Anathema, 12/?
Title: Anathema
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Characters/Pairing: Emily/JJ
Genre: Romance/Drama
Summary: Some relationships don't take the conventional path. When an unsub threatens JJ's life, Emily pulls out all the stops to protect her, even if it means sacrificing her own life.
revenge
[rɪˈvɛndʒ]
-verb (used with object)
1.
to exact punishment or expiation for a wrong on behalf of, esp. in a resentful or vindictive spirit: He revenged his murdered brother.
2.
to take vengeance for; inflict punishment for; avenge: He revenged his brother's murder.
-verb (used without object)
3.
to take revenge.
-noun
4.
the act of revenging; retaliation for injuries or wrongs; vengeance.
5.
something done in vengeance.
6.
the desire to revenge; vindictiveness.
7.
an opportunity to retaliate or gain satisfaction.
Chapter Twelve
Morgan stares at the phone in disbelief.
Emily had hung up on him.
This is bad.
He doesn’t need to be told how this is going to go down - Emily’s going to walk straight into their unsub’s trap. He shakes himself back into reality and puts a call through to Garcia.
‘Baby girl, I need you to trace Emily’s cell,’ he says, hoping like hell that the phone hasn’t been turned off. He’ll try and put a call through once he’s finished talking to Garcia, but he’s not entirely sure that it will be answered.
He’s not sure if they can give Emily the help that she needs right now. Whatever that help is - backup, reassurance, company - he isn’t entirely sure yet.
‘Anything?’ Hotch asks, and Morgan admits that the Unit Chief looks like hell. The crash had given him a moderate concussion and a multitude of cuts and bruises. There are stitches along his cheek and across his forehead. In true Hotch spirit, he’s just signed himself out of hospital, against medical advice. Morgan isn’t going to argue - he knows that if he’d been the one injured, he’d be wanting to do exactly the same thing.
Too much is on the line.
‘Emily knows,’ he tells Hotch shortly. ‘I think she’s going to confront him. Garcia’s tracing the line, but...’ He lets an uncharacteristic silence speak his words for him. He’s not entirely sure that today is going to have a happy ending.
‘Have her check the call and text records as well,’ Hotch orders. ‘We know that he’s going to contact her. If we can intercept the message, we might be able to find out where he’s keeping JJ.’
Morgan opens his phone once more.
* * *
She hands the cab driver a fifty, telling him to keep the change. It’s not particularly cold out, but she hugs her shoulders anyway, because if she’s going to be completely honest with herself, she’s completely and utterly terrified right now. She doesn’t know if JJ’s alive or dead, doesn’t know if she’s about to make the biggest mistake of her life by walking the couple of miles or so down the road to this house.
It’s a little way out of town, far away enough from other houses that any screams could go unheard. Her stomach roils at that thought - without the address he’d given her, she could have gone days without knowing just where JJ is. It’s not an experience she’s particularly interested in undergoing.
She checks the weapon at her hip, making sure that it’s fully loaded, and that there’s nothing blocking the trigger mechanism. She repeats the process for the gun at her ankle. Both seem to be working fine - and that’s all she needs. Time enough to kill this bastard before he can do any more damage. Save JJ. Anything else - things like her own survival - that’s a secondary consideration.
She’s a little sweaty by the time she makes it to the house, her heart beating erratically, epinephrine pumping out like she’s facing down a dragon, and in some ways, she thinks she kind of is. Any unexpected sound would make her jump out of her skin, so it’s a good thing that her phone is lying on the side of the road where she’d tossed it after getting out of the cab. It’s enough for the team to narrow down the location without arousing his suspicion.
She takes a deep breath and knocks on the door.
‘Gun,’ she hears eventually as the door opens a couple of inches - the same voice that she remembers from so long ago, only now it seems so much darker. ‘Give it to me, or she dies before we even get started.’ Emily has no way of assessing the situation from outside - he could have some kind of dead man’s switch rigged up, so shooting him through the door isn’t going to be an option.
She has to go inside.
She slips her sidearm out of its holster, and passes it through the small gap. There’s the shuffling sound of the firearm being dealt with, so she takes the opportunity to push at the door slightly - the security chain is locked. She can’t take him by surprise with her back-up.
‘And the other one,’ he says eventually, and she bites her lip, hesitating. ‘Come on, Emily, I know you’re packing the extra heat today. Pass it through, or your pretty blond “friend” is going to end up with a bullet in the chest. Slow enough that you can watch her die.’
She bends down, a little reluctantly, and takes out the smaller Glock.
It’s all down to her now, but then, maybe it always had been.
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Characters/Pairing: Emily/JJ
Genre: Romance/Drama
Summary: Some relationships don't take the conventional path. When an unsub threatens JJ's life, Emily pulls out all the stops to protect her, even if it means sacrificing her own life.
revenge
[rɪˈvɛndʒ]
-verb (used with object)
1.
to exact punishment or expiation for a wrong on behalf of, esp. in a resentful or vindictive spirit: He revenged his murdered brother.
2.
to take vengeance for; inflict punishment for; avenge: He revenged his brother's murder.
-verb (used without object)
3.
to take revenge.
-noun
4.
the act of revenging; retaliation for injuries or wrongs; vengeance.
5.
something done in vengeance.
6.
the desire to revenge; vindictiveness.
7.
an opportunity to retaliate or gain satisfaction.
Chapter Twelve
Morgan stares at the phone in disbelief.
Emily had hung up on him.
This is bad.
He doesn’t need to be told how this is going to go down - Emily’s going to walk straight into their unsub’s trap. He shakes himself back into reality and puts a call through to Garcia.
‘Baby girl, I need you to trace Emily’s cell,’ he says, hoping like hell that the phone hasn’t been turned off. He’ll try and put a call through once he’s finished talking to Garcia, but he’s not entirely sure that it will be answered.
He’s not sure if they can give Emily the help that she needs right now. Whatever that help is - backup, reassurance, company - he isn’t entirely sure yet.
‘Anything?’ Hotch asks, and Morgan admits that the Unit Chief looks like hell. The crash had given him a moderate concussion and a multitude of cuts and bruises. There are stitches along his cheek and across his forehead. In true Hotch spirit, he’s just signed himself out of hospital, against medical advice. Morgan isn’t going to argue - he knows that if he’d been the one injured, he’d be wanting to do exactly the same thing.
Too much is on the line.
‘Emily knows,’ he tells Hotch shortly. ‘I think she’s going to confront him. Garcia’s tracing the line, but...’ He lets an uncharacteristic silence speak his words for him. He’s not entirely sure that today is going to have a happy ending.
‘Have her check the call and text records as well,’ Hotch orders. ‘We know that he’s going to contact her. If we can intercept the message, we might be able to find out where he’s keeping JJ.’
Morgan opens his phone once more.
* * *
She hands the cab driver a fifty, telling him to keep the change. It’s not particularly cold out, but she hugs her shoulders anyway, because if she’s going to be completely honest with herself, she’s completely and utterly terrified right now. She doesn’t know if JJ’s alive or dead, doesn’t know if she’s about to make the biggest mistake of her life by walking the couple of miles or so down the road to this house.
It’s a little way out of town, far away enough from other houses that any screams could go unheard. Her stomach roils at that thought - without the address he’d given her, she could have gone days without knowing just where JJ is. It’s not an experience she’s particularly interested in undergoing.
She checks the weapon at her hip, making sure that it’s fully loaded, and that there’s nothing blocking the trigger mechanism. She repeats the process for the gun at her ankle. Both seem to be working fine - and that’s all she needs. Time enough to kill this bastard before he can do any more damage. Save JJ. Anything else - things like her own survival - that’s a secondary consideration.
She’s a little sweaty by the time she makes it to the house, her heart beating erratically, epinephrine pumping out like she’s facing down a dragon, and in some ways, she thinks she kind of is. Any unexpected sound would make her jump out of her skin, so it’s a good thing that her phone is lying on the side of the road where she’d tossed it after getting out of the cab. It’s enough for the team to narrow down the location without arousing his suspicion.
She takes a deep breath and knocks on the door.
‘Gun,’ she hears eventually as the door opens a couple of inches - the same voice that she remembers from so long ago, only now it seems so much darker. ‘Give it to me, or she dies before we even get started.’ Emily has no way of assessing the situation from outside - he could have some kind of dead man’s switch rigged up, so shooting him through the door isn’t going to be an option.
She has to go inside.
She slips her sidearm out of its holster, and passes it through the small gap. There’s the shuffling sound of the firearm being dealt with, so she takes the opportunity to push at the door slightly - the security chain is locked. She can’t take him by surprise with her back-up.
‘And the other one,’ he says eventually, and she bites her lip, hesitating. ‘Come on, Emily, I know you’re packing the extra heat today. Pass it through, or your pretty blond “friend” is going to end up with a bullet in the chest. Slow enough that you can watch her die.’
She bends down, a little reluctantly, and takes out the smaller Glock.
It’s all down to her now, but then, maybe it always had been.