Switch Point of View
March 24th, 2015  8:59 AM
As I pull into the parking lot, I call Martha for the seventh time this morning.  We usually talk before we start the work day.  It helps center her and she gives my day a little bit of light that it wouldn’t have otherwise.  The call goes straight to voicemail, again.  I look to her usual parking spot.  Her car is here.  “She’s already here,” I say as I go to her office.  That explains why she’s ignoring my calls.  She likes to get here early when she knows things are going to be chaotic.  She’s probably busy with the case or with talking to an agent.  Hopefully, she’s making up with Caroline.  When any part of the team fights, all of our work suffers. 
I walk in and go straight to her office.  I knock.  I do not get the perky, “coming!,” I usually get.  That’s weird.  Even when she’s busy, she comes to the door.  I feel a strange sense of dread as I knock again.  This is really unlike her.  “Princess?” I say, gripping the two styrofoam cups of coffee tighter.  “I brought your favorite coffee…chia latte!” I say as I knock again.  I still don’t get a response.  I try to open the door only to find it’s locked.  I knock again, becoming panicked.  She only locks her office if she’s going to miss work for a long time or she’s worried something could happen to her perfectly organized office. 
I fumble for the universal key on my lanyard and unlock the door.  I nearly trip over a chair a few feet in her office.  That usually isn’t there.  She wouldn’t put anything to block the exit; she is always sure her office is up to the fire code.  I look around her office and see it completely torn apart.  Papers and pictures are scattered everywhere.  I look at her memory wall and see the pictures of lost agents vandalized.  Who would do this?
I look at the chair more carefully and see a small package on it.  She wouldn’t have left this here.  What is going on?  I struggle to swallow over the lump in my throat.  The package is addressed to me.  I move the chair back to where I last knew it to be and take the package.  I promise myself I’ll clean up her office when I get a spare second.  I close the door as I leave and lock it back, hoping to keep whoever left the package out.
I sit down in the middle of headquarters, in the comfortable lounge, where some of my agents spend most of their time.  I survey the situation.  Martha left in a hurry last night, isn’t answering her phone, isn’t here yet even though she was supposed to be here half an hour ago, her office is destroyed, and she seems to have left a package addressed to me. 
I open the package in one swift movement.  There is a lock of hair, a stack of pictures, and a VHS tape.  I feel my stomach drop.  I can’t bring myself to look at the pictures.  I go to the conference room and close the door.  I need to be alone.  I need to think.  I’m beginning to see signs that an infamous group of criminals took Martha.  This is looking more and more like the case Cynthia and Anthony died trying to solve.  If I’m right, she doesn’t have much, if any, time left. 
I look at the old TV we used to use to view videos related to cases.  I put it in the player and hit play.  I see a dimly lit room and I stop the video.  It’s the same room as the video yesterday.  I take a deep breath to steady myself.  “You could still be wrong.  There’s no solid evidence,” I tell myself out loud.  Martha taught me to say a mantra whenever my stress level gets high or I’m worried about something.  It doesn’t make me feel any calmer with that self-reassurance.
I decide to look at the pictures.  I see Martha, tied to a chair and gagged.  Her eyes are wild with fear and one piece of hair, near her face, is cut very short.  My heart starts to beat very fast.  I look through them more frantically and see pictures of her with new bruises and cuts.  She looks terrified and alone.  I feel guilt overwhelm me.  I shouldn’t have let her leave early.  I shouldn’t have let her leave angry.  I should have walked her out when she left like I usually do.  This is all my fault.  I couldn’t take five minutes to step away from the case to talk to her.  She felt so bad about how to world was and I couldn’t even try to help her see the good, like she does with me.  I’m an awful best friend.  I was too caught up with work to try to help her.  She always takes time to make me smile.  Why I couldn’t I do the same?  The last picture is a picture of graffiti.  “The FBI will pay,” it reads. 
I feel tears hit my face.  I go to the lounge.  “All agents to the conference room!  Now!” I yell, not even trying to control my fear.  Maybe they will hear the urgency in my tone, notice Martha’s car here but her not, and come willingly.  Caroline comes over to me.  “What’s going on?” she asks.  I do not have time for this.  Martha does not have time for this.  “Go to the conference room, Caroline.  We have an emergency concerning one of our own,” I say, feeling the world spin beneath me as I admit that. 
I nearly fall from the dizziness.  “Did someone die?” she asks.  “Go!” I snap, feeling like I might faint.  She walks away and I sink into a seat.  The bad guys have Martha, my princess.  When she first took the oath that brought her into the FBI, I made one to myself.  I promised I would always protect her from the bad guys because she had no place being in harm's way as the team psychologist.  She has always been so positive, like our ray of sunshine.  I failed to protect our happiest, most optimistic link.  They chose her because they knew our team would fall apart without her.   How do I keep the team from collapsing when the one who kept it from collapsing is gone?
I go to the conference room.  “Martha was kidnapped,” I say as I stand before my team, my voice thick with tears.  “How do you know?” Caroline asks.  I wasn’t going to show anyone the pictures, but if she won’t believe me, she needs to see.  I hand her the pictures.  She gasps, staring at the pictures with a horrified expression.  “The video yesterday came with pictures too, but we weren’t concerned with them.  The same people have Martha!” she says.  I clench my fists to keep from crying again.  “We have a video,” I say.  I don’t want to watch it because I don’t know what else it might contain.  I also don’t want to see video evidence that the people I’m thinking have her really do.  Caroline hits play as soon as she hears that there’s a video.  I can’t bring myself to look at it, so I look away.
I hear Martha’s muffled screams grow louder and more shrill.  Tears fall from my face to the floor.  I turn around, thinking the video is over, to see her face get slashed with a large knife.  The sight of her being hurt makes me so dizzy I have to sit to keep from collapsing.  “Turn it off,” I say in a voice so weak it doesn’t sound like mine.  She doesn’t.  I hear my best friend, my princess, scream in terror and pain. 
“Turn it off!” I yell, anger flooding me.  “We have to watch it,” Caroline snaps.  I know she’s right, but I can’t stand to watch, or hear, the woman I love being brought closer to her death.  “We’re wasting time,” I mumble before covering my ears.  “Did you see that?!” Caroline asks excitedly.  Why does she seem so happy to watch a video of one our team members getting tortured?  “I didn’t see anything, Caroline.  I can’t watch Martha being tortured,” I say.  She rewinds it.  I see an identifying mark burned on her chest:  a six-pointed star.  The burn is blistered and bleeding and fresh.  Now I know for sure my suspicions are right.
“There were a lot of cases like this.  The most recent one being a few months ago.  It was the one where we lost Cynthia and Anthony!  They tortured people like this and then branded them with a six-pointed star.  They sent videos of them killing one person to police, then another of them torturing one of our own friends, agents, or family members, before luring us in and killing us,” I say, having had this awful cycle repeat for over eight years.  Everyone looks horrified and upset.  We’ve lost eleven agents because of these people—the most ever lost on a single case—and they show no sign of slowing down.
“We can’t fall into their trap again,” I say, more to myself than to my team.  “What do you mean?” Caroline asks.  “They try to trap us by luring us into where they want us to think they’re keeping her and then shooting, or torturing, us.  We cannot lose another agent.  We won’t lose another agent,” I explain.  When they kill the people brought into their trap, they kill the ‘bait’, which in this case is Martha. 
“Is Martha going to be okay?” an intern asks.  I close my eyes for a moment.  “As long as I’m standing, she will be.  I have lost a lot of people in my days, but she is not someone I can bear losing.  It would be the one loss I couldn’t bounce back from,” I say, trying to draw on the passion and strength I have inside.  Caroline taps on the table with her long, manicured nails, a habit she has when she’s stressed.  With her and Martha last speaking in anger, she is probably feeling guilty and overwhelmed.  When this case is over, I’m going to make her take a vacation.  She hasn’t had time off in about eight months.  I sigh, the sound of her acrylic nails hitting the oak table beginning to irritate me.  “Let’s get to work.  Remember not to fall into their trap,” I say before walking to my central office, right across from Caroline’s.  Unlike Martha, I love being near the noise and chaos.  The high energy of everyone else fuels me.
I sit down and start reading the case information, going all the way back to the first time we saw these people.  I don’t discover anything important because the person they use as bait is never found, not even their bodies.  I have always had this suspicion that they take them to another state or even another country, but I have never been able to proof it.  It’s always been an impossible cause, but now, I have new motivation and energy.  My best friend’s life is on the line and I don’t plan on letting her slip away.  As I sit there, I debate trying to call her, so I can get our technology expert to triangulate the signal.  I text Melissa to be searching for her phone signal before I dial her cell number on my landline and wait. 
It goes to voice mail.  “Martha, we’re looking for you.  I know what has happened and who has you.  If you can hear this, please just…give me a sign.  I need to know you’re alive.  Give me something.  You are so important to me and I will not rest until we find the people responsible.  I have the whole team looking for you, but you need to do your part.  See the light, just like you always do.  We’re the light for you.  If you can see us, come home, but if you can’t, we understand.  Just stay alive…remember to fight.  You’re my princess and I love you so much.  I don’t know what I’d do if you died…remember what we have and who you are.  We’re stronger together than we are apart, but find the energy we have inside us.  And we’ll find you,” I say before hanging up. 
I look up to see Caroline standing in the doorway.  “Did you just call her?” she asks.  “Yes,” I say.  “That was a bad idea and you know it, Tim.  You just gave them something to use against her, and you.  Why did you do that?” Caroline says.  I roll my eyes  “I love her, Caroline.  This isn’t just a random missing person case.  The missing person is my best friend, the one person I can’t live without,” I explain.  “But that one call could have just cost her her life,” she points out in that annoying, know-it-all way of her’s. 
“Do you really think I don’t know that?  I know that me calling could be the reason she dies, but I can’t be a sitting duck, just waiting for her to die.  You should know me better than that,” I snap.  She leaves.  I rest my head on the desk.  I’m terrified, but probably not as terrified as she is. 

Switch Point of View
March 24th, 2015 11:37 AM
I look around the dark room I’m in.  I hear a menacing laugh behind me.  I try to turn around to face them, but I can’t.  I struggle against the ropes holding me to the chair, making them dig painfully into my skin.  “Help!” I scream, my heart beating fast in my chest.  “Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend?” a gravely, rough voice says behind me.  “I d-don’t,” I say, tears burning cuts on my face.
“Then who’s this?” he asks.  I hear Tim’s voice playing over my phone.  He’s begging me to stay alive and give him a sign I’m here.  I sob, struggling against the restraints.  “You’re such a bad person; you have your whole team worried sick.  I bet you want to call them and tell them you’re just fine, don’t you?” he says.  I don’t say anything, trying to avoid the pain I know is coming.  “Go ahead, ‘princess’, and call your prince, your knight in shining armor.  Let him know you’re in danger, so he can protect you, like usual.  You’re too weak to save yourself,” he says. 
I realize he’s just trying to draw them out.  Even though I really want to call him, I know I can’t.  I have to protect him, and the rest of the team, even if it means I’ll die.  Guilt overwhelms me.  I have my whole team searching for me, most probably thinking I’m already dead.  I wonder if they know these awful people are the ones who killed two of my closest friends.  “You have no family, hardly any friends, and a sorry excuse for a boyfriend,” my captor taunts.  “You don’t get to talk about Tim like that,” I say in a harsh voice that I can’t believe is mine. 
“What are you going to do about it?” he challenges.  “My team is going to find you and they are going to kill you,” I say, my voice cold and unfeeling, which is very unlike me.  “Not likely.  In fact, I think I’m going to show that team of your’s a thing or two,” he says.  “They aren’t going to fall into your traps.  They are the best team in the FBI and they know all your tricks.  You will not trick them.  They are stronger than you and smarter than you,” I say, drawing on the strength I have inside me.  He laughs and hits me.  I cry out in pain, feeling blood drip from the back of my head.  “Think Martha.  You are smarter than them and more capable. Why are they doing this?  What do they want to achieve?” I mumble, trying to get myself to think clearly.  I take a breath.
“You think you’re so big and powerful, but you’re just a coward.  You don’t have the guts to face my team because you know they’re stronger than you.  You want to sit here and draw them in with false hopes of getting me and then kill them while they’re distracted.  If you were half as brave as you say you are, you’d face them like a man,” I say.  He hits me again, but I stifle my cry.  I’m not going to let him get the best of me.  I’m going to make it out alive.

Switch Point of View
I go to Caroline’s office.  “Please tell me you have something,” I say.  “I actually do,” she says.  I look at her notepad and annotated files.  Her notes say that this is a revenge group, bent on making the FBI pay for killing their old leader.  They are after FBI agents and will do anything to draw them out, usually by taking one of their family members, friends, or coworkers.  There is one undercover agent working with the team, but she hasn’t checked in this month and is presumed dead. 
The group has its own logo, branded on all its victims and members.  They are dispersed all over the country but are heavily concentrated in New York, D.C., Boston, and Los Angeles.  They’re known for what they did to two FBI agents about seven years ago.  I sigh.  “You’re right, Caroline, but how can this help?” I say.  She sighs.  “We have something on them now, Tim!  We can do something, right?  Please say I’m right,” Caroline says.  “You might be right, Caroline, but we need to prepare for the fact that we could be wrong.  If we are, and we send in agents, our team will take a blow that we can’t handle without Martha,” I explain.
She sighs and I know that she knows I’m right.  “I don’t know what you’re wanting me to do,” she says.  “Keep finding stuff.  Analyze everything, like you do best.  Watch the videos, look at pictures.  Read and research.  You do this sort of thing best because you know what to look for.  This is one time where your know-it-all nature will really come in handy,” I say.  “I’ll just keep doing that thing I do,” she says.  I nod and leave her to it. 
She’s doing what she does best, so I need to do what I do best:  plan for every possible outcome and incident.  I go to my office and sit down behind my desk.  I start to write a plan on what the team should do, and what I should do.  The plans are separate because, if it comes to it, my plan includes me dying.  The team doesn’t need to know that because they’d try to stop me, or even take me off the case entirely. 
I work on the plans for close to two hours until I’m sure I know what I’m going to do when I find the people holding my princess captive.  I print out the plans and make enough copies for the rest of my team, but I keep my plan to myself.  I distribute the plans and call another meeting.  Everyone is abuzz with the information they found.
“Okay, quiet, everyone.  Let’s go through this one at a time,” I say.  Caroline raises her hand.  “Go ahead, Caroline,” I say.  “It’s Carrie, but thanks,” she automatically corrects me before continuing, “okay, so I found a bunch of information on the people I think are holding her and I discovered some information about other cases.  They kill once and then only kill again if we try to find them.  We can find Martha, alive, if we’re careful.”
I move to our technology expert, Melissa.  “Her cell phone last went off here, right outside her office,” she says.  “Does it give off a signal if she checks her voicemail?” I ask.  “If it’s done through data, yes, but not if checked using Wi-Fi,” she explains.  “And you haven’t gotten any signal from her phone?” I ask to clarify.  “We have no signals from her cell phone, meaning it’s either turned off, destroyed, or connected via wireless internet,” Melissa says.  She sounds frustrated as she explains technology to the less technologically advanced of us.  She throws her black hair over her shoulder with a sigh.  I go to the forensics team.  “We couldn’t find anything,” the forensic leader tells me.
I begin to feel that familiar frustration I feel when coming to a brick wall with a case.  “How are we supposed to find her?” the intern asks.  I can’t remember her name to save my life.  “I’m not sure,” I say.  My phone rings with my email alert.  I open the email.  It’s from an anonymous email.  “If you ever want to see your princess alive, come to this address,” it reads.  The address is in the warehouse district.  I look at my team.  “We have an address,” I say. 

March 24th, 2015 3:19 PM
Caroline shakes her head.  “It’s a trap,” she reminds me.  “I can’t risk it not being a trap, Caroline,” I sigh.  Melissa takes my phone and starts trying to trace the email.  “It’s untraceable,” she tells me.  I sigh again.  “Then we have to go, now,” I say.  “No, Tim!  We are not going anywhere.  You told us not to fall into a trap.  That’s what you’re doing right now!” Caroline exclaims, her voice shaking.  Another agent holds my arm, knowing I’ll leave alone if I have to.  I can tell Caroline’s struggling with wanting to go to the address and wanting to keep the team safe. 
“We need every agent to prepare to leave.  We also need police backup.  Everyone wear your vests and helmets.  Also, we need to use semi-automatic weapons to level the playing field.  Alright?” I say.  The team agrees.  “You are dismissed.  We leave in five,” I say before going to my office.  I put on my bullet proof vest and helmet before getting my more powerful gun.  These are not people you want to survive a shot. 
Five minutes later, we are speeding toward the address we were given somewhere in the abandoned warehouse district.  We pull in with no lights or sirens, hoping to have the element of surprise.  I give my pep talk over the radio before we go in.  “Don’t turn your back on anyone, don’t move your finger from the trigger, cover your partner and yourself.  Be prepared to shoot and be shot at.  Stay close, stay alert, and stay safe.  As soon as the lights come on, shoot.  That’s what they’re going to do.  If these guys kill us, they’ll then kill Martha.  On my go, move in,” I say before getting out.  I give the go signal and everyone follows me in. 
I step quietly, as does everyone else.  The lights come up and I hear rounds fired.  I shoot first, not bothering to question what I’m doing.  I see two bad guys go down.  I scan the rest of the warehouse.  “Clear,” Caroline says.  We all echo her, scanning our area. 
“Well, she doesn’t seem to be here,” she says.  I sigh.  “Search the building and the other warehouses,” I order.  We break into teams of two.  Caroline and I are a team.  We comb the warehouse slowly and thoroughly.  We don’t find anything.  “Nothing,” I say over a radio.  That’s what everyone else says too.  “Let’s go back,” I say, beginning to feel exhausted.  I’ve been working for close to two days without so much as a lunch break.
I drive back to headquarters.  As I do, my phone rings.  I look at who’s calling.  My sister’s name flashes with her picture.  I answer as I usually do.  “Hey, baby girl.  How’re you doing?” I say.  “Awful,” she snaps.  “Why?” I ask.  “It’s my birthday and my big brother hasn’t even texted me.  Did you forget?!” she yells.  I wince, biting my lip.  “Linda, I did forget, I’m sorry.  Do you remember me telling you about Martha?” I say.  “Yeah…” she says in that drawn out, irritated way of her’s.  “She was kidnapped last night.  My team and I have been so busy trying to find, I totally forgot your birthday,” I say. 
“So some coworker is more important than your sister…” she says.  I sigh.  “Linda, you know that’s not it.  She doesn’t have much longer.  I love you, but I’m not going to just…let my best friend die,” I say.  “Oh, so now she’s your best friend?!” she says.  I can tell she’s crying.  “Look, I love you, but you know work comes first.  I’ll talk to you as soon as I’m done…trust me, I’d rather go to a party with you than be at work, worrying about whether my best friend will live or die.  I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” I say as I  pull in.  “You’re such a liar,” she says.  I hang up, not able to argue with her with so much going on.
I park and walk inside.  There’s a package sitting on the couch in the lounge, addressed to me again.  I open it to find more pictures of Martha.  I sit down, staring at them.  Tears run down my face.  I’m shaking all over and I can’t speak.  She looks weak, like she’s running out of the strength she needs to fight.  I start analyzing the pictures, looking for anything I could use to find out where she is.  I circle things in the pictures and write notes on my hand. 
I gasp when I see a familiar sign in the background.  I circle it in red ink several times and realize that it is the sign to an old, abandoned store that was shut down about six years ago.  I know where this is!  The rest of my team walks in with coffee and food from the local café, talking amongst themselves about what they are thinking of the case.  “I know where Martha is,” I say, my voice soft and shaking, sounding so weak I don’t think it is me that just said that. 
“Is it a trap?” Caroline asks.  “No, they’re holding her in an abandoned store.  I know where it is.  Come on,” I say.  We leave headquarters again and I lead the way, going 30 miles over the speed limit.  I drive down roads that I haven’t been down in years and turn off my sirens as I turn into the driveway.  I’m shaking as I put my bullet proof vest and helmet back on before grabbing my gun.  “Same as last time,” I say over the radio.  We all get out of our cars and I give the signal to go in. 
As soon as we get inside, I hear Martha’s cries coming from somewhere nearby.  It’s dimly lit.  I look around and see a few figures in the shadows.  I step closer and, once I see they are not Martha, I shoot.  Four people are taken down.  I stare into the shadowy darkness.  “Clear,” I say softly.  From somewhere nearby, I hear Martha screaming.  My team echoes my clear response and we go to the next room.  We shoot the bad people standing in shadowy darkness until there is only one room left for us to go into.
We go in and Martha lets out a shocked cry.  Caroline shoots the man standing guard over her.  “I’m going to get you out of here, princess,” I say.  “Not on my watch,” a man says in a harsh, rough voice.  He shoots and I dive out of the way.  I hear Caroline groan and hear a body hit the floor.  I hear more gunshots and hear more of my agents fall.  I feel the sting of tears as I hear my friends die, but I am too busy trying to get my gun loaded to cry.  I watch as another agent shoots the man.  He falls and I take a shaky breath.
I get to my feet and see Caroline and several other agents on the ground.  Caroline was shot in her forehead, as were most.  Their mouths hang open and their eyes are locked in a stare.  I check their pulses.  No one has one.  “Start CPR,” I say to what remains of my team.  I radio for ambulances and go back to Martha.  She’s crying and struggling against the ropes.  “It’s okay, princess.  You’re safe now,” I reassure her as I release the ropes around her arms and legs.  She clings to me.  “Are you hurt?” I ask. 
She nods.  I look her over and see deep, infected cuts covering most of her body and, at least, a few broken bones.  I lay her on the floor.  “Don’t move,” I say.  “I have to help save them,” she says.  “You’re hurt too, princess.  Don’t move or it could get worse,” I say.  She tearfully gives in and I take over CPR on Caroline. 
“I’m not going to lose you, too!  Come on!  Stay with me!” I say as I try to get her heart beating again.  Emergency medical staff come in and take over.  I go back to Martha, feeling numb and in shock.  “I’m here,” I say.  She fumbles for my hand.  I let her hold it as someone checks her for serious injuries.  “She’s not as urgent as the rest of them,” we’re told.  “How did you find me?” she asks, her voice thick with tears and blood. 
I wipe tears from her face gently and sigh.  “Do you remember the oath you took when you were brought into the FBI?” I ask.  She nods.  “I took my own oath that day.  I swore that I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.  The promise of protection is bigger than any criminal.  I was prepared to die for you, princess.  I was going to do anything I could to save your life.  That’s how I found you,” I say.  She smiles tearfully. 
I walk away to talk to the person overseeing the care of my team.  “How are they?” I ask, preparing for the worst and hoping for the best.  “You lost four, two are in critical condition, Martha is expected to make a full recovery,” he tells me.  “Which four?” I ask.  “The blonde woman, the man with short dark hair and dark skin, the thin woman with brown hair, and the man with light hair and skin,” I’m told.  That means I lost Caroline, Mark, Mila, and Walter. 
I walk away from him, tears in my eyes.  I kneel beside where Martha is lying.  “We lost four, two are in critical condition,” I say.  “Who didn’t make it?” she asks.  I inhale sharply.  I want to protect her, but know I can’t.  “Car-Carrie, Mark, Mila, and Walter,” I say.  She doesn’t react.  “Oh,” she says in a soft, weak voice.  Two medical staff come over to us.  “We’re ready to move her,” a woman says.  I nod.
They put a neck brace on Martha before putting her on a stretcher.  I walk beside them to the ambulance.  “You should go,” Martha says.  “Are you kidding right now?” I say.  “It’s your sister’s birthday, Tim.  I’m fine.  Go,” she says.  “Linda is fine.  I’m not leaving you again,” I say.  She rolls her eyes.  “I wasn’t asking you to leave, Tim.  I was telling you to leave,” she says.

Switch Point of View
March, 24th 2015 8:57 PM
As I look into Tim’s eyes, a tight feeling grows in my chest.  He reminds me of the people that took me.  “I’m not leaving you!” he snaps, his voice becoming harsh and loud.  Tears fall down my cheeks again, burning the cuts that are there.  His face instantly becomes softer.  “Princess…” he whispers.  “Please go,” I cry.  “I didn’t mean to snap at you, Martha.  It’s okay,” he says. 
I wipe the tears away.  I inhale sharply as my nail catches a particularly painful cut.  Tim gets into the ambulance and they close the door.  He takes my hand in both of his.  “You’re safe now,” he reassures me in a comforting, loving voice.  I look around, afraid something is going to happen.  “I know you’re scared.  I won’t ever let people hurt you again.  As long as I’m alive, you’re going to be just fine,” Tim says.  I want to believe him, but he said that when I was divorcing my husband and then he left for six months. 
“How do I know you won’t leave?” I ask quietly.  He gently kisses me.  When he pulls away, I look into his eyes.  “I won’t leave because you’re my sun, my stars, my whole universe.  I can’t imagine leaving you again.  Leaving that one time was a mistake, one I regret every day of my life,” he says.  I wipe my face again and see blood on my hand.  I sigh softly.  Tim moves closer and pulls me into his arms.  I lay against him despite the pain that it causes my body. 
The ambulance pulls into the hospital and I’m taken to a room.  Tim and I are left alone.  “Are things going to be okay?” I ask quietly, surveying the area.  “Everything is going to be fine, princess,” he says.  The doctor comes in.  “Are you the kidnapping victim?” she asks.  I nod.  “Well, we need your friend to leave the room, so I can ask some questions,” she says. 
“I’m with the FBI,” Tim says.  “I understand, but she might not be comfortable answering my questions around you,” the doctor tells him.  “He’s fine.  He’s the only one that makes me feel safe,” I say in a small voice.  “What sort of things did these people do?” the doctor asks.  I close my eyes for a second, trying to relax.  “I was taken when I was walking to my car from work.  They put a rag over my mouth and I passed out.  I woke up tied to a chair.  They cut me with a knife all over my body and hit me with something heavy.  I was also branded with some weird symbol thing,” I say.  The words don’t sound like my own. 
“Anything else?” the doctor asks.  I shake my head.  She looks at the cuts and bruises covering my body before looking at the burn on my chest.  “That’s going to scar,” she says.  I didn’t need her to remind of that.  “I think she knows that,” Tim says.  I laugh for a second despite the situation.  The doctor cleans and closes the cuts covering my body before turning her attention back to the painful burn.  She puts a cold ointment on it before bandaging that and the rest of my body.
“Do you want to talk to the hospital chaplain?” she asks.  I shake my head.  “You’ll be released once you’re cleared,” she says.  “I’m fine,” I say.  “They’re just doing their job,” Tim gently reminds me.  The doctor leaves and someone else comes in.  They ask me questions about whether I think it is safe for me to go home.  “Yes, I think I’ll be okay.  I have a guard dog and I don’t think Tim will let me be alone,” I say. 
They finally release me.  They say Tim is to keep an eye on me until they’re sure I’m safe.  “It could be worse,” he says as he walks me to the emergency room waiting area  “I don’t see how” I mumble.  What remains of our team is waiting in the small waiting room.  “Are you okay?” our technology expert asks. 
“Yeah, Melissa, I’m alright,” I say.  She gently hugs me and says, “you had us all worried sick.  We weren’t sure if we’d ever see you again alive.”  I hug her back.  “How are the criticals?” Tim asks.  “They didn’t make it to the hospital,” she says.  I sigh.  It’s hard to believe six people out of the eleven on this team have died.  I hear the ‘click-clack’ of high heels approaching. 
I look up to see the head of the FBI walking over to us.  “You’re now under an investigation,” she says to Tim.  “What?” I say, shocked. 

Switch POV
“This team’s captain risked more than ever.  You lost a record six out of eleven.  I have warned Tim before about taking unnecessary risks and, yet, he did it again.  Expect to be shut down,” Kate tells me.  I hold Martha’s hand and glare at my supervisor.  She sighs.  “What did you do?!” Martha yells.  Kate opens her mouth.  “We saved you, princess.  That’s all you need to know,” I tell her. 
Kate walks away leaving us alone.  Martha and my surviving team glare at me.  “Way to go, Captain.  We’re screwed,” Melissa says.  Her past team was shut down due to a similar situation.  “Let’s just take things one day at a time.  Any words of encouragement, Sunshine?” our intern says to Martha.  “The world isn’t the best of places and people don’t always have good intentions.  Look at the world honestly…maybe then we can make a change,” Martha says.  I see a tear hit her cheek.  “We’re going to go.  You guys take a day, or more, to yourself; we’re doing the same.  I’m not happy with our rescue losses, but we did what we set out to in the end,” I tell my five agents before putting my arm around Martha and leaving the hospital.

Switch POV
I stand in front of Tim outside the emergency room.  “I called for my car.  It should be…” he finds his car and points it out.  “I don’t feel like…being around you,” I tell him.  “How about a cupcake?” he suggests, just as he does anytime I’m upset.  “No.  I’m not hungry,” I tell him.  “You’re looking thin,” he points out.  “I’m fine, Tim.  Can we just leave?  I want to be alone,” I tell him.  He takes my hand and we leave together even though I crave solitude.

May, 27th, 2015
Supreme courtroom #3…3:47 PM
“Timothy gray, your team has been accused of extreme risk resulting in plentiful death.  We have reviewed the evidence and your team is shut down.  You’re no longer a part of the FBI.  Your team members will be restationed,” the judge says.  I can hear Tim’s gasp.  I stand and walk to the front of the courtroom.  “Martha Kelly?  Interrupting legal proceedings?” the judge says. 
I sigh.  I can’t believe I’m doing this.  “I’m sorry, your honor, but this isn’t fair.  You have failed to consider the positive side of our team.  We’ve had more cases successfully solved than any other team,” I say, finding a strong voice I didn’t know I had.  “What are you proposing?” he asks.  “A second chance.  I’ll leave the New York team and Tim will lead with a new focus and territory,” I say.  “Martha, are you crazy?!  What are you doing?” Tim whisper-yells.  I ignore him.
“I guess I can grant another chance, but you’ll be moved to LA and the New York team cannot mess up again,” the judge says before ending the trial.  I quickly leave, hoping to avoid a fight with Tim.  “Martha!” I hear him call.  I walk faster.  I reach my car, but he blocks the door.  “Why did you do that?” he asks.  “What do you want?” I ask beginning to get irritated.  “You agreed to move across the country!  What were you thinking?!” he exclaims.  “Look, I got you your precious team back, I freed myself from Kate’s grip and freed the people who didn’t do anything from the people who won’t listen.  I did you a favor,” I say, opening my car door.
He closes it.  “Can’t we at least talk about this?!” he snaps.  “We just did,” I say.  “No.  Can’t we talk how we used to?  Before that attack, we’d talk for hours and really hear each other.  We haven’t talked like that in a while and before you just give up and run away-“  “Excuse me?  Martha Ross Kelly does not give up or run away,” I say, anger taking over.  “You’re running away to LA.  And you’re giving up on yourself,” Tim says. 
I clench my fists.  “Breathe,” I tell myself.  I lose my temper more than I did just days before with Carrie.  “It’s not running away when I’m doing something to save you and your pathetic excuse for a team.  All my friends are dead!  I’m not going to put my all in when all I got out was more work and pain on my part.  If you wanted to do me a favor, you should have let them kill me.  I’m done.  I fought for you and I won, so while I’m ahead, I’m going to go.  Hope you enjoy your team.  Don’t kill the rest of them,” I scream.  Tim’s face becomes red.
“Don’t yell at me.  I just want us to-“  “Talk like old times?!  Times when I’d open up and we’d both cry and then things would be fine?  No!  This is beyond talking.  We’re done.  Just stay away.  I’m going to LA and I never want to see your betraying face again,” I say before I get in my car and drive away, excited for the next chapter of my life.  I had put my world on hold to please Tim, but I won’t anymore.  I have goals and a new place to have new dreams.  New York has never been what I need.

June, 15th 2018
I sit down at my desk and look through my mail from the past week.  “Junk, junk, junk, a bill, junk, junk, my paycheck, junk, junk,” I say as I go through it.  Something stops me in my tracks.  A letter from my ex-best friend, Tim.  I open it, my heart racing.  What could he have to say to me?  Has someone died?  We haven’t talked to each other in three years!  Why does he all of a sudden want to write me?!  I read it, not sure of what he could have to say. 
“Martha, I was writing you to tell you about my life and the team in the past three years.  I have been climbing the ranks and thinking about joining the CIA.  They’ve offered me a major job.  I’m debating on joining them.  I hope things are going well on your end.  I’ve heard LA sees a lot of crime, so you must be very busy.  Are you still working as the team psychologist or have you moved on to some other job?  What sort of things are you interested by?  I heard about a case your team solved a few months ago.  It was so complex and you must have had a lot to keep track of.  I guess I’m just rambling now, so I’ll get straight to the point.  The CIA says I have a week left to decide whether I want to leave the country on a case.  I’m writing you because if you’re even thinking about coming back to New York, I won’t go.  Write back when you get this or call if you’re up to it.  My office number is still the same.  I hope I hear from you soon.  Love, Tim,” it reads.
I sit in silence for a few minutes, but then I read it again.  I check the time.  It’s noon, so in New York, it’s nine in the morning.  I pull out my cell phone and dial his number.  I sit there for a few minutes, debating whether I should do this or not.  I push call and wait.
It rings several times and then gives me the busy signal.  I don’t leave a message.  I stand up and pace around my office.  Why would Tim send that letter to my work and not to my house?  Why is he ignoring my call?  I sigh quietly.  What am I supposed to do, get on a plane and find back to New York and hope he’s fine with that?  What would happen if I just ignored him?  Would he leave the country to work with the CIA on a case that has unimaginable danger?  I call him again.  “You’ve reached Tim,”  I hang up. 

 June 30th, 2018 4:13 PM
I double check my suitcase and plane ticket.  “Are you really doing this?” Jennifer, my only friend, and top agent asks.  “Yes, Jennifer.  I have no choice.  If I don’t go now, I’ll be left wondering what could have been,” I say.  “But this cross country trip with no notice isn’t really the best idea…is it?” she asks.  I sit down on the bed.  “I have to go.  He gives the CIA his decision in a few days.  If I don’t go now…then he’s going to leave, possibly forever.  Don’t you get it?  He’s the only person I would do this for…and, plus, I want to see how the New York team is faring.  I haven’t heard much,” I explain. 
She rolls her eyes.  “But who’s going to be in charge while you’re gone?” she asks.  I laugh nervously.  Jennifer will be my replacement, but she hates the very thought of having to be a leader.  She says it’s too much stress and she’s allergic to stress.  “Me?” she asks.  “Yep, hon’.  You’re the leader until I get back,” I say.  She rolls her eyes.  “Why me?” she says.  “Jennifer…” I say in a slight warning tone.  “Fine,” she sighs.  I check the time.  “I have to go.  I’ll call or text you when I land.  Don’t let the team get out of control and I’ll be back soon…” I say, gathering my luggage.  I rush out to my car, beginning to run late.  I drive to the airport.
My plane ride goes by quickly and when I land in New York, I call Tim’s office.  He answers.  “Tim, it’s Martha,” I say.  “You got my letter?” he asks.  “Yes and….guess who’s in New York?” I say, butterflies filling my stomach with the sound of his voice.  “Are you?”  he asks.  “Yes.  I’m at the airport,” I say.  “I’ll meet you there in five,” he says.  “Okay, Tim…just… don’t ask too many questions.  I’m back for a good reason.  I need to talk to you when I see you.  It’s so important that I flew across the country without even a second thought.  Okay?” I say.   “You know me too well, Martha.  The questions will be asked,” he says.  I hang up and the reality of the crazy thing I just did hits me.
I flew cross country with only a few hours’ notice.  I ignored every rule I have as FBI precinct captain and went out on a limb to leave.  What was I thinking?!  I could lose my job.  I could lose everything I’ve spent the last three years working for.  How could I be so stupid as to risk everything on a foolish flight of fancy?  This isn’t fair to the team…this isn’t fair to Tim, not even really fair to me.
I walk outside and am hit by the cold New York City wind.  Nearby, I hear taxis honking in the lunch hour traffic and the squeals of children in nearby Central Park.  I look around to see buildings extending their arms to the sky.  I don’t hear the call of seagulls or the waves crashing somewhere far in the distance like I did in LA.  I sigh.  Someone bumps into me.  “Watch it!” he snaps before he keeps walking.  I forgot how rude New Yorkers can be.
I see Tim pull in.  I wait until he parks in the loading zone and comes over to me.  “Hey, princess!  It’s been forever.  How are you doing?” he says.  “Fine,” I laugh.  He takes my hand.  I pull it away.  “Tim, no…I just got back.  Please don’t complicate things now,” I say.  “What do you mean?” he asks.  “We really need to talk,” I laugh.  He puts my luggage in the car and we get in.
He drives away from the airport.  “Where are we going?” I ask.  “I’m going to show you what I’ve missed since you left,” he says.  He turns and I realize where’s he’s going.  “Linda’s Cupcakery?” I gasp.  “Yep…do you remember it?” he asks.  “Every time I eat a cupcake,” I tell him.  “Proof it,” he says.  I roll my eyes and say, “every time we won a case, we’d come here to celebrate.  I’d get a red velvet cupcake with vanilla cream cheese icing.  You’d get a chocolate coffee cream cupcake and a cup of coffee.  We’d sit in the bay window and talk for hours about nothing and everything all at the same time.” 
“Is that all you remember?” he asks.  “Yeah,” I tell him.  “I remember that when you were sad, I’d bring you here, or bring a cupcake back to headquarters.  You’d always feel better and forget whatever was bothering you.  I would always get you a vanilla cupcake and a raspberry chamomile tea.  We’d talk until we felt like things would be okay,” he explains.  “That’s actually really sweet,” I say, a thousand memories flooding me.  “And when you were attacked, you denied my cupcake…which is when I knew things changed forever…” he says.  “Well, things change…and people change faster…but sometimes those changes…bring them back together,”