AN: Hey guys, long time no read. My apologies for that, I've hit a bit of a rough patch in life. Things have settled a little, so I'm hoping to get back into writing. Thanks for sticking with me.
Derek awoke with a start. He got to his feet, and then quickly scanned his surroundings. Something felt off. His coordination was lacking, but the adrenaline pumping through him would compensate momentarily. He ran over to the door and pushed the chunks of wood he'd used to keep it shut to the side. He surveyed the area, but saw nothing. No sign of life, malevolent or otherwise. His eyes blinked in an attempt to defend themselves against the cold. The snow had stopped falling, and the tiny cabin seemed to be sealed in by the silence. The now still scenery really was quite beautiful, even if it had left him stranded with a wounded friend.
He turned around at that thought. Emily had dozed off shortly before him. He needed to wake her. As he walked toward her, she stirred. He used an upbeat voice, although he felt anything but. "Hey, sunshine." She didn't respond. No witty retort, no annoyed scowl. She only stared at the ceiling. "Emily?"
Her eyes closed, and it almost seemed as though that act alone caused her excruciating pain. "I'm sorry," she uttered.
"Hey," he cooed. "You're okay. You're going to be okay." He sat down on the edge of the cot again and took her hand. She looked weak, and he hated himself for even thinking that.
That settled any qualms in his mind. At the very least, there was a break in the wintry weather. His partner was stable, he'd managed to stop the bleeding, and he had a mode of transport. However arduous a journey it would be, he was going to get Emily back to civilization.
He briskly got to his feet, and then carefully tucked her hand back under the blanket. He'd have to do a lot of hard work before he'd even be able to think about getting that truck back on the road though, and it would be a cold ride when they did leave. He looked over to his partner again before throwing another log on the fire. Then he went dig the old beater out and clear a path to turn it around.
"Radio's busted," J.J. said, not bothering to turn her head toward the other members of her team. She'd genuinely surprised Hotch, galloping down to the upturned S.U.V. and not breaking stride when she'd reached the bottom of the embankment. "There's blood." He, Dave and Reid had caught up to her now. "Who was in the passenger's seat?" she asked in a worried tone.
"It was Prentiss," Hotch answered. He was only confirming what they all knew. Derek was an alpha male, and Emily was almost always willing to relinquish that little bit of control to him.
Dave spoke up from behind. "We need to get a search team organized." Hotch heard the other man's voice turn away from him. He glanced back to see that the deputies had finally caught up, and that Dave was speaking to them. "Our agents have been out here for a little over twenty hours."
"One of them is injured," Reid joined in. "They probably wouldn't have gotten far."
Hotch turned back to the blonde, more curious to see what she had found, but something on the ground caught his eye. He stepped forward wordlessly, placing a hand on J.J.'s shoulder to keep her from backing into him. The snow had turned pink where her boots had been and he deftly swept the top layer to the side with his own foot. He uncovered a deep red patch, three times the size of the initial discoloring. J.J. was looking down now too, her attention having been drawn to his actions. She stepped back immediately, as if he'd revealed a puddle of molten lava. Those footprints too were tinted pink and she quickly slid behind him, her back brushing the hood of the upturned vehicle as she made her escape.
He swiped at the snow again, this time finding the edge of the pattern and the beginning of a trail. "What is it?" he heard Dave call out among approaching footsteps.
"Blood," he answered shortly, consumed now with finding the end of the dwindling line of vital fluid. He came upon a rifle first, a little more than a meter from the front bumper of the S.U.V. The others were following closely now. The trail had stopped near the rifle, but Hotch continued searching in a straight line. He studied the surrounding area, confused. There was nothing there.
"I've got a body!" he heard one of the uniforms yell. He spun around to find the man closer to the vehicle than the weapon had been, but off to the left. Hotch suddenly found it difficult to move. "Male, Caucasian, looks like our suspect to me." He felt the tension in his body loosen, and then calmly jogged over to the scene.
After getting a good look, he concurred. They had definitely found their suspect. "I want this entire area thoroughly searched. If there is any sign of my agents, I want to be notified immediately."
Derek couldn't believe his eyes. As the cab of the truck rose over the top of the hill, he could just make it out. It was their crash site. On the road he saw two black S.U.V.'s, they were a stark contrast to the white surrounding them. Both of them were parked diagonally in the road, like the respective drivers had hit the brakes and slid to a stop on the icy roadway. They made the road effectively impassable. He could make out the local police department's S.U.V.'s now too. Three of them stacked up behind the F.B.I. vehicles, parked just as haphazardly. The next thing he saw brought a smile to his face. It made the whole scene register, grounding him in the reality of it; they were done, and they were safe. He saw Dave emerging from the right side of the road.
Derek released his death grip on the steering wheel to place his hand to his chest. Morgan couldn't remember a time he'd been more relieved. Just as instinctively, his hand went to Emily next. He grasped her upper arm before letting his hand slide down to take hold of hers. They'd made it, and she was going to be okay. He knew that for a fact, even though it wasn't.
Dave shook his head in resignation. He had gone down the embankment thinking their people had been in an accident, now he didn't know what had happened. Had the UnSub happened upon them, or had he gotten the drop on them somehow? It was all too much to digest right now. He turned his back to the scene and began the march up to the roadway. By the time he got to the top, he had his hands on his knees and was trying to catch his breath.
Then he heard something over the voices of the people down below. It was a truck, early fifties model. He squinted to shield his eyes from the white landscape. It was them. He couldn't see clearly, they weren't close enough. But he knew.
A slow smile filled his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. He waved as if he were flagging down an airplane, not quite in control of his own actions. Then he turned back to look down the embankment and yell to the others. "Guys, I think there's something you should see up here!"
His smile began to fade. It was most definitely them, but Emily was slumped against Morgan's shoulder. Something was very wrong. He'd been hoping that the blood in and around their S.U.V. had been that of the killers, but now he was more worried than ever. He ran toward the truck as Morgan neared, opening the passenger door before they had even come to a stop.
Emily was in bad shape, her face pale and gaunt. It was a far cry from her normal, glowing self. She turned her head to face him, and that action alone seemed to take all the strength she had left. "There's a bit of a drop-off," she said, nodding toward the edge of the road. A small echo of Dave's previous smile returned to his face. Maybe she wasn't so bad off after all.
"Watch her shoulders," Derek warned as he scooted Emily and himself closer to the door. His sole focus was now on getting her out of the beaten down truck, and into one of the heated S.U.V.'s. He carefully supported her back while they turned her to the side. Dave was swift and gentle, pulling Emily's legs from the cab and letting them hang over the side of the seat. Derek looked up momentarily to see the worried faces of his other colleagues rushing toward them. Hotch diverged from the pack about two meters short of the open door, ducking behind one of the parked bureau vehicles. Derek let Dave stabilize Emily as he climbed out of his side of the truck, and then jogged around to take a space next to her once more.
"What happened?" J.J. asked as she came to a stop in front of them.
Derek paused to think about how he would begin to explain their ordeal, but worry for his partner's wellbeing was first and foremost. "She's been shot," he settled on. He'd have plenty of time to fill them in later. "I managed to stop the bleeding, but she's going to need surgery." He hadn't realized how cold he was until he saw Hotch emerge once again with an emergency blanket in hand. Morgan and Dave gingerly secured the fabric around her shoulders, and then Derek took her battered body into his own abused arms.
The others stepped aside as he walked through them to the S.U.V., Hotch trotting ahead to open the back passenger side door. Derek slipped in, and then carefully slid Emily onto the bench beside him. He let his head fall back in the first moment of relaxation and security he'd had in days. He was startled to feel a hand caressing the arm that he had around Emily's waist, though he couldn't bring himself to react in a startled manner. He lazily rolled his head to the right to find J.J. "Thank you," she said directly. "I'm glad that you're both okay." And so was he.
Thanks for reading!