A/N: This chapter got so much longer than I planned! It's also being uploaded from my phone due to my separation from my laptop. I've spent twice as long proofreading for that reason but I apologise if there are any typos. Thanks for the response to the last chapter - I kind of like teasing you all with cliffhangers but promise I won't do it this time! Hope you enjoy the update :)
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The sky was grey. So many shades of grey, with little traces of white where the weak sun struggled to burst through the rain clouds. It moved, swirling and drifting in the wind, providing a disorienting show for anyone who might look up. Was this dying? It didn't feel like dying. There was no bright light or looming darkness; no pain and no relief. Just grey sky. Endless grey sky.
"JJ, stay down!" a voice called, and she was suddenly aware that she wasn't alone in viewing the show above. They were on the ground. The blonde woman - Jennifer - was less than half a foot away, breathing erratically as the gunfire continued around them.
Marrisa turned her head to the side, feeling the ache at the back of her skull from where she'd hit the tarmac. Jennifer's body was contorted into the same position as she'd fallen. Or rather dived. The weight of the woman colliding with her was the only memory she had of the seconds leading to her staring at the sky. She hadn't expected anyone to be able to react so quickly.
"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
The man who was suddenly leaning over her was handsome, in a serious, government agent sort of way. His dark hair and eyes contrasted the grey above. And, as he spoke, his voice was filled with urgency, but his gaze barely met hers.
She nodded, still in shock that she seemed to be very much alive. He needed no further sign to divert his attention to the agent to her left.
"Hey, eyes on me, blondie," another voice instructed. "You're doing fine."
Trying to grasp a better understanding of what was going on she twisted herself towards Jennifer and the men she assumed to be her fellow agents. From her pained expression and the worried glances which were shared by the men, it was obvious she'd been injured.
"Don't try to move; just breathe," the dark haired agent added, crouching by her side and assisting his colleague in unfastening her coat.
Marissa felt a cold sensation fill her body, and it didn't stem from the damp footpath underneath.
That bullet was meant for her.
/
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"We need to stay nice and quiet, okay, Lucy?" Emily whispered, holding the infant against her body with one arm, while she bundled clothing into a basket with the other.
It was hard to break the habit of speaking softly to the child; her voice seemed to be the only thing which would keep her calm.
Opening the closet door, she kicked the basket inside, feeling a brief flash of relief as it fitted with enough space to close the door. Her arms shook as she lowered Lucy inside, ensuring she was as supported as possible by the sweaters and shirts beneath her small body. Her time to act was limited, but she had to do all she could to delay the intruders in reaching their target.
"Close your eyes, little one," she soothed, with a forced smile. "I'll be back soon."
As she gently closed the closet doors, she heard the creak of floorboards in the hall. It seemed that they'd finished searching downstairs.
Her eyes re-assumed their frantic hunt for anything which could be used as a weapon. A sudden flash of all the slapstick movies she'd watched with Derek entered her mind. Defences constructed from cans of paint, marbles and string. Civilians and children fighting back the dim-witted intruders with impossible tricks. What a shame that those who were approaching wouldn't be stumped by a falling bucket of water. She smiled sadly, longing for it to be Sunday. Longing to be in bed with him, play fighting as they tried to convince one another to leave the warm cocoon for coffee. He was stronger; he'd always win, laughing as he pinned her arms above her head, before asking if she wanted milk or cream. And then she remembered.
The dresser drawer.
The thought hit her in one last, desperate burst of hope. She'd teased him so many times for the sentimentality of keeping his first hand gun in his dresser drawer, like some memento of his youthful days as a cop. It was only ever used on a shooting range, and he refused to keep it in their safe, citing reasons of superstition and luck.
He might not have brought it with him; it might not have been loaded.
But then again, it could have been just a few feet away.
The footsteps were getting closer. She only had time to make one move to save herself.
He'd kept that damn gun in his bedroom for years. Maybe it was lucky. It was about time something went in her favour.
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"We need to get to Emily."
Hotch raised his eyebrows at his agent as she tried to prioritise her team mate, despite the fact she'd hardly been able to breathe just ten minutes before.
JJ was sitting in the back of an ambulance, looking far from okay, but still decidedly better than when she'd been lying winded on the ground. The paramedics were still fussing around, checking her vitals and frowning at the tenderness she was experiencing over her ribs.
"Rossi, Reid and Morgan are all on their way," he assured her, not mentioning that while the others had been ordered to get to the safe house, Morgan had taken off alone the second it was confirmed that her vest had caught the bullet. "You need to get to the hospital."
"My vest did its job - I'm okay," she responded, her reassuring smile appearing more like a grimace as she tried to take a deep breath.
"I need you to see a doctor," he insisted. He had to have at least one of the team following protocol and, after watching her dive into Marissa and then twist towards the ground as the bullet collided with her vest, he needed confirmation that she really had walked away with just a little bruising. "But once you've been cleared you can try to get some answers from Marissa," he offered as a compromise.
He had already made the order to take the girl into protective custody but, depending on her role in the set-up, that could be changed to making an arrest. He'd known to be wary of the meeting, but he hadn't anticipated just how badly wrong it could have gone. And it certainly hadn't entered his mind that it was simply a diversion. Exactly how Marissa slotted into it all was still unclear, and it was unlikely to be resolved until the girl was less dazed. JJ would be in the perfect position to speak to her at the hospital.
"I'll give you an update as soon as I have one," he promised, knowing the remainder of her hesitance came from wanting to stay in the loop regarding what was happening at the safe house. As he anxiously checked his cellphone for the third time in less than a minute, he realised he didn't really blame her.
"Okay," she relented, finally sitting back against the bed, as the paramedics had been trying to convince her to do since she'd been helped into the ambulance. "Keep an eye on Derek too, " she added, trying not to roll her eyes as the nearest medic attached a blood pressure cuff to her arm.
Hotch nodded and stepped down from the ambulance, heading back towards the crime scene. The shooter was dead and the area around him was being cordoned off in preparation for the arrival of CSU. They were lucky the whole park hadn't become a bloodbath in the crossfire. There had been other gunmen that had got away. More leads lost through death and escape. He sighed, dreading the inevitable reaction of his superiors. But as the ambulance pulled away he reminded himself that it could have been a lot worse.
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The gun was in the drawer, in the same locked box she had once dropped on her foot while looking for a shirt to borrow. And all that it took to access the contents was his mother's date of birth. If she survived, she'd never tease him about that again.
Feeling a renewed sense of courage she crept towards the bedroom door, trying to push all thoughts of her partner out of her head. They'd see her almost the second she stepped into the hallway. There wasn't time to be thinking of anything else.
Crouched low against the ground she angled the gun around the crack in the door, trying to steady her breathing as she waited for the perfect moment to take a shot. She'd never had any problem meeting the standard required for her firearms certification, but she was no expert markswoman. Especially when so much depended on getting it right first time.
As two dark figures came into view at the top of the stairs she slowly released a breath and applied more pressure to the trigger. The bullet seemed to leave the barrel in slow motion and she returned to holding her breath in anticipation of its destination. The element of surprise was the only advantage she had over the muscled, armed men and her whereabouts had now been revealed.
Before they could react, the shot caught the larger man's leg, causing him to lose his footing and tumble down the stairs. He hit the wall at the bottom with a sickening thump, giving her approximately two seconds before the remaining assailant returned fire in her direction.
She sprung forwards the moment there was a break in the gunfire, reaching him with enough force that he didn't immediately kill her, but not quite enough to knock him off his feet. Before she could right herself, his fingers tightened around her wrist, slamming her hand into the wall, forcing her to drop her weapon. A gasp escaped her mouth as her knuckles cracked against the wood,but the pain served to remind her of exactly what was at stake. The longer she could fight, the longer there would be for the team to work out what was happening and to reach Lucy. That little girl should never be hurt like this.
Her leg kicked out hard, doing much less damage than if she hadn't been barefoot, but hitting his shin with sufficient momentum that his concentration wavered and he loosened his grip. He quickly retaliated, clipping her temple with the butt of his gun. She lost her balance as the pain radiated through her skull, feeling like someone had slammed an ice pick through her brain. With a desperate grasp, her fist closed around the dark material of his police issue shirt.
And then they were both falling, just as the first man had done before them. Her head crashed into the bannister as she came to a halt, dazed and disoriented, sprawled across the stairs. Her entire body hurt and she knew she had to move but she just couldn't coordinate her battered limbs.
Unfortunately, he didn't seem to have the same problem and she heard him groaning as he moved towards her.
She lay on her back, breathing heavily and struggling to focus her blurred vision on the form looming above. His breath was hot on her face as he grinned at his victory. The image of his lips spun and she blinked rapidly in an attempt to see straight. His forearm pressed hard on her chest as the cold metal barrel came into contact with the centre of her forehead.
Point blank range: at least her face would be recognisable.
At the click of the safety, her eyes squeezed shut and her breath came out as a shudder. Of all the things she could think of in her final moments, she wouldn't let it be the face of her killer.
She was lying in the bathtub, bubbles up to her chin because they'd got distracted and let the water run too long. His lips were soft against hers amongst the jasmine scented steam. He tasted of strawberries and champagne.
"Happy six month anniversary," he grinned.
She chuckled - six months - were they in junior high?
"I can't wait for a year."
And then she heard the shot.
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It didn't take long for JJ to be seen by a doctor. Words like "FBI agent" and "shot" tended to have a hurrying effect on hospital staff, even though she had insisted that there was no urgency. Thankfully a chest xray revealed that she'd been right in her assessment that nothing was broken and while the flustered doctor would have been happier if she'd let him monitor her breathing for a while, she considered herself to be cleared for duty.
"Hi, how are you feeling? she asked, having finally found Marissa in the maze of an emergency room.
The girl had been ushered into a side room, under the guard of two police officers, as soon as she arrived at the hospital. Now she perched on the bed, a paper gown covering her thin body and an anxious frown fixed on her face. At first she didn't answer JJ.
"I hope I didn't hurt you too badly," the agent continued, offering an apologetic smile.
" You weren't meant to get shot," Marissa mumbled. She couldn't have cared less about a few extra bruises. All that mattered was that she'd failed.
"So what was meant to happen? " JJ pressed, pulling over a stool to take a seat directly in front of her. "This is your chance to tell me your side of the story." She didn't want to take a hard approach with someone who was so obviously a victim, but if it came to it she would make herself ignore the young woman's bruised and damaged appearance to get answers.
"I don't have a story," she replied.
"I think you do."
Marissa contemplated the agent before she answered. Jennifer was kind. More than that, she'd been willing to put herself between a virtual stanger and a sniper. There was no reason to lie, especially to the woman in front of her. But there were more pressing concerns.
"Is Emily okay?" she asked, with genuine fear in her voice. "And the baby?"
JJ sighed. If only she knew.
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Upstairs Lucy was screaming so loudly that Emily was surprised her lungs could sustain it. She'd managed to crawl out from under the body of the man who'd been a split second from taking her life, but not much further. She'd waited for the person who'd taken the shot to announce themselves, but no one ever did. And now the screech of sirens was growing closer.
When Reid and Rossi arrived a couple of minutes later, she was sitting on the stairs, slumped to one side, as she rested her head against the wall. She wanted to make the crying stop, but she couldn't seem to find her centre of balance. Rossi, pausing briefly but unnecessarily to check the pulses of the two men on the floor, was the first to reach her.
"Get an ambulance," he instructed the officers who had followed them into the house. "Prentiss, can you look at me?" He touched a hand to her chin and turned her head gently towards him.
"Lucy," she mumbled, squeezing her eyes shut once again to stop their faces moving in front of her.
Reid frowned at her obvious dizziness, glancing worriedly towards Rossi.
"See to the baby," the older agent instructed. "I've got her."
With one more concerned look at his colleague, Spencer hurried towards the bedroom, following the sound of the infant.
"Are they dead?" Emily asked, taking a risk and opening her eyes to look at the intruders.
Trying to conceal his own alarm at her disoriented state, Rossi glanced back at the two men. One was pressed against the wall, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle, and the other had pumped at least half his blood volume onto the floor. If she was fully aware of what was going on, she'd have had no doubt about the answer to that question.
"Yes they are," he replied, gently. "Now, can you tell me were you're hurt?"
"Was it you that took the shot?" she responded, taking no notice of his question.
She was trying to get up, distributing her weight between the wall and his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her waist and helped her to her feet, if only to stop her hurting herself any further. Her eyes never left the man with the bullet wound, as he reluctantly assisted her in stumbling down the stairs.
"What shot?" he frowned, noting her limp and the full extent of her unsteadiness. He'd put money on it that she had a nasty concussion and a sprained ankle, at least. If it was anyone other than Emily he'd have carried them, but he wouldn't do that to her pride.
"The shot," she mumbled. "The one that killed him."
She gripped his hand more tightly as she misjudged a step and almost lost her balance.
He frowned, trying to understand what she was saying. They'd been first on scene; no one had been there to take a shot.
"Rossi?" she prompted, looking directly at him for the first time and holding onto him so fiercely that her nails were leaving marks in his arms.
"It wasn't me," he replied.
She frowned, a look of distress spreading across her face as she tried to piece together how she'd gone from facing certain death to being helped towards the couch by Rossi.
"It's okay," he reassured her, guiding her away from the men. "You've had a bump to the head, but you're going to be fine."
"Someone shot him," she insisted. She might have been concussed but she knew what had happened.
Rossi didn't respond, simply settling her on the sofa, just in time for Reid to appear with Lucy. Emily reached out for the child, and Reid complied, passing the blanket wrapped bundle into her arms. She held Lucy tightly against her chest, just as she'd done before hiding her in the closet. Rossi hovered nearby, unsure if Emily should be responsible for a baby in her current state, but unwilling to interfere with anything which kept the woman and the infant calm.
A lot remained unanswered but they were both alive. The rest could wait.
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"Emily!" Derek shouted as he entered the busy house. Police officers bustled around the hallway and up the stairs, piecing together what could have happened. It gave him hope that he wasn't the first to arrive, but the bodies brought back the same sickening feeling as the night Sophie died.
When he found her, she was sitting on the sofa with Rossi at one side, wrapping his arm around her, and Reid standing nearby. Lucy was secure in her arms, seemingly calmer than when he'd left. He was sure the quiet was helping the situation but as long as they were in one piece, he'd spend an eternity with an unsettled baby.
"Emily," he repeated, relief evident in his voice. However, his growing smile faltered slightly as he noticed the bleeding wound on her temple.
"Medics are on their way," Rossi assured him, standing up to allow Morgan to take his place. He'd never be able to provide the same level of comfort as her partner.
"Are you okay?"
Her eyes were wide and unfocussed and her mouth hung slightly open, as though she wanted to say something but couldn't quite find the words. He'd seen her in shock more times than he'd like to recall but he was still disturbed by her silence.
"Come on, Em," he mumbled, wrapping his fingers around the back of the hand which supported Lucy's head. "I need you to talk to me."
It took her a second but she did reply.
"I thought I was going to die," she whispered, turning to face him as his hand stroked her arm. The pain was gone and she felt oddly numb, but at the same time she was overwhelmed.
A lump formed in his throat and he felt nauseous at the thought that she could have been as scared as he'd feared. That she might have been taken away from him.
Rossi tapped Reid's shoulder, signalling that they should give the couple some privacy. Neither Emily, nor Derek, noticed them leave the room.
"Thank God you didn't," Morgan replied, pulling her so close that her head rested against his chest. He kissed her forehead, breathing in the scent of her shampoo from her damp hair, and not caring that she was bleeding onto his shirt. "We all need you right here."