Imagine Spencer looking after you when you get hurt on a stakeout
You'd been paired with a local officer, tasked with a night stakeout at a farm. The pair of you were supposed to watch for any activity, and report back any movement.
Which of course went pear shaped when the young, ambitious man you'd been placed with identified a missing person being led out of the main building. Faster than you could react to stop him, he'd thrown himself out the door, gun raised and ready and attempted to subdue the men.
Instead of impulsively running after him, you chose to stay back and call for help. Simultaneously pressing the distress button on the device Garcia had rather ingeniously insisted you all carry.
It pinged your location to all members of the team, and alerted them that whoever pressed it was in trouble.
Reaching the sheriff's department, you reported the activity and the officers mistake. Watching as they turned on him, you let out a gasp when one of the suspects didn't wait for him to finish the rest of his demands. Instead in the blink of an eye shot him, three times.
"Agent? Agent? Can you hear me, what's going on there?" The Detective who'd answered the phone asked you.
"They just killed him." You breathed, watching as they dragged his body away, the missing boy cowering against the side of the house. Before another one of the suspects grabbed onto him and dragged him away.
"Have they seen you? Are you compromised?"
"Maybe... I don't know. They-" you were cut off by the passenger door opening, revealing one of the men you'd been watching earlier that night.
Before you could reach for your gun, which was stupidly placed on the dashboard, he grabbed you by your hair and dragged you out of the car. Slamming you down onto the ground roughly, even your kevlar vest couldn't stop the air being knocked out of you.
Promptly followed by a hard kick to your stomach, making your chest go into spasm. Gasping in air, you could barely focus on where the next hit was coming from.
***
After what seemed like an eternity he finally let up, shoving you back into the gravel of the driveway and stalking off. Barking orders at the other men who had appeared from the shadows.
"Let's go boys, we need to ship out to location Tango. Got it?.. Let's go then. Her buddies will be here any moment." He called out, sparing a glance back to you.
Feeling entirely too conscious, you dared not move, not fancying another punch to the face.
Multiple cars started up and disappeared over the hills to the back of the property.
You curled onto your side, and tried to breathe in some even breaths. Trying to not focus on the pain all over, you managed to get yourself on all fours. Realising at some point he pulled your bulletproof vest off.
Maneuvering yourself so you were slowly leaning back against the tyre of the truck you were doing the stakeout in. The light from the houses and extra that had been switched on gave you a good look around. And also at yourself. Seeing there were blood splatters on your shirt. You tried not to imagine what you looked like.
Closing your eyes for a moment, taking slow deep breaths in to try and calm your racing heart.
Hearing the sound of gravel under tyres, you instantly panicked. A unexpected wave of adrenaline coarsed through you, giving you the energy needed to get yourself off the floor and in a better position to defend yourself in.
"Y/n?" Hotch's concerned shout fell of deaf ears as you scrambled to get into the car and grab your gun.
"Hey, no, no, no. It's us, calm down." A familiar voice soothed. Intercepting you and stopping your hand before it could pick up your weapon, that you hadn't had the chance to grab.
You hissed and winced as he touched you left wrist, a sickeningly sharp pain shooting up your arm.
"I'm sorry. What hurts?"
"Spence?" Seeing his face relaxed you instantly, "we need to be quick, they literally just left. Over that ridge up there. If we go now we could catch up with them."
Leaning down to get a look at you, some of his wild hair falling out of place as he fussed over you.
"You're not going anywhere, okay? You need to be seen to, what the hell happened? We got the distress ping and ran out the door."
He intercepted your attempt to grab the keys in the ignition. Taking them from you and putting them in his coat pocket.
"That stupid boy got himself killed. He ran over there, gun out, demanding they gave up the boy and that they were under arrest... There were three of them! To one of him, he was never going to subdue all of them."
"You did everything right, okay? He should never have tried to go after them. This group is far too organised for that."
"But I just sat here. I watched it happen, I-"
"Stop. I won't let you do this to yourself. Did you see the person who attacked you?"
"Yeah, he was young. Green eyes, bit of a beard. Around six-five. Probably mid thirties. Um- he was wearing a yellow plaid shirt with a puffer vest jacket. He had.." You trailed off, a piercing headache making you double over.
"That's amazing, y/n. Come on, the ambulance is over here." He said, curling his arm around your waist and helped you out of the car.
Spying Hotch looking over a map, you pulled away from Spencer and limped over to him. Spencer following close behind holding onto your wrist.
You looked at the map to get your bearings, finding the circled area you were in. You pointed at the hills behind the house.
"Y/n, have you seen a medic?" Aaron asked, frowning at you, one of the few facial expressions he had.
"No she hasn-" Spencer started, but you cut him off.
"They went over this ridge," you paused, steadying yourself on the bonnet of the truck, "if we leave now we could catch them."
"Okay, but you aren't going anywhere until you've been checked out. Reid. Make sure she gets medical attention." Hotch spoke to you and then to Spencer who was hovering worriedly.
"Hotch, please. We might not get another chance like this again." You tried, refusing to move from the car.
"Y/n that's not a suggestion. It's an order. Go." Hotch finalised, nodding to Spencer who supported you as he lightly pulled you back.
The medics met you halfway and started asking you an endless list of questions.
A suspected cracked rib and multiple bones in your wrist, concussion, and bruising all over. You were told to visit the hospital once you were back in the city. They strapped you up and gave you some painkillers.
"Where's Hotch?" You asked as Spencer helped you get down from the ambulance, "I've been checked out, I want to help."
"They've headed back to the station. We can't just go roaming across the hills looking for people in the dark. Y/n, it's too dangerous."
"Spencer, come on. We won't get another chance like this."
"We will, okay? I promise you they won't get away. You think any of us will let you go out like this? You need x-rays, anti-inflammatory medication, potentially a CT scan, and most of all rest. Hotch wants you on two weeks leave, after you leave the hospital."
"No," you exclaimed exasperated, "I need you to do a cognitive interview on me."
"Okay. But not now." He spoke softly, brows furrowed as he looked down at you.
"Why not now?"
"Because you've spent the last ten minutes digging your nails into your palm. And you only do that when you're in pain."
You instantly released your clenched fist. Not realising you'd even being doing it.
Releasing a deep breath, you were finally ready to admit defeat. Nodding, you let him lead you back to the car you'd come in.
The drive back was comfortably silent, Spencer looking over to check on you occasionally. You sighed on arriving at the closest hospital.
"I know okay. But do you really want me lecturing you about all the reasons you should follow the medics advice and get to the hospital immediately?"
Shaking your head, you sent a small smile his way.
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