“Hey, hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore.” 72.
“Just smile, I really need to see you smile right now.”
“Anything else you’d like to say?” the burlier of the two said. His voice was deep and menacing, and his partner wore a terrible smirk.
“Please don’t do this,” the woman said. Tears were springing from her eyes. “I have a daughter. Please!”
“You’re really starting to get on my nerves, with all this bullshit about ‘family’. Eddie, shut her up please,” the scrawny one said. He was obviously the leader, you could tell that much.
With your hands tied behind your back, it was difficult to move. Struggling against your restraints, you tried to scream, but the fabric that had been tied around your head and shoved into your mouth muffled it. You looked away as ‘Eddie’ did what he was told to do. With two shots, the woman was out. Tears were streaming now from your own eyes.
“That one too?” Eddie asked his boss.
“No, no. I want to have fun with the agent,” the boss said, walking over to you. Without warning, his foot collided with stomach, the pain shooting through your body. Now laying down, your face smashed against the hard concrete floor. You could feel the blood dripping down your face.
“So how did you out of all of you pig friends find us?” he asked teasingly, kicking you again. “Oh yeah. You didn’t. We found you.” Another kick.
The room was hazy, but there was no mistaking the sight of your boss behind Eddie, your boyfriend two steps behind him, a worried look on his face.
“Thomas Finnegan,” Hotch said, his voice carrying throughout the confined area. “Stop what you are doing.”
Thomas’ face didn’t falter, he didn’t turn to face your coworker or boyfriend. He continued to look down at you. Eddie on the other hand, seemed a bit startled by the new company. He raised his hands in surrender. Morgan shot through the door, cuffing the burly man.
“We can make this easy Thomas,” Hotch said, his gun trained on the man.
You looked up to meet his eyes, practically daring him. You saw the gun, knew he had it. One move and he was dead, and you didn’t mind that.
“Try me,” he said, raising his gun to your head before a shot rang out and he fell to the ground.
Tears continued to free flow out of your eyes, your cries still muffled.
“Y/N,” Spencer said, rushing to your aid. He untied your wrists and muffle, pulling you to him in a warm embrace. You clenched his shirt, sobbing into the fabric. “Hey, hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore,” he said into your hair, kissing your head over and over again. “You’re okay, baby. You’re okay.”
“Thank you,” you said against his shirt. Your arms snaked around his neck, trying to get him infinitely closer to you.
“Just smile. I really need to see you smile right now,” he said, holding you away far enough so he could see your face. You met your eyes with his, unable to bear a smile. “We have cookies and cupcakes back at the station that have your name all over them,” he tried.
And just looking at him, the concern etched in his features, his hair looking a mess and his expression hopeful and frazzled, you couldn’t help but curl the corners of your lips up. You love him so much.