Garcia sat in the hospital waiting room for hours while Blake was in surgery, trying not to let her fear get the best of her. She wanted to send out positive energy to the universe, in the hopes of getting the positive energy back to the wounded woman. But she had killed someone today, and Garcia was a person who highly respected life. It helped - a little - when Hotch explained to her that without her, Blake wouldn't still have her life. The only reason it didn't help more than just a little was because Garcia wasn't sure if Blake would still hold on to it.

She had only just finished talking to the team when a doctor walked into the almost-empty waiting room.

"Miss Garcia?"

"Yes! How is she?"

"Well…" the doctor said. "Her condition is critical but stable. It was touch and go for a while; she was bleeding pretty badly internally which alarmed us, but we've got it under control."

"Can I see her?"

"She's heavily sedated, the trauma really took a toll on her. It was very, very close."

Garcia closed her eyes and tears trickled out from under her eyelids.

If only I had gotten there sooner. If only I hadn't allowed her to push me away.

"Is she…" she cleared her throat. "Is she going to make it?"

"We're optimistic regarding her chances of making a full recovery."

That's not a yes, Garcia thought, but forced herself to thank the doctor instead of yelling at him to give her a better prognosis. She sunk back into the chair, sighing, knowing the only thing that could tell the outcome, was time.

Blake slowly woke up to a world consistent of throbbing pain - which made her absolutely confident that this wasn't the afterlife. She was stitched and bandaged and drugged, but she was very much alive.

She was too high on painkillers to really worry about James, but even in this half-fog she had to admit to herself that she was uncertain of whether or not he could still get to her. Someone had obviously stopped him before he could deal the final blow, but she didn't know what - if anything - he had said about her, about them.

A nurse came into the room.

"Mrs Blake?"

"Agent." Her throat felt like it was coated with dust. It was difficult to speak; hell, it was difficult to just breathe. Still she pushed on. "Agent Blake."

The nurse gave her an unsure glance and tried to disguise it by looking into the medical records.

"How are you feeling?"

Like my husband tried to kill me and was damned close to succeed in doing so, what does it look like?

"Beat up."

"I could give you some more painkillers…"

"No. If a Penelope Garcia is here…" she had to pause and catch her breath before she could continue; "please make someone go and get her."

"Of course." But the young woman lingered, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

What now?

"I know I'm way out of bounds here, but…" the girl, she couldn't have been more than a few years over twenty which made her less than half than Blake's age, blushed and averted her eyes, but finally continued. "… when I saw you, I knew I had to leave my boyfriend before it was too late."

"Oh." At first Blake couldn't think of anything else to say. I'm glad to hear it was bad, but I'm sorry to hear that was worse. She finally managed to catch the girl's eye. "Look after yourself."

"I will. I'm sorry."

"I'll live." She hoped it was true. The girl smiled before turning to leave.

"We both will."

Blake felt tears burn in her eyes, but she refused to allow them to run down her cheeks. This was not the path she had expected her life to take.

But at least she still had a life. As for the path… she could figure that out later.

"Miss Garcia?"

Garcia had nodded off in the waiting room but upon hearing her name called she was immediately awoken.

"Yes! Is she, what's going on?"

Her eyes begged the doctor to give her some good news, and he gave her a reassuring smile.

"The nurse just told me she's awake. She wants to see you. I must warn you though, she's in bad shape, so try not to upset her."

"O-okay."

She wasn't sure what she had expected, but the sight of Alex Blake - a woman whom Garcia had always found a little bit intimidating because of her elegance, emotional distance and driven personality - in a hospital bed, plugged into beeping machines, was pure agony.

"Hi," Garcia managed to say. Blake tried to smile. It hurt her battered face, but she tried anyway.

"Hi," she whispered hoarsely.

Garcia plopped down on the visitor's chair and put her hand over the older woman's.

"I've been so worried."

"I'm fine."

Garcia couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry at this blatant overstatement, so she did both things at the same time.

"Why do you always have to say that?"

Blake chose not to answer. Maybe this was the last time she would have to lie about how she felt.

"Is he dead?"

"Yes, he is. It's over, Alex. He can't get to you again."

Blake closed her eyes, squeezing Garcia's hand. "Thank you."

She's thanking me for killing her husband, Garcia thought and this was enough to make her sob out loud.

Blake made a snorting sound and Garcia immediately stared at her, alarmed that something was wrong, but to her surprise she found that Blake was chuckling.

"I'm thanking you for killing my husband," she said, trying in vain to stop laughing - in spite of all the painkillers in her system it hurt like crazy - but it was a matter of either laughing or crying and she was beyond fed up with crying. The medication might have played a big part in this unexpected outburst of giddiness as well.

"Oh my God, it hurts to laugh," she groaned and put a hand over her face, careful not to touch her broken nose.

"Should I call for the nurse?" Garcia asked.

"No," Blake replied and took as deep of a breath as she could. "No, it's okay." She was quiet for a while before adding; "You saved my life, you know."

"I… I just…"

"No. You did. Thank you."

She was beginning to slur when she spoke and Garcia knew she was about to go back to sleep; hopefully a healing one without nightmares.

"You're welcome. Just rest now. I'll stay here."

"I hope that son of a bitch burns in hell. I hope there is a hell."

She didn't have to specify who she meant. Before Garcia could reply, Blake was asleep, so she merely patted the older woman's hand and sent a very un-Garcia thought into the universe.

I hope so, too.

A/N

Last chapter actually left me out of breath and in (soul-) pain, so I had to back off a little before I could write this. Story's almost over either way, just have to pick up the aftermath a little.

Also, I want to mention that domestic violence doesn't just happen to women in heterosexual relationships although that's what I've focused on in this story; it happens to people in relationships with other people, regardless of gender and sexual orientation. And it's never okay.