𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘. ( 𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐤 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧 )

chapter twenty-eight

TW: mention and usage of guns, electrocution, suicide, described violence, angst, police presence, mild gore, language

mayhem, part one of two.

"the law of sacrifice is uniform throughout the world. to be effective it demands the sacrifice of the bravest and the most spotless " - mahatma gandhi.

- 

"Hotch!" Genevieve fell to her knees beside him, pulling her hair into a ponytail as she did so. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," He brushed her off immediately, as she tried to examine the oozing lacerations that decorated his soot-covered face. "It's Kate I'm worried about,"

"They aren't letting anyone out here until they clear the area. It's just us," Derek said, crouching opposite to them, his hands hovering over Kate's lifeless form, before looking up at the young man who was kneeling beside Hotch. He had long curly hair, and a short beard, and couldn't have been anything older than early twenties. He must have been a bystander who didn't get evacuated. "Kid, get behind the barricades. Go!" Derek said.

The kid looked hesitant to do so, but slowly rose to his feet, and backed away.

"Good luck," He whispered to Hotch. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. There was something not right. But she didn't have time to worry about her nagging feeling now. Hotch currently had his whole hand buried into a gaping wound in Kate's side, his fingers clamping a spurting bleed that threatened to leak into her body.

"Hotch, has she said anything?" Genevieve asked.

"She said that she's cold, but then she passed out, and I haven't been able to get anything out of her since," Their boss muttered, barely coherent.

"Her body's trying to compensate for the blood loss. Her heart would be slowing down right about now. We can't do anything. We need a professional, and equipment." She sighed before lifting Kate's head onto her lap, just for the sake of keeping her off the dirty New York roads.

"Hotch, talk to me, can we carry her?" Derek asked.

"No, I tried. Morgan, she's going to bleed to death if we don't do something," Hotch said hopelessly. Derek's phone rang, and he whirled it out of his pocket to answer it as Genevieve fought to keep her head clear, trying to think of something - anything that they could do to give Kate a fighting chance.

"Garcia, we got Hotch. But listen, you need to get someone down here right now. You hear me? Right now," He said urgently. He paused, before his head whipped up to stare at something over Genevieve's shoulder. She turned around to see the kid, his hands in the air, and a smirk on his face. He gestured with his fingers, and a cocky wink. Come and get me. "What?" Derek exclaimed. "You're absolutely sure?" Whatever Garcia said must have been enough for him, because he hung up the phone almost instantly. "Guys. The kid. He's the bomber!"

They both froze for a second. Genevieve's eyes darted up to him, where he was still standing, taunting them.

"Go. Both of you. Go. There isn't anything that you can do here," Hotch said after a few seconds, dropping his head in resignation. Derek got up immediately, and started sprinting after the kid, who promptly turned on his heel, and started running. Genevieve didn't move. "Genevieve. Go. That's an order!"

Grimacing, Genevieve gently laid Kate's head down back on the pavement, before taking off after Derek and the kid, unholstering her gun from her waist.

+++

There were many things that made Genevieve an exceptional field agent. Her impeccable aim was one of them. Her impressive hand-to-hand combat was another. But there was one thing that set her apart from anybody else on her team, even Derek. And it was her running.