Blood and Battle | Criminal Minds (gxg)

Chapter 37

I stand in the elevator with Elle on my right and JJ on my left. The three of us decided to head back to the office. JJ needs to grab a few files and I wanted to re-wrap my arm. Elle's cut opened on the jet and she needs to put fresh bandages on it.

The elevator dings as the doors slide open on the first floor. Elle and I step out but JJ stays behind. "I'm just grabbing a few files, I'll see you guys on Monday," JJ says.

I smile. "Goodnight, JJ."

"Have a good weekend," Elle adds.

The doors slide shut as we walk through the dark hallway towards the locker room. It's just after 2 AM and the place is deserted.

My arm aches, the cut sewn shut with five stitches. Dark red blood stains the bandage and it needs to be changed. Not to mention I'm still wearing a one-sleeved shirt.

We reach the locker room and get to work in the dim light. I pull my shirt off, left in a simple camisole. Elle sits on the bench and attempts to clean the cut on her cheek without a mirror. I glance towards her and smile as she swears softly. I put the fresh bandage down and move towards her, taking the cloth from her hand. She doesn't fight me.

I stand above her, cleaning the cut carefully. It's small but deep and it takes me a minute to clear the blood away. I take the bandage strips from her hands and close the wound, my fingertips brushing against her cheek. I'm very aware she's staring at me. Once I finish, I rest my hand against her cheek and we stand still for a moment.

"Thank you," she whispers.

I smile and direct my attention back to my own cut. She stands and leans against the lockers, smirking as I struggle to wrap my arm with my left hand. She shakes her head and steps forward, taking the bandage from me.

She wraps my arm and cinches the knot, drawing me into her. I stare into her eyes as she ties it off. I stand close to her chest, her left hand still on my arm. The room is silent except for our beating hearts. My eyes travel to each of her chocolate brown eyes, her cherry lips, and back to her eyes. I lick my own lips as she stares at my mouth.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she breathes.

"Like what?" My voice hardly rises above a whisper as my head tilts towards her.

"Like that."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do–"

I cut her off as I pull her into me, my lips meeting hers. My heart explodes in my chest as I finally, finally get to explore her mouth with my own. At first she tenses beneath my hands but soon relaxes into my arms. My right hand cups her face while my left wraps around her waist. My mouth moves against hers, sparks flying between us as I kiss her softly. My heart rate quickens as she gives in.

She tastes sweet, her soft lips sipping on mine. She tastes like heaven.

Delicately she holds my hips, but her grip tightens as I kiss her more passionately. I push her against the lockers, her back colliding with the metal. Her mouth works hungrily against mine. I suck on her bottom lip, my tongue tasting her mouth and waiting to be let in.

Instead, her hand presses against my chest as she breaks away, creating cold space between our bodies.

I resistantly pull apart, my breath heavier than before. She searches my face, pain in her eyes.

"I can't, Carli. I'm sorry," she whispers.

I let my left hand drop but keep my right on her cheek. My thumb grazes her cheekbone, careful to avoid the cut. Silently, she steps away, leaving my hands empty and my lips desperate for more.

"Elle." My voice breaks as I call after her. She doesn't respond, doesn't even look at me. Simply grabs her things and walks out the door, leaving me alone in the dark room with pain-filled eyes and a bleeding heart.

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I lay in bed, alone. I've tossed the covers sideways, one leg buried while the other lies exposed. My left arm rests beneath my head while I keep my right tight against my chest, my palm open against my bare stomach.

I risk a glance at my alarm clock, the yellow-green neon numbers the only light in the room. It reads 3:30 AM.

I glance back to the ceiling and sigh deeply. I'm exhausted but I can't sleep. My mind won't shut up.

What have I done?

I shouldn't have kissed her. But the way she looked at me, her lips so inviting... I had to know what she tastes like.

And now I've ruined everything. I'm so confused. She drew me into her, she kissed me. And then she pushed me away? I don't know what it means.

Except I do. She's scared. So am I.

I throw back the covers in frustration and climb out of bed. After pacing for a few minutes, I sit on the floor. Exercise always clears my mind. I'd prefer a punching bag but it's too late for the gym.

I alternate between push-ups and sit-ups, 20 reps each. I ignore the wound on my arm screaming at me as I press my hands into the floor, bending at the elbows as I push down and up.

Twenty minutes later I fall back onto the floor, exhausted. With my left hand I reach towards the bed, dragging a blanket to the floor. I spread it across my cold skin and rest my head on my arm, letting my eyes close. Within minutes my breathing slows as I fall asleep to the memory of her lips on mine.

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I wake up on the floor five hours later to sunlight filtering across my face. I roll towards the slotted railing, the sun peeking through the curtains in my windows downstairs. I lay in the light and watch dust particles dance across the sun beams.

I turn my head and notice streaks of dried blood across my bicep, like streams flooded with war. I sit up, bringing my left hand to my temple as I close my eyes. I rest for another moment before standing.

I trudge downstairs, leaving the bed a mess behind me. I'll make it later.

I open the shades on the windows, letting the morning sun flow into my apartment. I see my reflection in the glass and hold up a peace sign.

My hair is tossed over my part and curling at the ends, my shorts untied with the waistband hanging low. My right arm looks like bad horror movie makeup.

I shake my head at my appearance and go to take a shower.

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I let the warm water wash over my face, my eyes closed. I can't stop thinking about her. I imagine her behind me, her hands around my waist and her lips at my neck as her bare chest presses against my back.

Opening my eyes, I glance at the red puddle forming around the drain. Called back to the present, I inspect my wound.

I clear the blood away and notice a ripped stitch. Must've popped it last night.

I sigh, knowing I need to pull the rest out. I finish in the shower and throw on some clothes: dark grey sweatpants and a bra. I don't bother tying the string. The waistband sits low on my hips, the band of my navy blue underwear exposed. I grab a pair of tweezers from under the sink and sit on the counter.

I clench my teeth as I remove the stitch, and grab a cotton pad to soak up the blood. Once I take care of my wound, I throw my hair into a messy bun and head to the kitchen for breakfast.

I turn the radio on and make a quick omelette, eating at the counter while I listen to the music. Only two days until I see her again. I need to apologize. She clearly doesn't feel the same way. But the way she held me...

I put my head in my hands and sigh. Two days. Two days to come up with something, anything. Or I'll lose her forever.

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a/n
y'all thought–
so close, so so close
:)