Never make a defense or an apology until you are accused.
King Charles I

December 24th.
Same day.
B.A.U. Airplane.
21.29

Worry. Constantly nagging at his brain, like a rollercoaster he could not get out of. The lifestyle, he could deal with. The pictures, the scenes, the dreams, the nightmares – more he could deal with. The fact that he never knew who was the enemy and which enemy he had to fight first; he could deal with it all. But the worry – that was the worst. It had nestled inside his head like a cancer – an ulcer in his stomach, fungus between his toes, a needle in his eyes. Constant. Ever, so, damn, constant. It should drive him insane, but he figured that by now, he had gotten used to it. The arrival of Abby Scott certainly didn't make it any easier, but he thought they would get through it – that he would get through it. Obviously, he had been wrong.

He wasn't sure if she was the only one to blame. Prentiss sure hasn't made it any easier, not for Scott but not for the rest of the team – including himself – as well. But did Emily Prentiss carry any part in them ending up here? No, he could not say she did. Derek Morgan, he certainly did. For years, the dark agent had been his right hand, his trustworthy soldier, but his actions had made Hotch lay in bed at night and wonder what he gotten into the handsome man. The signs were small and visible to only a very keen eye. He wondered if anyone else even knew. Well, perhaps Reid, because he stood so close to Scott, but he must be the only one. Then again, was Morgan fully to blame? Hotch didn't step in as their supervisor either, he let them fool around like teenagers in their freshman year. He never suggested anything, dropped a line, hinted so much that he was aware of the situation. If Morgan carried any blame at all, that would surely have to be reduced in half – at least. Then again, he was a grown man and he knew the consequences of his actions.

No – there were only two persons he could look at and find the blame: Abby Scott herself, and himself.

And yet – where again did it leave them? The only thing that told him the night was darker and more peril was his instinct. There was something going on and he was slowly starting to gather the tells. The way Scott would position herself opposite of the door every single time she stepped into a room. The way she glanced around, mentally scribbling down every detail, scanning every face she saw. The way she repeatedly used reflections to check to behind her. The way she sat – nervous, on edge; like a tiny, little, ticking time bomb. But the most he noticed the way she looked. How she could look at him; in her eyes a small window that told him so many things, he did not know what she was saying to him. There was some sort of emotion in her eyes – Atlanta had showed some sort of emotion in her eyes – one that he could not distinguish from the pale, cold and stale expression on her eyes. One that he could not name. Perhaps it had been because it was something she had never shown him. Yet the growing paleness of her skin, the bags underneath her eyes, the way her eyes seemed to sink into its sockets, her skin getting tighter around the bone due to a lack of proper nutrition; it all told him something he had feared for a long time.

He was losing her. They were both losing control; Aaron Hotchner was losing control over his agent and her seemingly private downwards spiral and Abby Scott seemed to be losing control over everything in her life. Hotchner sighed as he boarded the airplane again. He had been lost in thoughts for quite a while now and he found the conversations of his team around him completely going by him.

"Any sight?" Prentiss asked when she popped her head around her chair.

He shook his head. "No."

"Where the hell are they? They were supposed to be here forty minutes ago." The dark-haired agent exclaimed annoyed and took her seat again.

They had been waiting for thirty minutes for Scott and Reid to arrive. Despite their efforts of contacting them, they still had no idea where they were. JJ had called the hotel, but they could only confirm that the couple had checked out and left over half an hour ago. Nobody seemed to know where they had gone or where they were. They could be in serious trouble. Just as Hotch' mind started wondering – thinking about the many enemies Scott had made in Atlanta that could have caught up with her, his loyal, faithful communications liaison spoke.

"Perhaps they got car trouble or something."

"They could have taken the wrong turn." Morgan joked, an amused smirk around his face. It hadn't been his first joke, but in-between the jokes the team would crack, there was a silence and then the worry.

"Guys, don't talk about them like that." Garcia tried again. She had been futilely attempting to minimise the jokes, but to some she couldn't help to snort as well.

"They forgot to study their maps and now their lost in the middle of nowhere." Hotch looked at Rossi and raised his eyebrows. Who knew Rossi had humour?

"Sounds like them." Prentiss continued on, yet attention was quickly erased and the team was again left with morbid thoughts. JJ checked her phone as Morgan dialled Reid's number again. Confused, he looked down at the cell phone seconds later.

"What is it?" Garcia immediately asked. She was seated directly across her favourite F.B.I. agent and as soon as she spoke her line, heads snapped in Morgan's direction.

The person in question looked up and stared at their faces. "I got a busy tone."

"That's good right?" Garcia asked feverishly. "That means that at least they are alive, right, that's improvement?"

"Abby's phone is switched off." JJ said, still holding her cell phone.

"What the hell is-" Before Rossi could finish his line, Hotch' phone rang. He picked up immediately as heads snapped towards him and the tension in the room became almost too unbearable.

"Hotchner."

"Hotch?" His voice was soft and broken. "It's Reid."

"Reid." Hotch said and the team practically rose from their chairs. "Are you okay?"

"No." There was a pause and then a sigh.

"Reid, talk to me."

"Abby's been arrested."

"Arrested?!" He repeated. Rossi frowned and Morgan closed his eyes, covering his face with his hand.

Abby Scott. The idiot.

"Hotch." Reid's voice grew stronger now, as if he got tired of his supervisor not having the level of seriousness that he required. "They're accusing her of murder."

"What?! What happened?" Hotch stood up and stood in the doorway of the plane. He motioned for his team to stay put.

"I don't know. We left the hotel when at some point, a squad car pulls up behind us and orders us to move over. So we did and they found a chopped up body in the go-bags in the car."

"A body?" Hotch muffled his voice as he spun on his heels in an attempt to keep the news from the team – for now. Quietly, he listened to Reid's words, closed his eyes when hearing the name and mentally kicking himself to the ground. You lost control, agent Hotchner, and now she's heading down for the crash – hard and fast. "Are you alright?" He asked after he recomposed himself. There was a lump in his throat and a iron fist around his heart, his chest contracting as reaction. It should have become hard to breath, the world should come crashing down when Hotch realised one of his agents had finally dug herself a hole deep enough not even he could get her out off.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, it's Abby-"

"We're on our way. Where are you?"

"Fulton. Hotch, please hurry."

Hotch hung up the phone and turned back to his team. There was no time for shock or surprise or even anger. His body went full automatic as he retrieved his usual stern, serious and back-to-business shell.

"What's going on?" Rossi was the first to ask.

Hotch stepped forward, back into the group. "Abby's been arrested. They found a chopped up body in the back of their SUV."

"What?" Morgan exclaimed. Garcia gasped for air and JJ's eyes went wide. Prentiss, in fact being much like Hotch, immediately jumped into action-mode. "Wow, wait, only Abby?"

Funny, how suddenly when it's bad, you switch to a first name basic.

"I don't know the full story yet." Hotch said.

"Do we know who the victim is already?" JJ asked carefully. She had regained her strength and slowly recomposed herself.

Their leader looked up at his team from under his brows. He hesitated.

This is not good.

"Abby identified her herself." He paused. He didn't want to break the news to the team. He didn't want them, after all the things they faced on a daily basis, to face the cruel reality this close and personal. Their colleague is a murderer, agent Hotchner. Stop denying it. "It's Louisa Delgado. Milo Bronckovic's fiancé."

December 24th.
Same day.
Fulton Police department.
21.58

Once the team arrived at Fulton Police department, they had no time to scan the room and take in surroundings and details. They did not have time to look at faces or process the silence and heaviness that hung in the air. The iron fist that had grabbed a hold of the BAU's team leader had loosened its grip but instead took a hold of his entire team. This was something he could not keep from them, this was something he could not shield them from. And Hotch couldn't decide what he thought was worse; the fact that he couldn't help his team with this personal, brutal devastation, or the fact that he could not help the one person he desperately wanted to help.

Hotch spotted SCU section chief David McCallister right away when entering the small precinct located in the middle of Atlanta's beloved 'Five Points' district. McCallister was still wearing the same suit – he hadn't even taken of his jacket. He was, however, holding his phone and he stared at it as if it would do its business itself. The tall and broad-shouldered man heard the footsteps and he turned around.

"Hotchner." He greeted Hotch and walked towards him. His eyes lit – here came the heroes. There was a light at the end of the tunnel.

"McCallister." With a nod, Hotch returned the greeting.

"I see you brought the cavalry."

"We were scheduled go to fly back to Quantico. When Reid called, we immediately drove here." Hotch replied after McCallister's dark eyes went over his team.

"Good, because she's going to need all the help that she can get." McCallister turned around again and handed Hotch a thin case file.

"Where is my other agent?"

"Doctor Reid? He's already in the conference room." Mac replied and nodded once in the right direction. "He's fine. A little shaken up, but unharmed."

Garcia let out a sigh and locked her eyes once she found Morgan's.

"Do you have any idea what happened?" Rossi asked as he stepped forward, standing next to Hotch.

"They got a call." McCallister shrugged once, as if it had been so easy and clear at that time. "The caller identified herself as Abby. She said she murdered a young woman. She also said from which hotel she would be leaving, which car, including the license plate. Whoever made the call clearly stated that the other person whom would be traveling with Abby, had nothing to do with it."

"And they didn't find that suspicious?" Hotch commented fiercely.

"They did. That's why they questioned Reid and took it so long before he could contact you. The chief of police here, chief Dawson, he called me shortly after they had picked them up. I came as soon as I could."

"Has she been officially charged yet?" Hotch asked.

"No. Dawson will wait. We've got forty-eight hours. Then he'll charge her if he has to."

"What does Abby have to say about this?" Rossi had opened the case file and looked at Louisa's short personal record. Name. Date of birth. Residence. Address. Phone number. Current work place. She was a nurse.

"I haven't talked to her yet." McCallister admitted and he looked down at his phone again.

"You'll be handling the case?" Hotch tilted his head backwards, only slightly, but McCallister picked it up. He was good like that.

"Yes. It's a brutal murder within city limits. That's SCU's jurisdiction." He replied plainly.

"But it's presumed to be the fiancé of one of your men." JJ said as she mingled into the conversation.

"That's why I was hoping you guys would help me with the case." The tall SCU agent explained. Help, not assist. Pay attention to the details.

"She's a member of our team." Hotch picked his words carefully. McCallister noticed that too, because he paused before he spoke and he looked at Hotch as if trying to read his mind. She's not one of us, she's just a member of the team.

"She's also one of us, agent Hotchner. Don't make no mistake, she was transferred and she is a member of your team. But she will never stop being one of us. And, if I understood correctly, the fact that the suspect is a member of your team didn't stop you in Chicago." There was another brief interlude as the former army-man glanced at Morgan. "Besides, you guys are the best out there. You wouldn't want a murderer on your team. If she did it, you'll figure it out. If she didn't, we'll clear her name."

"Do you think she did it?" Hotch wanted to know.

McCallister sighed and he glared at his mobile phone again. "Look, I've known Abby for a very long time. We met back in her Army days. I know her. I know her temper, I know her strength. But I also know her weakness. The few friends she has - she'll protect them with her life. There is no way in hell that she would intentionally hurt a friend – her best friend. But that's what I think. I can tell your opinions are divided." He glanced at the faces in front of him. "I don't care. I just want to find out the truth."

"Even if that means she did it?" Rossi retorted quickly.

"Would that change anything about the truth? The truth, agent Rossi, is the truth. Nothing more, nothing less. If it's the truth, then so be it. I'll run this show behind the curtain, I'll let you take the lead. I do wish to talk to her. Only shortly, if I may."

Hotch nodded after contemplating. He knew that if they wanted to crack this case with Abby involved, they were going to need all hands on deck and it was best if those hands were on the same side.

"You can set up in the conference room. Chief Dawson is finalising the paperwork, but after that he will report to you. Anything you need."

"Are you going to inform Bronckovic?" The fearless leader asked, this time his voice gentler and kinder.

"No. Not until I have a positive id from the coroner. I do, however, have another very unpleasant phone call to make."

"Abby's old team?" Hotch guessed.

McCallister nodded. "They have the right to know. Besides, you might need their help."

"Thank you. And-" Hotch waited. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you. One last thing." Mac paused again, looking down and sighing before he looked up again. "The head is still missing."

Hotch frowned. "The head?"

McCallister walked away after nodding. Once he had distanced himself enough, Hotch turned to his team.

"What do you want to do?" Prentiss asked.

"I want to talk to Reid first; make sure he is okay, hear his side of the story. Rossi, Prentiss and JJ, I want you on the victim. Everything you can find. Set up a profile. We need to treat this as any other case. We can't focus on Abby as the killer yet. We need to know what happened." Hotch explained.

Morgan interlaced his eyes with his supervisor's. "What do you want me to do?"

Hotch turned towards his loyal follower. "I could use you when I'm interviewing Abby. You knew her best. She talked to you the most. I need you to have my back." There was a secret, hidden message encrypted in Hotch's words. By the way Morgan looked at him, those deep, dark eyes, his head strong on his neck, jaw stiffened, lips pressed together, determination set all across his face, Hotch knew the message had come across. I need to count on you. I need you here, right next to me.

The rest of the team was oblivious to their thought-conversation – or at least they pretended that they were – when Hotch continued. "JJ, there is a file on my desk with Abby's name on it. Could you please have that send over?"

"Of course." The blonde replied, nodding, but her eyes were questioning.

"Garcia, you're here now. We could really use you."

"Of course, sir. At your side and service." Garcia replied to him, her voice soft but strong.

The team moved forward towards the conference room that had been cleared for them. They could see an absentminded Spencer Reid, holding a cup of coffee, leaning against the table, staring into space. As soon as the door opened, he looked up. "Hotch."

"Are you okay?" He immediately asked.

Reid nodded and tucked a lose strand of hair behind his ear. He weakly nodded at the rest of his team as they took his place. JJ, of course, moved to stand directly next to him, briefly placing a hand on his arm.

"Can you tell us what happened?" Hotch asked kindly.

"We uhm.. We were in the car-"

"At the beginning, Reid. When did you see her, what time did you leave?" Hotch said.

"I picked her up from her hotel room. She had already packed her bags and then we left the hotel. It must have been around eight? When we got to the car, four bags were already in it. Abby was pretty mad about it, she thought you might have put them there, as some sort of a joke. We were about halfway to the airport when she noted the police car. She pulled over, we got out. They uhm, they asked if she was Abby Scott and then they asked for our guns. Abby asked them for some id, which they gave us, so we gave our guns to them and they said they had to search our vehicle and I'd like to point out that at that point we still had no idea what was going on. They wouldn't tell us a thing." Reid added upset. He was clearly shaken up as he pointed his finger at Hotch, as if his supervisor would go running towards chief Dawson to tell. Instead, the agent nodded at his protégé and allowed him to continue.

Reid waited and he looked at the floor. When he looked at the floor, his eyes were pleading. "Hotch, they knew exactly what they were looking for, they knew who she was, that we were armed, they knew where to look."

"I know, Reid, I know."

"How is that possible?"

"We don't know yet." Hotch lied. "Do you remember what she was like when you picked her up from her room?"

"Tired. Sleepy. She looked like she had slept but…"

"But what?" JJ encouraged him.

"Her eyes were too clear for that. Maybe, maybe she just lay down or something?"

"Did she look surprised when she opened the car and found four go-bags already in it?" Rossi asked friendly.

"No. She was, angry. She said something about us being mules and a joke or something, I don't know." Reid answered.

"What about when the police officers found the body?"

Reid shortly spaced out and they all figured he recalled the earlier events. "She was angry at first, she didn't want to give them her gun. And then-…" He looked up at Hotch. "Hotch, I saw her, I saw her eyes, her face when she saw the body. There is no way that she did this, her knees buckled underneath her, one of the officers thought she was doing something and he just slammed her into the car. Abby's not the one that would be slammed into a car any time soon. I saw her." He stressed his words with loudness. "I saw her face, she did not do this."

There was silence as Reid finally caught on. "What are you not telling me?"

"Someone called the police claiming that they saw Abby kill a woman. They gave her full name, a description, knew which hotel you would be leaving from – even the license plate of the car." Hotch solemnly admitted.

"So? That means whoever did this is trying to set Frankie up and that he was watching us." The young genius argued.

"According to McCallister, the caller sounded an awful lot like Abby."

"You don't believe – you think she did this, don't you?" Suddenly, Reid didn't want to be near them anymore. He distanced himself from JJ and moved away from Hotch. "You think she did this." He repeated.

"Reid, it's too soon to tell."

"Too soon to tell? Too soon to tell?! She's one of us! How can you doubt one of your own agents? How you can you not trust her on this?"

"Reid, that's enough." Morgan suddenly said. "We all have different thoughts and different reasons to think those thoughts. Please. We just want to know what happened."

"Right." Reid replied sarcastically. "Well, you heard my side of the story." And with that he stormed out of the room, leaving his fellow team members behind flabbergasted and just as confused as he probably was himself.

"Desperation is the raw material of drastic change. Only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape."
William S. Burroughs