I KNOW I have to update tons of other things, but the truth is -- I've got things going on here, and I know I say that more often but it's really true now. Nevertheless, I wanted to do this challenge... Even though I believe Hotch is at least injured, but let's just say my fingers took over and wrote it this way. I hope you enjoy it!!


Sometimes you hear the bullet

… but you don't feel it. Sometimes you hear that short, decisive sound, aimed straight at you and destined to bore its way through your body.

But you don't feel it, because for some miraculous reason, you knew what was coming, and you thanked the gods for giving you the ability to duck away at that last moment, a sure millisecond before the bullet would hit you: just at the right time, not a moment too soon, nor too late.

You had no time to reconsider the miracle that had just happened, no time to figure out just what exactly had happened. In that short moment before you had heard the sound, you had your life flashing by you; no matter how cliché it was, you saw it. But you also saw what could have been, and in that haze, you had realized that you didn't want to die. That you could not die. You had business to finish, people to help. People to save, people –monsters– to be punished. This one man simply could not cause your downfall.

You had the man on the ground in seconds, his brute strength not standing a chance against years of dutiful FBI service. You did not care what would happen to him; calling the FBI, your own office, you just told them you had just been attacked, and you had the guy with you now. They asked no questions, only promised to come as quickly as possible.

And so it was that, after they had taken him away, you were sitting in the darkness of a quiet building: one you had not visited for many years, but had suddenly felt the urge to do so. After all, some would call what had happened tonight a miracle.

You had no way of knowing what had made you duck so fast, almost impossibly so. Instinct? Adrenaline? Or… you looked up, considering a possibility that had been out of your mind for many years.

God?

Your Christian background had quickly been wiped out by the irregular working hours, which left no time for prayer, and, more importantly, what you saw during those working hours. A God would not do these things to His children: of that you were convinced. When you saw children crying because their parents had died, you almost cursed the people who did believe: how could children be blamed? How was this their punishment?

But then, you knew that faith was illogical and thus a great source of comfort for many people, and you also knew you could not condone the people who found solace in such a belief.

Still, the eerie silence in the building made you feel illogical: made you feel like maybe, after all, there was a possibility that something had made you do the things you had done tonight.

After a while, you stood up, deciding it was time to leave and continue his life. There were more people to save, always more people.

There were others who did not deserve to hear that bullet.


So, what do you say? Please tell me what you think!

Also, my apologies for any mistakes. This is unbeta-ed and written in a hurry.