Outsider

angel? 'cause i almost died?-9

TW// gun, non-graphic injury

Thoughts of the night before are still heavy on my mind as we work the next case. A local unsub, in DC, had been killing people at expensive parties, and we'd narrowed down where he'd be tonight. Hotch and I were undercover, a rare experience. Feeling like a spy was fun, though.

I lean against a table and watch people, thinking about Elle. After the kiss, we'd made out instead of watching about half the movie. She'd spent the night, and I can confidently say that there is no better feeling than waking up with her arms around my waist. 

"Remember, white male, 35 to 40, probably very small." Gideon's voice comes through my earpiece. I glance up from the table I'm leaning against and see Hotch doing the same thing, searching the room for someone who matches the description.

Unfortunately, nearly half the people there are middle aged white men, and several of them are short. I leave the table and slip through the crowd, smiling at guests as I search for our unsub. I pass Hotch, who doesn't even look at me.

Hotch had become a little more welcoming to me, and no longer seemed to hate me. I'd worked hard to prove myself, and it was paying off. But tonight, we didn't know each other.

"Vandy, you hear that?" Hotch's voice surprises me, since he'd just passed me wordlessly.

"What?" He grabs my hand and puts his other hand on my waist, pulling me into a dance. I can't say it's not one of the weirdest experiences I'd ever had, waltzing with Hotch.

"Do you hear screaming?" He asks and I frown, listening intently.

"Oh god." I say as the faintest shrieking noise reaches my ears. His hand tightens around mine and he leads me as calmly off the dance floor as he can. As soon as we're away from the party we break into a run towards the source of the screaming. He pulls out his gun and I desperately wish I had mine with me, but the dress doesn't really lend itself to that. He kicks open the door Morgan style and we rush in. Before I can even register what's happening, there's a gunshot and I'm knocked backwards.

Another gunshot sounds and the screaming stops.

"Vanderbilt. Sawyer." Hotch is hovering over me.

"Sorry, sorry. Let me get up."

"No, no, lie down."

"What, why?"

"Do you not feel the bullet in your shoulder?"

"Uhhh." I glance to the side to see blood streaming from an alarming hole in my shoulder. I realize it's numb, probably from adrenaline.

"Don't move." He's calling 911 and trying to stop people from coming into the room. The woman who'd been screaming crouches over me, pressing something to my shoulder to slow the bleeding.

"Keep your eyes open, Vandy. That's an order." Hotch says, sounding surprisingly worried. He squeezes my other hand and grimaces down at me.

"I didn't mean to get shot." I mumble.

"I know. He started shooting as soon as we opened the door."

"Didn't even introduce himself." I say, a laugh bubbling up. I feel almost like I'm drunk.

"Ambulance is on its way." He says softly.

"Hotch?" I say after a moment.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think that I'm good at my job?"

"Yes." He says.

"Then why doesn't anyone like me? Except for Elle. And Pen. And Morgan, but we're mostly just mean to each other. Ooh, and that one little intern from the floor below us."