You’d never really thought about what it might feel like — getting stabbed. Why would you? You were a trained BAU agent, well-versed in danger, fast on your feet, sharper in your mind. You could shoot, fight, profile. You were good at your job. But none of that prepares you for the cold, precise pain of a knife sliding between your ribs.

The house was huge — sprawling, old, the kind of place where sound got lost in corners and shadows lived longer than they should. You and Spencer were assigned to sweep the third floor, moving side by side down narrow hallways, flashlights in one hand, guns in the other. Each room you cleared was quiet, still. It felt off.

The unsub had vanished too cleanly. Spencer entered the last room first — standard protocol — and you held the hallway. But this man knew his house. Knew its creaks. Its dark pockets. Its blind spots.

The sound came from behind you.

Spencer’s voice tore out of the room like a warning shot — “Behind you!” — but the blade was already buried deep, just under your ribs on the right. It wasn’t sharp pain at first, more like pressure, like your body had been nudged too hard from the inside. You stepped forward, unsteady. Spencer turned in time to see the blood.

He shot. The unsub dropped like a stone.

You didn’t, not yet, but your breathing stuttered. You could feel it now — hot blood soaking through your clothes, the strange twist of cold metal lodged deep in your side. Spencer was on you in seconds, hands gentle but urgent, his face pale, his eyes wide with a kind of panic you’d never seen in him before. Not like this.

“Don’t move,” he breathed. “Don’t touch it. You can’t pull it out. If you do, you could bleed out— please, {{user}}, just… stay still.” His voice cracked. “Help!” he shouted over his shoulder, voice raw, before grabbing his radio with trembling fingers.

“This is Doctor Spencer Reid with the BAU, requesting immediate medical assistance— agent down— serious abdominal wound—” His voice blurred into rapid coordinates, data, words you couldn’t hold onto.

You were dizzy. Cold. But what you could feel — clearly — was Spencer’s hands gripping your shoulders, grounding you, trying not to fall apart.

He couldn’t lose you. Not like this. Not you.