-MAD WOMAN-
fourteen!

indecision and delays are
the parents of failure
- george canning

now - 6x17!

Wren absolutely hated the metro. It always smelled bad and the people were pushy and impatient. She clutched onto her bag as if it were as valuable as the hands of children that parents held onto. She couldn't stop looking over her shoulder, terrified that someone was watching her. Meeting on the metro was definitely the safest option for the group of former teammates, but that didn't make the uneasiness in Wren's stomach go away.

When the train that Wren needed to get on approached her stop, the brunette boarded the train and took a seat in a far corner. Emily was sitting by the doors in a seat that faced the aisle, not looking up from her lap when her coworker walked past her. The call for a meeting was made by the woman already on the train and it confused Wren just a bit. Just yesterday, they found out that Doyle was on his way to D.C. What news could Emily possibly have?

The two agents sat on the train for what felt like an eternity before the rest of the group joined them. Emily was starting to dose off and Wren could see it from where she was sitting, but she let Clyde approach the woman first. The pair exchanged a few words before Tsia sat in a seat across the aisle from them and then Wren joined them, sitting across from Emily.

"Ian Doyle is here in D.C," Emily announced to the group once Wren was sat down.

"How can you be so sure?" Clyde asked her.

"I sat next to him last night," she responded.

"What?"

"Are you crazy?" Wren asked in disbelief.

"He said if I warned the team or told anyone, he'd kill them," Emily continued, despite the fear-stricken expression that was now plastered on Wren's face.

"Why didn't he kill you?" Tsia asked.

"And more to the point, why didn't you kill him?" Clyde followed up immediately.

"He's not working alone, is he?" Wren posed the idea and Emily nodded.

"Then he's just playing with you," Tsia stated, which was immediately dismissed by the man across the aisle.

"No, no, he's a power-assertive psychopath. He doesn't play games," Clyde stated.

"He's meticulous. He plans everything down to the last detail," Emily added.

"Yeah, that last detail being you."

Wren held her breath for a moment. She always knew she didn't play as big of a part in taking Doyle down as Emily did, but this still felt like too much. There had to be something they could do to take Doyle down again without anyone else getting hurt. There had to be.

"Maybe we should tell the team," the brunette offered the suggestion, watching as Tsia nodded in agreement.

"No way. This isn't their fight and you know it," Emily retorted. 

"But they care about us," Wren argued with her. "They care about you."

"I won't take that risk," she said, still shaking her head.

"We could get ahead of this if we pool our thoughts with theirs. We need fresh eyes if we want an actual chance at predicting Doyle's next moves," Wren continued to reason with her, but she could tell that Emily had already decided that telling the team wasn't an option.

"Wren, we're not telling them," Emily stated, finished debating the subject and the brunette shut her mouth. Though she didn't agree with the decision, she wasn't going to go behind Emily's back and make things more difficult for her.

"We stay together, we can get him," Tsia said, pulling the two FBI agents' attention over to her.

"We already tried," Emily reminded her.

"Yeah, look how that ended for us," Wren muttered.

"Wait, wait. When you two went undercover, I promised no one would harm either of you," Clyde said as he looked at the women.

"We're not undercover anymore," Emily said. "D.C. isn't his comfort zone, it's mine. This ends here."

✦✧✦

Wren Spader arrived at the BAU as the team was leaving the roundtable room, meaning she had missed the case briefing. The woman watched as Hotch walked into his office and Rossi did the same with his own. Before she knew it, Ashley was approaching Wren at her desk.

"Everything okay?" The blonde woman asked as Wren set her bag down on her chair and took off her coat. 

That question was getting more and more aggravating each time someone asked it.

"Yeah, my alarm just didn't go off," Wren lied, avoiding eye contact as she took her phone out of her bag and placed it in her pocket.

"It's 11 am," Ashley pointed out.

"Yeah, Birdie, your alarm has failed before and you've still gotten here before nine," Derek joined the conversation and Wren held back the urge to roll her eyes.

"Well, it's been a rough week. I didn't sleep well last night," the brunette continued her attempts at getting them off her back.

"You know, Emily said pretty much the same thing," Derek stated.

"More than one of us can be having a bad week, Morgan," Wren retorted before making her way over to Hotch's office to be briefed on the case. She heard bits of the muttered conversation between the two people she walked away from and knew that they were suspicious. There wasn't much she could do about that though.

The case the team had received was local, which was nice. Wren didn't have the mental capacity to separate herself from the city while Doyle was in it. Hotch told her that two families in D.C. both died presumably due to a house fire or murder-suicide. Since the deaths were so close in proximity and happened within hours of one another, the BAU was called in.

Wren was assigned to stay at the BAU with Reid, Seaver, and Garcia to put together the evidence boards while the others either went to the crime scenes or the morgue. She was sitting with Garcia, attempting to find a connection between the two sets of victims. The only connection they could find was that two of the five victims were European, but that didn't seem like enough to make them targets.

She would get texts from Tsia occasionally, updating her on anything that she and Clyde were finding on Doyle, but so far they were following empty leads. With each moment that passed, it felt as though they were inching towards Doyle's endgame, but Wren couldn't tell how close they actually were.

When the group hit another dead end, Ashley went to make coffee while Spencer went to work at his desk. While the two women were alone in the roundtable room, Penelope mentioned to Wren that Emily had snapped at her earlier and the brunette sighed. She desperately wanted to confide in the team and get their help, but she knew that Emily would never forgive her if something happened to any of them. Hell, Wren would never forgive herself if something happened to them.

The best Wren could do was tell Penelope that Emily had a lot she was dealing with at the moment and nothing that she did negatively was personal. The technical analyst seemed to feel a little better about the situation and moved on graciously.

When the rest of the team returned, Garcia went to talk to Hotch while the others gathered in the BAU room, excluding Spencer, who was still at his desk, and Emily, who was talking to him from hers. Wren sat in her seat at the table, her leg bouncing up and down rapidly as she thought both about the case they had, and the personal dilemma she was currently facing. Everyone else seemed relatively at ease as if they didn't have any woes compared to how she was carrying herself. Wren couldn't hide her anxiety at the moment any better than a shallow grave could hide a body after heavy rainfall.

Hotch walked into the room with the technical analyst on his tail, explaining how she'd like to follow her own lead before she moved on to bring up the only other connection she and Wren had found between the victims.

"What's the connection?" Hotch asked.

"It's a small one. Both families coach soccer on the hill," Penelope stated.

"The Fagans didn't have children," Ashley brought up.

"No, but Kerry Fagan coached her godson's team," Wren said.

"The two victims from Europe were the soccer coaches," Morgan added.

"It makes sense, doesn't it?" Garcia asked as Spencer walked into the room, files in hand.

"I'm beginning to think that they've crossed paths before," Morgan continued.

"I ran the victims' phone numbers. They never contacted each other, but there is a common number between them," Reid said, announcing his presence to the group.

"Give it," Penelope requested and after Spencer recited the number to her, she found the owner in seconds. "Byron Delaney. His wife Grace died last summer, children are grown. What do you know? He's British."

"Garcia, send me the address. I'll grab Prentiss," Morgan requested standing up and looking over at Wren. "Spader, do you wanna come along?"

"No, I'm okay, you guys can handle it," Wren shook her head.

The group dispersed once more and Wren was left in the BAU room alone as she paced back and forth, twisting her necklace as she walked. The team had nothing they could do until they got an update from Morgan and Prentiss, and there was nothing Wren could do while Clyde and Tsia continued to hit dead ends. With a pounding heart and racing mind, the brunette thought of her sister and her niece. She hadn't heard from them in a few days but Wren hoped that was just due to them being busy. She knew Daria was traveling up and down the west coast visiting family until Wren gave her an all-clear to come back, so she trusted that her friend was safe. The only people Wren had left to worry about were those she worked with, either past or present tense. But that still left her with ten people to worry about.

"Do you need to talk?" Spencer's voice snapped Wren out of her thoughts and she jumped slightly as she turned to look at him standing in the doorway.

"There's not much to talk about," Wren stated after composing herself and turning away from him again.

"I thought you said you weren't going to lie to me."

The woman sighed and ran a hand through her hair as she made a few steps toward the other side of the room. "I said I wasn't going to lie to you and say that everything was fine. I haven't done that."

"Why won't you tell me what's going on?" He asked.

"Because I can't, Spencer," Wren exclaimed softly as he came into her line of sight once more. "What I'm dealing with is not yours to bear and I can't put it on your shoulders. I can't do it."

"You can, but you don't want to," the resident genius attempted to reason and Wren simply shook her head, a defeated expression painted in her eyes.

"No, I want to," she told him. "I would love to scream to the world about what's going on, but I can't."

Wren was about to continue speaking when Hotch entered the room. "Spader, shots were fired at Morgan and Prentiss. You, Ross, and I are going to check out the scene. Meet us at the elevators in five."

She nodded and watched the unit chief leave the room before she looked at Spencer once more. The look on his face told her that he still had more to say to her. Her expression softened a bit before placing a hand on his arm and squeezing softly, her attempt at reassuring him. "We can talk more later. But I need you to believe me when I say that I can't tell you. And I also need you to trust me."

"I do trust you," he replied instantly, watching her sad eyes meet his for a moment. "I just don't think you trust me or anyone else. And that's what scares me."

Wren stood there for a moment as Spencer walked away, digesting the words he had just said. She didn't know how to process his fear for her or the fact that he thinks she doesn't trust him. She does trust him. She trusted everyone on the team with her life. She just couldn't trust that Doyle wouldn't hurt them if she confided in them.

✧✦✧

"You were shot at?" Wren asked as soon as she was within hearing distance of Morgan and Prentiss. The question was really directed at Emily, but Derek didn't know that and replied to Wren's rhetorical question as the two women attempted to have a conversation with their eyes.

"We're fine," Morgan told her as a member of the Crime Scene Unit handed the brunette a pair of gloves. She whispered a 'thank you' to the person before redirecting her attention to her coworkers. "Can't say the same for this guy."

"He's just a kid. He can't be more than twenty-five," Emily stated.

"A kid with an assault weapon isn't just a kid anymore," Derek replied as he and Prentiss crouched down to examine the body. Wren looked around at the crowd of officers and curious civilians, her heart continuing to pound. She felt as though someone was watching her. Like they were waiting for her to step out of place. For all Wren knew, the case that the team was working on had nothing to do with her and Emily, but it all felt too close to home and she couldn't pinpoint why.

"Four rounds total," Morgan's analysis pulled Wren back to the crime scene. "That one's yours. You hit his femoral artery."

"He was dead and they knew it," Prentiss sighed. "Bet he didn't bargain on that when he signed up."

"He's got two shots to the head and then one in the wrist. Why the wrist?"

"To make sure he can't return fire?"

"He was dead before his head hit the sidewalk," Morgan argued.

"He has a tattoo," Wren stated from where she was standing as she looked at the gunshot wound. "Well, had a tattoo, I guess. There's only a remnant of one now."

Morgan picked up the victim's arm and saw what Wren was talking about. "They blew a hole through the tattoo because we could have I.D'd him."

"Or the organization," Wren pointed out.

"And they're confident we can't I.D. his face or prints," Emily stood up again and Derek followed.

Before long, CSU had come over and taken pictures of the tattoo and sent it over to the BAU. Once they were done with that, the three agents outside of the apartment, continued their conversation about who they were looking for.

"Three of the six victims are from Europe," Emily stated.

"And the mini barrel says they're serious," Morgan added.

"We saw how they move. They've gotta be ex-military," the woman continued as Hotch and Rossi approached the trio, also ready to discuss what they had found.

"European hit squad cleaning house?" Morgan suggested. "It's happened before."

"They could've taken us out - easily," Emily admitted. 

"Why didn't they?" Wren asked.

"FBI agents gunned down in D.C. would have definitely started a war," Morgan explained. "A war this kid wasn't prepared for. He's just a foot soldier. Whoever shot him is the leader."

"Someone must have warned Byron Delaney to get out," Rossi said.

"And whoever it is, is next on the list," Hotch added.

✦✧✦

Emily and Wren could never find the time to talk one-on-one, even though Wren desperately needed to. The brunette was placed in the SUV with Hotch and Rossi on the way back to the BAU while Prentiss rode with Morgan. She couldn't participate in the conversation the two men in the car were having since her mind felt as though it was on another planet. There was this feeling in her gut that whatever was going on with this case wasn't going to end well and Wren's gut was almost never wrong. So all she could do was try to figure out which part was going to go off the rails, but her mind kept coming up empty. 

When the part of the team that was at the scene arrived at the BAU, they approached Reid's desk, where he was working on reconstructing the tattoo. Wren sat on one side of his desk, while Morgan leaned on the other. Seaver was sitting on top of Wren's desk and Garcia was surely just around the corner.

"Reid, you got anything?" Morgan asked.

"The damage is pretty extensive, but luckily some of the tattoo remains," the genius announced, still focused on trying to figure out the design.

"Seaver, get the victim's photo out to the press," Hotch instructed the blonde, who nodded and picked up the phone.

"I think I know who dug the hole," Penelope began as she approached the group, a notepad in hand. "The journo told me to follow the money, like straight up, that's what he told me, so I did. It turns out 'The Gazette' is owned by a multinational global conglomerate - oil, new technologies, shipping, air and ground transportation - all of which employ the services of one company - CWS."

"Clear Water Securities?" Hotch specified and Garcia nodded.

"You know them?" Rossi asked the unit chief.

"I've come across them," he answered. "They're a private counterintelligence group out of Geneva."

"Ron Cosenza, Byron Delaney, and Kerry Fagan all worked for CWS," Garcia stated.

"How long ago?" Prentiss asked.

"Seven years," the technical analyst replied.

"Seaver, hang up," Hotch told the woman on the phone, who did so immediately.

"Do we have a problem?" Rossi asked.

"No, CWS does," the unit chief stated just before Reid leaned back in his seat.

"Got it," he said and Wren stood to look at the tattoo.

Her face paled at the sight of a drawing of a four-leaf clover that she would recognize anywhere. All of the food that she had eaten in the past 24 hours was threatening to leave her stomach through her mouth. Looking up at Emily, she found the woman had the same expression on her face before she walked away quickly, presumably to call Tsia and Clyde. Garcia was quick to follow her out of the room, so Wren knew that Emily wasn't going to get long on the phone. The brunette excused herself from the group and made her way to the BAU room, where she called the phone number she had for Tsia and Clyde.

Tsia answered almost immediately. "Wren? Is everything okay? Emily just called and then hung up."

"Yeah, she probably got interrupted," Wren explained in a hushed tone. "And no, everything is not okay. We're working a case and our unsub is definitely him."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because one of his followers that was hit had the tattoo, Tsia," the brunette said. "The team is going to know what Emily and I know really soon. I don't know what to do."

"Well, we both know that you won't go behind her back and tell them," Tsia said. "You want to, but you won't."

Wren heard Emily's words from earlier in the day repeat in her mind as she listened to Tsia's attempts at reassuring the brunette."He said if I warned the team or told anyone, he'd kill them."

He'd kill them.

She couldn't lose them. She's barely known the team for two years and she knew how much they meant to her. If they knew, they'd be dead. She couldn't let that happen.

Her conversation with Tsia ended right before Hotch entered the roundtable room, his brows furrowed together as he looked at the brunette.

"Are you okay?" He asked her after a moment.

The unit chief probably knew Wren better than anyone else on the team. Having spent the most time with her in the past two years, he knew that she was extremely talented at shielding her emotions. Hotch remembered that she didn't even cry or show any signs of pain on her face when she was shot, at least she didn't when anyone else was around. She never let cases get to her to the point where they interfered with her work and she was always what the team needed her to be. 

But the woman standing in front of him now wasn't any of those things. The color had yet to return to her face and her eyes were wide open as if she had seen a ghost. She looked as fragile as she felt. The hand that was shoving her phone into her pocket was shaking slightly and her voice trembled for an instant when she started speaking. She couldn't hide her fear, but she couldn't say anything either. No one was going to get an answer they would like.

"I will be," she said, trying both to reassure him and herself.

"Do you need to step away from the case?" He continued to question as she sat down in one of the chairs and began twisting the chain of her necklace.

"No. I can be here. I just need a minute," Wren replied.

"What's going on with you?"

"I just haven't been eating or sleeping very well recently. I keep having nightmares where I find my sister or Oakley dead. I feel like I'm slowly losing my mind because I can't tell if I'm being paranoid or cautious. And mostly I'm scared of losing someone," Wren blurted out as Hotch went to sit next to her.

Neither of them spoke as they processed what the brunette had said. They both hadn't expected her to say so much or to be so open. Wren knew that showing some vulnerability would allow him to worry about her but also have an answer. Giving him an answer, even if it wasn't the full truth, would get him to stop asking as many questions, and hopefully, he would spread the message to the rest of the group. She didn't need to be asked if she was okay. She didn't need to be asked what was going on with her. There was too much going on with her and she didn't know if she'd ever have the words to say exactly how terrified she felt.

Hotch and Wren sat in silence for a few minutes and for that, Wren was grateful. The quiet was somehow reassuring and having someone next to her helped her feel as though she wasn't as alone as she supposed she was.

"Spader, you're probably one of the strongest people I know," Hotch said eventually and Wren looked over at him, shocked that he had said that. "I don't know the specifics, and I know that it's likely you won't ever give me those specifics, but I do know that if something is affecting you this great, then it's definitely important. Do what you need to do and try to remember that you have a lot of people in your corner."

✧✦✧

Wren joined Hotch, Morgan, Rossi, and Prentiss in the SCIF where they were meeting with some of the leaders of CWS. As some members of her team spoke with the men at the other end of the table, Wren watched Emily's body language grow increasingly stiffer. The team was getting too close, but the two women couldn't steer them in a different direction or reveal what they knew. 

"Kerry Fagan, Ron Cosenza, and Byron Delaney - they all worked for CWS," Morgan continued the conversation.

"As do 40,000 other subcontractors all over the world," the man at the head of the table stated, not realizing that the words he said were giving the BAU more information than he intended to give them.

"So they were subcontracted to you," Derek replied.

The man hesitated before speaking again. "If you're looking for answers, take it up with the main contractor."

"And that would be?" Rossi asked.

"Your government."

Wren glanced over at Emily, who looked as though she was holding her breath.

"Whoever is killing these families holds your company responsible, not the government," Hotch said.

"We run operations from the Middle East to Antarctica," the man replied. "Going over them all will take months."

"So you've already started investigations?" Hotch clarified and the man sighed, upset with himself for unintentionally revealing more information.

"That's why you pulled the story," Rossi added on before one of the men started whispering to the man at the head of the table.

After a few moments, the man the team was mainly conversing with spoke to them again. "The cases these people were involved in are protected by a multinational official secrets agreement. Even if I wanted to -"

"These people were killed on U.S. soil," Morgan interrupted him. "By trained suspects who fired on federal agents."

"As a courtesy and out of respect for the predicament your company now faces, everything in this room is off the record," Hotch continued. "However, outside this room, if you withhold information about the case, you and your company will be held fully accountable."

It didn't take long for the man to agree to talk. "All right. What do you know?"

"We're looking for a European team," the unit chief told them. "With considerable training, and for one of them it's personal."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because they could have spared the child, but they chose not to," Morgan explained. 

"The killing of Samuel Cosenza by one of the team was personal," Hotch added.

"One of the attackers shot last night had the remains of a tattoo on his wrist," Rossi continued before Hotch passed over the file containing both the photo of the tattoo and Reid's recreation.

"On the surface, the tattoo may look like a simple four-leaf clover," Morgan said. "But the stem has a 'V' at the end. We believe this is associated with a hidden sect of fallen warriors. It's also the name of a ship famous for its journeys from Dublin to America, the 'Valhalla.'"

It was Wren's turn to hold her breath as the men at the other end of the table looked around at one another. She could feel her heart beating heavily as she watched the men debate silently whether or not to disclose the information that could unknowingly put the lives of the BAU on the line.

"Have you seen that before?" Rossi asked the men. 

"We ran an operation to capture the leader of a breakaway IRA faction years ago," the man stated. "He assumed that moniker."

"What's his name?"

"Ian Doyle."

The lump in Wren's throat didn't move for the rest of the conversation. She felt slightly paralyzed at the idea that the team was getting closer and closer and any choice she made was going to have a consequence. If she told the team, she put their lives at risk and was betraying Emily's trust. If she didn't tell the team, she was withholding information that was vital to their case. If and when the team learned that Wren and Emily had details that they weren't sharing, a level of trust would be lost and there was nothing Wren could do to stop that from happening.

✦✧✦

"Okay, Ian Doyle's officially on everyone's list," Penelope announced to the group. "His mug is all over the place. He's not gonna be able to get out of the district unless he sprouts wings himself."

Wren was sitting between the technical analyst and Spencer as she twisted the chain of her necklace, listening to the others speak. 

"It's not that I'm not happy that we have his name, but how are we supposed to know who's on his list?" Ashley asked.

"We study his life and every single person he's ever been in contact with," Derek told her.

"Look, Doyle's been away for seven years," Emily said as Hotch and Rossi joined the team in the BAU room. "But he still managed to figure out who the players were. Maybe we should start with how he got out of prison."

"Well, where was he locked up?" Morgan asked.

"I'm pretty sure it was Russia," Wren spoke.

"Actually, there are no extradition papers on him," Seaver stated.

"Prentiss, Spader, was Doyle on your radar when you two were at Interpol?" Hotch asked the two women and Wren allowed Emily to answer first.

"Uh, sure, I had heard of him, but direct contact? I'd have to ask around."

"Same here. I didn't work for them very long," Wren added.

"But you did work for Interpol around the time they were running the operation," Rossi said.

"They run a lot of operations," the brunette argued.

"Both of you try to get in contact with any colleagues you have at Interpol and learn what you can," Hotch instructed them and they both nodded. Wren stood up from her seat and followed Emily out of the BAU room, both of them already pulling out their phones.

The brunette sent a quick text to Tsia and then one to Clyde informing them of the situation. She hoped that one of them would get back to her soon. Derek approached Emily and before long, the pair were headed back to Byron Delaney's place with the goal to find something that they may have missed in the first sweep. 

The rest of the team was still in the BAU room but before Wren had the chance to rejoin them, her phone was ringing. There was no caller ID and the woman knew exactly what that meant. He wanted to talk the same way they always did when she was undercover. Over the phone and privately.

Wren let the phone ring as she walked out of the bullpen and over to JJ's old office. After shutting the door, she answered the call and placed the device to her ear, the knot in her stomach growing tighter with each second.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Leslie," the man greeted her, his Irish accent holding true even after seven years. "Long time, don't you think?"

"And yet, not long enough," Wren replied. No amount of time would ever be long enough. "And I'm sure you know my real name by now, Doyle, no need to fall back on old habits."

"Oh, I know your name, Wren," Ian said and the brunette immediately felt sick at the sound of her name in his voice. "I think Leslie will always suit you better, though. But your haircut is much better now than it was then. And the lighter color looks good on you."

"What do you want?" the woman asked. Her tone was hostile and cold, and she was desperate to not have any more information about him that she would have to keep to herself.

"I was wondering when we were going to have our next face-to-face. It's been so long, after all, and you didn't join Lauren when we had our chat."

"Our next face-to-face will be when I get to put a bullet between your eyes," Wren stated. "I won't play your games, I won't feed your ego, and I won't let you win. I don't know what your goal is, but you won't accomplish it. Not if I'm around."

"Then I guess I'll just have to make sure you're not around," Doyle said and Wren was tempted to roll her eyes. When she was undercover, his threats against her were empty and playful for the most part. But after what had happened to Jeremy, and the fact that he was willing to fire at federal agents in the middle of D.C, made Wren hold back any snarky remark she could make. "Step one foot out of line, Agent Spader, and I'll make sure you never see your precious niece again."

 At the mention of Oakley, Wren hung up the phone. She wouldn't entertain his threats, no matter how real they could be and Wren had to believe that Oakley and Raven were safe.

Leaving JJ's old office, the brunette walked back into the bullpen and found Spencer sitting alone at his desk. 

"What are you working on?" She asked him as he jumped a bit in his seat. He was easily startled as of recently and Wren knew why. He had confided in her when he first went to the doctor about the headaches and she'd been trying to find some other doctors that could have more opinions than what the ones he'd seen were giving him. When Spencer looked over and saw the expression on her face, he couldn't pinpoint what it was, but he knew something had turned out to be worse than Wren wanted it to be.

"Uh, I'm trying to see if there are photos of Doyle's villa in Tuscany on the day of his arrest," he told her and she nodded, attempting to seem as indifferent about his search as she could. She knew she was failing, but she wouldn't acknowledge it. Not until someone else did. 

"Any luck?"

"None so far, but since we got a little leeway with CWS, they're sending us any photos or videos they took that day," Spencer stated.

"Can I help with anything?" Wren almost pleaded as she looked around the room, hoping that there was something she could do to distract herself.

"I don't think there's much to do until Morgan and Prentiss get back. Hopefully, they'll find something," he replied, not turning his attention away from her. She seemed antsy from his point of view. He knew she was hiding something and wouldn't tell him but with every moment that passed, Wren became more and more anxious. Her fingers were fiddling with her necklace for the eighth time that day. At least, that's how many times she'd done it where Spencer could notice. He was sure she had done it more than that though. "You're going to wear that chain out if you keep doing that."

The brunette tilted her head down to look at the action she'd become so accustomed to. "It's just a nervous habit," she attempted to brush off the comment as she continued. It was the only thing that gave her comfort, no matter how little solace it actually provided. 

"That's your favorite necklace, wouldn't you be sad if you broke it?" Spencer asked.

"Chains are replaceable, smartie," Wren chuckled and for the first time in a week, she smiled. It wasn't due to a joke made about a case or a smile that she forced to make someone think she was okay. She smiled because she felt comfortable doing so.

"I know that," he replied, a slight smile of his own forming on his face as he watched her relax a bit. "You just haven't replaced that chain since you joined the team, so I can only assume it's lasted a while."

Unfortunately, the ease that Wren felt as she conversed with Spencer didn't last long. Hotch entered the bullpen and told the pair that Prentiss and Morgan were on their way back to Quantico and they had found something. Reid soon went off to look for more photos of the villa and Wren was left alone again. Her heart was beating rapidly as she waited for the rest of her team to convene in the BAU room and once they did, she joined them.

Penelope had scanned the photos that Emily found at Delaney's apartment into the computer and soon enough, the team excluding Reid, was discussing the contents of the photographs. 

"Here's the million-dollar question," the technical analyst began as she enhanced part of a photo on the screen. "Anyone know what language that is?"

"Those are villages in North Korea," Prentiss stated, her brows furrowed. Wren's face held just as much confusion as Emily's as she looked at the photo.

"I love you. Of course, she does," Garcia replied, confirming that Emily was right.

"There's a political prison near Haengyong-ni," Wren continued as she read the words on the sign. There was no way that Doyle was sent there. Wren and Emily were told he was imprisoned in Russia. Sean told them that. He wouldn't lie to them.

"Yeah, Camp 22. Kwan-li-so," Emily agreed. "North Korea denies it exists."

"You think they took Doyle there?" Morgan asked.

"That would explain why he's after them," Seaver said.

"Even his prison is off the grid," Garcia added.

"All we know is that he was never married, had multiple residences, and was arrested at his Tuscan villa," the blonde continued. Emily's eyes widened slightly at the mention of the villa. Wren never got the time to tell her that they knew where he was arrested. Hell, she hadn't had the time to say anything to Emily in private and it was getting more worrisome by the second. They needed to talk, and being separated at every given moment wasn't making it any easier. 

"There's paperwork to back that up?" Emily asked Ashley.

"And a list of who was there that day. There may be photographs," she replied.

"Reid's looking into that as we speak," Wren said from her spot across from Emily, who moved her eyes over to her and saw the slightly panicked look that rested on Wren's features. Emily nodded at the information as the group continued to discuss what they know about Doyle. 

"Right. So those people need to be warned that he's on the warpath," the raven-haired woman stated.

"They have been. But there's a whole different life he's led, one that isn't in any file," Ashley spoke.

"Prentiss, Spader, did either of you hear from your European associates?" Hotch asked.

"I'm waiting for them to send me a document," Prentiss said.

"I'm still waiting for a response," Wren replied quickly after. 

"We need that document now. Spader, feel free to give them another call," the unit chief said and the two women got up and left the roundtable room together as Rossi continued the conversation with the rest of the team.

"Put me on a conference call with them when you get an answer," Wren said to Emily discreetly as she walked over to the coffee machine while Prentiss walked to her desk.

It took a few minutes, but soon, Wren was connected to Emily, Clyde, and Tsia, listening as they spoke about the new information that the two FBI agents had just learned.

"Doyle was in Kwan-li-so?" Emily asked in disbelief.

"Ah, well, that was on a need-to-know," Clyde explained.

"You don't think we needed to know that, are you kidding me?" the woman replied, shocked at what she was hearing. Wren stood silently as she listened, absolutely understanding where Emily's frustration was coming from.

"And what good would that do?" Clyde asked.

"Well, for starters, it wouldn't have made me look suspicious when I said he was locked up in Russia," Wren explained.

"Besides, you don't get to decide what's good for me anymore," Emily pushed forward. "What else aren't you telling us?"

"That's it," the man sighed.

"You said he was in Russia," Emily reemphasized.

"No, actually, Sean McCallister told you that."

Why was he redirecting the blame? Why was Clyde acting so standoffish? Wren couldn't help but feel as though he wasn't telling them everything and it was freaking her out more and more.

"Tsia?" Wren asked quickly.

"Yeah," the woman replied.

"Can we just talk to you for a moment?"

"Oh, please, what are you two going to do, huh?" Clyde asked exasperatedly. "What are you gonna do? You gonna run away? Yeah, Wren, you're really good at that."

"Tsia," Emily stated.

A moment passed and Tsia spoke again, but the women could tell she was speaking to them confidentially. "Okay."

"You cannot trust him," Emily said quickly. "You have got to get out of there right now. You are safer on your own. Do you remember 9th street? Corelli's How the door works?"

"Yeah," the woman replied.

"He's still there," Prentiss continued. "You will be in and out in five minutes."

"Got it."

"Do not let Clyde follow you," Wren said.

"And, Tsia, be careful," Emily added.

"You too. Both of you."

The phone call ended and Emily looked over to where Wren was standing. Emily's eyes were starting to water and Wren looked as though she could punch a hole in a wall. 

The rest of the night passed by somewhat quickly. Wren moved from task to task, trying to generate as much information as she could and when they finally had the time, Emily and Wren spoke about what they found. The brunette revealed her phone call with Doyle and Emily consoled her as worried about her sister. There was no real reason for Wren to be concerned for them. They weren't in his way. He had no reason to target them, but Wren couldn't help but stress about it.

✧✦✧

As the early hours of the morning approached the team, Wren sat at her desk and watched as different agencies entered the bullpen. Each set up at different desks as they waited for the BAU to give the profile they were working up on Ian Doyle. Emily was in Hotch's office with the unit chief and Rossi, Spencer was at his desk still looking for the surveillance footage of Doyle's villa, while Ashley and Penelope conversed about the bustling bodies. Derek was likely to be in his office, but before she could turn to look for him, Wren noticed him making his way over to Hotch's office.

It didn't take long before he was leaving the office again and had Emily on his tail. The woman's face was pale as she followed behind Morgan, refusing to make eye contact with Wren as she passed her.

Another hour went by before Wren received a text from Emily that tore her heart to pieces. Nothing could have prepared the brunette for the news that Tsia had been killed by Doyle. Nothing could have made her feel better for encouraging the woman to leave Clyde and go to that safe house. Nothing was going to stop Wren from blaming herself for every minuscule detail that occurred while the BAU had Doyle's case.

Eventually, the D.C. area police arrived at the BAU, so Hotch and Rossi were able to give the profile to the task force that was created. Each chair was filled and there was at least one person sitting on top of every desk. People gathered around the cubicles and listened to Hotch as he spoke. Wren's attention was split between the profile her boss was giving and Emily and Derek rejoining the group. The two women met eyes and before she knew it, Wren was making her way out of the bullpen. She waited for the woman to reemerge from the crowd of people and the look on her face told the brunette that Emily had already made a decision.

"You can't just go after him on your own," Wren said, her voice threatening to crack.

"We both know he's doing this because of me," Emily replied, her face just as sad as Wren's. "I don't want to, but this is the best way to keep you all safe."

"What am I supposed to do here? You don't want me to tell them, but they're going to have questions the moment they notice you're gone. They're a smart group, they'll figure it out quickly."

"I just need you to give me an hour," she pleaded with Wren. "The profile should take some time, but just try and keep them from figuring out that we're a part of this for an hour. Give me a head start."

Wren shook her head as she looked at the woman she'd known longer than she'd known most of the people in her life. "Where are you going?"

"I can't tell you that."

The brunette sighed as she glanced back to the glass doors of the BAU bullpen. "You'll be safe?"

"I can't say that, either."

"God, damn it, Emily," Wren ran a hand through her hair as she started to pace. "Let me go with you."

"Absolutely not. He's already threatening your family's lives. I'm not putting you in harm's way," Emily refused, placing both of her hands on each of Wren's arms. "The safest place you can be right now is with them. You've already lost enough."

"Exactly. I can't lose you to him."

"And you won't," Emily attempted to reassure the woman, though it wasn't working in the slightest. "Just do me a few solids, please. Give me a headstart, stay close to the team at all times, and look out for yourself."

Wren let out a loud puff of air as she looked at Emily once more. She wanted to force the woman to stay at the BAU with her. But she also wanted to go with Emily and help her take down Doyle. Mostly, she just didn't want to let her friend out of her sight, but she knew she didn't have any other choice. If she went with Emily, the team would get suspicious much faster, and if Emily stayed, who knew what Doyle would do next?

The brunette wrapped her arms around Emily, the woman who trained her when she joined JTF-12, the woman who protected her when her cover got blown, the woman who helped Wren realize what she was capable of. "I swear to whatever god there is, you better beat him."

"If I won't, I know you will," Emily replied as they pulled apart. The tears in her eyes made Wren want to scream. It wasn't fair. None of it was. But what was truly unfair was the way Wren would be treated the moment the team found out the truth.