"The worst kind of war isn't fought with guns—it's waged in the space between your guilt and the person you love." —Jason Cole
Location: Jason's Cabin – 5:12 AM
Jason hadn't slept.
He sat in the armchair by the fire, boots laced, dog tags clinking softly between his fingers as he rolled them over and over. Across the room, JJ slept curled under the blanket, her breaths slow and peaceful—but even in sleep, her hand stayed within reach of her holstered sidearm.
He envied her.
She could rest with one eye closed.
He hadn't closed both eyes in years.
The fire snapped. A memory rose.
The desert. Nevis screaming into comms. Jason yelling for the ceasefire. Gunfire anyway. Then the child—no older than five—lying half-covered in dust and blood, her hand stretched out like the victim in the creek.
Jason clenched his fists.
"Whoever this bastard is," he whispered to himself, "he's not just targeting ghosts. He's pulling mine into the daylight."
Quantico – Garcia's Office – 8:03 AM
Penelope Garcia's fingers moved like a pianist under siege. Screens bloomed with layered encryption, old military seals, and digital footprints buried under decades of classified soil.
Hotch stood behind her, arms folded, watching as the final firewall dropped.
"There," Garcia said, eyes wide. "It's not just some rogue spook, Hotch. This guy… he's part of Project Icarus."
Reid's head snapped up from a file. "That's the DARPA-linked behavioral conditioning program from the late 2000s. It was supposed to be shelved."
Morgan frowned. "Didn't they use that program to train operatives to feel less guilt?"
"No," Hotch said, staring at the screen. "They trained them to weaponize it."
Garcia tapped a file and a face appeared. Cold eyes. Immaculate record. Former intelligence asset.
"Meet Dr. Alton Voss," she said. "Cognitive warfare specialist. Profile says he was obsessed with conditioning emotional triggers. He disappeared in 2014."
"Disappeared where?" Morgan asked.
"Afghanistan," Garcia said. "After one of his test subjects—Delta Force—went rogue."
Everyone turned to Reid.
Reid already knew.
Jason.
Coldwater Ridge – Zarek's Cabin – 9:46 AM
Jason stared at the photo of Voss on JJ's phone. His face didn't move. But his grip on the receiver tightened.
"I remember him," Jason said. "He wasn't a doctor. Not to us. He was a 'cognitive enhancement consultant.' Taught guys to suppress empathy and pain responses. Said it would make us 'purer' in the field."
JJ watched him carefully. "Did it work?"
Jason didn't answer.
Instead, he turned to the map and circled the coordinates of three nearby locations: decommissioned military listening posts, each with a satellite history of black site activity.
"He's not here to kill me," Jason said. "He's here to restart the program. And Nevis is the proof of concept."
JJ stepped beside him. "Then we stop it before it starts."
Jason looked at her—truly looked.
"JJ… if something happens—"
She stopped him with a hand to his chest.
"If you say 'don't come after me,' I will break your nose."
His face cracked into a rare smile.
She kissed him once, fast, fierce.
"You don't get to go back into the dark without me."
Location: Black Site Echo-17 – Hidden Bunker, 14 Miles Northwest – 12:11 PM
The entrance was buried under snow and rock—an old satellite array that hadn't transmitted in over a decade. But inside, the place hummed with low-level generators and the hum of recycled air.
Jason and JJ moved like shadows, tactical, wordless.
They cleared the main corridor. Then—
A scream echoed through the vents.
"Nevis," Jason hissed.
They moved.
Down a stairwell.
Into a concrete hallway.
And at the end—an open room glowing with overhead fluorescents. Nevis, strapped to a chair, shaking. A man stood beside him.
Dr. Alton Voss.
"Welcome back, Jason," he said without turning. "I was beginning to think you forgot the way home."
JJ raised her gun.
"Don't," Voss said, calmly holding up a small remote. "Heart monitor is wired. Flatline Nevis, and this whole room floods with halothane. Very messy."
Jason stepped forward.
"Why?" he asked. "You had your program. You disappeared. Why come for us?"
Voss finally turned.
"Because you were the only one it didn't work on," he said. "You saw what we made you… and you resisted. That's failure. That's weakness. Unless…"
He smiled.
"Unless I turn your guilt into obedience."
JJ moved closer to Nevis.
"Whatever you're trying to prove—this isn't science. It's revenge."
"No," Voss said. "It's evolution."
He pressed a button on the wall.
Suddenly—gunfire erupted from above.
Automated defense systems activated.
Lights flashed red.
Jason turned to JJ. "Get Nevis. I'll take Voss."
She didn't argue.
Voss ran.
Jason followed.
Sublevel – Medical Archive Corridor – 12:24 PM
Voss was fast, trained—but Jason was faster. He tackled him in the corridor, slamming him against the concrete wall, forearm across his throat.
"You wanted my attention?" Jason growled. "You've got it."
Voss gasped. "You're still holding back. Even now. That's why you'll never win."
Jason stared, breathing hard.
Then let go.
"No," he said. "That's why I'm still human."
JJ appeared moments later, Nevis barely conscious in her arms.
They didn't look back as they walked Voss out in cuffs.
That Evening – Jason's Cabin – 7:41 PM
Nevis slept in the spare room. Garcia had arranged emergency extraction. The Bureau would clean up the black site and officially bury Voss's legacy.
Jason and JJ sat on the porch as dusk fell.
"Do you regret not pulling the trigger?" she asked.
Jason thought for a long time.
"I regret not seeing this sooner. Not seeing what the mission made us."
JJ leaned her head on his shoulder.
"Maybe the mission was never about winning. Just surviving it long enough to find something worth fighting for."
Jason smiled faintly.
"I think I found it."
She tilted her head.
"Oh yeah? What?"
He didn't say anything.
He just kissed her.
And this time…
He didn't need to listen for ghosts in the silence.