Prompt 2: First/Last Hug
(Hotch)
He's hugging Emily to his chest, his hands pressed over the wound in her side, trying in vain to stem the flow of blood. He's not making a difference. There's too much blood, and the paramedics are too far out. Their UNSUB lies dead a few feet away, and Hotch is realizing that the bastard's taking Emily with him.
He can still feel her breath on his neck, but it's slow and shaky. She coughs weakly, and he feels something wet and warm on his skin. It's blood, he realizes. More blood.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs, pressing down tighter on her side. "God, Em, I'm so sorry."
"Don't," she rasps, coughing again. "Not…your fault."
The brief exchange takes him back to the first time he'd ever hugged her. It happened in Colorado, after the three day standoff with Benjamin Cyrus. He'd found her finishing up with the medics and hadn't been able to resist pulling her into his arms. He'd apologized profusely, while she'd all but ordered him to not blame himself.
It's poetic maybe, he thinks; that their last embrace is so similar to their first. Almost like they've come full circle. Except she won't be walking away from this one.
She goes still for a moment, and he panics. He shakes her gently, begs and pleads for her to stay with him. He'd feel bad for the pained groan she lets out, except it means she's still alive.
He hears sirens in the distance and hope flares in his chest. If she can just hold on a little bit longer, there's a chance she can make it. She's beaten the odds before, and she can do it again.
"Let me go," she whispers, barely audible over the sirens and the clamor of voices calling for them. He flashes back again, this time to Morgan's account of finding Emily after Doyle's situations are eerily similar, and he prays for the same outcome.
She codes in the ambulance, like she had four years ago. This time, they can't bring her back. This time, he hopes, there's light and warmth waiting for her.
He thinks he might never feel warm again.