Author's Note:
Not a "what if" challenge but it is a one-shot and rather short. I had this weird dream and decided to write it down. Spoilers for season 6. Prentiss-centric, in fact its first person POV. I blame the previews for next week's CM to air for this fic coming about. By no means am I saying this will actually happen in the show, it was after all only a dream. When it comes to dreams, I have Reid's memory. I can recall them with startling clarity. Anyway, reviews are always nice! Enjoy!
"And come he slow or come he fast, it is but Death who comes at last." - Sir Walter Scott
It was all unraveling so quickly. I can't believe he found me. Well, maybe I always thought that he would, that he could. I did have several passports in a safe in my apartment for a reason. Confliction ripped me asunder. He'd all but threatened my team, my family. They had a right to know about the possible danger but I couldn't bring myself to tell them. It wasn't their problem. I could deal with this on my own.
Morgan speaking to me broke my thoughts. "Okay Emily, seriously what's going on with you?"
"Didn't I ask you to leave it alone?" I bristled.
"You did."
"Then drop it already."
Morgan didn't look happy but I didn't care. Why couldn't he mind his own damned business? The Suburban came to a stop and when I got out I slammed the door shut behind me.
Rapid fire shots of bullets came raining down on us. I took cover behind the SUV immediately. From the burst of fire, it was probably an automatic machine gun. With my gun drawn, I cautiously peered under the vehicle to see where the shooter was located. Across the street. It was impossible to see who was shooting. All I could see was the shooter's feet and the bullet casings as they dropped to the ground. I didn't see any sign of Morgan. "Derek?" I screamed above the roar of the bullets. Why hadn't this guy run out of bullets? I felt like I was in a movie with a never ending clip. There was no answer and the world around became deathly quiet as the bullets finished their pelting rage.
A sense of ominous trepidation took hold of me but I shook it off quickly and I peeked around the vehicle, my gun aimed at the shooter. Well, it would have been if the bastard had still been there. I still hadn't heard anything from Morgan, so I moved to the driver's door. It was riddled with bullets. Derek was slumped forward, blood pouring out of him. Despite all the death I've seen, I found myself fighting the urge to vomit. With a shaking hand I opened the door. "Oh God Derek, I am so sorry…" I checked for a pulse futilely. His blood was on my hands both figuratively and literally. I wiped my hand on my pants to get it off. I now knew how Lady Macbeth felt, with her damned spots. I shuddered and turned away from the grisly sight.
Movement caught my eye. I must have been so busy worrying about Morgan I hadn't heard someone approach. I swiveled, my gun at the ready. My eyes narrowed upon seeing the son of bitch. I squeezed the trigger rapidly. We must have shot simultaneously because I went down too. My leg seared with intense pain and my chest was burning from where my vest had caught a bullet or two. I choked for breath, the impact leaving me breathless. That'd leave a bruise for sure. With effort, I looked at my wounded leg. It was bleeding profusely and the blood was dark. Shit, had it nicked the femoral artery? I began to get light headed. Darkness crept upon my vision and blurred reality. Then nothingness…