Voices, distant, muffled, wordless...darkness that wasn't quite darkness...bright, blurred shapes swam into view, unfocused.
...
Emily was lost, the world spinning around her in slow motion, but staying in the same confined, dimly lit room she had never entered. Her hand was damp with blood, and the seconds that ticked by felt wasted. If Reid didn't get help soon, she didn't even want to finish the sentence. The possibility felt unreal.
"Hotch," she whispered again, but the agent was crouched down at the other side of the room, checking that scumbag's pulse. The agent in her was gone, forgotten, and she only wanted him to suffer for hurting the young genius.
Then her eyes caught the mass of red hair on the floor.
"Anya..." she quietly wept, her white dress stained with her own blood, and perhaps the blood of her unmoving ex.
"They're both alive, just about," the cold voice announced, but that brought little relief to the agent.
Then everything seemed to float around her, and she was moving without thinking, automated control taking over, as the paramedics streamed in. She made sure Reid was treated and taken away first, closely followed by Anya on her stretcher, and before she knew it Semlin was being transported in a secure ambulance, and she hoped that was the last time she saw him.
"Prentiss, go with Anya, I'll stay with him," Rossi advised kindly, his eyes tired but alarmed. His face seemed older somehow.
"Dave I-"
"She knows you, if...when she wakes up, she'll want to see a familiar face."
Prentiss nodded at his ever-logical wisdom, but the sickness in her stomach strengthened as she distanced herself from his ambulance, her last image of it being full to the brim with paramedics, concealing her view. In some ways she was relieved, to not see her friend, her surrogate little brother, the way he was. But in others, she wished that he didn't need that many to bring him back.
Climbing reluctantly in the back, she sat next to Anya's still body, her chest rising shallowly, her already pale skin white and pasty. The most obvious sign of life was the beads of cool sweat on her forehead, matting her hair in small curls. Emily took her hand, the cold sending repressed shock waves through her, and squeezed it.
"Please, let him be ok, for her sake," she whispered to an unknown God, and in that moment she wished that she believed in one. Needing a girl close to death for support only made her see how tragic the situation had become.
...
Her body felt heavy, that was the first thing she noticed, distantly registering in her fatigued mind. Next was the numbness radiating from the right side of her lower back, but she couldn't be sure. Her whole body felt it.
Anya's eyes drifted open, and the blinding light forced them shut again. Seconds later, she risked it again, slower than before, and pain shot through them.
Reid...
"Reid..."
"Rossi!"
Her eyes snapped open again to the voice, vaguely familiar, and her pulse quickened before she knew it was there. She shifted restlessly to re-position herself, but just then a face came into view.
"Doctor!" she called as it went away, and Anya knew the name that went with that face.
"P-Prentis-s," she murmured, and she moved her head to find her.
Her kind eyes smiled at her, but they looked exhausted. "Don't worry Anya, you're in hospital."
Alarm shot through her in short, small doses. "Why? Wheres-"
Prentiss was sat before a side window, through which Anya's eyes found another patient, wired up to a monitor. She recognized him, even with the tube protruding from his lips, concealing much of his profile from her, by the way her heart jolted.
"Reid," she wept, her voice becoming stronger, and a tear disappeared into her hair as the memories flooded back. The strongest being the fear that flowed through her at the sound of the gun shot. That same fear, she felt just as strongly now.