Breathless | David Rossi

Chapter Six

"What've we got?" You ask, Rossi and you joining the team at the police station.

"I've sent Morgan and Prentiss to the crime scene, so far she's another Jane Doe," Hotch answers, unable to meet your eye.

You nod, glancing at Rossi who holds an unreadable expression, his focus on the victim board ahead. Tucking your hands into your pockets, you stride over to the coffee machine, pouring yourself a cup.

You've always been a night owl, finding the cases that drag throughout the entire day and to the next easy, unlike some of your teammates. But, as you stand there sipping the horrible coffee, you feel a wave of fatigue wash over you.

"Hey." JJ startles you.

"Hey. Long time no see." You muse, emptying the coffee cup and going for another.

You don't realise your blazer sleeve slides back, revealing your marked wrist. "Oh my god, what happened to your wrist?" JJ asks, grabbing your hand to examine the bruise.

"I had a training session yesterday and must have had my wraps too tight." You lie. Thankfully JJ accepts it, taking her coffee and heading back over to Hotch and Rossi, who has his eyes trained on you, a smirk plastered on his face.

Rolling your eyes at him, you follow her. For the remainder of the night, you standby as the results come in for the Jane Doe. Hotch calls Garcia with the name, allowing her to find out everything on Imogen Bates.

"Y/N, I want you to go to her home. See what you can find out there." Hotch asks, sending JJ and Reid to talk to her family.

"I'll come with you." Michael enters the room. "I know my way around the city."

You narrow your eyes at him, curious as to why he would want to tag along. Tensing your jaw, you nod, walking past him to head for the SUV. The drive is short, you and the detective standing outside Imogen Bates' house as you assess the area.

Reaching for your gun, you keep low as you kick the front door open, raising your gun in case of any threats. "I'll go upstairs." You inform Michael, having cleared the house and found nothing out of the ordinary. Ascending the stairs, you search for the bedroom.

"Jesus." You mutter, standing in the middle of Imogen Bates' room. On the bed frame is a rope, no double for where she was tied up. Blood paints the walls, bed, floor and anything nearby. This unsub really did a number on her.

Tucking your gun away, you grab one of your gloves and use it to pick up a photograph that is covered in blood. You frown, the photo displaying the victim and whom you could assume as her partner. They looked happy.

Where is the partner now?

Setting the photo down, you reach for your phone, to find someone already calling you. "Rossi?"

"Get out of there Y/N! Michael's the unsub." Rossi shouts.

Your stomach drops, your head slowly turning up as you realise the immediate danger you're in. The sensation of cold metal pressing against the back of your head makes you lower the phone, the shouts of Rossi falling on deaf ears as you strategise the best way out.

"Think about what you're doing Michael." You keep your voice as steady and calm as possible, your free hand inching toward one of your guns. "You don't want to do this."

"Oh yes, I do." He spits, digging the barrel further into your skull.

You tense your jaw, your finger's so close to the gun. "Ah, ah, ah. Don't even think about it." Michael sees your arm move, remembering you wear a shoulder holster. Exhaling deeply, you drop your hand, the pressure of the gun loosening.