The unsub left the stolen car to run into an alleway between buildings, making Spencer step on the breaks of the black SUV. You were already outside the passenger's side when he did, gun in hand as you ran behind the man under the sun, people looking around confused as three FBI cars had parked on the sidewalk. Spencer Reid was right behind you, Emily, Rossi and JJ having walked around the building to corner the unsub. You wanted to scream to him, to tell him to stop running, but before you could, a gunshot ran through the empty alleway.

Spencer felt like throwing up at the sound, and before you could even feel pain or register that you had been shot, you felt the warm, sticky blood run down your right side — that, if you had your gun holstered an not in hand, the bullet wouldn't have passed through. The small part of your side that your FBI bulletproof vest didn't cover — how did the unsub even do this? — had a dark, circular stain on your grey shirt, and it was growing bigger. That's when you finally felt pain, and that's when you fell to your knees.

Spencer ran to hold you steady, making you sit down as he held you. No, he thought to himself. Not her, too. He loved you. He never thought he'd love anyone after Maeve, but— 4 shots rang through the alleway again, JJ and Emily coming running after having shot the unsub down.

"Help!", said Spencer, his hand covering your wound to try and stop the bleeding. Your eyes found his hazel ones, and you noticed — you'd never seen him so worried, so desperate before.

Emily said the address into her cellphone as she called for an ambulance, Rossi, Luke, Matt and Tara coming to the scene after hearing the commotion. But Spencer didn't care. Spencer had his eyes on you, hands on you, arms around you. You wouldn't die, right? He once got shot in the neck and he was here, alive, not even a scar. You'd be fine. Right?

Spencer wanted to cry. To scream. He wanted to tell you how much he loved you, how much the age gap didn't matter — but not now. You'd make it.