I own nothing except Presalee...everything else belongs to CBS.
Her body lay in an alley, blood creeping from the stab wound, growing colder with each passing minute. Everything was so bright, and blurry. She couldn't move. She heard sirens, they were getting closer. They were about ten feet away, and they stopped moving. She heard approaching footsteps and loud voices. She heard them talking about her, but she couldn't understand what they were saying. She felt something applying pressure to the stab wound, and then she was being lifted off of the ground. Then everything went dark.
Derek Morgan sat in the bullpen, going over some paperwork. His cellphone rang.
"Morgan." He said gruffly.
"Derek Morgan?" A female voice said.
"Yes, that's me." Derek answered.
"Hi, this is Sharon Cross. I'm a nurse at St. Peter's hospital. I work in the ER. Are you familiar with a Miss Presalee Larson?" Sharon Cross asked.
"Yes, she's my girlfriend. Why?" Derek asked, growing worried.
"We're going to need you to come down to the ER, she was found in an alley two hours ago. She's still alive, but she's in pretty bad shape. We found your name and number in her cell phone. Your phone was the one she's made the most calls to recently, we figured we should contact you." The nurse asked.
"Okay, I'll be there in ten to fifteen minutes." He said, then snapped his phone shut.
"What is it?" J.J. asked.
"Presalee, she's in the ER. I don't know what happened. I'm going down there now. Will you tell Hotch for me?" He asked.
"Yeah, sure. Do you want me to drive?" J.J. offered.
"No, I can drive myself. Just tell Hotch what's going on." Derek said. And with that he was gone.
