The Art of Butterflies

"The light was frozen, dead, a ghost."

-Brave New World

They were distraught.

They'd been hoping she was in that house, that the nightmare of the past twelve hours would be over, done with. Throats had tightened as they sent away an un-needed ambulance and back up units. Eyes itched with tears of helplessness that they tried not to feel. They wanted to scream, to yell at the house that hadn't held JJ in its grasp, but they were on a deadline.

So they'd climbed back into the vans, somber, no words passed between them, and started back towards headquarters, at nearly half past twelve AM.

He realized that the tight feeling in his chest, and the anger that raced through his veins was his own fault. Despite his own laws of not letting himself believe she'd be inside 212 Coralline Road, David Rossi had somehow let hope slip past, and was no paying the price.

Sitting shotgun with Morgan driving, Rossi didn't say much of anything. His mind, however, was working at twice its normal speed. They'd missed something – where?

As he drove, Morgan repeatedly banged the heel of his hand into the steering wheel out of anger. His face was set as stone and his eyes were dangerous. The car was reaching dangerous speeds, but he didn't slow down. They didn't have time for sadness, or fear, or disappointment to show.

In the backseat of the car, Jordan Todd was on the phone, picking up where she'd left off. The young woman wished with a fierce guilt that she hadn't come along on this trip. An hour had been wasted, an hour where she could have been securing the interviews they needed.

Most of the people she called; she'd woken up, and most agreed to come in the morning. She couldn't get them any earlier – a few- a neighbor and a victim's brother – agreed to come by immediately. There was one that she couldn't get in touch with at all, nobody answered the phone. She assumed they were asleep.

She kept calling.

She remembered asking JJ what it was like, when she chose a case. If she didn't choose the right one, if another person died because she chose the wrong case, it all rested on her shoulders. She remembered that sudden feeling of weight when she'd picked up the first case file. She felt that panic now – after all the training that JJ had given her; she couldn't even make the right decision then. She should have stayed. She knew that now.

In a black SUV a few yards ahead, Aaron Hotchner's face was drawn. His brow was knit together as he drove forward with Reid riding shotgun. The younger agent kept apologizing over the wasted time and failed attempt. Eventually, Hotch quieted him with a simple, "Reid." He was driving at a speed that wasn't healthy for the car or the agents in it, but he paid no concern to that. "This isn't your fault. Stop apologizing and focus on the case." He didn't have time – JJ didn't have time – for apologies.

"Yeah." Reid said, shaking himself out of it. "Yeah, JJ needs us." He flipped open a file, murmuring things to himself as Hotch drove on.

Prentiss sat in the backseat of the SUV, one hand absently rubbing the back of her neck. She remembered, when mere months after she'd joined the BAU, Reid had been kidnapped by Tobias Henkle. JJ had asked how she was able to do the job without flinching – she'd said she was able to compartmentalize better than most people.

It wasn't entirely true.

She couldn't do this and box it away in her head. She was merely able to block it all away, to not show it, and overtime push it away. She'd had proof last time – Reid was undeniably still alive. All they had this time were assumptions, wishes, and hopes.

So she had to keep going. Because that was all they had. She couldn't leave, couldn't end this until she had proof. She refused to think JJ was dead.

They all did.

15 Hours Since Capture: 2 AM

A sob threatened to escape her lips, a real sob. She choked on it, forcing it down. Was she breaking? Was this it? She couldn't – what if she saw? Would he know, would he feel the very moment that she broke?

Her body shuddered, worn and hungry, against the achingly cold ground. The last time he'd come in, he'd tried again. Every part of her being knew she was tainted, even if he'd failed. Had she been doing something to make him want to try again?

As long as you're alive, she reminded herself. Just stay alive. Don't let him break you. She thought of Agent Todd from Counter Terrorism, joining the team again to help find her. Of course she wasn't being replaced – she knew that, she always had – but she hated that she'd allowed him to make her feel that, even for a second.

As she thought of the team, the need for sleep tugged at her. It whispered in her ears and begged her to join. Sleep was dark, peaceful. Some part of her, buried deep, reminded her that she wasn't supposed to sleep, that sleep would be a bad thing. She couldn't understand why sleep could be such a bad thing. It was painless when you were asleep. I'll wake up again, she promised herself. Just let me sleep. She closed her eyes and felt a sigh rattle through her, felt the welcoming tug of unconsciousness. She was nearly there, almost in that pain-free place when the door to the garage slammed open, letting in cold, harsh light that intruded on her darkness, shattering it into a thousand irreparable pieces…

Author's Note:

I know, I know – I'm so bad for not posting for nearly two weeks. I'm so so sorry. I got sick the day I wanted to post this and didn't write, and then I just haven't had the time- this chapters shorter than I intended it to be, but that just means you get the next chapter even sooner. I promise I won't leave you hanging for so long. Please review – I want to know I'm doing alright still with this story.