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Cat and Mouse
By gilligankane
You know what happens next.
This is the part where she dies for you and you, well, you let her, because she whispered to you in your sleep once – a magical story about how she'd die to save you; how she would do anything to protect you; how she would never let anything hurt you.
She thought you were sleeping, and if you had been, you wouldn't have known what to do now. If you had really been sleeping, you would follow her and you know that something awful would happen. Instead, it's going to be her. It's going to be her on the receiving end of the bullet and the smoking gun.
So you hang back, watching with a hazy vision, because your eyes are starting to fill with tears, and you wait for the inevitable.
It still shocks you though, when you hear the sound of a gun being fired, the short, chocked shout, the dull thud of a body hitting the ground solidly, the squawk of the radio attached to your vest. It's still a shock when you feel Morgan body slam you against the wall in his haste to get inside the building, when Hotch blows by after him.
You hear the when Morgan's fist goes through the drywall and you hear the way Hotch's sob catches in his throat, because you're sure he loved her once, back before she was yours.
But you knew this was going to happen, so you just stare at her lifeless body and move the hair out of your eyes, tucking it behind your ear.
"Someone call 911!" Morgan is yelling into his microphone, but Garcia called the local police at least a minute ago. They're not going to help. She's gone. She's dead.
You know what happens next.
Someone steps forward next you and places a rose on top of the mahogany coffin, the one that looks too big and too final. A hand ghosts down your arm and settles around your fingers, clutching them tightly. Someone else steps forward, and places another rose on top of the first and it's like an assembly, one after another after another until the entire coffin is covered with roses.
Who are these people? Did they even know her?
They'll never get the chance now.
You stand there with your rose still wrapped in one hand, holding it so tightly that the thorns dig into the sensitive flesh of your hand. Ever rose has its thorn.
Everyone is crying and maybe they're crying for her, and maybe they're crying because it's a life lost young and that's always tragic. And maybe they're crying for you.
"We have to go," Garcia whispers in your ear, directing you to the waiting car. Morgan just stares at you, like he's waiting to see how long you can go with dry eyes. He doesn't understand that you knew this was going to happen, and maybe, just maybe, somewhere in those dark eyes, he blames you for her death. You should have been the one to go in the door, it should have been you, but she whispered once how she wanted to be – how she was going to be – your knight in shining armor and she was going to protect you. She was going to die for you.
You know what happens next.
You let yourself in the front door, staring at the ceilings and the walls and all of the words she ever said to you are bouncing off them, flying through the air, reminding you what you lost.
Now, you cry.
You cry because she promised you she was going to die for you and you should have told her you weren't sleeping and you should have told her you loved her, right then and there in that moment.
You cry because this room is empty and her cup of coffee from that morning is still half-full and still sitting on the counter where she left it as you rushed her to get to the office.
You cry because you're alone, really alone, for the first time in a long time, and the coldness is seeping in through the windows and into your heart.
You cry because you never told her you love her.
You know what happens next.
This is the part where she dies for you and you, well, you let her, because she whispered to you in your sleep once – a magical story about how she'd die to save you; how she would do anything to protect you; how she would never let anything hurt you.
She thought you were sleeping, and if you had been, you wouldn't have known what to do now. If you had really been sleeping, you would follow her and you know that something awful would happen. Instead, it's going to be her. It's going to be her on the receiving end of the bullet and the smoking gun.
So you hang back, watching with a hazy vision, because your eyes are starting to fill with tears, and you wait for the inevitable.
Except that you've had this dream before and it gets longer every time and you're tired of dreaming of her dying, and you're tired of waking up in tears, even if you wake up next to her.
So you barrel through the door first, with your gun drawn and your eyes on fire, because you want to be the hero for once, and here's your chance.
You know what happens next: you wake up and she's right there, and her arms are still around you and you stare at her for a little while, amazed that your life is turning about even better than you dreamed it would when you were younger.
So you watch with hazy eyes because you're sure you're going to wake up at any moment and you don't expect it.
It's a shock when you hear the sound of a gun being fired; when you hear the chocked shout coming from your throat; when you heard the sound of body hit the ground – the dull thud; when you hear the squawk of the radio attached to your vest that's soaking in warm liquid that coats your fingers as you press against the hole in your chest, trying to keep it all inside.
You didn't know this was going to happen. It was supposed to be a dream, but it's not, because Morgan is yelling for Garcia to call 911 and Hotch is trying to keep his composure and Reid is up against the wall, sobbing, because you're dying. And she's standing in the doorway, eyes wide in fear and despair and something you can't put your finger on.
This was supposed to be the part where she dies for you and you, well, you were supposed to let her, because she whispered to you in your sleep once – a magical story about how she'd die to save you; how she would do anything to protect you; how she would never let anything hurt you.
It wasn't a dream.
You know what happens next.
And now, there is no more next for you.
The End