A/N: Liz said "Pick a Superchic[k] song. Involve Derek Morgan. And no shirt." And then it just got really angsty.
"One more, go one more, yeah, yeah, don't stop now, go one more, yeah, yeah, one more, go one more, go one more, go one more, yeah, yeah."
The sweat made his shirt cling to his skin, and he pulled it off quickly, trying to maintain the rhythm in his head.
"Ninety-two. Ninety-three. Ninety-four." Flash. Dark hair. "Ninety-five." Flash. Dark eyes. "Ninety-six." Flash. A chuckle. "Ninety-seven. Ninety-eight." He was painfully aware of the extra weight he had added to the machine- much more than usual. But he couldn't stop. If he stopped…
"Ninety-nine."
Flash. A stake in her stomach.
"One… hundred…"
Flash. A hospital waiting room.
He let go of the handles like he wasn't supposed to, and they snapped back to their place on the machine. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his discarded t-shirt, gasping for air.
More. He needed more weight.
He moved the pin yet again, and pushed his back up against the machine, grabbing the handles and bracing himself.
Flash. "Don't you give up on me, Emily!"
He pulled with all his might, straining against the unrelenting cords. "One…"
"Whoa, whoa. Hey." One of the fitness instructors was suddenly standing in front of him. "You're gonna hurt yourself, man."
Morgan shook his head.
Flash. "We did all we could, but she lost a lot of blood."
"….Two."
"Hey, man. I can't let you do that. That's too heavy."
Morgan looked up at the man, his eyes darker than usual. "I have to."
"You don't have to prove anything here. To get a good work out, you need to…"
The man's voice faded, replaced by the sound of agonized breathing. The handles he was holding onto turned from cool and hard to warm and sticky, moving in an irregular rhythm.
"Sir, I-"
He dropped the handles, picking up his t-shirt and walking away from the machine, the sounds of the gym muted by the sound of a weak heartbeat in his ears.
He turned the shower on as cold as it would go, shivering as it seemed to pierce his skin, but he didn't really feel it. All he felt was her blood on his hands, on his chest, on the stretcher, on her.