❝ 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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" Murder is unique in that it abolishes the party it injures so that society must take the place of the victim, and on his behalf demand atonement or grant forgiveness. "
— W.H Auden
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12.1 ; A REAL RAIN.
THE FIRST THING CAROLINE noticed as she entered the FBI field office was the sweet smell of flowers. Her heels tapped against the tiled floor as she approached her desk. She paused for a moment when she saw Elle, JJ and Garcia gathered around her desk, murmuring amongst themselves. They seemed to be attempting to get a peek into Hotch's office window, but the blinds were drawn shut.
"Hey, guys," she said casually to the women circling around her desk, "what are you doing?"
The sound of Caroline's voice jarred them, all three of the women whipping their heads around to face the young blonde girl, who was watching them with a patient expression.
"I was—we were just..." Garcia brushed profusely under her neon-colored makeup. "Nothing. We are doing nothing."
"Nothing looks strangely like something," she teased the tech analyst. "Seriously, what are you guys up to?"
All three of the women cast each other panicked glances. She could see they were mentally debating to themselves who would cave first. Caroline placed her hands on her hips as she waited.
Finally, it was JJ who spoke up, but instead of offering an explanation, she turned and gestured to Caroline's desk, her pale face flushed. "Look! Flowers!"
Surely enough, resting on top of her desk was a bouquet of blood-red roses. The green stems were wrapped in filmy white tissue paper and tied with a dark red satin ribbon in an elegant loop. She stared at the flowers, confused, her nose crinkled as the sickly sweet smell of roses flooded her senses.
Elle grinned at her suggestively. "Something you want to share with the group, Caroline?"
She frowned at Agent Greenaway as she brushed past the women to set her bag on her desk beside the mysterious roses. She carefully picked up the bouquet in her arms and ran her fingers through the silky petals, searching for a card or a note. There was nothing.
Morgan, who had been sitting with his feet propped on his desk as he watched with curious amusement, leaned back in his chair and locked his fingers behind his head.
"Looks like our very own princess has a secret admirer," he teased as his eyes wandered to the flowers she held in her arms. "So who's the lucky guy?"
"Guy?" She blinked, taken aback. "There's no guy."
