They muted the heart monitor, after she and Reid both confirmed that it was fully functioning. Kept the distractions at bay, as Morgan pulled up a chair in front of her. Set up the LED strip.

There was a moment. When, despite all of her insistence, she just wanted to run away. She wanted to run far, far away and pretend that she was just Jane Hart with no history and no past and no scars on her back –

But she wasn't. Couldn't.

Hotch –

Jack needed his dad back. If nothing else, Jack needed his dad. And if she ever wanted to ever really feel worthy to be his mother – really be his mom – she had to bring back Rin. Because Jack Hotchner was not losing any more family.

She forced herself to trust, and followed the blinking green light with her eyes.

"You can still back out," Morgan speaks to her lowly, softly. One last attempt to talk her out of it. "We can do this another way. You don't have to face this yet."

"We both know that's not true," She shook her head, eyes still locked on the green dot going back and forth and back –

"We can find another way, if you don't want to do this," Morgan insists again.

She shakes her head, eyes still fixed on the light.

"Okay," He exhales deeply, sighing through his nose. "Okay. You know how this works, Jane. Just keep your eyes on the bar, and answer my questions the best you can."

She breathes deeply. Digs her fingernails – bitten to the quick – into the duct tape and foam. Exhales.

"Okay, Jane, we're going to start this easy," Derek speaks lightly, his voice even and rich. "November 16th, 1995. Do you remember what it was like, that morning?"

"Cold," Jane answered promptly. "Cold. It was the coldest day all year – and windy, too. I loved it, but – but Bree couldn't stand it. He complained that 'Mother Nature has no business being drunk off her ass – hot one day and freezing cold the next.' I thought he was just being overdramatic."

"When did you first realize that something was wrong?"


Mari sat with her chin resting on her desk, slumped with exhaustion – well due exhaustion, considering that she'd stayed up half the night studying and the rest of the night reading Agent Rossi's newest book.

Pulling an all-nighter to read about serial rapists?

So worth it.

She blew air out against the pencil in front of her, pushing it up … watching as it rolled back down to her face and she blew on it again – sending it up and it rolled down again

Rhys kicked the back of her chair.

She jolted up sharply, suddenly aware that the attention of the class was on her – that Mr. Jacobson was giving her The Eyebrow (which meant that she was definitely in for a detention later).

"Ms. Ryden, so glad you're finding our class engaging today," Mr. Jacobson cocked his head scathingly. "Really, your attention and enthusiasm for the review is appreciated. I'm sure this test will be a breeze for you."

"Told ya we shoulda skipped," Rhys murmured behind her, too quiet for Jacobson to hear. She wanted to punch him.

"Sorry, Mr. Jacobson," Mari sheepishly apologized, fiddling with her pencil. "I …"

She came up empty.

"I don't want to hear any of your excuses, Ryden, I've heard them all," Mr. Jacobson sighed. "And although I would love to continue this conversation with you – and we will, in your detention this evening – you've been called down to the office. Something you would've realized yourself had you been paying attention."

Mari grabbed her bag and got out of there – before Mr. Jacobson had a chance to humiliate her any more.

Detention tonight was gonna suck.


Rossi was very, very ready for retirement.

Not right that moment. Not for him. No, Rossi was ready to pull out all the stops and convince Jane to go businesswoman full time and hire Hotch as her personal lawyer – corporate espionage and cutthroat businessman was a sure fire better alternative to being kidnapped from a government helicopter and absconded by a highly intelligent and dangerous unsub with a proclivity for cutting people into ribbons.

And for black lotus flowers.

Black lotus flowers. Black lotus flowers that were currently filling the bullpen to the bursting point, vases decorated with gold leaf and delicate carvings perched on every surface. Lotus flower in full bloom with inky black petals.

"Garcia's trying to track the delivery, but there's no luck so far – all the payments came from credit cards stolen years ago and sold online. Identity theft," JJ reported to him, stepping around maintenance as they struggled to get all the flowers down to evidence. "According to the mail room, fifty vases were delivered, and Anderson reported a number of identical bouquets were sent to both Jane and Hotch's places. They're being gathered up now."

"Lotus flowers – a continuation of his taunt to Jane over the years," Rossi sighed. "Has she seen any of these?"

"No, she hasn't," JJ shook her head, a weary and fleeting smile at her one good piece of news. "She's with Morgan and Reid, trying EMDR to get some of her memories back. They managed to steer her away from the bullpen. We'll have this all cleared out by the time they're done."

"And the card?" Dave studied the evidence bag he'd been pinching between his fingers. "The message?"

"Each vase's note so far has been identical," JJ grimaces, holding up a card of her own. "Printed card stock, reportedly part of the delivery so the unsub would've had no direct contact with it – we're processing them anyway. The message each time is the same. Blake's on it now."

" 'Oh, my dear Lotus. You know it is for the best.' " Rossi read aloud, disgust coloring his tone. "We can't let Jane see this, not until she's steady enough she won't go back to being catatonic."

"We can't keep all this from her forever," JJ points out, a valid though frustrating point. "She is the only person we know who has made contact with this unsub and survived to tell about it."

Rossi freezes – because that's not right.

"Liber," It hits him like lightning. "Liber. She's got a relationship with Jane – we saw that. When she realized that something was wrong, her comfort and concern was genuine. Even shanking Jane was calculated – to jolt her out of it, using pain as a focus."

"What are you saying?" JJ's brow pinches. "That you think she'll help us? And that she knows the unsub?"

"I think she does – she knows a lot more than Jane, and with a lot fewer mental blocks," Rossi nods, reaching for his phone. "And if she cares about Jane, she'll help. Liber knows what Hotch's death would do to Jane – if Liber wants any chance at a relationship with her, she'll help us."


Back and forth and back and forth …

"I first realized something was wrong …" Jane forced herself not to choke back the memory, to let it wash over her. Ride the tide. "I first realized something was wrong when Bree and I got called to the office at the same time."

"Why was that odd?" Morgan asked, tone even and uninflected.

"I almost never got in trouble, except in Chem – Jacobson hated me. Bree never got in trouble at all. We may have gone to the same school, but we almost never overlapped. 'Cept maybe in the hall sometimes."

"Okay, so you were both at the office," She felt rather than saw Morgan nod. "What did they tell you?"

"They didn't tell us anything," Jane shook her head, forcefully relaxing her fingers out of clenched fists. She flexed her fingers wide. "They just sent us home."


"This is bullshit."

"Language," Mari censored without heat, flipping her signal to get into the turn lane. "But yes, this is bullshit."

"I mean, seriously," Bree rolled his eyes, rummaging around his backpack for his phone. "We get called out of school and are told to 'go home – your parents will explain.' Nothing else. And just so you know? Principal Merrs knows that Dad and Rob are the only responsible adults in our lives so why does he say 'parents'?"

"What, do you think Mom's involved?" Mari asks dryly, not even sure of the answer herself. She checks the wing mirror. "It's probably nothing – a slip up. Why would Mom be here anyway? I thought she was still in … where was it?"

"Zimbabwe? Turgistan? Maine?" Bree snorted derisively, his phone pressed to his ear. "Who the fuck knows? She's always off somewhere."

"Language. Who you calling? If it's Rob, he's not gonna answer," Mari reminded him. "He's still blowing his retirement money on that cruise. He doesn't have reception –"

Some asshole cuts her off. She lays on the horn.

"Not Rob, Casey. Dad always calls him first about the life changing shit, never mind Ada's the oldest."

Mari shot her little brother a knowing look.

"Ada might be the oldest, but she's as good in a crisis as a nervous pomeranian."

Bree snorts.

"Don't I fucking know it."

"Language."


"I'm surprised I got invited back," Liber quips dryly, hands firmly shackled and legs bound tight. "After all, I did stab your little doctor."

"Don't think you're off the hook for that," JJ glared, her protective instincts flaring. "But we're giving you a chance to redeem yourself."

"Oh?" Liber cocked her head, prideful and arrogant and almost entirely a mask. "And how would you do that?"

"By giving you what you want," Rossi steps in, the carrot to JJ's stick. "What you've always wanted – ever since that day in 1995. You want your daughter back."

Liber's eyes sharpened, narrowing and drilling into his own.

"We all saw it, earlier," Rossi continues, his voice like silk – knowing he got her hooked. "That despite everything you've done to her and her family – despite all the people you've killed – your little Mari still loves you. After all these years, she still loves you."

If Liber had even an ounce less control of her facial muscles, JJ was sure her face would be contorted with grief and reluctant, burgeoning hope. But she had that control, and her face barely twitched.

They could see it in her eyes, though.

"But, you stabbed her," JJ cut in, playing her part. "You hurt her. You escaped your cuffs and stabbed a federal agent. You've proven yourself a threat – for her own safety, we cannot allow Ivy to be near you again. Ever."

"The paperwork…" Rossi stepped in. "The paperwork to keep you away from her, it doesn't take long at all. Even less time if I'm angry and protective –"

Rossi braced his arms against the table, leaned in close – allowed his lips to creep into a dark, dark smile.

"Jane is my friend – my family," He snarled. "'Angry' and 'protective' just scratch the surface of how furious I am. How far I'm willing to go."


"So when you got home, what was the first thing you noticed?" Morgan pressed. "Was it your Dad's car? Or was it the sound of voices …?"


Mari parked on the street, throwing the parking brake into place. She and Bree peered out the windshield, identical looks of confusion on their faces.

"Ada's shit-bucket … but not Casey's rust-bucket," Mari hummed, a weird feeling building in her gut. A nervousness she couldn't place. "Whose is the … what is that, a Mustang?"

"Whatever it is, it's Rich n' Ugly," Bree cast a harsh eye over the sleek black paint. "Elizabeth's?"

"Elizabeth's," Mari agreed, yanking her keys out of the ignition. "Shit. If her royal highness is here …"

"C'mon, no point waiting around," Gabriel kicked the door open, shouldering his bag. "Let's go see what all the fuss is about."


"When I walked in …" Jane murmured … Spencer resisted the urge to step forward and place a comforting hand on her shoulder, and instead focused on the monitor. Her heart rate was picking up. "Elizabeth was … Elizabeth was crying. Ada was crying too, I think, but she was buried in Dad's chest so I –"

Her heart rate was still climbing. Reid's fingers twitched.

"Easy, Ivy – you're safe," Morgan soothed, sitting forward. "You're not in Michigan, you're not in your childhood home. You're in Quantico, Virginia. We're just looking over some old memories, trying to work through this. Deep breaths."

Jane's breathing evened out somewhat, carefully controlled. She was well practiced, Reid mused darkly, in calming herself down from the edge of panic.

"You came home, and your family was there – was upset. Your brother had just died."

Jane's breath hitched.

"But something happened. Something happened that day, when you were all in one spot. When did you realize that you weren't alone anymore? When it wasn't just your family?"

"When …" Jane wet her lips. "When Desi barged in."

"Desi?" Reid shot a look at Morgan – but the older profiler was refusing to meet his eyes.

They'd gathered that there was more history between Liber and the Ryden family, but … Liber had clearly expunged any details so thoroughly that even Garcia couldn't pick up on what kind of relationship it was, exactly. Or how long it lasted – how it ended.

Reid remembered the puncture in Jane's gut, carefully sewn shut by her own hand. Recalled exactly the long list – names of toddlers and teenagers and octogenarians. The list of the dead, because of Liber.

Jane, for reasons the team did not understand, still cared for Des Liber. Maybe even loved her. And that was very, very dangerous.

"Desi came in," Morgan pushed forward, keeping his apprehension out of his voice. "Liber was there?"


JJ checked her phone, looking over the text from Reid. She straightened her spine, tucking the device back into a pocket – Rossi watched as she moved to sit across from Liber, expression cold.

"The Massacre," JJ started, jaw set. "You were there, in the Ryden house. You were there when they died."

Rossi felt his gut twist.

Liber didn't respond, at first, but Rossi knew her type. She hadn't talked about the Massacre to anyone – not her cellmates or prison guards, not agents or reporters or lawyers. No one. But she had a lot to say, an intelligent outspoken woman like she was. Liber had plenty to say, and it was all building up inside her – pressure mounting and threatening to burst her at the seams.

They were giving her the perfect out. The perfect chance to come clean, to people who she didn't have to give background to – didn't have to give endless backstory to, to backtrack and repeat herself. People who she could just spill to. And if she spilled, it would only help – her and her conscience, Jane and Hotch.

It was inevitable that she wouldn't stay quiet for long.

"... I was," Liber grit her teeth. "I was."

"Why?"

The former lawyer gave her a blank look. A long, blank look.

"I met Arthur Ryden in college," Liber changed tacts, a seeming non sequitur. "We attended Brown together. So did Elizabeth. She was my best friend."

Rossi shifted, giving JJ a measured look. Ever professional, the former Media Liaison let none of her no doubt whirring thoughts cross her face. Seeing she was in control, Rossi let her take the lead – allowing himself to settle back and observe.

"I was … I was in love with him from the minute I met him," Liber jutted her chin, daring them to judge her. "He was kind and smart, and he always cared what I had to say. What anyone had to say – he seemed like a stupid fairytale prince after all the horrible men my mother brought home."

"But Elizabeth got him first," JJ tilted her head. "Did that make you angry?"

"You don't get it, do you?" Liber snorted derisively, not taking the bait. "Arthur may have fallen in love with Elizabeth, may have had kids with her, but that was never a real relationship. Arthur realized too late that Elizabeth was falling apart at the seams. She could barely keep herself together, much less a relationship – much less a family."

"So you decide to punish her for it?" JJ charged on. "Kill her kids, kill her ex – did that make you feel better?"

"I didn't go to Arthur's to kill anybody," Liber snapped. "I went there to save them."


Mari was pretty sure she was in shock.

She'd read about shock, before. Agent Rossi talked about it in one of his books, once. He said that shock was like a shot of morphine to the blood, or being edge-of-passing-out loopy – that it was a thick wool blanket over everything and anything. That it felt like floating and drowning and existing and not existing all at once.

Mari had also been pretty sure, at the time that she read it, that Rossi was exaggerating.

But that's exactly how she felt. How she felt right now. Because she could feel, distantly, Ada's hand in hers – in that absent, where-are-my-limbs kind of way. She could feel Bree's shoulder pressed against her side … or was it the side of the couch?

The ebb and flow of conversation … more like the flow of tears … was muted and far away.

… had she really been worried about a test this morning?

Case – Case was dead and she had been worried about the periodic table and valence electrons?

There – at least there was something ironic or poetic or morbid in that.

She felt a burst of gallows laughter bubbling up in her throat, and her free hand flew up to her mouth to stifle it before it went anywhere. Because she couldn't laugh, not when Bree's eyes had glazed over and Ada couldn't stop sobbing and Dad couldn't mourn because of Elizabeth.

Elizabeth hadn't said a word … but –

She was no profiler. She knew that. But she's practically worshiped the altar of Rossi & Gideon since she was a preteen and …

Something was up, there. Something was itching at her, but she couldn't figure out what when her head felt like that time she broke her arm and took painkillers that made her all wibbly.

But even through her shock, she knew one thing – and that was that Dad was three seconds from … something and if she didn't pry Elizabeth off of him then it would be something bad. Dad always had taken care of everyone else first … but Casey was his son. Fuck Elizabeth – she barely counted as a parent at all.

So she gently detangled her fingers from Ada's, pushing herself off the couch with purpose. She stood, stepping over Bree's gangly legs to cross the room –

And the door flew open.


"She came in and she –" Jane cut herself off, clutched her eyes shut – hunched over because suddenly it was too much and she didn't want to she didn't want to she didn't –

"Jane, Jane!" Morgan – Reid? – was chanting, and too warm hands (or was she too cold?) were pushing her up and back against the chair back, holding her in place. "Jane, you need to breathe? Okay, Jane you need to breathe. C'mon, breath with me."

Her hand was wrestled from it's death grip on the armrest (when had she …?) and peeled open – pressed against a firm chest. She could feel the fluttering of a heart, picked up with emotion. She – she knew that heart.

She breathed. She counted.

Reid. And the hands on her shoulders, they were Morgan's.

She peeled open her eyes.

"No more," Morgan immediately said, locking his gaze with hers. "No more. We haven't even – already you're –"

"Let her."

Morgan turned on Reid, protection flaring in his eyes, but Reid was just looking at her. Looking at her with understanding.

'Oh,' She remembers distantly. 'He did this too.'

Vegas. His dad, his mom. The bloody clothes and the dead children.

"This is her family, she needs these answers," Reid squeezed his fingers around hers, still pressed against his chest. There's kinship in his gaze. "For her old family, and her new."

Morgan grit his teeth. Jane steeled herself and turned back to the LED strip, lids shut tight.

She took a deep breath, steadied herself.

And she opened her eyes.


When the door flew open, Mari nearly had a heart attack. Dad jolted so bad Elizabeth was practically wrenched from his arms by physics alone – but she can't focus on that because the door just got blown in and it's –

"Desi?"

She can't – she can't even process it right now. Desi was here. Desi, who got into a huge mega fight with her dad over a year ago is here – after Dad told her to get out of his house and never come back. To stay away from his kids, stay away from his family, and stay away from him or he'd get a restraining order and keep her away with all the legal power of three states and fourteen law firms.

End quote.

… She'd missed her. She had really missed her.

"You," Desi snarled, ignoring the rest of them – staring down (glaring down) Elizabeth. "What the hell are you doing here?"


"To save them," JJ echoed, bowled over slightly by the incongruousness of that claim. "To save them. From who?"

"Arthur was going to die," Liber didn't answer her question. "Gabriel was going to die, Mari was going to die."

"... but not Ada," Rossi spoke up, expression intense.

"What?" Liber looked up at him, flat-footed.

"But not Ada," Rossi repeated. "Ada wouldn't've died."

"You said Arthur, Gabriel, and Mari would've died," JJ leaned forward, watching for any give in the prisoner's expression. "But there were two other people in that house. You didn't care about Elizabeth, and you had no reason to suspect she would be there – but you knew that Ada would be."

Liber said nothing. But JJ was beginning to piece things together.

"Adaline went to school at Brown, pre-law – in Rhode Island. All of the other Colemyer murders took place along the east coast – except for the Ryden murders. It would've been easier to have Ada killed first, then the rest of the Rydens killed separately."

The muscles in Liber's jaw jumped.

"But that didn't happen. They killed Casey first, and Ada made it all the way home before she bled out on the driveway of her childhood home," Dave added. "Mari wasn't supposed to survive, was she? She was never the target – Ada was."