"When you burn quietly, no one sees the smoke until it's already inside their lungs." —Jennifer "JJ" Jareau
Quantico, Virginia – BAU Headquarters – 7:29 AM
The air was thinner.
That's what JJ noticed first. Like the gravity in the room had changed. No one said it aloud, but the tension that threaded between team members now had names: Ash. Jason. Doubt.
Jason stood alone at the far end of the room, skimming surveillance reports. He hadn't slept. The bruises from Milo Vex's captivity had faded into the hard edges of his face, but the new wounds—ones Garcia's findings had opened—ran deeper.
JJ walked in, coffee in hand, eyes narrowed. "You going to say something?"
Jason didn't turn. "I've said enough."
"Then say something true."
He finally looked at her, and for the first time, JJ didn't see the impenetrable profiler or the hardened soldier.
She saw the scared man behind the armor.
"They were grooming me," Jason said softly. "Not to be a killer—but to build them. I trained units designed to think faster, shoot smarter, detach cleaner. They called it Orpheus. But the thing about guiding people out of hell…"
He looked down at his hands.
"…you have to walk through it first."
JJ stared at him. "Why not tell us before?"
"Because I didn't want anyone looking at me like you are right now."
She didn't respond.
She didn't have to.
Elsewhere – Ash's Hideout – 8:04 AM
Ash finished applying her lipstick in the cracked mirror, eyes glowing with anticipation. JJ's file sat open on the table beside her—a perfectly folded timeline of pain.
Childhood trauma. Sister's death. War reporting in Eastern Europe. PTSD scars hidden beneath press smiles.
Ash traced JJ's face on the photo with her fingernail.
"She's the heart," she whispered. "Cut that, and the body fails."
She opened a duffel bag and removed a handheld voice recorder—Jason's voice, spliced and distorted, played back in looping intervals.
You don't belong here, JJ. You're just a mouthpiece. A fragile puppet in a room of wolves.
She smiled.
It wasn't about the truth.
It was about what sounded true.
Washington, D.C. – Metro Subway Platform – 9:17 AM
JJ stood near the edge of the platform, waiting for the inbound Red Line, scanning her phone for Garcia's update. The crowd buzzed around her—just another weekday morning.
Then someone brushed her shoulder.
Too deliberate.
She turned. Nothing.
Her pulse spiked.
She looked down.
Her phone was gone.
The screen at the end of the platform flickered. The typical MTA logo glitched and shifted.
Jason's face appeared.
His voice echoed over the loudspeakers:
She's not one of us. She's weak. Replaceable. Soft.
JJ froze.
The crowd didn't seem to notice. She was the only one who could hear it.
Then her phone buzzed in her jacket pocket.
A new one.
Not hers.
Meet me. Come alone. Or someone else hears what you already suspect.
You're the weak link, JJ.
—A
Quantico – BAU Tech Room – 9:48 AM
Garcia stared in horror as the subway platform security feeds returned a full timestamped playback. Ash's voice distortion had been perfect. Even she had to triple-verify the edits weren't real.
"She made it sound exactly like Jason," Garcia said, turning to Reid and Hotch. "The cadence, the inflection—it's all AI-spliced, deepfake-grade, dark-web-level tech."
Reid blinked. "She weaponized his voice."
Hotch's jaw clenched. "She's trying to sever the team piece by piece."
Garcia added, "And she chose JJ for a reason. She's our messenger. Take out the messenger, and no one believes what they hear anymore."
Underground Parking Garage – 10:27 AM
JJ arrived at the meeting location alone.
The phone buzzed again.
Walk to Level 3. Room marked 47. One shot. One truth. Go home free.
She drew her weapon and ascended the ramp cautiously. Her breaths were even, but every part of her body screamed to turn back.
When she reached Room 47, the door creaked open on its own.
Inside, a laptop sat on a folding table.
A single video played.
Jason Cole. Black Site Interrogation. 2022.
He was standing over a man, bruised, bleeding. Jason wasn't screaming. He wasn't even angry.
He was calm. Mechanical.
You will talk. I won't have to hurt you. That part will happen after.
JJ stepped back.
Then the screen went black.
Ash's voice played, soft, cutting.
You trust him with your life. But do you trust him with your soul?
Quantico – BAU Conference Room – 11:01 AM
Jason burst through the door, adrenaline in his veins. "Where is she?"
Morgan turned. "JJ went dark. We pinged her phone—it's a burner. Untraceable."
Jason looked around the room. "She's already in it. Ash is playing her now. She used me to get to her."
Reid checked the map. "Wait. JJ wouldn't have gone in without backup. She would've—"
The monitor lit up.
JJ's voice, live feed.
Jason Cole cannot be trusted.
Jason froze.
She was at the steps of the J. Edgar Hoover Building. Being broadcast live. Saying it in front of cameras, press, civilians. Her eyes were dull. Her movements deliberate.
He is hiding what he's capable of. What he's done. And who he'll become.
The feed cut.
Dead silence.
Morgan stepped forward. "She was forced. That's not JJ."
Garcia was pale. "She just burned the one person who could stop Ash."
Jason stood, unmoving. "No… she gave me permission."
Hotch stepped forward. "What are you saying?"
Jason turned, eyes alight with a kind of fire the team had never seen in him before.
"I'm going after her. Ash wanted me off the board."
He picked up his sidearm.
"She just made me a piece again."