One Hello
Dave's ears were ringing so loud he could barely hear the commotion from the street as weeping, screaming, and sirens filled the air. The acrid smell of burnt flesh and building materials permeated the crisp December air. All around was chaos.
Pushing himself up, Dave looked around the area and tried to comprehend what had just happened. A bomb! Now he remembered. Frantically, he pulled at Em's unconscious form lying on the floorboards of the car.
"Em! Emily!" He shook her to bring her back. No response. "Emily!" He pulled her into his arms and began looking for injuries. A gash across her forehead was bleeding profusely.
"Driver!" Dave shouted as the sirens neared. "Driver! Are you conscious? Talk to me!"
Shaking his head, the driver tried to snap himself out of the daze he had been thrust into. "I'm here. I'm here." His hands gripped the steering wheel like a life line.
"Will the car start?"
"I…I think so. I don't know."
"Try it," Dave commanded in his Marine Sergeant tone of voice. "Turn the key, son."
Obeying, the driver tried to turn over the engine a couple of times. On the third attempt, the car came to life. He said a prayer of thanksgiving under his breath.
"Drive us to the nearest hospital. Now!"
As careful as he dared, the driver maneuvered the car thru the street lined with burned out cars, dead bodies, and injured people waiting for assistance. He glanced in the rearview mirror at the man who was holding the ambassador.
"Is she alright?" he asked.
Dave tore at his shirt and pressed it to Em's wound. "She will be." His eyes met the driver's. "Keep an eye on the road. How far is the hospital?"
"Five clicks…more or less. When I get past the next corner, I'll be able to floor it."
"Just don't overdo it," Dave advised and went back to tending Em's injuries. Twice he called her name, then lightly slapped her face. "Come on, Tesoro, wake up. Tell me to stop calling you that," he begged. "Tesoro." He slapped her cheeks again. "Tesoro."
Em liked the darkness - it was safe and quiet and pain free - she didn't want to wake up. She tried to fight it, but the voice kept calling her name. She tried to tell it to stop, but the words wouldn't form.
"Emily, wake up!"
Groaning, Em forced her eyes to open, but the bright light was too harsh. "No," she whispered.
"That's my girl," Dave praised. He looked at her face. "Open your eyes. You have to open them, Em. You suffered a concussion, so you can't sleep. Don't go to sleep. Wake up!"
"No. Leave me…" she slurred.
"What is my name?" he asked. How could three miles take so long, he wondered. Hell, he could have walked to the hospital by now.
"I don't…" She tried to think.
"What is my name?" he repeated.
"D-Dave," she managed.
"Good girl. What day is it?"
"Tues… No, Thursday."
"Which month?"
"D-D-December, I think."
"You're doing well, Tesoro."
Em closed her eyes. "Don't call me, Tes…" Her head lolled against Dave's shoulder.
"Damn it! Driver, step on it!" Laying Em's head in his lap, he applied more pressure to the wound. Why wouldn't it stop bleeding? "Em, we're almost there. I'm not going to let you go."
The car came to a sudden and abrupt halt as the driver hit the brakes and threw the engine into park. Quickly, he got out and hurried to open the passenger door.
"Let me help," he offered and bent down to take Em from Dave.
"No. No," Dave brushed the driver away. "Go get a stretcher…help…anything. I got her." Shifting his weight, he stepped out of the car and stood up. Adjusting Em's slight build in his arms, he hurried toward the Emergency doors.
A doctor and nurse met him at the doors. Immediately they began to assess the situation and Em's condition.
"How long has she been unconscious?" the doctor asked as he peered into Em's eyes and checked her pupils.
"A couple of minutes. She came to, but she lost consciousness soon after," Dave relayed. The doctor snapped for a stretcher. Reluctantly, Dave surrendered the woman of his heart over to the trauma team and watched as they rushed her into the hospital.
He hurried after them. He barely listened to the medical jargon as Em's vitals were taken. He barely remembered how he found himself in a sterile white exam room.
"Sir," a nurse's voice broke through Dave's thoughts. "Sir?" she repeated when she received no response.
"Yes?" Dave acknowledged her.
"I'm going to have to ask you to wait outside." The nurse gently took his arm and tried to lead him out of the room.
"I'm not leaving her." Dave stood firm and watched the doctor tend to Em's injuries.
"I'm going to have to ask you to leave." She put more force behind moving him out of the room into the hallway. "She'll be alright," the nurse assured Dave before leaving to assist with the other victims who were being brought in.
Looking around the hospital, Dave pulled his thoughts together. He needed to report in about what had just happened…as soon as he found out Em's condition.
*******
Hotch was lying in bed relishing in being able to just rest and not have to worry about going in to the office. Christmas stand down had commenced, and he was going to spend the two weeks he had been given with Jack.
Jack. His heart.
He smiled as he recalled how Jack had run into the bedroom excited about the foot of snow that had fallen during the night. Could they make a snow fort? When could they go outside? It had taken all of Hotch's energy to calm his son down and send him downstairs to eat a bowl of cereal. He would be down, soon.
But first, he was going to catch a little more sleep. He turned over, punched the pillow, and closed his eyes.
The ringing of the cell interrupted his slumber. Reaching over, he grabbed the phone, flipped it open.
"Hotchner."
"Boss!"
"Garcia?" Hotch heard the panic in the tech analyst's voice. Fully awake, he sat up and prepared for the worst. "What's wrong?"
"Are you watching the news?" she demanded.
"No. No," he replied stupidly. "I just got up. What's wrong?" He blindly reached for the remote to turn on the TV.
"Turn on the news!"
Hotch pressed a button. The news station came on. The scene of a city bombing and terror covered the screen. Hotch tried to comprehend what was happening.
"There was a bombing in Jordan!" Pen continued in a rush. "Emily is in Jordan! What is going on?!"
"Wait! What is going on? Start at the beginning," Hotch ordered. He listened as Pen repeated everything she knew up to that moment.
"I can't get hold of anyone who can tell me how my angel is," Pen nearly wept.
"What about Dave? Have you contacted him? What about Ambassador Prentiss?" Hotch jumped out of bed and started dressing as fast as one free arm would allow.
"Rossi's phone is down. And Ambassador Prentiss's went to voicemail. Oh, Boss! What if…?"
Hotch stopped cold. "No 'what ifs', Garcia," he interrupted. "Take a deep breath, and then I want you to do everything you can to find out about what is happening there. Do you understand me?"
"Y-y-yes, Boss," she stammered.
"Emily is alright. I'm sure of it." He looked at his watch. "I need to get dressed and call Jessica. I will be in the office in thirty minutes. I will want an update." He flipped the phone closed.
Pulling on his Navy blue jacket, Hotch looked out the window at the snow covered yard. His heart sank. He had broken his promise to Jack. Again.
Hotch sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his socks. He could still make it up to his son.
But first, there was evil he needed to defeat.
Flipping the phone open, he pressed two buttons and waited for the contact to answer.
"Reid? It's Hotch. What are your plans?" he asked, then nodded as the answer came over the line. "I need you to go with me to Jordan."