A/N: Major spoilers for 200, stop here if you don't want to be spoiled! Just a fic based on the promo photos that have been released. This is based on maybe TWO of the pics. Don't take it too seriously, especially the end. This is me having a bad night, that's where it comes from. Also, I want to challenge everyone to write their own "200" fic, it would be soo interesting to see everyone's ideas!

You sit in the ambulance, squeezing the bag methodically as your partner drives down the vacant road, code three. Lights and sirens flashing. You have a dying passenger in your rig and you have got to get her to the ER immediately. The firefighter is pressing on her chest, performing CPR, trying just as hard as you are to keep this one alive.

She is important, whoever she is, you can tell she is important. Dispatch had sent you and Grady to a call out, and when you got there, you were met by SWAT and the FBI. They had provided very minimal details, only that a hostage was being kept inside.

So, you and Grady stayed outside, safe from any gunfire that might erupt, but close enough to get to the victim if needed. If there even was one. You had been on these calls before, the police were chasing someone and because of the inherent danger, a rig was always placed on standby. In your twenty years as a medic, not one of those hundreds of standbys had ever resulted in anything.

Until tonight.

When you had heard the gunfire start, you knew this was real. The police had ordered you and Grady to stand back, and you did. But when the gunfire stopped, you looked up to see a petite, blonde woman being helped outside the building. She did not look good.

Her hair was matted to her neck and face, blood was all over her, she was hardly able to walk. But you gave her credit, as much as she had to lean on one of the FBI agents, she was forcing herself to do it.

And just as she had smiled up at one of them, it went to hell. You saw it before they did, and you immediately grab your bag and rush towards her, ignoring the calls of the police.

Her eyes close and she collapses forward, into the arms of one of the FBI agents.

"JJ!" You hear him call as he gently places her on the ground, careful of her injuries. By the time you get there, you know this is not good. The FBI agent has already started CPR, his tears are streaming down his face.

And then it clicks. She is one of them, thats why they are all so attached, so focused. She is an FBI agent, and damn it all, you refuse to let her die moments after she is rescued.

"I've got it." You tell the FBI agent just as Grady arrives. You are a team, and like a well oiled machine you know who does what and what order. You intubate the young woman as Grady rips off what is left of her shirt and applies the stickers needed for the AED.

As you attach the bag, you look behind you and see a little boy, his hair the same color as your patient. "Fuck" You whisper to yourself knowing that it has to be her kid.

"Hey, she's got a pulse." Grady whispers and you force a smile.

"Let's go." Together, you and Grady and two firefighters quickly hoist her into the waiting ambulance, Grady takes the drivers seat while one of the firefighters jumps in. You both look at each other as the doors slam shut. He has come along for a reason, you both know that if her heart were to stop again, he would be the one pumping on her chest.

And thats where you are now, she coded. And now, the firefighter is desperately trying to get her heart beating again as you breathe for her. Her chest is a mass of bruises and cuts, blood and sores. The poor thing had to have been tortured.

"C'mon, Agent Jareau." You hear the firefighter whisper, his sweat rolling off his face as he stands over her. You cringe when you hear her ribs breaking, but know its for the best. It's to save her life.

And when you finally arrive at the hospital, when you are finally able to pass her off to the doctors and nurses, you know you did your job. You got her to the hospital alive, and that was all you could do.

As you walk out, you see the FBI rush in, they ignore you and run for the admitting desk, you don't have the heart to tell them that when you left her side, she was not breathing. You aren't really sure if they could handle that news.

When your shift ends almost nine hours later, you find yourself back at the hospital where you dropped the FBI agent off. Media trucks surround it and your heart sinks. That is never a good sign.

"Alice." You see the first nurse. "Agent Jareau." You leave it open on purpose, Alice would know.

She smiles at you. And shakes her head. And you bow your own. Tonight, the bad guys won.