Walking through the house you hear a chorus of swat members yelling clear from various rooms. As you cross the threshold of the room you’re clearing you sweep the room yelling clear. Turning to leave the room you see the unsub running through the doorway, the next thing you know you’re on the floor, the unsub on top of you, your gun kicked halfway across the room.
You struggle to get out from under him but you’re losing the strength to fight, he's throwing punches left and right, unable to throw in a punch of your own you cross your arms above your head to protect yourself as much as possible. Everything starts going black but you try reaching for your gun which is only a few inches from your grasp. Feeling yourself slip out of consciousness you lose the strength to keep fighting.
With a sudden surge of energy you flip over pinning the unsub under you, your chest heaving trying to pull in full breaths, heart pounding, Hotch and Rossi come running into the room just as you grab your gun pointing it at the unsub.
Rossi and Hotch holster their own guns running to grab the unsub and cuff him, letting you scoot across the floor away from the chaos and catch your breath. The rest of the team run into the room just as Hotch finishes cuffing the unsub leading him outside to the police car. Rossi follows and the rest of the team standing in the room look at you in shock.
Reid being the first to speak, “are you ok?” He looks worried but you brush it off, chuckling about how it wasn’t a tough fight to win. Not mentioning the part about how you almost lost consciousness. Emily offers a hand and you accept it letting her help pull you off the floor.
Everyone gets outside just in time to see Rossi pushing the unsub into the police car and slamming the door. Having nothing else to do at the crime scene everyone gets into the government registered vehicles and prepares for the drive back to Quantico.
The ride is short, only about an hour. You thank whatever higher power that this case was close to home because the last thing you want to do right now is be sitting on a plane unable to sleep. The whole ride you feel like you can sense someone looking at you. You look up at one point and catch Morgan looking at you in the rearview mirror.
Walking into the bullpen you watch everyone go to their desks wanting to get done with the worst of the paperwork before going home for the day. You go to walk to your own desk when Hotch pulls you aside. “Are you going to be ok?” You can tell he's concerned but you don’t want to make him worry.
“I’m fine, it’s just a few bruises. You know I’ve had worse” You chuckle wanting him to stop asking questions.
“I know you’ve been through worse, that’s why I’m asking.” He looks more concerned that you shrugged the question off than he did about your injuries. Not satisfied with your answer he decides to let you process on your own and just nods his head before going to his office.
Sitting down at your desk you pull out the mandatory case write up paperwork. Watching as everyone else slowly starts leaving. You haven’t even started you paperwork, overthinking everything that could’ve gone wrong. How slim the chances were that you actually survived.
The unsub could’ve grabbed your gun, Hotch and Rossi could’ve come too late, you could have actually been beaten unconscious. The thought that you shouldn’t be alive keeps running through your head, preventing you from getting anything done.
After what feels like hours you’re dragged back into reality by the sound of heels clicking on tile. Looking up you see Garcia walking into the bullpen, a look of shock on her face. She walks over looking worried. “What happened?” she asks. You sigh looking at the ground not wanting to answer.
She grabs your chin tilting your face up to get a better look at your injuries. You wince feeling a bruise you didn’t know you had. Penelope creases her brows, “stay here I’ll be right back,” she walks away coming back a minute later with a first aid kit.
Pointing at the desk she tells you to sit, as you move to comply she pulls out a small bottle of isopropyl alcohol and dabs some onto a pad of gauze. Reaching to dab the cloth on a small cut on your forehead cleaning away the dried blood. Holding onto your chin again she moves your face to examine the bruises and smaller cuts on your face.
You can see her eyebrows furrow as she looks increasingly more upset. You close your eyes for a brief moment and open them to Penelope looking you dead in the eyes, anger barely restrained, “Who did this to you?”
Your eyes dart away from hers as you shrink back in your own skin, you open your mouth to answer but aren’t able to find the words. Looking back up you see her gaze has softened and she has a quizzical look on her face. Faster than your brain can process you realize you’re leaning in and kissing her.
Before you have the chance to question your actions she's kissing you back. The stress of the day melting off your shoulders. Picking your hands up out of your lap you tangle them in her hair hungry with a passion you didn’t know you had. You can feel tears slipping out of your eyes as you realize how close you came to never being able to experience this.
With a new lust your hands move to cup her face pulling her closer as she puts her hands on your shoulders the new pressure grounding you to reality. You both pull away for breath, tears still streaming down your face.
Opening her eyes to meet yours a look of fear settles on her face seeing the tears on your face. “Did I do something? Are you ok?” She sounds so worried.
“I’m ok now, thanks to you,” You pull her back into a slower more passionate kiss, stopping her from asking any more questions.