"Jayje, you okay?"

Moments ago, JJ had been on her feet, fighting for her life. Now, she was lying on the ground covered in the unsub's blood, looking up at Spencer and Morgan's worried eyes.

A soft shake of her head to clear it, and JJ flashed a reassuring smile. "I'm okay."

And she was. At least, she was pretty sure.

Granted, just about everything hurt. The unsub had gotten in some pretty harsh blows before he was shot dead by her teammate. But even then, the dying man had staggered towards her, grabbing her by the arms and dragging her to the floor with him. As if being crushed under his weight wasn't bad enough, she had fallen against the coffee table on the way down, landing with her full weight on the sharp edge.

"Gonna have some bruises tomorrow," JJ said lightly as she allowed Spencer to pull her to her feet.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Spencer asked again. Morgan was visibly scanning JJ with his eyes for any sign of visible injury, while Spencer settled for searching her eyes for any sign of distress.

"None of that blood is yours?" Morgan checked.

"I'm good, just need a shower." JJ brushed them off.

By the time they got back to the precinct and JJ was cleaned up, all had seemingly settled.

Spencer Reid had always been a man governed by facts, algorithims, and rules. As much as he knew that some people had gut sense they could trust, he preferred to dwell in the realm of the tangible.

But today, something was nagging at him.

Ever since they'd returned to work, he'd had a gnawing sense of unease about JJ's pallor. She was quieter than usual, though quick to respond with a reassuring smile when Spencer would try to check on her. Still, something about her wasn't right, and Spencer was sure of it. By the time she stood to bring him a file, he could see that JJ had grown unsteady on her feet. Spencer jumped up to meet her, reaching an arm out to steady his friend.

"JJ," he started, trying to meet her eyes. He noticed how the usually clear, sharp blue was hazy and dulled. She didn't lock eyes with Spencer after his prompt. Hell, it didn't look like she was seeing anything at all. Within moments, JJ had gone limp, eyes rolling back in her head. Spencer lunged forward to catch her as she collapsed, panic roaring to life in his chest.

"I need help!" Spencer yelled to whoever was listening. Immediately, he heard pounding footsteps as his team raced to their aid. Spencer lowered JJ down to the floor, pressing shaking fingers to her clammy skin. Thready, fast, but a pulse was there. "JJ? Jayje, can you hear me?"

Someone gasped above him and a cacophony of voices started all at once. Spencer didn't take his eyes off JJ, letting his attention drift only to the one voice that carried authoritatively above the rest.

"Reid, what happened?" Aaron Hotchner's tone was serious, commanding. The note of worry was noticeable only to those who knew him well.

"I'm not sure," Reid admitted, brow furrowed. His heart pounded erratically, but he forced himself to tamp down his panic and view his friend's collapse analytically. He hurriedly looked over JJ for injuries. When she had fallen, her blouse had shifted up enough to reveal a swath of ugly color darkening her flesh. Pulling up her hem, Reid revealed the extent of the damage; JJ's skin badly bruised from her rib cage to below the waistband of her pants. Reid sucked in a breath.

The blunt trauma. The brusing. The cold, clammy skin, the fainting and confusion. No no no no no.

"The fall," Reid said aloud. "I didn't think it was that severe, but he fell on her and she must have hit something on the way down."

"How bad is it?" Hotch was kneeling next to Reid now, gently trying to nudge JJ awake.

"She's hemorhagging, Hotch. She's going into hypovolemic shock."

Hotch met Reid's eyes, gravely serious. In the background, they could hear Morgan arguing with a 911 operator that they couldn't wait 15 minutes, they needed help now. Without a word, Hotch reached out and gently scooped JJ into his arms, bridal style, rushing to the door.

To everyone's dread, JJ didn't so much as stir on the drive to the hospital. As soon as she was torn from Hotch's arms and whisked away, the crushing panic set in. Reid sat down first, burying his head in his hands. Morgan had mumbled something about needing coffee and walked off, and Prentiss and Garcia had followed. More than likely, they were the kind of anxious that demands movement. Rossi had wandered off in search of the quiet and solitude of the hospital chapel. Spencer, on the other hand, felt like the walls were closing in and he was trapped exactly where he was. He knew his breaths were coming shallower, but with his best friend unresponsive and gravely injured, there didn't seem to be much to do but to let the waves of anxiety crest over him.

"Reid." The low, deep voice was right next to him now. Hotch must have settled in the chair next to him without him noticing. God, he must be more panicked than he thought if he was that oblivious. Or had he been off all day? Had he missed something about JJ, something that would've made him get her help earlier? Something that would have saved-

"Spencer." A hand was on his shoulder now, trying to encourage him to sit up. Reid obliged, his panicked eyes meeting Hotch's somber ones. "Breathe."

"Hotch - she - I - can't -" Spencer's breath was coming in gasps now, his ability to form sentences entirely gone.

"Spencer, look at me." And he did, trying to ground himself in Hotch's furrowed brow and concerned eyes. "JJ will be okay."

"You - don't -"

"Yes, I do." Hotch stopped him immediately. "JJ is one of the strongest people I know. She's part of my team, and that means she's a damn fighter."

"She - could - die -" And that was when the tears started to break through.

"She could," Hotch agreed. Spencer gave a strangled gasp in reply, but Hotch started speaking again before he could protest. "Spencer, we could all die every day. Half of us half already faced life threatening injuries, some of us more than once. We stare death down every day to come to this job and fight for what's right. We protect each other as much as we can, but there's some level of risk that will always remain. That's the nature of this work that we all love."

From the opposite end of the room came Morgan's voice. "Agreed." He strode back in, hands in pockets, his body seeming to curl in around itself. Even the minor change in body language was staggering to see for the man who seemed to ooze confidence. Garcia and Emily followed behind him; Garcia with tears still running down her face and Emily with an uncharacteristically bad poker face and red-rimmed eyes.

By the time the three had come and settled in the chairs around Reid and Hotch, they found themselves jumping up again as a man in a white lab coat came in seeking the family of Jennifer Jareau.

Spencer's breathing was starting to slow, and he managed a throat clear and a full sentence at this point. Still, he wavered on his feet when he rushed to stand, and Hotch reached out an arm to steady him. "How is she?"

The doctor frowned and clasped his hands in front of him. "Ms. Jareau suffered a traumatic injury earlier today that caused serious internal bleeding. We've rushed her into surgery, but it will be awhile before we can expect any true update on prognosis. I wanted to let you all know that it will likely be a few hours in case you need to make any arrangements."

Spencer replaced his head in his hands before the doctor was even finished speaking. The rest of the words washed over him in a haze he didn't care to hear.

"I'm going to go update Rossi." Hotch informed the group, who rose robotically to follow him. They weren't capable of much thinking at that point, but they knew what they needed was to be together.

"C'mon, pretty boy, let's take a walk." Morgan was looming over him now, reaching out a hand both literally and figuratively. He kept a hand on Spencer's back as he walked on newborn fawn legs all the way down to the tiny chapel.

David Rossi sat in the second row, sitting with his eyes closed. He turned and glanced at his team as they entered, and gestured for them to join him. "How is she?" He echoed the question that had been burning on everyone's lips since they arrived.

"She's in surgery. No real update." It was Emily who answered this time. The exhaustion showed on her face as she settled into the pew next to Rossi. One by one, the team followed her lead. Most of them weren't the religious type - or even the type that felt comfortable in a church. But here, the stillness and quiet was a small comfort in the sea of terror they'd been drowning in.

Rossi digested that information with a pensive frown. After a moment, he lowered himself to his knees and clasped his hands together, lost to what was presumably his prayer for JJ's life.

Creaking, shifting on wood; then Reid was surprised to see Hotch kneel down at the end of the row. Prentiss closed her eyes and clasped her hands on the back of the pew in front of her. After a moment, Derek copied her action. Garcia sat back, shut her eyes, and placed her hands in her lap. She seemed to be centering herself as a look of thoughtfulness came over her features.

Reid surprised himself as he knelt down, placing his head on top of his clasped hands. A religious man he was not. But that didn't stop the incoherent pleas rushing through his mind as his best friend lay bleeding out on a steel table a few rooms away.

Dear God, if you exist... I'm not naive. I know how dangerous shock of any sort is, let alone hypovolemic shock. I know it requires immediate surgical intervention, and we brought her belatedly to receive medical care. I know that it can cause death within a few hours, and we're racing the clock. I know the odds, as much as I don't want to. I also know I can't do this without her. I can't have today be the last time I saw her. That can't have been me watching the light fade from her eyes. Please don't take my best friend from me. And if you have to... please at least give me a goodbye.