Chapter Text
The briefing room smelled faintly of burnt coffee and dry erase marker ink, a combination that felt normal, steady and familiar. Lando sat at the far end of the table with his ankle crossed over his knee and his sleeves pulled low over his hands. He wasn’t looking at the board. He was watching everyone else, quiet and observant in a way that made him seem slightly apart from the room.
Lewis stood at the front with the remote in hand. “Three victims. All abducted within a five mile radius. Found staged. No signs of struggle.” Photos flicked onto the screen as he spoke.
Max leaned forward. “No struggle? That’s compliance.”
Oscar folded his arms. “Or control.”
Charles studied the images without looking away. “Positioning’s deliberate. Ritualistic.”
George, still focused on his tablet, added, “The press is calling it the Sleeping Case. It’s already gaining traction.” Lando’s gaze shifted slightly at that, although he said nothing.
Lewis advanced the slide. “Toxicology shows elevated levels of a sedative. Victims were conscious but compliant.”
“You’re assuming the drug’s for control,” Lando said quietly. The room stilled at the sound of his voice.
Lewis didn’t turn. “What else would it be for?”
“Consistency,” Lando replied. He lifted his eyes to the board. “He’s removing variables. Panic, resistance, noise. He doesn’t want unpredictability. He wants stability.”
Oscar muttered, “That’s worse.”
“He’s not escalating,” Lando said. “He’s refining.”
Lewis watched him now, weighing the comment, before he nodded once. “Alright. We deploy in an hour.”
The room emptied quickly, chairs scraping and files gathered as urgency settled over the team. Lando didn’t move. Lewis noticed and paused beside him.
“What is it?”
Lando nudged the hem of his jeans just enough to reveal the edge of the monitor. “It’s out of range. You need clearance.”
Lewis exhaled through his nose. “I’ll handle it.”
“You have to,” Lando said, his tone factual rather than challenging. “If it flags without authorisation, they’ll pull me.”
Lewis held his gaze for a moment, then nodded once. “Stay here.”
Forty minutes later, they were boarding. Max tossed a bag into the overhead and looked back at him.
“You good?”
Lando nodded, but as he stepped fully into the jet a sharp, high pitched beep cut through the cabin. Everyone froze. Lando stilled, jaw tightening slightly. The monitor had triggered.
Lewis turned immediately, already pulling out his phone. “Stand down. It’s pending clearance.”
The beeping continued, not loud but impossible to ignore.
Max swore under his breath. “That’s going to get old very fast.”
“It’ll stop,” Lewis said.
Lando didn’t move or speak. He simply waited. After a long moment, the beeping cut off and silence returned.
Lewis lowered his phone. “You’re cleared.”
Lando nodded once and took his seat. No one commented, but the air had shifted.
The local precinct was louder than expected. Phones rang, officers moved quickly and tension buzzed under the surface. The BAU stepped in as a unit, with Lando following half a step behind. It happened fast, too fast to interrupt. Two officers moved in and grabbed his arms.
“Hey,” Max started.
Lando didn’t resist. He didn’t even flinch as they turned him and cuffed his wrists behind his back.
Oscar snapped, “Hold on.”
Lewis was already moving. “He’s with us.”
“Got an alert,” one of the officers said. “Monitor flagged.”
“It’s authorised,” Lewis cut in sharply. “Check your system again.”
Lando stood still, gaze neutral and breathing steady. This had happened before.
A sergeant hurried over with a tablet. “Wait, wait, stand down. He’s cleared.”
The cuffs didn’t come off immediately. There was hesitation, eyes on him, assessing and judging. Finally the metal clicked loose. Lando brought his hands forward slowly and rubbed his wrists once.
“Apologies,” the sergeant muttered.
“It’s fine,” Lando said.
Max looked like it very much wasn’t.
The precinct chief approached with far less apology. “He’s not moving freely in my station.”
Lewis didn’t flinch. “He’s part of my unit.”
“He’s a monitored asset,” she corrected. “With a record.”
“He’s cleared.”
“He’s contained,” she said. “Or he doesn’t stay.”
The silence that followed was tight and immediate.
“No,” Max said.
Oscar stepped forward. “That’s not happening.”
Charles added, “You’re compromising the investigation.”
George was already calculating the fallout.
Lewis didn’t raise his voice, but when he spoke it carried. “You’re asking me to handicap my team.”
“I’m asking you to respect my jurisdiction.”
The standoff held until Lando stepped in. “It’s fine.”
Lewis’s jaw tightened. “No.”
“It’s fine,” Lando repeated, calm and steady. “We don’t have time for this.”
Max shook his head. “Lando.”
“It doesn’t change what I can do,” Lando said. “Only where I’m sitting.”
Then, quieter, he added, “Let’s not lose the case over me.”
That broke the stalemate. Lewis looked at him for a long moment, then exhaled and turned to the chief.
“Desk. Visible. No interference.”
She nodded. “Agreed.”
The metal was colder than expected. Cuffed to the side of a heavy desk, Lando adjusted his position slightly with his laptop open in front of him. An officer stood nearby, watching him without subtlety. Max paced like a caged animal across the room.
“This is ridiculous.”
Oscar said, “We’re wasting time.”
Charles refocused. “Then we don’t waste more.”
Lewis stepped beside Lando. “You good?”
“Yeah,” Lando said. He wasn’t defensive or upset. He was simply used to it.
Lewis nodded and turned back to the room. “Alright. We adjust.”
It didn’t take long. Lando didn’t need to move to see what others missed. Traffic cam feeds, timestamp gaps and pattern inconsistencies appeared quickly under his hands.
“There,” he said.
Lewis stepped closer. “What am I looking at?”
“Absences. Two minute dropouts across multiple cameras. Rotating pattern.”
Oscar frowned. “System glitch?”
“No,” Lando said. “He’s choosing where we can’t see.”
Charles leaned in. “So he’s controlling perception.”
“He’s controlling everything,” Lando said. “Victims, environment, us.”
Max stopped pacing. “You can track it?”
Lando nodded. “Yeah.”
He hesitated, then added quietly, “I’ve seen this kind of pattern before.”
No one asked where.
Hours later, the pieces aligned. The route was mapped, the profile tightened and the location narrowed. When the call came in confirming the suspect, every eye in the room flicked briefly to Lando. He was still cuffed to the desk, still exactly where they’d left him, but he was the reason they’d got there.
That night, back at the motel, the room was quiet. Lando sat on the edge of the bed with the ankle monitor blinking softly. His wrist still felt the ghost of the cuff. His phone buzzed. It was Lewis.
You should’ve pushed back.
Lando stared at the message for a moment, then typed:
We didn’t have time.
A pause.
Doesn’t mean I agreed with it.
Three dots appeared.
Neither did I.
Lando leaned back and stared at the ceiling. The monitor blinked again, constant and present. Earlier, in that room, it hadn’t defined him. Not completely. Not to them. For now, that was enough.
The knock came just before dawn, not loud or urgent but measured, as if the person on the other side already knew he was awake. Lando had been staring at the ceiling for the better part of an hour, tracking the rhythm of the monitor’s soft blink. When the knock came again, he called out, and the door opened a fraction to reveal Lewis.
“You ready?”
Lando sat up and dragged a hand through his hair. “Yeah.”
Lewis didn’t leave immediately. “Wrist okay?”
Lando glanced down at the faint red line. “Yeah.”
Lewis nodded once. “We move in ten.”
The precinct felt different in the early morning. It was quieter but not calmer, the kind of quiet that settled just before something broke. Max was already there, pacing more slowly but no less restless. Oscar stood near the map board with his arms folded. Charles had three files open at once. George was on the phone in the corner.
Lando took his seat at the same desk. The same cuff. The same officer watching him like he might bolt. This time, Lando didn’t look at him.
Lewis stepped into the centre of the room. “We’ve got a location. Industrial storage site, south end. Fits the timing, fits the route.”
Max asked, “We going in?”
Oscar said, “We should’ve already been moving.”
Lewis glanced at Lando. “Talk to me.”
Lando leaned forward. “He’s not done. The pattern’s tightening. Shorter intervals, closer spacing.”
Charles asked, “Acceleration?”
“No,” Lando said. “Confidence.”
Max exhaled. “That’s not comforting.”
“It means he thinks he’s in control,” Lando said. “Which means if something disrupts that, he’ll react.”
Oscar said, “Violently.”
“Unpredictably,” Charles corrected.
Lewis nodded. “Then we don’t disrupt. We contain.”
He assigned roles quickly, then turned to leave. He stopped when he realised Lando hadn’t moved. Still cuffed. Still restricted.
Max swore. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Oscar’s jaw tightened.
Lando said quietly, “Go.”
Lewis didn’t move.
“Go,” Lando repeated. “You don’t need me in the field.”
“That’s not the point,” Max snapped.
“It is,” Lando said. “Right now.”
Then, quieter, he added, “You know it is.”
Lewis held his gaze, then gave a single nod. “Stay on comms.”
Lando nodded back.
The room emptied quickly. Lando remained with the officer and the hum of old wiring. After a moment, he angled his laptop and asked the officer to move slightly because of glare. The officer shifted. Lando’s fingers moved quickly, threading through traffic feeds, utility logs and timing sequences.
“There,” he murmured. A new overlap. A deviation. Small but recent.
This wasn’t refinement. It was adjustment.
Charles’s voice crackled over comms. “Lando flagged a deviation.”
Lewis asked, “Explain.”
Charles said, “Route shifted. He’s still working it.”
Lewis said, “Put him on.”
Lando stared at the screen. “He moved. Last route doesn’t hold.”
“Why?” Lewis asked.
“They were early,” Lando said.
“Who?”
“Local patrol. Six minutes ahead of schedule.”
Oscar swore. “We spooked him.”
“No,” Lando said. “We interrupted him.”
Lewis asked, “Then what’s he doing?”
“He’s correcting for us.”
Silence followed.
Max said, “Meaning?”
“Meaning we’re part of his pattern now.”
The officer beside him shifted uneasily. “You okay?”
Lando didn’t answer. For the first time, he wasn’t ahead of the case. He was inside it.
Lewis’s voice returned. “New location.”
Lando’s hands moved faster. “Sending coordinates. You need to move now. If I’m right, he’s accelerating.”
Charles said, “Escalating.”
“No,” Lando said. “Reacting.”
Lewis said, “Move.”
The precinct felt smaller now. Lando leaned back and the cuff pulled at his wrist. The officer watched him more closely. Lando stared at the screen, at the shifting pattern and the place where it broke. He exhaled slowly.
“There you are,” he said.
The officer straightened. Voices picked up down the hall. Footsteps approached. The chief stepped into the bullpen and looked directly at Lando.
“That your contribution finished?”
Lando kept his eyes on the laptop. “For now.”
“Good.” She turned to the officer. “Take him downstairs.”
The officer hesitated. “Ma’am, he’s—”
“He’s done,” she said. “He can wait where he belongs.”
Lando closed the laptop. “Alright.”
He didn’t resist as the cuff was removed from the desk and replaced around his wrists. The walk downstairs was quiet. The cell door opened. He stepped inside. The cuffs came off only long enough to secure him to the fixed bar. The door shut and locked.
At the storage site, Max shouted instructions as they breached the perimeter. Oscar cleared the entrance. Lewis said the offender was there. Charles confirmed the coordinates. Max pointed out a flicker of light. They moved fast. The door gave under pressure.
The offender turned, startled but calculating. “You’re early.”
Max ordered him to show his hands. The room was too clean, too organised. A victim lay sedated in the corner.
Charles’s voice sharpened. “You’ve got a live one.”
The offender lunged for a syringe. Oscar shouted. Lewis slammed him against the table. The syringe clattered. Max secured his arm.
“Don’t touch her,” the offender snapped.
Lewis pinned him. “You don’t get to decide anything anymore.”
The offender stilled. “You weren’t supposed to find this one yet.”
Max said, “Plans change.”
The offender’s eyes sharpened. “No. They don’t. You changed it.”
Lewis told Oscar to cuff him. Medics rushed to the victim. She was alive because they were early. Because Lando had seen it.
The ride back was quieter. Max said it had been too close. Oscar said the offender would’ve escalated. Charles said he already had. Lewis stared out the window.
At the precinct, the chief said she’d heard they’d caught him. Lewis handed her the report and said she was welcome. Max asked where Lando was. She said he was in holding. Max stiffened. Lewis told her to take him to Lando.
The walk downstairs was heavy. The cell block came into view. Lando sat exactly where they’d left him. He looked up.
“Got him?” he asked.
Max let out a breath. “Yeah. We got him.”
“Good,” Lando said.
Lewis told the officer to open the door. The officer hesitated. Lewis insisted. The lock turned. Oscar removed the restraint. Lando stood and flexed his hands.
“You alright?” Lewis asked.
“Yeah.”
After a moment, Lando added, “You were early.”
Max snorted. “Yeah, thanks to you.”
“Good,” Lando said.
The chief watched from the hallway, reassessing. Not convinced but no longer dismissing him.
As they moved upstairs, Max muttered, “They cuff you like that again, I’m breaking something.”
Lando gave him a faintly amused look. “Probably not a good idea.”
“Didn’t say it was,” Max replied.
Oscar said quietly, “You still did your job.”
Lando looked ahead at the stairs and the light above. “Yeah.”
This time, there was something steadier in his voice. Something closer to certainty.
· ─ ·✶· ─ ·
Upstairs felt louder now, not because it truly was but because everything after the cell seemed sharper, heavier, more present. The bullpen buzzed with movement as uniforms crossed paths, phones rang and voices overlapped. Word had already spread. They’d caught him. Alive. That mattered. But as the BAU moved through the room, attention shifted. Not to Lewis. Not to Max or Oscar. To Lando. It wasn’t admiration and it wasn’t curiosity. It was that same familiar thing, the one he’d learned to recognise long before this job. Assessment. What’s he doing here? Lando ignored it. He had practice.
“Conference room,” Lewis said, already turning.
The team followed him inside. George shut the door behind them, cutting off the noise from the bullpen. For a moment, no one spoke. Then Max let out a sharp breath.
“Alright. No. We’re not just moving past that.”
Lando leaned back slightly against the edge of the table. “We kind of have to.”
“No,” Max said flatly. “We don’t.”
Oscar didn’t raise his voice, but it carried. “They put you in a cell.”
“They contained a risk,” Lando replied, his tone even.
Charles watched him closely. “You don’t believe that.”
Lando met his gaze. A beat passed.
“It doesn’t matter what I believe.”
“That’s the problem,” Max shot back.
Lewis stepped in before it could escalate. “Enough.”
Silence fell immediately. He looked at Lando, not as a superior and not as a handler, but as someone checking a line.
“You should’ve told me,” Lewis said.
Lando frowned slightly. “Told you what?”
“That it crossed a line.”
Lando exhaled lightly through his nose and his gaze dropped briefly to his hands. For a moment, it looked as though he was going to deflect again, move past it, stay controlled. Instead he said, “It did.”
The room stilled. It wasn’t loud or dramatic, but it was real. Lando’s shoulders shifted, tension easing just enough to show it had been there the whole time.
“I just—” He stopped, recalibrating, like he wasn’t used to saying this part out loud.
Lewis didn’t interrupt. Neither did anyone else.
“I know I can handle it,” Lando continued, quieter now. “And I know it didn’t affect the case. So I pushed it down.”
Max’s expression softened, only slightly.
Lando let out a breath. “But that doesn’t mean it didn’t—” He paused again, searching for the right word. “—matter.”
Silence settled deeper this time, honest and unprotected. Lando looked up and met Lewis’s gaze directly.
“I was sixteen,” he said. He wasn’t defensive and he wasn’t asking for anything. He was simply stating it. “And then it just didn’t stop.”
A small, almost imperceptible shake of his head followed.
“Being watched. Checked. Cleared. Restricted.” His voice stayed steady, but there was something under it now, something younger. “Every room I walk into, someone’s already decided what I am.”
No one moved. No one broke the moment.
“And I get why,” Lando added quickly. “I do. I made that choice. I know what it looks like from the outside.”
He paused, then spoke more softly.
“But in here”—his eyes flicked briefly around the room, to all of them—“I don’t have to think about it the same way.”
That was the truth of it. Not that it didn’t exist, but that with them it wasn’t everything.
Lando swallowed once and gave the smallest, almost self‑conscious shrug. “I know I can be vulnerable here. I just don’t always know what to do with that.”
No one rushed to fill the silence. Charles looked at him differently now, not analysing but simply seeing. Oscar’s posture had shifted, less rigid and more grounded. Max dragged a hand down his face and exhaled.
“Yeah. Okay. That… yeah.”
George glanced away briefly, giving the moment space instead of framing it.
Lewis didn’t move. He didn’t soften in any obvious way, but when he spoke his voice was quieter.
“That doesn’t make you a liability,” he said.
Lando shook his head slightly. “I know.”
“It makes you human.”
A beat passed. Lando held his gaze, then nodded once.
A knock sounded at the door a second later. George opened it slightly. “The chief wants a word.”
The moment shifted. Not gone, but folded away. Lando straightened a little, composure sliding back into place, not as a mask but as something practiced, something he knew how to carry. Lewis glanced at him once, checking. Lando gave a small nod.
I’m good.
For now.
They stepped back into the hallway together. And this time, no one looked at Lando alone. They looked at all of them. As a unit. Exactly as it should be.
· ─ ·✶· ─ ·
The jet levelled out above the clouds, the engines settling into a steady, low hum. The cabin felt quieter now, not silent but contained in a way that made the earlier tension seem distant. Max was half asleep again with one arm folded over his eyes. Oscar sat across from him, still alert but less rigid than before. Charles had a file open on his lap, though he hadn’t turned a page in several minutes. George typed in short bursts, pausing often with a distant look in his eyes.
Lando sat near the window with his head tilted slightly back. He wasn’t asleep, but close enough that the line between waking and drifting blurred. The monitor at his ankle blinked softly, steady against the dim cabin light. Lewis watched him from across the aisle for a moment before standing.
“Hey,” Lewis said quietly as he approached.
Lando blinked and pulled himself back from the edge of sleep. “Yeah?”
Lewis didn’t sit immediately. He rested one hand on the back of the seat in front of Lando and studied him, not clinically or professionally but with something more personal.
“Look at me,” he said.
Lando did. There was no resistance in it, only habit and trust.
“You don’t get to carry that the way you are,” Lewis said.
Lando frowned slightly. “Carry what?”
“What happened to you,” Lewis replied. “What they keep reminding you of.”
Lando shifted a little in his seat. “It’s not—”
“You were a kid.”
That stopped him. Not the words themselves, but the way Lewis said them. Flat. Certain. Not open to argument.
“I knew what I was doing,” Lando said quietly.
“I didn’t say you didn’t,” Lewis replied. He paused. “But you were still a kid.”
Silence stretched between them, not tense but weighty. Lewis pulled the empty seat across from Lando and sat down, lower now and closer. He wasn’t towering over him or leading him. He was simply there.
“You didn’t hurt anyone,” Lewis continued. “You weren’t reckless. You weren’t chasing chaos.”
Lando’s jaw tightened slightly. “That’s not how they see it.”
“I don’t care how they see it.”
That landed harder than anything else had all day. Lewis held his gaze.
“My opinion on it?” he said. “It doesn’t matter to them. Never will.”
He paused, then spoke more quietly.
“But it should matter to you.”
Lando didn’t respond, but he didn’t look away either. Lewis leaned back slightly, though his voice stayed steady.
“You didn’t do something wrong,” he said. “You did something no one else had the guts to do.”
Lando exhaled slowly through his nose. “You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
There was no hesitation in it. No doubt. Lewis watched him carefully.
“You got caught,” he said, “because you were too good.”
Lando blinked, something flickering behind his eyes. “That’s not—”
“You didn’t slip,” Lewis said. “You didn’t make a mistake.”
He paused.
“You were forced into it.”
Lando went still. Completely. Lewis didn’t soften or hedge.
“You turned yourself in,” he said. “Because someone else made it clear that if you didn’t, they’d cross a line you wouldn’t.”
Lando’s throat tightened slightly as a memory surfaced, sharp and unwelcome. Lewis didn’t look away.
“You made a choice,” he said. “And it wasn’t about saving yourself.”
A long silence followed.
“…No,” Lando said, barely audible.
Lewis nodded once. “Exactly.”
The plane hummed around them, soft and steady. Lando leaned back slightly in his seat, something in his posture loosening for the first time since the precinct. He wasn’t fully relaxed, but he was less held.
Lewis reached behind him and pulled a folded blanket from the back of the seat. Lando watched him.
“You don’t have to—” he began.
“I know,” Lewis said.
He shook the blanket out once and draped it over Lando’s shoulders, tucking it lightly at his sides. It wasn’t restrictive. It was grounding. Lando didn’t argue or move. Lewis’s hand came up and rested briefly against the side of his head, a simple, steady touch. His fingers moved, brushing lightly through Lando’s hair. It wasn’t rushed or performative. It was familiar.
Lando’s eyes slipped shut for a second, then stayed that way. His breathing evened out, slow and steady, the tension bleeding away in quiet increments. Lewis didn’t stop or rush away. He stayed there a moment longer with his hand resting lightly against Lando’s head, making sure.
Then, softer than anything else he’d said, he murmured, “I’ve got you.”
· ─ ·✶· ─ ·
By the time Lewis stepped back, Lando was asleep. Properly asleep. His head tilted slightly toward the window, the blanket tucked around him, the faint blink of the monitor the only reminder of everything else.
Lewis returned to his seat. The team didn’t speak immediately. Max lowered his arm and glanced over.
“He out?”
Lewis nodded once.
Max huffed a quiet breath. “Good.”
Charles closed his file gently. “He needed that.”
Oscar’s gaze lingered on Lando for a moment before shifting back. “He shouldn’t have had to.”
George leaned back in his seat. “He shouldn’t have been in that cell, full stop.”
Lewis didn’t respond. Not because he disagreed, but because it didn’t need saying.
Max leaned forward slightly, his voice low. “That unsub knew we were in his pattern.”
Charles nodded. “Which means next time, if there is one, we’re not just observers. We’re variables.”
Oscar added, “He adapted fast. Too fast.”
Lewis’s expression hardened slightly. “And Lando saw it before any of us did.”
A beat passed.
George glanced over. “You think that’s going to become a problem?”
Lewis didn’t hesitate. “No. I think it’s going to become the reason we stay ahead.”
Across the aisle, Lando shifted slightly in his sleep, the blanket tightening around him. He was unaware of the conversation and unaware of the way the team’s focus kept drifting back to him. Not as a risk. Not as a liability. But as something else entirely.
Max leaned back again, quieter now. “Kid’s good.”
Oscar nodded once. “Yeah.”
Charles added softly, “He always was.”
Lewis’s gaze rested on Lando for a moment longer before he looked forward again. He didn’t correct them. Not about the word. Not about anything. Some things didn’t need correcting. Not when they were true.
· ─ ·✶· ─ ·