CHAPTER 18: Hit (Season 7, episode 23)
Character(s): All
A/N: As always, mention of unsubs, crime.
Happy to keep gaining new followers and readers with this series! Again, I thank you all for your support and comments.
"No noble thing can be done without risks" - Michel de Montaigne
That noise couldn't be what she thought it was. It just couldn't be. Jennifer Jareau did not hear the unmistakable loud "POP" of a gun. Not while Will was inside.
Her body seemed to be telling her otherwise, though, as her legs quickly wobbled, threatening to collapse from under her at any moment. Morgan and Emily were both gripping her arms, horrified looks on their faces.
Oh, God. Oh, God, oh, God, no. No, no, no, no…
The next few minutes were a blur as someone – JJ could barely remember whom – got in touch with Garcia, asking her if she saw what happened to Will. All she could manage to remember was hearing Garcia sobbing and babbling incoherently from the other end of the phone, and then being taken to where Garcia was currently camped out.
Multiple thoughts ran through her head, pleasant ones, in an attempt to block out the current nightmare. Will kissing her good morning. Henry bounding around the house and yard, full of energy.
"I love you, too."
"I love you, three!"
How had it all fallen apart in just a few hours' time?
Aaron Hotchner inwardly cursed the robbers as he drove to the scene.
He felt his phone rubbing against his hip, and the debate whether or not to call home raged in his head. Maybe we'll be able to talk them down quickly.
The more details he got, however, the more his heart sank as he realized that seemed pretty unlikely. These guys were professionals. They'd pulled off many heists before. The woman in particular was apparently notorious in other areas of the world for this crime. As well as her brutal murders.
Is Beth watching the news? Probably not, as he'd surely be getting a frantic phone call from her right now if she were. Just don't let Jack see this if you do turn on the TV, Beth.
Hotch's fingers brushed against his phone as he got out of the car and headed to meet with the local officers. He was tempted, very tempted, to call, but he decided he was going to wait as long as he could.
I promise you, Beth, Jack, I will be home as soon as I possibly can.
Erin Strauss rubbed her temples. How she longed for the safety of her office, her desk right now.
They'd lost a medic. The medic that she insisted go in to help save Ollie. And now the director was breathing down her neck! He wanted her to keep following standard procedures to try and bring these criminals down.
Strauss was a by-the-book kind of woman. Always had been. She'd brought the hammer down on the BAU many times for their "out of bounds" actions.
But at that moment, she really wanted to tell the director where he could stuff his suggestions. All the training procedures, all the advice and rules in the handbooks, all the test runs…none of it could ever truly prepare one for the real thing. This wasn't a retail store, or a restaurant, or some such place where you had a set list of ways to deal with unsatisfied customers.
These people were murderers. Murderers, by their very nature, do not tend to care about or follow rules or procedures.
After a tough internal debate, Strauss ultimately decided to give Hotch the go-ahead to try a new tactic. Excusing herself, she found a spot a little ways away from the others. Closing her eyes, she began taking in deep breaths.
"You okay?"
Her eyes flew open and she turned to see Rossi's face just inches from her own, his eyes full of worry and sympathy.
"…no," she admitted, after a moment.
She felt his hand on her shoulder then, a light pat that soon turned into a soothing rub. "We'll get them, Erin. I promise."
He could see her shoulders start to relax at his voice. She didn't hear the barked, urgent tone of David Rossi, the FBI agent, in that moment. She heard the tone of David Rossi, the lover, softly reassuring her, telling her everything would be all right.
Any lingering doubts Strauss had had about her trust in Rossi evaporated then and there.
Emily Prentiss tapped her fingers on the conference table, her jaw set in a thin line. She wanted to wring Clyde Easter's neck right then and there. He should be thanking his lucky stars we need his help right now.
She heard Reid and JJ next to her, discussing the case, but she refused to look at them. She knew they'd give her those wary, questioning glances again, try and bring up that phone call with Easter. They seemed almost hurt when they'd looked at her earlier, actually, and in turn, that had hurt her. Did they really think she'd say yes to Clyde's offer of running Interpol right then and there? That she'd happily leave them behind?
Can you blame them? You've left abruptly before, after all.
But that was different, of course. Emily's life was in danger that other time. She did what she had to do then. This was something she would do only if she wanted to. And what on earth would make Reid and JJ think she'd want such a thing to begin with?
Continuing the thought, why did Clyde think she'd be interested? It was bad enough that he presented her with that idea at such a hectic, dangerous time. But he presumed she'd immediately jump at the opportunity! He presumed she'd be willing to up and leave her town, just like that, and head right overseas!
Except he didn't presume, really. He simply put the offer out there. You don't have to take it.
That last line found itself playing on a loop, like a warped record, in Emily's head the rest of the day.
David Rossi had always been recognized as a master negotiator.
However, at that moment, he felt like a frustrated, desperate rookie still learning the ropes.
"You just shot Shawn Harper. Not me, you." He could hear the mock groan in Chris Stratton's voice, the taunting, accusatory tone, and it made him feel ill.
Izzy, the leader of the group, was obviously rubbing off on Chris more and more. The fact he'd lost his brother Ollie, another member of the gang, in the midst of all the insanity had only made things worse –it seemed to make Chris snap. He hadn't even considered releasing the women and children being held hostage yet, didn't seem all that eager to do so. Rossi didn't even want to imagine what sick, twisted plans these nutjobs might have for the innocent victims if this terrifying situation continued any further.
He watched on the monitor as a panicked young woman named Annie was ordered up to the phone, sobbing out her name. He tried to reassure her, told her to hang in there, but he had to be honest – he was terrified right now.
"I hope Agent Rossi doesn't make me shoot you, too." Chris wasn't next to the phone, but his singsong tease echoed all the way through the line.
Rossi wanted to put this jackass's head through the nearest wall.
The back and forth continued for what seemed like ages, as Rossi watched Chris torture the hostages, debating whose life was next to be put on the line.
Rossi couldn't take any more of this. He had to put an end to the madness once and for all. Having seen the trembling, terrified faces of the victims, having listened to their tearful pleas, by now, Rossi anxiously awaited hearing what Chris' requests were. He was desperate enough to do anything this guy asked now.
"I wanna talk to the cop who shot my brother."
Except that.
Will LaMontange was sick of sitting around. Too many people had been killed. If this asshole wanted to deal with him directly, fine, he could take it. He actually longed for it – maybe he'd get the chance to beat the crap out of the guy in the process.
It didn't surprise him when JJ vehemently vetoed the idea of him meeting up with Chris. He'd already nearly given her a heart attack earlier in the day when she'd heard about his close call during the shootout. And indeed, he never wanted to cause her any pain or worry.
But it kind of irritated him that the rest of her team wasn't on board with the idea of him going in. They put themselves in plenty of risky situations and came out fine. He surely could do the same – his job wasn't too dissimilar to theirs, after all. Besides, sometimes when dealing with hostage situations, you have to give the bad guys what they want.
He watched as SWAT gathered, preparing to go in. Local police and FBI agents were settled behind their cars, guns at the ready. It seemed like everyone else was able to get involved in this but him.
Sorry. That just wouldn't do. He respected JJ and her teammates, but enough was enough.
Steeling himself despite his nerves, Will strode towards the front doors of the bank, JJ's screams and shouts of "WILL!" echoing in his ears the entire time.
Penelope Garcia was not a field agent. And thank goodness for that – the stuff that was broadcast over her monitors on a daily basis was more than enough for her. The few times she did join the team on a case always left her drained. The victims they dealt with may have been strangers, but she still worried about and cared deeply for them. When they didn't make it, it took her a while before she felt herself again.
Today, however, it wasn't a stranger she'd just watched get shot. No, this time it was someone she knew personally. The father to her precious, innocent godson. A man she cared about, and whom one of her best friends loved.
She knew exactly what JJ was going through. It was the same "body shaking all over" sort of fear she always felt when she'd hear about one of her "intrepid crimefighters" in peril. And Kevin may have been a tech analyst like her, but dangerous situations had unfolded at the BAU offices before, and she'd always worried about him in those moments – would always worry, should he find himself in danger…
She couldn't stop picturing JJ's pale, horrified, heartbroken face. Couldn't stop hearing her broken, tearful voice as she asked if Will was still alive. Incensed now, she felt a second wave of determination
"That's it," she muttered as she sat back down in front of the monitors, cracking her knuckles and letting her fingers fly across the keyboard. "You're not going to hurt any more people today, you creeps."
Derek Morgan clenched and unclenched his fists in an attempt to control his frustration. He needed to stay calm right now, for JJ's sake as well as everyone else's.
Easier said than done, of course.
He'd told Will he was too close to the situation. So had Hotch. Why didn't he just stay back?
Guilt washed over Morgan immediately thereafter. He was just trying to help. Besides that, he was right. I would've done the same thing. Look at what I did to hunt down Doyle, after all.
Morgan lined up alongside behind two SWAT members. He took a second to check on her. She'd managed to compose herself, transforming back into a steely-eyed agent. She was ready to fight, and he would be by her side the whole way.
JJ caught Morgan looking at her then.
"You ready?" he asked.
"Let's go." Not even a flinch.
Hands braced against the SWAT members' backs, they, along with Emily and Hotch, began their march towards the bank.
Spencer Reid paced back and forth anxiously, occasionally throwing a glance over at the male tech analyst typing away next to him. He honestly didn't know how Kevin was managing to remain so calm right now.
He couldn't get his mind off of JJ. What she must've been feeling, hoping she was taking time to collect herself. And what of Will? All Garcia had told him about the whole situation was, "It's bad". This was one of those times when Reid longed for Garcia to ramble on a bit more.
It wasn't fair. Will was a good man, they were a good family. Reid didn't even want to think about the devastation that would result for JJ and Henry if Will… He wasn't a religious man, but he sent a silent hope to someone, anyone, anyway. Please let him be all right.
Reid shook himself out of his thoughts. He needed to pay attention, and he needed to pay attention now. No, he couldn't be where he wanted to be, where he felt he should be, at the moment, but maybe Garcia was right. Maybe he could still be of some use holed up in this room.
He studied the tapes over and over again, replaying all the awful, tragic scenes of the last few hours. But with each new viewing he became more and more frustrated. He was a man of logic, and none of what he saw was even remotely logical. The man and woman seemed to be basically winging it at this point with the robbery. The woman kept leaving the main area of the bank all the time, and the man was getting increasingly nervous, which in turn was making him more reckless with the hostages. As a result, Reid had no earthly idea what their next move would, should, or could be.
And that unsettled him deeply. These guys were supposedly skilled criminals, they'd pulled these events off perfectly before. Where did things go so wrong today, and why?
But that wasn't the biggest mystery he wanted to solve. That woman was bugging the hell out of him. She could play confused and clueless one moment (when she couldn't seem to find an exit), only to turn around and become cold and calculating the next. The next few minutes were spent watching her every move carefully, intensely. Kevin tried to get Reid's attention at one point, possibly, but he was lost in thought, the wheels in his head working overtime.
He watched her head off to search the bank again. Followed the route she took.
He found that section on the layout of the building, staring at it and the rest of the picture for what must've been the thousandth time.
Then it hit him like a brick to the face.
The gas mains.
Another, more panicked thought quickly followed that one. His teammates…they were just outside…
Reid began to feel sick to his stomach. "Garcia, get them out of there!" he begged as he jammed at the speaker.
But it was too late.
"A victory without danger is a triumph without glory." - Pierre Corneille
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