safe place to land.

“You don’t have to know. You just have to try.”

Skye swallowed hard, staring at the floor.

Her breath trembled once more—but it wasn’t panic this time.

Just the exhaustion of someone who’d fought too hard, too young, too long.

“…Okay,” she murmured. “I’ll try.”

That tiny word—try—settled into Emily like a weight and a promise all at once.

Skye looked up again, something vulnerable in her eyes. “You won’t… leave me there, right? Not even for a second?”

Emily shook her head. “Not even for half a second.”

Skye exhaled—slow, shaky, but steadying. “Okay, good.”

Emily rose slowly from the floor and offered her a hand, not forcing, just offering.

“Come on,” she said gently. “Let’s get you out of here.”

For a heartbeat, Skye didn’t move. Then she reached out and took Emily’s hand. Briefly. Lightly. 

Skye’s fingers were cold, while Emily’s weren’t.

But Skye didn’t let go.

And Emily didn’t make her.

When Skye finally steadied, Emily didn’t let go—not until Skye gently eased her hand back, keeping just the faintest ghost of warmth between them.

Emily offered her a small smile. “Ready?”

Skye nodded. “Yeah. Just… stay close?”

“Of course,” Emily said and meant it.

And for the first time since the basement walls slammed shut in her mind, Skye breathed a little easier.