A/N: This chapter took me ages to write, but I am happy with how it turned out in the end. Hope you guys enjoy. It takes place during and after 3x09 (the episode where Penelope gets shot.
Mid-November 2007
Bad things always happened when the phone rang in the dead of night.
Groggy and half asleep, Emily fumbled for the offending noise on the bedside table, knocking over what she believed to be the alarm clock and some pills in the process. "Hello?" She mumbled, not taking notice of the caller I.D.
Her ears were greeted with Hotch's gruff voice, "Prentiss, Hi. Have you got a minute?"
Emily sat up in bed, switching on the lamp. Had it been anyone else calling, she would have told them to get lost and let her sleep in peace. But the woman knew Hotch didn't randomly make phone calls at the witching hours, and that in itself had alarm bells tolling. Surely, he wasn't ringing to say they needed to fly out at this ungodly hour to the middle of nowhere.
"Please don't tell me there's an amber alert in an Arizona desert…" A missing child or terrorism would be the only things she assumed Hotch would interrupt her precious beauty sleep to tell her about. But from his silence, Emily figured this call didn't involve a case. Her mind immediately bounced to the members of the team; she hadn't even considered that something sinister could have happened to them. "Oh… Someone's been hurt… Haven't they?"
"That's why I'm calling…" His breath haltered for a few seconds. A second too many for Emily's liking.
"Hotch?"
"Penelope's been shot."
Emily bolted out of bed like a flamethrower exploding into the air before her brain even comprehended the information. Her world hazed into one big blur with a million thoughts crossing her mind all at once. It wasn't until Emily noticed she was knee-deep in her closet, trying to find a comfortable pair of jeans to wear that the emotion hit her square in the chest.
She struggled to catch her breath or find her voice for that matter, and when she finally did, it was croaky, the sort of croaky where tears were threatening to fall, "Wha… What?! Is she okay? What the hell happened?" Now every question snowballed out, and Hotch had to interrupt her.
"Prentiss…"
She paused in her tracks, listening for further information. "Yeah… Yes, I'm listening… Oh crap…"
"I need you here, we need to figure out who did this…" Pushing back her emotion, Emily tucked the phone between her shoulder blade and ear. Frantically, she searched around the apartment for her car keys which were missing; they must have fallen off a shelf, or she'd dropped them somewhere.
"Please tell me that she will be okay…That's all I want to know."
Emily heard silence.
Silence with Hotch never meant anything ecstatic.
"It's not looking good." His voice sounded of dread, and Emily closed her eyes, swallowing the panic. Why this? Why now? She'd just come back from a genuinely sickening case, and now somebody she cared deeply for lay on a surgical table, fighting for her life.
Emily whispered, "I'll be there in ten," and the line went dead. Flustered, Emily wiped the bead of sweat already forming on her brow and continued searching her apartment for the missing keys, making sure to appropriately dress herself in the process. After moving shelves and even looking under the bed, she found them hidden under a pile of envelopes.
She rushed to her car and practically sped out the parking lot.
The woman felt so panicked that she hadn't even considered glancing in the mirror on the way out. Dark bags underlined her bloodshot eyes, her hair was like a cactus flying in all sorts of directions, and her breath probably stunk like a dumpster. Emily even double-checked she'd chucked on her jeans and something decent to wear to the hospital. As she observed herself in the rear-view mirror, she smoothed down her horrid bed hair, so she looked at least semi human.
No matter how awful her appearance, all Emily felt like doing was breaking down and crying. This couldn't have been happening. Not to Penelope. Not to her friend. Not to the one person in the team who didn't have experience in the field. The brunette grit her teeth together and her hands clenched the steering wheel tightly as she silently cursed whoever did this to Penelope Garcia. Boy, would they find the son of a bitch and boy would he pay.
Life flashed before her eyes. Suddenly, she couldn't imagine the rest of her life without Penelope by her side. The woman was so… Innocent, sweet, unique, optimistic, and so badass. What on earth did she do to deserve getting shot? The question would rack her mind until they found the bastard responsible.
After running a couple red lights, Emily made it to the hospital in record time and bumped into Rossi on the way inside. "Emily. What the hell is going on?"
The brunette shook her head, breathless. "I don't know… I just hope to God that she's okay."
The pair rushed into the waiting room outside of the surgical unit, where they saw Hotch, J.J. and Spencer standing around.
"What do we know?" Rossi asked without missing a beat.
Hotch whispered, "police think it was a botched robbery…"
The statement made Emily feel sick to her stomach. How dare they shoot one of her best friends and steal from her. She glanced at the others, noticing a person missing, "where's Morgan?"
"He's not answering his cell," J.J. answered.
That was very much unlike Morgan to not answer his phone. Usually, he would pick up within two or three rings. "I'll call him again," Spencer whispered, walking away while Emily's jaw dropped open. This seriously could not be happening. Firstly, Penelope getting shot, then Morgan not answering his cell. Emily wasn't dreaming… Was she?
The brunette pinched herself, wincing internally at the sudden pain- which unfortunately clarified to her that she was entirely awake and conscious.
And clarified that Penelope was on the brink of death…
"How long has she been in surgery?" The brunette asked Hotch.
He visibly sucked in a breath, "just under half an hour…"
Emily closed her eyes, taking a seat beside J.J. She looked as pale as paper. Her naturally bubbly blue eyes were glazed over and fixed to the floor. As if the ship in her stomach wasn't drowning enough, Emily felt it sink even deeper. Hotch's words from earlier rung louder in her ear by the second- It's not looking good- and the blonde's numb expression couldn't have painted a better picture.
She gripped onto J.J.'s hand tightly. There were no words that could be muttered to cheer each other up, no funny jokes to lighten the moment. All anyone could do was sit uncomfortably, silently praying to a God that would listen to save their friend.
Rossi stood idly in the same spot, leaning against an archway with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Spencer sat forward in a seat, fidgeting, and not knowing what to do with himself. And as she glanced up at the leader of the team, pacing around with his arms crossed tightly, he made eye contact.
Only for the briefest of moments, but in that moment, she could read every single emotion present in those light hazel eyes of his. A whole mixture full. Most evident in them was that fear. The fear they were going to lose Penelope. The fear that everything would fall apart and nothing would ever be the same again. Emily didn't think she'd ever seen Hotch 'fearful' before. Maybe she had, but tonight had been the first time noticing. Emily watched as he glanced down at his watch for the hundredth time, probably wishing the big hand would move another inch quicker.
Instead, it seemed like time had frozen. Every second that ticked by felt like an hour. Doctors and nurses occasionally rushed past, and a gush of anxiety would wave through them all, thinking that Garcia was gone.
How something like this could happen to Garcia of all people, nobody on the team would understand. But one thing for sure was… They would track down the person who did this and send a bullet flying through their skull, and nothing could stop them.
One hour into the surgery… No word.
An hour and fifteen minutes into the surgery… Spencer tries calling Morgan again. No answer.
An hour and a half into the surgery… Hotch speaks to the lead detective that will be investigating the shooting. He says nothing will be gained from analysing the scene.
Two hours into the surgery… Morgan finally arrives.
The surgery takes two hours and eighteen minutes… The surgeon delivers the news they had all been anxiously waiting for;
Penelope is safe.
And everybody releases the breath they didn't know had been held.
Two long and frustrating days had passed since Penelope came out of surgery. Usually, cases progressed incredibly quickly within the first twenty-four hours, but tracking down Garcia's shooter was proving a difficult challenge. More so with the fact that their technical analyst was bedridden in the hospital, recovering from a gunshot wound to the torso.
And as Hotch reviewed Penelope's account of that night over and over again, his mind slowly flew away with the fairies.
He needed a break.
"Prentiss," the brunette momentarily glanced up to acknowledge Hotch before returning her attention to the files. "Break time."
As Emily bit down hard on her bottom lip, she fought the urge to throw a stapler at the man standing beside her desk. After hours of having no information to work with, she'd finally found a potential lead to chase.
And now Hotch was forcing her on one of his stupid mandatory breaks… She didn't need to sit around and play monopoly or stroll around a park feeding ducks, Emily needed to be searching for Penelope's bastard shooter. The mere thought of being away from her desk had the brunette scowling. For every second that she wasn't researching or analysing behaviour, it was another second the gunman lurked in the creaks and crevasses of Washington D.C., potentially planning to target her friend once more.
So, she stayed put in her seat, ignoring Hotch's request and continued working- much to her superior's disgust. His silent, but harsh gaze burnt into her the way sunlight scorches skin, and for a moment, Emily thought he was about to drag her out of the bullpen by the ear.
"Prentiss…" Aaron repeated, a little louder. The man would stand by her desk all day, watching her like a hawk if he had to. At some point, she would give in.
"Give me fifteen," Emily muttered, not looking up, "I might have something."
"Ten."
"I'm gonna need more time than that…"
"You're procrastinating. Ten minutes."
The brunette huffed, "okay whatever, ten minutes."
Hotch wanted to cut off the power supplying her computer. A big pet peeve of his was waiting for others when he wanted to go somewhere. But even he had to admit, it was an absolute pain in the ass being in the midst of a task and continually being interrupted. So, the man paced quietly around the bullpen, waiting ten whole minutes until the brunette gathered her things.
"You find a lead?" He asked when he returned to her desk.
Aaron could have sworn Prentiss just rolled her eyes at him, "you know, had I not been forced on a mandatory break, we might have been chasing that dooshbag around the city by now."
Hotch took that as a no.
"You'll thank me when we get back."
The brunette shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat as she followed him out into the elevator lobby, "yeah about that… Where exactly are we going?"
Shrugging, Hotch replied, "coffee."
Prentiss desperately wanted to ask him what on earth was wrong with having a coffee break back in the bullpen, but she bit her tongue. To be fair, the little coffee sachets in the kitchenette tasted awful, and the thought of a well-brewed coffee appealed to Emily.
"So, uh… What about you? Got any leads?" Prentiss asked as they stepped into the elevator. With the scarce information Garcia had provided them with, along with the lack of analysis from the crime scene, all the team could work with was behaviour Penelope had noticed. The trouble was a little flick of the hair, or a smile didn't significantly narrow down their search. So, they'd all been grasping at straws for the last few days- at least Emily was.
"Didn't we make an agreement to not discuss work while we were on a break?" Hotch retorted back, making eye contact.
Emily wanted to burst out laughing, "seriously? I remember discussing that we'd spend an hour off duty, but not ONCE do I remember you saying we weren't allowed to discuss work." What the hell else was she supposed to talk about with him?
The weather?
The thought of her sitting opposite Hotch at a table admiring clouds shrouding the sun popped into her head. She hated small talk. And there was no way in hell she would talk about rain pelting the roof every time she went on a break with Hotch.
"The whole point of taking these breaks, Prentiss, is to get away from work. Not bring it with us."
She opened her mouth to say something sarcastic, but the words seemed to be absorbed straight back like a vacuum. "Okay. I just wanted to know if you'd found something useful to go on. Because for the last two days all I've done is look at the sketch of that guy over and over again and none of the potential suspects I've flagged match his description."
"No. I haven't. But until Reid and Morgan can dig some more information out from Garcia, that's all we have to go on." As they made their way to the ground lobby, it partially eased Hotch's mind to know that he wasn't the only agent struggling with finding the son of a bitch. It felt like he'd been reading the same information for years, hoping the act of merely staring at the paper would lead anything to pop out at him.
A cold breeze hit them square in the face the moment they stepped outside, almost like someone had shot ice cubes at them. Emily wrapped the coat as close to her as possible while Hotch bore the brunt of it; he should have worn his damn jacket out. "Where's the best coffee place around here?" Emily asked, interrupting him out of his thoughts. He pointed down the street.
The best place that he'd found was one Gideon introduced him to one day. It was a fifteen-minute walk from the bureau, but it was damn worth it for the coffee. And Prentiss would appreciate it. "They better do food too… I'm starving."
"Oh, don't worry about that. Their doughnuts are simply the best."
"As long as they have caramel cream ones with sprinkles on top, I'm set…" Emily said, already salivating at the thought of food in her stomach.
"It's the chocolate frosted ones that are my downfall…"
Emily glanced over with the slightest frown, "really? I would never have picked you as a chocolate frosted sort of guy… I assumed you were plain all the way."
"Plain actually used to be my favourite, but you can blame Reid for the transition. One day he brought in chocolate frosted doughnuts and ever since I've never changed my order," Hotch said with a smirk.
Anybody could see the gears grinding in her head, "you don't mean to say that everyone else knows about this place except me?"
"Well yeah… It's Virginia's worst kept secret," Hotch retorted back with a rare smirk.
The bewilderment on Prentiss' face would forever amuse Hotch, "I can't believe I didn't know! And I find the best places to go in cities… Always."
"I'll be sure to ask for your recommendation when we are in a city next time…"
When they ordered their respective coffees and doughnuts, they took a seat near the back of the building, where Hotch could happily observe everybody entering and exiting.
Emily took one bite of her caramel cream-filled doughnut and immediately melted into a sea of bliss. "We should have come here sooner…" She muttered amongst bites.
Taking a sip of his freshly brewed coffee, Hotch retorted, "We would of, had you not procrastinated for ten minutes."
She quirked an eyebrow, "touché… Well, sorry I can't just drop everything I'm working on and go for a dilly dander around Virginia. Not really in my nature."
"Dilly dander?" Hotch questioned with the slightest amused frown. He'd never heard the phrase before in his many years of life.
"Walkabout… Adventure… jog, you get what I mean. Penelope uses it all the time."
"Ah." Hotch muttered, "I always thought it was dilly-dallying, but now that you mention Penelope… That makes sense."
The brunette nodded, "the woman's always had a way with words…" Emily paused for a second, taking a moment to reflect on the whirlwind of the past couple days. She still hadn't processed that one of her best friends had nearly died, but one thing for sure was that Emily couldn't wait until Penelope returned to work.
She really missed her humour.
Hotch noticed Prentiss had suddenly quieted and her eyes seemed glazed over as if she was deep in thought. If he had to guess, Hotch assumed she was thinking about Garcia. He still couldn't grasp onto the fact the woman had been shot. "She's gonna be okay, you know…"
Emily glanced up with a small smile. "I know." Twirling the cup around in her hand, she continued, "it just sucks… Everything. It sucks that she's in a hospital bed injured and away from her computers. It sucks that we can't hunt down this psycho and that the best picture we have of him is a generic middle-aged white guy with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. I mean… That's essentially the description of most men I've dated."
Aaron nodded in agreement while Prentiss continued, "what if we can't find him in time?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean… What if he runs out of town before we have the chance to catch him? Or worse, what if he goes after Penelope again?"
Hotch planted his coffee on the table, rolling his eyes. "He's not going to go after Garcia again, Prentiss, about a dozen cops are parading outside her room and not to mention Morgan and Reid. Morgan, in particular, won't let Garcia out of his sight. As for the guy running out of town… I kinda get the feeling he wants to insert himself in the investigation. He's not going anywhere…"
That, Hotch was sure about.
Emily nodded her head as she sipped her coffee, "You're right… I'm being irrational. He won't go near her with cops around."
Country music occupied the silence that fell between the two agents as they retreated into their own little worlds.
As much as Emily detested this idea of compulsory breaks, the doughnut and coffee had managed to take her mind off the case for at least five minutes. Half of her brain walked in expecting Hotch to be a drill sergeant the entire time- and he was to an extent- however, Emily could see that he was trying to relax.
And that was a luxury in itself as unit chief.
Aaron reflected on the past hour while he skulled back the remainder of his coffee. The first mandatory break with Prentiss seemed to have been a success- even though half their conversations had revolved around work and Garcia. But what else was there to discuss when a co-worker had nearly died? He hadn't realised the wonders a small coffee break did when you felt so brain dead. It was like someone had jolted electricity through his veins.
"I think it's time we started heading back. I'll let you finish chasing that lead…" Hotch said as he stood up.
Prentiss shrugged, thinking about the great success of the past couple days, "my guess is that it won't take us very far…"
Exhaustion.
Hotch collapsed into his seat with a glass of whiskey. Savouring every last drop, Aaron he leant back and closed his eyes.
With hardly any hours of sleep under his belt, the last week felt like a giant smudge. He didn't know what day it was, or when he last changed out of his suit. But now that Jason Clark Battle was in the safe hands of hell, no emotion could top this overwhelming feeling of relief.
It hadn't occurred to him until this moment how fortunate they all were to have Garcia here with them. Like the surgeon had mentioned at the hospital, one more inch across and her heart would literally have been blown to pieces.
It put a sad smile on his face.
He didn't need to imagine the devastation the team would feel had she passed… Hotch had seen it in all of their eyes at the hospital as they waited endlessly. JJ, a woman so usually happy and composed sat in those plastic chairs, evidently hopeless and pained. Prentiss- although it seemed to any outsider that the woman had everything put together- was flustered, silently panicking on the inside. Rossi had barely known Garcia for a month, yet in his eyes, one could see the fear brewing of having to say goodbye to another colleague. And Spencer… Someone who usually favoured logic and facts over his emotions stayed silent in his own little world, not quite knowing what to do with himself.
Then there was Morgan. Was it a coincidence he happened to be praying at church for the first time in twenty years while a woman he cared deeply about lay unconscious on a metal bench? The man hadn't left Penelope's side ever since she'd woken up and Hotch hated to think how Morgan would have coped had the worst happened.
It should have been him that got shot. That was the first thought crossing Aaron's mind as he spoke to one of the paramedics. This sort of thing didn't happen to Penelope. The woman locked herself in a dark room for seventeen hours a day while Hotch and the others risked their lives in the field; never quite knowing what would happen next. For all they knew, every day they spent in the field, some horrible soul could blow them up at any second or torture them endlessly to death.
Words would never be able to fully describe the immense thankfulness he felt. Right now, Garcia could have been six feet underground in a cold wooden box, but instead, here she was, cautiously wobbling around back to her old self. Her injuries would take a few weeks to heal, but Hotch was sure she would make a full recovery in no time.
But in the back of his mind, Hotch wondered…
How many more incidents like Penelope's would occur?
How would he protect his team?
What happened if he lost one of them?
They were questions Hotch struggled to answer, and as he took another swig of his whiskey, his mind drifted off.
A/N: See you all in the next little prompt! Thanks for reading!