serendipity - to find something good without looking for it

cameron's pov

"there have been four deaths, all women between the ages of twenty and thirty, each living a relatively low risk life style." hotch announced, the jet soaring through the sky. "the m.e. says it looks like every victim overdosed."

"so," spencer began. "our unsub is probably trying to cover up his crimes, he's trying to make them look like overdoses."

"either that, or the drugs have some significance to him." emily added.

the team nodded, everyone directing their attention to their individual case files, i did the same.

i'd actually gotten sleep last night, no nightmares. i woke up refreshed and ready to work today, something i hadn't felt in so long.

"hey garcia," derek perked up. "did our victims have any history of drug use?"

"i will get digging my friends, have a safe ride to california!" penelope chirped, logging off.

victim #1: lauren james
29 year old student, was attending medical school at ucla.

victim #2: riley hayes
25 year old mother, had her first child as a teenager.

victim #3: vanessa pierce
22 year old emt, no kids or partner.

victim #4: lucy fields
30 year old firefighter, left behind a husband.

i first realized that three out of our four victims had some ties to the medical or first responders field, it sparked my interest.

working to save people's lives can be a very stressful job—believe me—that could be our common denominator.

"hey guys," i inquired. "most of our victims have some sort of relation to the medical field, lauren was a medical student, vanessa, an emt, and lucy and firefighter."

"it could just be a coincidence." derek chimed.

"i'm not sure, it seems too targeted. we should have garcia look into places that their paths might've crossed." i replied.

"how would you explain riley hayes then?" he rebutted.

"well, she was a teen mom and she now has three kids, it may not be the same as being a first responder, but she still has a high stress job." i answered.

he nodded his head, digging further into his papers. the team, who's attention was on us, went back to studying.

-

reid and i approached the woman's body, it was sprawled across her living room floor.

"no signs of forced entry?" i asked, glancing at the detective. she shook her head.

"so the unsub must've known his victims." spencer said.

i walked around the body, crouching down on the left side, i squinted my eyes to get a closer look at her arm.

"spencer look." i waved him over.

on our victims arms were small, circular scars, that we often see on past drug users. spencer confirmed my suspicions and we left, calling the rest of the team in the car.

"riley hayes was a recovering addict," i spat out, not giving anyone time to greet us. "we saw scarred needle marks on her arm, i'm assuming she's been clean for less than a year."

"okay, i'll get garcia to check on our other victims. this could be a break, great job." the line cut off.

i decided i should check on spencer, he hadn't talked so far and he's been clean for less time than i have, he might need some support.

"you alright?" i asked, peering up at him.

"what?" i snapped him out of his daze. "oh, yeah. i'm good, thanks." he gave me a thin lipped grin.

"alright well, i'm planning on hitting a meeting tonight, you should come with me. it'll be good for both of us."

i really hadn't ever stopped going to narcotics anonymous meetings, i tried to make at least one per week, they were important to my sobriety.

"yeah, for sure." he agreed. "thanks."

"of course, that's what girlfriends are for, right?" i laughed.

"right." he responded, chuckling.

we sat in silence for a few moments before my phone rang, i quickly answered seeing as it was from penelope.

"hey penny! what's up?" i greeted.

"hello my angels, i found something, patching everyone else in now." spencer and i looked at each other, ready to hear about garcia's discovery.

"go ahead garcia." hotchs voice boomed through the phone.

"so, when derek told me to look into past drug use earlier today, i mostly skimmed. i looked into treatment facilities and family statements, i came up empty. but when our brilliant cameron confirmed that riley was a drug addict, it occurred to me, i didn't look into narcotics anonymous meetings. all of our victims frequently visited the same meeting held at berry hills therapy center." she explained.

spencer beamed at me, excited that we found something.

"thank you garcia." hotch affirmed before hanging up.

"that's awesome!" i chirped.

we usually didn't have breaks this early in a case.

"yeah, but i don't know if we should go to that meeting tonight." spence giggled.

"agreed, we'll make one back in virginia."

"it's a date." he smiled.

-

after hotch told us to get some rest, we all complied, ready to fall back onto our hotel beds. but now that i was in my room, alone, i felt no urge to sleep, terrified that i would wake up shaking or crying.

i peered down at my wrists, disappointed to see the scars fading. they gave me a sense of comfort, serenity.

i wanted so badly to mutilate my arms with my nails, drawing blood and forming new marks, instead i reached for the bottle of vodka to my left and took a swig.

the alcohol made my body warmer, forcing me to feel calm and comfy.

-

hours had passed, i was now disoriented beyond recognition.

i couldn't cope with the fact that the scars on my wrist were slowly fading away, making them almost invisible.

i thought back to the times drew injured me, thinking about all the scars he'd formed. i wanted them to disappear, i only wanted the scars that i had control over.

in my drink state, i stumbled to the bathroom, ready to resort to a habit id kicked back in middle school.

"cameron, lift your sleeves." the school counselor coaxed me.

i refused so she did it for me, revealing the many slits littered across my wrists.

it got bad.

my parents divorced, my dad left, i was numb. no amount of material items or love could fix my pain, but the blade i damaged myself with could.

seeing the crimson blood fall down my arm, oozing out slowly, it calmed me. it was a coping mechanism, i didn't think it was harmful, it worked for me.

now i peer down at my skin that had been an empty canvas for so long, ready to turn it back into a painting of inner hatred.