The campaign hall buzzed with chatter, the kind that clung to the walls even when no one was speaking. Flashbulbs popped near the podium, reporters jostling for space, but you weren’t on stage - you were in the shadows, just close enough to feel the weight of the spotlight you’d rather avoid.
This was your event. Your name was on the flyers, your work woven into every speech, every handshake. Months of strategy sessions and midnight phone calls had brought you here. And now, someone out there wants to punish you for it.
“You don’t have to be here,” Stephen said quietly, stepping into your line of sight. He wore his badge at his hip but carried himself like someone used to blending in, eyes constantly scanning the room. “The team can handle the surveillance.”
You shook your head. “If the unsub’s targeting me, hiding isn’t going to stop him. Besides, I can’t let this campaign fall apart because of one threat.”
Walker’s jaw tightened, a flicker of frustration crossing his face before he caught it. “You sound like Emily,” he murmured, then leaned a little closer, lowering his voice so no one else could hear. “I’m not asking you to quit. I’m asking you to let us protect you.”
There was something about the way he said us that you didn’t quite believe. His gaze didn’t waver, didn’t shift back to the crowd, not even for a second. He was focused on you - and only you.
“You trust me?” he asked.
The question caught you off guard. It wasn’t about the case anymore, not really. Your pulse quickened as you tried to read him, but he gave nothing away, just waited.
“I do,” you admitted softly.
His expression eased, just barely. “Good. Then let me be the one who stays close tonight.”
Before you could reply, Rossi’s voice crackled in Walker’s earpiece: “Walker, movement near the east exit.”
Walker’s posture shifted instantly, but his eyes lingered on you one last moment - long enough to promise that whatever storm was coming, he wasn’t about to let you face it alone.
--
The applause hit like a wave, but before you could take your next breath, Walker’s voice cut through the earpiece, tight and commanding:
“Gun-get down!”
You barely had time to register the words before his arm hooked around your waist, pulling you off balance.
The gunshot thundered through the hall.
Agony ripped through your side mid-fall, the force stealing the air from your lungs. You choked on a cry as Walker dragged you to the floor, his body slamming over yours, shielding you completely. The crowd erupted in panic, screams shattering the air.
“NO—” Walker’s voice cracked as his hand pressed hard against your side, his palm already slick with blood. His eyes were wild, unblinking, scanning your face like sheer will alone could keep you awake. “Stay with me. Look at me. Don’t you close your eyes.”
Your fingers clutched his jacket, grounding yourself against the blur of noise. “I- Stephen, it’s-”
“Don’t you dare say you’re fine,” he snapped, voice breaking with raw fear. “You’re bleeding, and I’m not letting you go. Not here. Not tonight.”
“Suspect down, weapon secured!” the call rang out over comms. The shouting in the hall dulled, the stampede of terrified guests echoing toward the exits.
But none of it reached Walker. His world had narrowed to you.
“You’re okay. I’ve got you,” he said, his voice steadier now, though his hands betrayed him - trembling as he pressed his jacket against your wound.
You tried to sit up, wincing. “It’s just a graze-”
“Stay down.” His tone was sharp, almost harsh, but his eyes softened the second they locked with yours. “Please. Let me handle this.”
You had never seen him like this. Stephen Walker, the calm, measured profiler who could talk down a suspect with nothing more than a steady voice, was gone. In his place was a man whose fear was written all over his face.
Blood seeped through the fabric. You hissed, clutching his wrist to steady him. “You’re shaking.”
He let out a rough laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “I just watched you take a bullet in front of me. Of course I’m shaking.”