wasted times- s.r

EIGHT

"Can you quit it?" You snap, rather aggressively. It's bad enough that you and Spncer already hate each other enough as it is, but now add onto the fact that it's three in the morning, and you're both lacking slep and running solely on caffeine. It's a recipe for disaster.

The tapping of his foot pauses momentarily, and he looks at you with a scowl on his face that is still distinguishable even in his exhausted state. "I need coffee," he grumbles, pushing himself out of his chair and walking into the kitchen while you continue to keep watch of your apartment across the street. You tense up in your seat slightly at the view of a light turning on in your apartment. "We have a problem," you hollered out, already grabbing yours and Reid's guns from the table beside you.

"Did you cause it?"

You laugh humourlessly, handing him his revolver. "Let's go get our unsub, we can call the team on the way down." He takes the gun from you, taking a rather large sip from the coffee mug in front of him as you dash down the stairs and make your way across the street to your apartment, holding the phone in between your shoulder and ear as you inform Hotch of the situation, who responds with a reassurance that the team is already on their way.

You push open the door slowly, Spencer turning down the hallway while you to go clear the kitchen and the living room carefully, your gun held out in front of you. You turn your head toward the direction of your bedroom at the sound of a loud thud, and begin to slowly approach the closed door.

"Reid?" Silence.

You push open the door with your foot, walking toward the opposite end of your bed, gasping when you notice Reid, unconscious on the floor. You barely have time to react before your gun is forced out of your hand, and you're pushed up against the wall of your bedroom, the picture frame falling to the floor and shattering from the impact. The unsub stands in front of you, his hands wound tightly around your throat and cutting off your air supply steadily. You try to fight back and kick him, flailing your arms around aimlessly, never managing to hit him once to give you a moment to breath. Black spots swarm across your vision, and you slowly feel the oxygen draining from your lungs, and your chest heaving as you attempt to gasp on air, but end up choking on it instead. Your entire body feels weak and you're no longer attempting to fight back, your entire body going limp as you feel the lack of oxygen flowing to your brain. The last thing you register is the sound of two gunshots, and a searing pain in your shoulder as your body falls limply to the ground.

...

The sound of steady beeping causes you to slowly open your eyes, taking in the surroundings around you. The sterile smell alone is enough to tell you that you're in the hospital for the second time since you've started this job. "How do I always end up in the hospital somehow?" You say mostly to yourself, but glance over to your left at the sound of a snicker, which you now realize had come from Derek.

"How you feeling?"

"Like I just died and came back to life," this earns another chuckle from him, prompting him to place his jello cup on the table beside him. "Not quite, but almost," he adds. "Reid was able to shoot the guy before you passed out, and one of the bullets grazed your shoulder. Nothing serious."

"He shot me?" You question softly, furrowing your brows as you glance at the bandage on your left shoulder.

"Not intentionally," Derek responds. "I don't think," he adds in shortly after, but you can tell he's joking. "But we called your emergency contact, who was listed as someone by the name of Nathanial Davis. Last I heard he was on his way here."