Chapter 4

"The sister's a piece of work," Rossi began, laying the facts out with precision, "but she denies any involvement."

Prentiss picked up the thread, her voice steady and incisive. "She claims Marshall accused her of trying to intimidate him back in April. Said he thought she sent people to scare him but she insisted that she knows nothing."

"You're not convinced?" Hotch retorted.

"She was quick to deny everything and shifted the focus to this elusive car and the indiscriminate men inside. It feels too convenient," Emily said.

"We need to get Marshall's side of the story. See what he recalls, see if any of this is familiar to him." Rossi said, raising a brow

JJ felt the question claw its way into her thoughts, felt it tighten around her until she could barely breathe. It did sound familiar. Too familiar.

"Let's continue to consider the possibility of Cora's involvement until we confirm otherwise" Hotch interjected, drawing the team's attention and diverting JJ's momentarily from the pressure that built within her. "But I agree with you, Prentiss. And Cora has the biggest motive of anyone we've found so far."

Beside JJ, Morgan shifted, the subtle movement an explosion in her awareness. It was him. It was his presence there that April day, and JJ couldn't believe he would let them chase a lead he knew was wrong. Not when there was so much at stake.

"I'll have Garcia continue looking into anyone Cora could have enlisted," Hotch requested, his focus unrelenting.

Emily straightened at the news, her posture reflecting a determination that held firm even against the backdrop of JJ's worried glances. "You really think she's involved?" JJ asked, a note of skepticism woven into the fabric of her voice.

Emily was steadfast, a picture of composed confidence. "We've seen family members do worse," she replied, the hint of history lurking in her tone.

JJ's eyes locked onto Morgan, urging him, pleading with him to say something. She saw the conflict in his expression, a mirror of her own frustration but wrapped in cowardice. Her fingers tapped a nervous staccato against the table, the only outward sign of the tempest raging inside her.

"Any other thoughts?" Hotch asked, eyes scanning the room.

JJ could feel her composure slipping, felt her desperation spilling over. She wanted to shout, to force Morgan into the truth. Instead, she snapped at Hotch's question, unable to mask the strain. "We need to be sure before we waste any more time. If Cora's a dead end..."

Morgan winced at her words, knowing they were directed at him more than anyone else. JJ's sharpness, her directness, her impatience—he knew it all stemmed from their secret, from the weight he bore and the burden she shared.

"You look like you've got something to add, Morgan." Rossi's observation hung heavy, another chance for confession, another chance for truth.

Morgan opened his mouth, closed it, struggled with the enormity of his silence. JJ watched him falter and felt her resolve harden.

Hotch's announcement cut through, a reprieve and an escalation all at once. "Let's take a quick break. Five minutes. Then we push on."

The room exhaled, but JJ couldn't. Not yet. Her anger was too fresh, her disappointment too raw. She left her chair and the unfinished conversation, leaving Morgan to drown in the thoughts she no longer cared to share.

JJ stood in the kitchenette, every part of her taut with the anger she tried and failed to contain. Her hands trembled over the tea, but it wasn't the caffeine that had her nerves in a twist. It was him. Morgan. His silence. She cursed him under her breath, the words a vicious hiss that she didn't mean for anyone to hear. So when Emily spoke from behind her, JJ nearly dropped the cup. Her anger spilled like water, and there was no catching it before it soaked the space between them.

"Sorry," Emily said softly, reaching around the counter. "Didn't mean to startle you."

JJ's heart thudded in her chest, the lingering shock mixing with the adrenaline of her still-roiling frustration. "It's fine," she replied, trying to brush it off. "My mind was elsewhere."

Emily's eyes lingered on her, unspoken questions hovering between them. "I noticed. The case is really getting to you."

JJ's defenses kicked in, the truth too tangled with her emotions to let out. "Derek needs to get his head out of his ass and focus on what really matters," she snapped, the anger slipping through her restraint like water through a sieve.

Emily regarded her carefully. "Which is?"

"Finding these kids." JJ's reply was too quick, too sharp. She knew it.

"You sure that's it? There's nothing going on between the two of you?" Emily's voice held a knowing edge, one JJ wished she could smooth over with certainty she didn't have.

"No," JJ lied, forcing the words through the chaos inside her. "I'm tired, I've got the abduction playing over in my head so maybe I'm letting this case get to me but no."

It was as close to the truth as she could offer.

Emily didn't look convinced, but she let it drop, changing tactics with the finesse of someone who had played the game before. "Yeah, well, that video is going to haunt all of us if we don't find these kids."

JJ felt the weight of her secret swell, a heavy tide that threatened to drown her if she didn't keep moving. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak without revealing too much. Instead, she muttered beneath her breath, a slip of truth she couldn't entirely swallow: "You have no idea."

Emily caught the subdued tone. "What?"

"I agree," JJ covered, a quick response that did nothing to calm the turmoil inside her. She didn't meet Emily's eyes, focusing instead on the task of wrapping her hands around the cup, grounding herself against the truth that threatened to spill.

"It's gonna be a long night," Emily said, an air of understanding in her voice. She rubbed a comforting hand across JJ's back, intending to offer comfort as she stepped away. Yet, to JJ, the touch felt as cold and unwelcome as a winter breeze, a reminder of the guilt that clung to her like a shadow. Accepting any form of sympathy, especially from Emily, seemed impossible to JJ as remorse gnawed at her insides.

The door swung shut behind Emily, enclosing JJ in a solitude dense with the weight of her conscience, every breath suffused with the gravity of her unspoken burden. She tightened her grip around the teacup, drawing what warmth she could as she stood in the hard light of her own misgivings, the heat a vivid reminder of the urgency that pulsed through every second, every choice, every consequence. An urgency that threatened to consume her as she faced the dual pressure of finding Robyn and Benjamin and unraveling the tightly wound truth that thudded relentlessly in her chest. It was more than just a mission. It was a race against the silence she'd sworn to keep, a silence that grew more oppressive with each beat of Morgan's refusal to speak, with each moment they remained tethered to a lie too dangerous to ignore. She stood there, as if frozen by the enormity of their deception, her hands numbing as the tea grew cold, but she was too consumed to care. Her thoughts circled frantically, trapped in a quicksand of fear and self-doubt, until she could barely breathe through the tangled web of guilt and secrets.

JJ knew she couldn't stay there forever, knew that she had to confront the truth or risk losing herself to the crushing weight of it all. She was determined to face Morgan, to force his hand before their silence suffocated the very hope they were meant to protect. She had to make him speak, had to break the cycle of cowardice that bound them and reclaim the urgency that mattered.

She drew a breath, felt resolve harden within her as she braced for the fallout of her decision. And then, with her hands still trembling and the cup abandoned on the counter, JJ stepped back into the storm.

Far from the police station, in the suffocating darkness, Benji's eyes strained to make out any discernible shapes. The coarse ropes bit into his wrists as he twisted, his back pressed against Robyn's trembling form. Her ragged breaths punctuated the heavy silence, each one a plea for solace in this abyss of uncertainty.

"Hey Robyn, let's play a game," Benji suggested, his voice a fragile lifeline in the void. "I spy with my little eye..."

His words trailed off, swallowed by the impenetrable shadows that cloaked their prison. What could he possibly spy in this lightless tomb? The very concept mocked him, a cruel jester's jest in the face of their plight.

Robyn's fingers tapped a frantic staccato against the arms of her chair, a desperate morse code transmitting her escalating fear. "Benji," she whispered, her voice quivering like a candle flame in a tempest, "when are we going home? Why did he leave us here all alone?"

The weight of her questions hung in the air, an oppressive burden that Benji struggled to shoulder. Home - the word tasted foreign on his tongue, a fading memory of a life that seemed to belong to someone else entirely. The sinister embrace of the darkness whispered that home might forever remain an elusive mirage, tantalizingly out of reach.

Benji swallowed hard, his throat constricting around the reassurances he longed to offer but couldn't quite form. "I don't know, Robby," he admitted, his voice a hoarse rasping in the gloom. "But we gotta be brave, okay? Someone will find us."

Together - the word rang hollow in the face of the vast unknown that stretched before them. Benji couldn't even see his own hands in front of his face, let alone navigate a path to salvation. But for Robyn's sake, he had to try.

Robyn's next question hung in the air, a specter of dread that chilled Benji to his core. "Do you think he's come back?" Her voice trembled, each word a fragile plea for mercy in a merciless world.

Benji's heart clenched, his mind reeling with the implications of her query. The man who broke their trust and who had torn them from the light, who had bound them in this nightmarish realm - when would he return, and what fresh horrors would he bring? The mere thought sent shards of ice down Benji's spine, freezing the platitudes in his throat. In the face of such primal fear, words seemed a feeble shield indeed.

Benji drew a shaky breath, his mind grasping for some shred of comfort to offer his sister. "Someone will find us soon, Robby. I promise." The words tasted like ashes on his tongue, a bitter mockery of the hope he couldn't quite summon.

Robyn's sobs echoed through the darkness, each gasping breath a dagger to Benji's heart. "It's all my fault," she choked out, her voice thick with tears and self-recrimination. "I'm sorry, Benji. I'm so sorry."

Benji's chest constricted, his own guilt rising like bile in his throat. How could he let Robyn shoulder the blame for their predicament? He was the older brother, the one who was supposed to protect her, to keep her safe from the evils of the world. And yet, here they were, trapped in a nightmare beyond their wildest imaginings.

"No, Robby, it's not your fault," Benji insisted, his voice raw with emotion. "I should have known better. I should have been more careful." The admission tore at his soul, a searing indictment of his own failings.

But Robyn was beyond reason, her small frame wracked with sobs that seemed to come from the very depths of her being. "I want Daddy," she wailed, her voice a keening cry that pierced the gloom like a beacon of despair. "I want to go home."

Benji's heart shattered, the jagged shards lodging in his throat and rendering him mute. He wanted to gather Robyn in his arms, to shield her from the horrors that surrounded them, but the ropes that bound him held fast, a cruel reminder of his own helplessness.

In the face of Robyn's anguish, Benji felt something shift within him, a primal surge of protectiveness that transcended the bounds of his mortal flesh. He may be powerless to free them from their physical bonds, but he would be damned if he let the darkness claim his sister's soul.

With a determination born of desperation, Benji began to hum, his voice a tremulous thread of melody in the oppressive silence. The tune was familiar, akin to a lullaby, it was a song their mother had sung to Robyn in happier times. As the notes swelled and dipped, Benji felt a flicker of something akin to hope kindling in his chest.

"Hey where did we go," Benji sang softly, his voice cracking on the high notes, "days when the rains came."

The words felt strange on his tongue, a relic of a bygone era when the world still made sense, but he pushed on, infusing each syllable with every ounce of love and reassurance he could muster.

"Down in the hollow," he continued, "playing a new game."

Robyn's sobs quieted, her breath hitching as she listened to her brother's impromptu serenade. The song was a balm to her battered soul, a reminder of the unbreakable bond they shared, and slowly, tentatively, she began to join in.

"Laughing and a-running, hey hey," she sang, her voice a gossamer whisper that gradually gained strength as the familiar lyrics washed over her. "Skipping and a-jumping..."

Benji felt a surge of relief as Robyn's voice twined with his own, a fragile harmony that seemed to push back against the darkness that engulfed them. But even as he sang, he could feel a telltale tremor in his hands, a harbinger of the storm that was brewing within his own body.

His blood glucose monitor vibrated insistently against his wrist, a silent alarm that sent icy tendrils of fear snaking through his veins. He knew all too well what the warning meant, knew that without intervention, he would soon be plunged into a hypoglycemic nightmare from which there might be no waking.

But he couldn't let Robyn see his fear, couldn't let her know that the one constant in her life was teetering on the brink of collapse. And so he sang on, his voice rising in a desperate crescendo as he poured every ounce of his flagging strength into the melody.

"In the misty morning fog with," he belted out, his vision blurring as the first wave of dizziness washed over him, "our hearts a-thumping..."

Robyn's voice faltered, her brow furrowing as she sensed the change in her brother's demeanor. "Benji?" she whispered, her voice laced with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just keep singing," he replied, though his vision began to blur, the world around him dissolving into a dizzying haze.

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