Summary: Episode Tag to 1x18 'Somebody's Watching'. What would've happened if Maggie Lowe didn't back down?

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, nor the premise.

Warnings: Awkward sentence structures, possible grammatical and spelling mistakes. Blood, shameless whumpage and h/c because it's the only thing I know how to write. And angst. God. So much angst.

Note(s):

Italics are MOSTLY thoughts, and if not, emphasis or background noise. Bold means its a memory or flashback. Bold and italicised can mean a lot of things, but mainly it applies for whatever speech that occurs in a memory.

Also! This story will be told from the point of view of everybody (mostly Reid, Hotch, Morgan and Gideon though), from Maggie, Lila, all the way to Morgan and Reid. The characterization will probably be rather spotty now and then, but I can't see this story told in any other way. So here goes nothing.

Read if you dare?

The door bangs open. The sound echoes across the threshold like a gunshot, making Derek wince. Behind him, he can hear Hotch hissing into his comm – go around back, surround the house. Make sure no one gets in or out – and feel Elle's taut presence on his right.

The place is quiet, far too quiet for his liking. The lights are still on in the living room. His partner moves past him, her quick steps muffled by the carpeting.

Derek's comm crackles emptily as he tugs it out. He doesn't need distractions now, he needs to focus. But for some reason, Penelope's frantic voice from their earlier conversation is still ringing in his ears.

Derek, its Reid. Reid's in trouble.

A grim 'Clear' from Elle pushes them deeper into the building. Hotch stops them in the middle in the hallway. On the right there is a partition blocking the living area from view, and beyond that Derek knows that it's the pool. Straight ahead is the kitchen, the photo collage they deconstructed is still laid out haphazardly on the table. There's no one there.

"Morgan," Hotch's voice cuts through his thoughts, "you and Elle will take the bedrooms. I will take the pool."

The girl. The girl is in the house with them. She wants Lila.

"Remember, she is armed."

The leader's eyes sweeps over them.

"Go."

Derek leads, treading ahead and takes the first door on the right. It swings open easily. No one.

"Clear."

"Clear." Elle responds similarly.

Please, Derek, get him back.

He backs out of the room.

Get Reid back.

"Maggie Lowe?" Elle's voice rings out, steady, firm. "Maggie Lowe, FBI."

No answer.

Then—

Crash!

Derek jumps at the sound. He feels movement behind him and suddenly, there is someone's breathing into his ear.

"What's that sound?"

It's Elle. Derek lets go of a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"Don't know."

Up front, they can see an open door. Master bedroom. Derek inches forward, feeling Elle move with him.

"Maggie Lowe? FBI!"

There are no sounds this time. She knows. It takes a few moments, but Derek has had enough with this bitch.

"Come on."

They swing into the room, guns pointing every which way. Derek takes in the scene, the dresser lights are on, the items on the table scattered all over the floor, along with a broken lamp by the bedside table. The sheets at the corner of the bed are crumpled in the corner with—

Blood.

Derek's eyes move from the stains, feeling as though there's ice in his veins when they lead to a pair of familiar, sneakered feet sticking out from behind the bed—

"Reid!"

His gun is holstered in a second and he is at the kid's side by the next. Elle is snapping into her communicator for Hotch, a medic, an ambulance, anyone as she drops down beside Derek.

The boy is so, so still, Derek is almost certain he's dead. There's blood down the side of his face .Elle presses two fingers to his neck — pulse, there's a pulse — while his hands automatically shift over the biggest, most obvious injury he can spot; the blossom of red right in the middle of his abdomen, just below his sternum. Derek growls, trying not to recoil at the lukewarm sensation as he applies pressure to the open wound.

"Dammit! Reid? Kid, can you hear me?"

Reid doesn't move, his face bone-white in the dim light of the room. His eyes stay shut.

"Reid? Hey, hey…" the woman presses a hand to the side of the boy's face. The damp shirt squelches grotesquely under Derek's hands.

Hotch is beside them (How did he even get here?), radioing the medics (again). Reid is not waking, there is so much blood, everywhere.

"Spencer." A shiver runs down Derek's spine at the gentleness in Elle's voice.

Pause.

"E-Elle?" His voice quavers thinly, but God, it was the most beautiful sound they've ever heard. It takes a moment, but Reid manages a raspy breath and his hazel orbs blink open.

"Glad you're with us, kid."

The kid's eyes dart back and forth, disoriented.

"Hey, kid. Kid!" Derek's bark causes the young man to start. His gaze locks on the older man. "Look here. Stay with us, you hear me?"

Reid takes far too long to register his statement, then tries to nod but ends up coughing. The coughing turns into wheezing. They watch worriedly as he turns his head and spits up a reddish-black substance.

Internal bleeding. Not good.

"Where are those damn medics—"

The kid rests a trembling hand on his. Squeezes. The young man's eyes are ridiculously bright and his bloodless lips are tinged with red and quivering, forming soundless words, between gasps. Derek leans closer as the room door bursts open, voices—

"She's got Lila."

Then he hears Elle cry out and pulls back in time to see Spencer Reid, young, brilliant, twenty-four years old, best friend, begin to seize. They can only stare in horror as his eyes roll back into his head and his face suddenly becomes too white.

Then they're being pushed aside by paramedics (sorry sir, but you have to move—he's going into hypovolemic shock, we're losing him—) and all he knows is that Reid's blood is still dripping from his fingers, thick as syrup, onto his shoes.

It's still warm.

A/N:

Hello! I hope you enjoyed the chapter? This is my first time writing for a TV show, especially a show like Criminal Minds. The action and movements were really hard to write in; I tried my best? Please don't hate me.

I'll try my best to post as regularly as I can, but 2014 is going to be a very busy year for me, so I don't know if I can update that often. Probably every few weeks or so. In the meantime, thanks a lot for reading, drop a review for me please? I'm still looking to improve my writing, so comments of any and every kind would be greatly appreciated:)