❝ Some things scratch at the surface while others strike at your soul. ❞
𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 her whole life to catching the monsters in this world in hopes of fixing something that is broken inside of her.
Tha...
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"What is food to one is to others bitter poison."
— Lucretius
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3.2 ; FORGERY.
CAROLINE WANTED TO JUMP off a bridge. Or a building. Or a plane, without a parachute. Honestly, to her, anything would've been better than having to shift through the mountain-sized pile of paperwork that sat in front of her, taunting her. Unlike some people on her team, she couldn't read 20,000 words per minute.
It had been a mystery to her why Hotch had stuck her on research—again. She was of more use out profiling than stuck in here.
As she read through the files—everything between the victims' financial records to their death certificates were lumped in—JJ periodically came in the small, cramped room that Detective Morrison swore was an "office" to check on her. The room was about the size of the shoebox and it didn't have an AC system. The shoebox was burning up and beginning to smell like a boys' locker room. Even all the fans JJ had stationed in the small, dusty room didn't help cool her down. She wiped enough bead of sweat running down her face and flicked the liquid off her fingers.
There was a knock at the door and Caroline glanced up to see JJ peek her head inside the muggy room. She crinkled her nose at the smell, but didn't comment.
"Hey, how you holding up?" The blonde asked her.
Caroline snorted. "Honestly, not well. I think I'm having a heat stroke."
JJ laughed over the buzzing fans and rolled her eyes. "Oh, yeah, I can see that. Are you sure you're not just trying to get out of paperwork?"
"Okay, you caught me," She smiled and held her hands up above her head, "But, seriously, have you ever stopped and thought about how much paper we use? Because I'm thinking we just chopped down a whole forest for this mess." She gestured towards the pile of paper of the rusty metal desk in front of her. "I'm not a tree-hugger or anything, but this is such a waste of good resources."
"You're preaching to the choir, Care. I hate files just as much as you do," JJ told her, "Find anything interesting yet?"
After JJ's press conference she had given about the bomber, she had been hanging around the police station, micromanaging everything. Caroline could tell she was bored out of her mind. JJ had done her job a little too well, and now, she had nothing to do but to check on the blonde, sweaty profiler stuck in a shoebox office and the endless stacks of paperwork.
