THIRTY TWO. ADRENALINE

LATER THAT MORNING, IT WAS CLEAR TO SEE THAT HOTCH AND DAISY HAD A DIFFERENT ENERGY FOLLOWING THEM AROUND. While both were still incredibly stressed, they weren't so inclined as to take it out on each other. It was no question that they would get on one another's nerves again at some point in the day, but they had made a silent decision to wait until after the case was over.

"He never used code before, why now?" Hotch nodded to the picture Daisy held in her hands. It was from the bus attack the night before, where the numbers 1488-201-1439 had been scrawled in blood on the side windows.

"They're not part of a pattern or equation," Spencer and Rossi stood behind the seated Daisy, studying the images taken at the crime scene. "Mathematically, they're insignificant."

"Maybe so, but I know I've seen them before," Rossi murmured. Daisy curled her arm behind her and handed the photo over, letting him take it so that he could look at it closer.

"He likes to attack people in their cars," she pointed out. "Foyet only catches the bus, and last night he attacked a bus. It's gotta be connected."

"It was the number seven," Hotch muttered, looking over at the board with a map and notes scribbled on it, mostly in Spencer's unintelligible handwriting. The unit chief focused more on the map, and pointed to a particular area. "That bus stops right in front of Foyet's apartment."

"He knows where Foyet lives," Rossi concluded.

"And he wants us to know it," Daisy sighed softly.

"Fourteen-thirty-nine," Spencer piped up, his thin eyebrows raising in realisation. "The apartment you interviewed him in was fourteen-thirty-nine Yarbrough."

"What're his other addresses?" Daisy looked back at Rossi. "You said you wrote them down, right?"

Rossi nodded, pulling out his notepad and putting in on the tabletop. "Two-oh-one South Brookline, fourteen-eighty-eight Edenhurst. The numbers on the bus are Foyet's addresses."

Hotch visibly tensed. "We'll split up and cover each address."

★☆

Daisy stayed attached to Morgan's side as they snuck up the porch steps of one of Foyet's homes. Morgan unlocked the front door with ease, pushing it open without as much as a squeak. He lifted his hand to wave Daisy and O'Mara forward, the three of them splitting up within the house to cover all possible ground.

Daisy's feet carried her through the home and up the staircase, where she quietly opened each of the doors, her gun at the ready. She took the second flight of the house alone, but seeing as there was little space to cover, she managed to clear the floor with ease. There was nothing of interest, and she managed to slip into what she assumed was Foyet's room, her gun raised. It was empty.

She then heard the smashing of a window, followed by a gunshot moments later. Her eyes widened, and she spun on her foot, lifting her wrist mic to her mouth. "Gunshots at fourteen-eighty-eight Edenhurst!"

Keeping her back to the wall, she ran down the stairs with a tight grip on her weapon. She smacked the lights on as she sped back to the front door, her eyes darting back and forth to check for shadows.

"You're new," a man murmured, causing Daisy's head to snap towards the source of the voice. She ducked just in time to dodge a gunshot, the bullet hitting the wall above her. She didn't waste a second in firing back, her finger squeezing the trigger twice. She heard a grunt, and she jumped back up to her feet, her head thumping from the rush that went to her head.

The kitchen where the man once stood was empty. As she crept out from behind the counter, Daisy's eyes widened at the sight of blood smeared across the floor and out the back door, which had the Reaper's symbol drawn in blood. She swallowed and looked around, but there was no one to be seen. The
man must have dipped out the door and gotten away.

Swearing, she tiptoed past the pool of blood and stepped over the corpse of Sergeant O'Mara. The poor man lay on the concrete, eyes open, face pale and body lifeless. She reached down to check for a pulse, but there was absolutely nothing left in him.

To make matters worse, Morgan was nowhere to be seen. Daisy knew she had no choice but to follow the Unsub, her hand reaching to her belt for her flashlight. She turned it on, holding it over her gun so she could see ahead of her.

"Morgan, where are you?" Daisy called into her mic as she began sprinting down the driveway.

"I'm fine," she heard a muffled slur, and she took that as a sign to go ahead with her pursuit. She caught sight of a figure taking off on the other side of the road, and she didn't hesitate in following. She ran, her heartbeat quickening with every step. The ground was uneven beneath her shoes but she hardly had time to acknowledge it, far too focused on catching up. She managed to keep him in her sight for a good ten minutes, her eyes never straying from his shadowy body.

The man ran to the nearby plaza, the growing number of streetlights starting to provide even more light. Daisy's shoes slapped against the pavement as she maintained her pace, and just as she started to close the gap, he turned and fired a shot, hitting her in the arm. She grunted at the impact, stumbling a little.

Firing back, she narrowly missed his spine as he turned the corner, the shot instead destroying a piece of the brick wall. Her jaw clenched, she went wide around the corner, prepared for anything to jump out at her. He must have anticipated such, as when she turned and saw the lights of a bus stop in the distance, she knew he'd take his chance to leave. The sleeve of her favourite cardigan was soaked in blood, but she could barely feel it. She could hardly complain, though she'd rather have a hit in her FBI vest.

There were eight buses leaving, and Daisy knew the Unsub was on one of them. She saw a dark figure step onto the closest one just as the doors closed, and she swore loudly in frustration. It was the perfect escape; he could get anywhere in the city and by taking off his mask he'd draw little attention to himself. She'd managed to shoot him in the shoulder, so if he covered it up enough he could lay low and get off without causing a scene. It was late and the plaza didn't have security covering the bus stop, so she couldn't play any footage to find him again. It was a complete and utter failure.

The buses pulled away moments before Daisy made it to the interchange, and she gasped out for breath as she finally came to a halt, the only company being the swinging fluorescent lights above her, and the blood trickling down her arm.

"Alvarez, where the hell are you?"

Hotch's voice soaked through her earpiece, but she couldn't bring herself to reply straight away. Frustrated tears rose to her eyes as the street emptied out completely, each bus heading in a different direction. If the Reaper knew the city so well, he probably took the exact one he needed.

She lifted her wrist mic to her mouth once more, looking over at the customer service desk. Of course, it was closed. She shut her eyes for a moment and tried to compose herself. "I'm at the bus interchange on Hundling Road. He got away, I'm sorry, I-"

"Are you okay?" Hotch's voice was rushed, full of concern. He and the others must have made it to the house and found O'Mara's body. Her not being there probably freaked him out - she could be dead in a ditch for all he knew.

"Is Morgan alright?" Daisy ignored his question, remembering how she found the sergeant but not her coworker. What if he was dead too? "Where is he? Is he hurt? I didn't see him-"

"He's fine," Hotch was growing increasingly more worried. She could practically hear the frown on his lips. "Can you make it back here or do you need us to pick you up?"

Daisy looked down at her bloody arm, starting to feel a little faint. She groaned softly, putting her gun away. Red liquid gushed from the wound, and she started to remove her bulletproof vest and cardigan to start tending to it. "I'm gonna need someone to get me. He shot me in the arm, it's just a flesh wound, nothing too bad, but it hurts like a bitch-"

Hotch cut her off without hesitation. "I'm on my way."

★☆

Hotch pulled into the bus stop mere moments later and jumped out of the car with a paramedic on his tail. The look in his eyes was one Daisy hasn't seen before; it was frightening.

Daisy looked up from where she was sitting, a torn piece of her shirt pressed against the wound. She exhaled in relief at the sight of him, and got to her feet. Thought his lips were deeply downturned, his eyes were filled with pure concern as he made his way over. She swayed a little, and he quickly wrapped his arms around her waist, letting her lean into him. "I'm sorry, Hotch, I tried-"

"Ma'am, you need to calm down," the paramedic said softly, inspecting her wound. Daisy stared intensely at the concrete as the emergency worker checked for anything inside the wound, before he started disinfecting and wrapping it up. Daisy grimaced at the stinging sensation, not having missed the feeling of getting shot. "We'll take you back to the ambulance and stitch you up there, okay? You're lucky, agent. He just missed the bone."

Daisy nodded, gladly accepting the painkillers he handed over from his kit. She couldn't bear to look at Hotch and pulled away from him, starting her walk back to the SUV. Hotch pursed his lips, knowing she was furious with herself. "He didn't have a getaway vehicle. If he did, he didn't want to use it in fear we'd I.D him."

"Did you see what bus he got onto?" Hotch asked, opening the door for her and helping her in. Daisy inhaled sharply as she fell back onto the seat, using her uninjured hand to put her seatbelt on. The paramedic dug around in his bag for a makeshift sling, leaning over the centre console and helping her put it on.

"I saw him get in, but there were seven or eight leaving," Daisy checked the time on the car clock. She peered out the window and looked at the electronic timetable just as Hotch pulled away from the interchange. "It looks like they leave on the hour. That would have been the nine o'clock run. He could be anywhere in the city, Hotch. I-I shot him in the kitchen, but if he bled, it would have been contaminated with O'Mara's, which was already on the ground."

Hotch picked up his phone. "Emily? Check the blood in the kitchen and see if there's a separate puddle anywhere. It could be the Reaper's."

He then hung up, and looked over at Daisy. She was staring through the windscreen, her expression blank. She was mad at herself for not having done enough. He had just managed to slip through her fingers.

"Daisy," he said softly, his hand reaching over and resting on her knee. She couldn't look at him, she was too deep in thought. If she'd started running a little earlier, or if she'd tackled him in the kitchen, maybe they'd have him in custody. "You did all you could."

"I didn't do enough," she muttered. Hotch pulled up to the crime scene and put the car in park, his gaze falling to her arm. He should have gotten there sooner and been there to help her.

"Daisy-" Hotch began, but she jumped out and slammed the door without another word. He pursed his lips and exhaled, composing himself for a moment, before he followed her back into the house. He watched as she nimbly dodged between police and paramedics, while they all moved aside for him.

"Derek?" she called as she passed through the front door, ducking under the police tape. She wove through the house until she reached the lounge, and sighed in relief when she saw Morgan pulling an FBI jacket over his bandaged shoulder. She made her way over to him and sniffled when he pulled her into his arms. "Thank God, are you okay? What happened to you?"

"It doesn't matter now," Derek didn't seem to pleased with her, however. "What were you thinking? You should have waited for back-up."

Daisy faltered a little. "Derek, if I didn't chase him out, it wouldn't just be O'Mara dead, it would've been us too."

"You got shot, Alvarez," Derek's voice was sharp. Daisy's posture straightened, and she quickly grew defensive.

"And you got knocked out," she argued. Derek looked away, his jaw tightening. Hotch put an arm on Daisy's shoulder as an act of comfort, but she shrugged him off. It wasn't personal, she just couldn't handle it right now. Still, it hurt a little bit. "Morgan, this guy doesn't play around. He ran cause he couldn't catch me off guard. You would've done the same if you were in my position, and don't bother pretending otherwise."

"You were reckless," Derek stood up and slipped past Daisy, lightly knocking her shoulder.

Daisy felt her eyes sting but she quickly blinked them back before anyone noticed. She swallowed the lump in her throat and turned around, still not wanting to look up and meet Hotch's gaze. He wanted to pull her into an embrace as she had done the night before, but he knew it wouldn't have the same effect, especially in front of so many people. "The Reaper stole his badge and left him a bullet."

A sick feeling churned in Daisy's stomach at the thought of Derek's brush with death.

However, she didn't regret what she had done.

★☆

ew yuck! anyway !

also i'm writing this note on my phone rn so i can't find the name but shoutout to the reader with the shrek profile picture and the underscore in their user who keeps commenting that hotch needs to be pegged