Criminal Minds Imagines

s.r. - help

tw: guns, blood, gunshot wound

"Put the weapon down on the ground slowly and place your hands above your head, Colm," I command, the UnSub a few feet in front of me. My hands are shaking slightly but I'm not sure if it's because of my nerves or the rage boiling deep inside my stomach.

The local PD had gotten an anonymous tip that the UnSub was in this warehouse. The call was short and right to the point, giving the address and hanging up before getting a response from the operator. We had been waiting for something, anything from him for days. We all got here as fast as we could without even thinking. Looking back at it now, we should've known exactly who the tip came from.

He had been right under our noses the entire investigation, feeding off how clueless we were and our trust with the police department. The people who were supposed to help us. Who we were supposed to help. Mathias Colm, the town's very own Sheriff is pointing his pistol right at my face, his finger on the trigger.

"Not gonna happen Elizabeth." He says, using my first name which I had insisted he call me.

I readjust my grip on my gun, the sweat coating the now-warm metal. All I want in this moment is to speak into my earpiece and tell my team where I am and that I'm in trouble. That I need help. That I'm scared. Or maybe just say goodbye if that's all I have the time for.

I don't even have time for a goodbye.

I'm here alone. I insisted that we split up to cover more ground faster. I want to laugh at how foolish that was. I'm going to be the reason I get shot.

"Sheriff, we don't need to end things this way. We both know this."

"Both of us also know how horrible it is in prison. I don't deserve prison. I gave those filthy criminals what they deserved and you know it."

"You're a part of the law, Mathias-"

"Sheriff Colm!" He interrupts, yelling at me.

"Mathias," I say again, hoping to throw him off and be able to get out of this. "You're supposed to protect people, not hurt them. Even if those people didn't have a clean record, they deserved a fair trial."

He laughs at my words, flailing the gun around in the air, but still in my direction. "No, they didn't! I am the judge, jury, and executioner in this town. You'll see that now."

A shot rings through the air and I snap my eyes shut, hearing the shot before feeling it. I fall onto the cold concrete floor. After a few moments, I try to get up on my elbows. I immediately drop back down, pain surging through my shoulder. I clutch it with my other hand and force my eyelids open, seeing a thick coat of dark red blood.

My chest tightens and my arm is being stabbed by a million knives, my mind racing at a million miles a minute. I need to get up. I need to stop the bleeding.

I hear muffled screaming in the distance and my head feels heavy as if someone has shoved cotton in my ears and nose. I'm struggling for air, my lungs quickly deflating.

I can't breathe. I need to breathe. It's so loud, they need to stop screaming.

The cotton gets shoved father up my ears and into my head, my brain starting to throb as much as my shoulder. It gets louder and louder until my own throat starts to burn.

Am I the one screaming?

A hand on my wrist makes me jump, failing in another attempt to get up. Spencer is hovering over me."Liz, it's going to be okay." He says frantically, applying pressure to my shoulder. I whimper and it turns into a sob, noticing the hot tears falling down my cheeks. I grab his arm, digging my nails into his bicep and staining his light blue dress shirt with my blood.

Despite how much pain I'm in, I'm able to feel some relief when I know that he's here. He's here to help me and I'm going to be okay.

Spencer's face is sad and I can tell he's trying not to show it. He wants to be strong for me. He takes his tie from around his neck and wraps it around my damaged joint.

His forehead is glistening with sweat and he bites his lip as he adjusts the tie. "I need to tie this off, so just grab my arm if it hurts. As hard as you need." He assures me.

I weep a yes and he silently counts to three, tightening the fabric. Hurt shoots through my shoulder and all the way down to my fingers, curling them into a fist. I clutch Spencer tight, my muscles straining so hard they burn. I scream a sob and Spencer shushes me, gently stroking my cheek with the back of his bloodied hand.

"The hard part's done. Now we wait for medics. You'll be okay, alright? Just hold on a little bit longer."

I nod and despite his wishes, I start to feel dizzy, the edges of my visions turning black. My face relaxes but I work to keep my eyes open, not wanting to look away from Spencer. I want to look at him for as long as I can in case this is the last time.

"Spencer... I'm gonna die aren't I?" I ask, my voice hoarse and barely a whisper.

He takes one of my hands and squeezes it tight, bringing it up to his lips and kissing gently. "No, you're not going to die. I promise."

I get tired of fighting and allow my eyes to shut, easing me away from the pain. Spencer's broken promise easing me away from the pain.

I'll be okay, even if I'm gone. I'm just not sure if he will.