Emily's heart stops in her chest. She can't breathe, but somehow she turns around and starts to run. Derek is the only person who runs fast enough to catch up with her. He jumps into the passenger seat.
"Emily, listen to me," he says, trying to get her to focus on him. "Let me drive you."
Wordlessly she starts the SUV and peels out of the parking lot.
She doesn't notice the rest of the team racing behind her in a black SUV. Hotch is driving. He pulls in front of Emily with his lights going, making sure her drive will be as fast and easy as possible.
Emily gets out her phone, trying to drive and see her text messages at the same time. She doesn't understand why she can't see her screen. She doesn't realize that her eyes are full, but refusing to spill over.
"Emily, pull over!" Derek demands, his voice hard.
Frantic, Emily slams on the brakes. A car behind them swerves to miss them, honking angrily. As soon as the car is stopped, Derek leaps out of the passenger side and races around to the driver's side. Emily climbs over onto the passenger seat.
She's always good in a tense situation. Always. This is why she's had the jobs that she has. She can keep her cool, she can compartmentalize. But right now, she feels like she's spinning.
Not Violet. It cannot be Violet. Her Violet.
She blinks, trying to see her phone. Texts from Violet fill the screen. She reads them as fast as she can, scrolling up so she can start at the beginning.
Oh my god, Mom come get me. Someone has a gun.
Goddammit, you're in an airplane. Please text me back.
Mommy, come get me please!
OK, I'm OK. I'm in a janitor closet with Matthew. Text, don't call.
I love you. Please know I love you. Whatever happens.
Emily's eyes sting and her throat feels like it's closing in on itself.
This can't be real.
But it is.
This is real, she tells herself. Smarten up. Do what you have to do.
She tries to take a deep breath but it catches in her throat. She feels strangely shocked by the partial sob that escapes.
"We're almost there, Em," Derek promises, squeezing her hand. "We'll get her. We'll get Vi."
She doesn't speak. She can't.
"Drive faster," she tries to say, but the word chokes off.
She swallows the ending of the sentence, clenching her teeth together.
Violet feels like her heart is going to beat out of her chest. She learned from the best teacher very early on to stay calm when things went crazy. To use her head. She's trying to do that, but this is the first time she's been in a truly terrifying situation.
She half wishes that she hadn't sent that last text message. It sounds like a goodbye to her mother, but she's so scared that she needs it to be the last thing her mom hears from her. Or reads from her.
Matthew's large, long-fingered hand is gripping hers. She can feel his pulse through his fingers. Or else it's her own. Either way, they're both panicking.
As soon as the kid came in the gym with the gun, Violet had grabbed Matthew and ran. Something in her just told her to.
The first safe place she could find was the janitorial closet.
"Eleven shots," Violet mumbles, chewing her lip.
Matthew glances at her. He's impressed at how fast she acted.
"That many?" he whispers.
Violet nods.
"It's dark," she adds. "He might not have hit anybody."
"He knew exactly who he wanted to hit," Matthew whispers back.
Violet looks at him.
"Those two seniors," Matthew tells her. "The ones who were teasing him in the library? They're always on his case."
Violet forgot—Matthew was in the library the other day, when Devon, the shooter, knocked over the vase.
"My mom will be here," Violet tells him, for the third time. "As soon as their plane lands, they'll come."
"The police are already here. Somewhere," Matthew says.
"She's FBI."
Matthew's eyes widen. "Your mom works for the FBI?"
"Yeah," Violet murmurs.
She doesn't go around broadcasting that information. She only told Matthew that her mom worked in law enforcement.
"Holy shit!" Matthew stares at her. "That's fucking amazing! Where are they then?"
Just then, Violet's phone buzzes. Her heart leaps, seeing her mother's message.
I'm coming. Please stay where you are. I will find you. I love you. You're going to be okay. Keep texting me so I know you're okay.
Her eyes fill immediately.
Goddammit, she mutters inside her head.
It's just like when she was six and broke her arm. She can act tough in front of anybody, except her mother. As soon as she sees her, or apparently even reads a text, Violet feels that pull to crawl into her mother's lap and disappear there. Like it's the safest place in the world.
She sees the battery icon and closes her eyes slowly. She's in the red zone. It's going to die any minute.
"What did she say?" Matthew demands.
"She's coming," Violet whispers, pacing the few steps she can within the small closet. "We just have to wait."
Matthew takes a deep breath.
"I feel like I'm going to piss myself," he mutters, his hands shaking so badly that he tries to settle them by clasping them on top of his head.
"I wouldn't judge you," Violet replies.
Matthew lets out a quiet burst of laughter, which makes Violet smile, just for a second.
"I'm sorry," Matthew breathes, covering his mouth. "When I get really fucking scared, I start laughing. I don't know why."
"It's just your body's way of releasing the tension," Violet replies, making herself take even breaths.
They're quiet again, listening. The door doesn't lock from the inside so they keep gripping the handle, hoping that if Devon tries to open it, he thinks it's locked.
"How long has it b-"
Violet's cut off by the sound of several gunshots. They sound like they're right outside the door, and she jumps at the sounds.
"You did this!" comes a devastated scream. "You did this!"
Violet meets Matthew's eyes and they both hold their breath.
"I'm sorry, man," they hear someone sob. "I'm sorry."
Matthew's hand tightens around Violet's. His mouth starts to open but Violet's hand snaps up and covers it. She shakes her head. Her entire body is vibrating with fear.
The SUV full of Hotch and the others slams to a stop in the parking lot of Violet's school. Emily is already out before Derek comes to a full stop. She almost trips but keeps running.
"Hey!" an officer yells, coming towards her.
"It's alright," comes Hotch's voice, and then his hands are gripping her arms.
He flashes the officer his badge.
"What do you guys know?" he demands.
The officer immediately straightens, ready to answer any questions Hotch has.
"Kid showed up with a gun. We've had several callers from inside the school, all students. Shots have been fired and we have someone in the gymnasium saying there are four injured students."
Emily grinds her teeth together. Unable to stand still and knowing she can't run inside, like she wants to, she starts to pace.
She pulls out her phone. The last message she got from Violet came seven minutes ago, telling her mother that she was still okay.
Emily lets out a breath that shakes its way out of her lungs.
"She's okay?" Hotch asks, his stern face in front of hers.
Emily nods.
"She's in a janitorial closet," Emily says tightly. "It's been seven minutes since she's said anything, though."
"We have someone bringing us a map of the school," the officer tells her. "Your daughter's here?"
Emily nods. If she opens her mouth again, she's afraid a sob will come out.
She's suddenly aware that Penelope and JJ are on either side of her.
"We're sending in officers," JJ informs her. "The boy is in a hallway on the main floor. A student just called in from a classroom where she's hiding with several other students."
"Emily," Hotch says firmly, waiting for her to meet his eyes.
But hers are darting around, trying to see everything; hoping to see Her Everything.
"Emily," he says again.
She meets his eyes.
"We'll get her out," he vows.
She tries to make herself nod. She tries to make herself believe him.