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whisper*

OA's POV

I don't remember the last time I have been this scared. Sure, I've been concerned, truly worried even, about things. But they've been cases I was working on and lately, my worry was mostly about her or a time when I was with her. Like when she ran toward the Kernick residence after hearing the children cry out, or almost getting blown up by a bomb because of my own stubbornness. But this outshines it all- even being shot at from all sides just the evening before with Quinn.

Even worse, for the first few moments after hearing the fear in her voice as she tells me she didn't make the calls that came from her phone and there is a scuffle on the other end, I hesitate as I soak it all in. I just stand here shouting her name, praying it is just a sick joke, all the while knowing it isn't. But then I spring into action calling 911 as I rush out the door, down the hall, and outside to my car. As I hang up with 911 and speed toward her apartment, I call Jubal to let him know there is a situation, but that I don't have all the info yet. At first he sounds almost irritated as I interrupt whatever it is he's doing on his short, yet needed vacation, though that quickly diminishes into worry as I explain what I know.

His last words to me are, "get her," as if I wasn't shouting that very thing to myself constantly since the call with her. I can't let anything happen to her, not now, not like this, after everything she has done for me.

My car skids to a stop in front of her building and I see sirens flashing, hearing their scream, as a cop car slides around the corner onto her street blocks in front of me. I'm out of the car and up her steps into her building in the blink of an eye, though every second seems to drag on longer than the one before. I climb the staircase to her floor, turn in the direction of her apartment number and run down the hall. The door to her apartment is ajar, and as I push it open, I realize my gun is already in my hand. At first I see nothing unusual, so I head in, gun raised as I walk toward the short hallway at the back of the living room. I don't hear anything, so I quietly call her name, silently beggin her to come around the corner scolding me for coming in uninvited. The door to her bedroom is shut, and for just a moment I squeeze my eyes shut and push away all the terrible images of what could be waiting for me on the other side. I hear heavy footsteps rushing down the hall and know the police are close. I turn the knob and push open the door.

Immediately, I see her laying on the floor facing away from me with blood pooled around her head. She doesn't move and I hear myself shouting her name as I rush to her side and fall to the floor beside her. I'm searching for a pulse, sure I won't find one, but I do. I do. I do. It's there, faint but persistent, and is maybe the most comforting thing I've ever felt. I breathe for what feels like the first time since this started. I push the hair out of her face and hear myself gently whispering her name over and over, afraid anything louder will break her.

"Maggie, Mags, Maggie, can you hear me? Maggie? It's okay, Mags, I'm here. You're safe now, Maggie, just hold on."

I hear another voice and realize a cop is standing just inside the door to her room. He sees me look at him and says, "the EMTs are almost here. They're in the building." Another cop, his partner I assume is standing behind him a bit further back. He's looking around and down the hallway back toward the living room, obviously not quite sure what to do.

I only nod as I look her over for more injuries other than her head. Her shirt is unbuttoned more than usual, and I would have maybe even blushed (she would have, too, knowing she was being seen with her shirt clearly revealing part of her bra) had I not been so overcome with immediate anger at what I saw. There, written on her chest in what looked like permanent marker, was one word: MINE. My hands clenched together and I felt a guttural growl in my throat as I thought of the person who had written that on her like she was someone's belonging. But Maggie doesn't belong to anyone. My anger would have only grown, except for the small moan that escaped from Maggie's lips. My eyes returned to her face and my hand brushed her forehead again.

The paramedics enter the room and come over to her promptly, getting to work, pushing me away quickly. She groans again, and her eyes flutter open revealing instant panic. She thrashes for only for a moment before my hand has hears, and I am by her head whispering to her to calm her down.

"I'm here, Maggie, you're fine now. Relax and let them take care of you." She instantly stills and closes her eyes grimacing in pain as one paramedic touches her head.

"She needs to go the hospital right away," one paramedic says. They move her swiftly onto a stretcher and have her out the door. I stay with her, riding in the ambulance and only leaving when I'm stopped at the ER by a nurse, who under other circumstances, I may consider nice. But I am annoyed I'm not allowed back there yet. Maggie seems extremely out of it, and after getting into the ambulance she once again had fallen unconscious.

I just want to see her, to make sure she was truly okay. Who knew what else had happened in that apartment before I arrived. Anything could have happened. I shuddered hard at the thought.

This nurse gives me another sympathetic look as she touches my shoulder and says, "I'll show you to a waiting room. The doctor will find you when he's done."

As I sit down in one of the hard, uncomfortable chairs, I slide my phone out of my pocket and call Jubal again to update him. I tell him that I found her, that she is, indeed, alive. I tell him she was in the hospital and being taken care of by a doctor, though I didn't know any details. I didn't mention the word scrawled on her chest, not yet, not before she herself knows.

"Good job," Jubal says simply before hanging up with the promise of updating the team and getting them together to start trying to figure out what had happened. I had mentioned the Zetas, wondering if they could somehow be involved after we thwarted their plan to purchase the Javelin weapons the night before, though it was all speculation at this point. But, it was possible that one had escaped capture and had run away to tell the gang, or that someone watching from afar had seen it all go down and had followed them.

I started to think again how someone had been in Maggie's apartment, that someone had snuck in like that and had invaded the space where she was supposed to be safe. It wasn't right, not at all. I feel my palms get sweaty and my hands begin to clench in frustration and anger. I am getting all worked up again with nothing to go on, which I know isn't helpful to anyone- least of all, Maggie. Just as I start to stand to pace, a doctor comes through the door and says her name.

I'm up and across the floor in seconds asking how she's doing. "She'll be fine," is all he says before pausing to look at me for a moment. That's when I realize I must look like hell, with blood on my clothes and hands, looking disheveled and out of sorts. I open my mouth to ask for more when he interrupts.

"Come with me. She's asking for you." He leads me back through the doors down a hallway to a curtained off area. He slides open the curtain just enough for me to get through and closes it again behind me. A force that feels like gravity pulls me to her, and I realize she is sleeping again as I reach her side. I hear the machine monitoring her heartbeat and see her chest rise and fall with each breath. That's when I finally allow myself to believe she really will be fine. That's when I takes what feels like my second breath since it started. I take one of her small hands in mine and realize that, though I did this earlier today when I found her on her floor to calm her, I've never held it before that. I shouldn't, and I know it, but I keep it in mine as I sit in a chair next to her bed. I rest my other elbow on the arm of the chair and my head in my hand. It suddenly hits me how tired I am. My eyes close and I feel myself drift off smiling slightly at how good it feels to have her hand in mine.

BREAK~

The man watches from across the street as the FBI agent on a stretcher is loaded into the ambulance. The other one follows closely behind looking like he's falling apart. He smiles. It's so easy to mess with them. He took great joy seeing the other detective rush in to her apartment when he first arrived and loved hearing him call her name as he ran inside. This was going to be all too easy, and all to epic. The Zetas would be pleased.