Chapter Text
Cutler kneels to the ground slowly, almost too slowly, like he's trying to get a reaction out of them. Out of Maggie. He's staring right at her, almost completely ignoring OA.
"Get down on the ground, or I will shoot you." Her voice is hard as steel. The job came first, but she struggles to swallow all the anger and pain that Cutler’s caused her since he took Jason from her. She wonders if he knew how he’d stolen her entire world…
She's focusing on his face for a second too long; just one split second she spends trying to study his mind, to be one step ahead. It's everything Maggie trained her whole life for, but in that split second, it's all for naught. She doesn't see the pistol he slipped out of his sleeve until he's swinging his arm around, pointing it at her. She tries to adjust her shot, but not in time.
Maggie’s too late.
She feels all the wind escape her lungs, and she finds herself unable to make a sound as white hot pain erupts through her body. She sees the second gunshot out of her peripheral, OA, she registers. The bullet rips through Cutler's right bicep. He only hesitates a moment before whipping around, hurrying as quickly as he can to beat out OA in a footrace to the bank's front door.
"I push, you punch?" her partner asks. She doesn't answer. He's about to take off, moving a few steps forward as he starts radioing for backup, but hesitates. Call it a sixth sense or just pure luck; he does a double-take over his shoulder toward Maggie.
"OA…?" It's half to get his attention, half a question; ‘did that just happen?’ went unsaid, but her tone trips his internal alarms. He turns around. Slowly, shakily, she moves her hand off her abdomen, revealing the gunshot wound. She looks back up at him, as he watches the blood disperse and stain her shirt an even darker shade.
"Oh my god." It's all OA can think to say.
He's sure he got Cutler in time. They're trained not to miss: the Army, the FBI. If he's both a soldier and an agent, why did his training fail him? Why did he fail Maggie? How was he faster than us? How could this happen, how could I have let this happen? Briefly, his mind travels back to the reprimands from Quantico: “you’ll get your partner killed”. After fighting for so long to prove him wrong, he’d finally made the fatal mistake Quinn warned him about.
Maggie steps toward him, more sluggish than she intended. Her gun slips out of her left hand and clatters to the floor. The crash snaps him out of his horrified daze and sends him rushing back towards his sister partner. Her legs disobey her internal command to stay upright, but she staggers into her partner's arms, which reminds her of his promise to always have her back.
"Easy, easy, I got you." They move to the floor in sync, with one hand on her shoulder, he guides her down and into his lap, the other hand OA presses on her bloody torso. His eyes stay with hers the whole time, both mirroring each other’s terror. Reflecting each other’s fear of death. Her death.
"I got you. You're okay."
It's false hope and they both know it.
This time, he’s back on the comms to call for an ambulance. He can't take his eyes off all the blood covering him and his partner.
"OA," His name jolts him out of agent mode; it was quiet, weak, but he heard it clear as day.
"I'm right here. You're okay."
"Go."
He blinks, raising an eyebrow, "What?" He swears he mishears her.
"Go, Cutler." He didn't. God, He wishes he did. This is an order he simply cannot follow. One he could never follow.
"No, I'm not leaving."
"OA, please-"
"No." His voice cracks, his facade crumbles.
Vocally, she’s insisting, but her eyes say otherwise. She doesn’t want to die. She’s still afraid of it, even if it means reuniting with Jason. Yet dying without apprehending his killer feels unforgivable. So, with all the fake conviction she can muster, she insists once more, words slurring slightly as she mentions the case.
"No." OA insists again, "No case is worth losing my partner. I'm not leaving." You're more important to me. He flicks his gaze back to her stomach; the blood's beginning to seep through his fingers.
"Stay with me, Maggie."
She sputters his name again, "OA-"
"It's alright, I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you. I'm stuck with you, remember?"
That drew a small nod, and a smile, which he tearily reciprocated. A short-lived, yet needed distraction. But the fiery pain creeps back to her moments later, warning Maggie she was running out of time. She winces as she speaks,
"OA, if I don't-"
He knows where this is going. He's made this promise before. He can't lose anyone else. The warmth of his welling tear ducts stings as he tries to keep himself together, for her sake.
"Hey, don't talk like that." Despite all his mental alarms going haywire, he keeps his voice soft, afraid of worrying her. "You're okay."
More false hope.
"If I'm not, take care of Erin." The tears she's been fighting back spill freely now. The thought of her baby sister growing up without her hurt more than the gunshot wound.
OA hasn't met her yet, but from what she told him, Maggie's sister is so loved. The last thing he wants is for them to meet at her funeral.
"I promise. But you're gonna be fine." He repeats.
He can't be sure if the reassurance is helping, or just self-deception. He can't even fathom actually losing her; she's family. Her eyes squeeze closed again, leaning her head back against her partner. He can tell how much she's fighting to stay with him. OA can feel her fading below his touch, the blood still making its way between his fingers, despite his best efforts. His opposite hand moves from her shoulder to cup her face. She leans into his touch. Though they haven't known each other long, she already trusts him like a brother. What a shame, she thinks. She would have loved to see him grow in the bureau. It’s only been half a year but she knows he’s destined for great things; she just wishes she could stick around to see it.
"Hold on, Mags. Just a little longer, I promise." She tries to respond, she really does, but she’s struggling hard enough to keep conscious; little more than a cry escapes her throat.
There’s so much she wants to say: she wants to tell him she didn’t see the gun. That she’s sorry for dying on him so soon. She really did like him, she wishes they could have worked together for at least a year. He has so much potential. Most of all, she's sorry for traumatizing him like this, for the second time in his life. She hopes he won't be too mad at her for dying on him this way. She tries again,
“OA,”
“I’m right here. Just look at me, okay? Don’t worry about anything else, just stay with me.” He’s desperate, doing anything he can to keep her focus on him instead of the pain. He isn’t sure how long he’s been crying, but the agony in her eyes is enough to make him bite back a sob.
It feels like her body is suffocating her, almost impossible to breathe. She musters the last of her strength to choke out an apology as blood stains her teeth. Her head lolls toward the gentle hold OA has on her face, one final display of fondness for her brother partner.
No, no no no, please no. She can’t die on him yet. He refuses to allow it. The soldier in him takes over in the moments before the paramedics arrive, still doing everything he can to keep her alive. “Stay with me,” he repeats, almost like a prayer, “stay with me Mags, please. Just a little longer. Stay with me”.