Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds or Jodie Picoult's novels

Summary:Hotch saves Prentiss from the unthinkable, but how will she cope when the man who hurt her joins the team without Hotch's consent. Hotch/Prentiss

A/N: This idea came to me and I wasn't really sure how to start it, but then I read Nineteen Minutes and I just loved the beginning. So the beginning paragraph (with changes) belongs to Jodie Picoult.

~Unspoken Words~

"The thing that most people don't understand was that a rape victim and a victim of a fatal accident were both gone, forever. The difference was that the rape victim still had to go through the motions of being alive," Jodie Picoult.

Chapter 1

In ten minutes you can take a walk, check your email, watch a third of a half-hour television show. In ten minutes, you can bake cookies or talk to a friend; you can fold laundry for a family of three.

In ten minutes, you can pick up the phone to call your mother and tell her you love her. You can read a story to a child or draw a picture. You can run a mile. You can sew a hem.

In ten minutes, you can stop the world, or you can just jump off it.

In ten minutes, the unthinkable can happen, and life as you know it can change forever.

***

Hotch heard crying. Muffled cries. Cries of struggle. Cries that made his heart skip a beat.

And it was coming from the copying room just pass the coffee station. He was at the BAU finishing up some paper work, and it was late, so it surprised him when he heard the noises. As he grew closer, the crying was drowned out by another voice.

"Shut the fuck up!"

And another voice. "Stop moving and you won't get hurt."

Hotch pushed opened the door and froze at what he saw. A woman was laying on the floor with her arms above her head, pin downed by a man nearly three times her weight. At the other end, another man he didn't recognized loomed over her, his face buried in her neck as his hands roamed her unwilling body.

By the time Hotch realized what was happening, the man who was pinning the woman down bolted to the other door from across the room. It took longer for the second man to pull himself together, and Hotch gladly helped him by slamming him into the nearest wall. Hotch was stronger than he appeared, and he proved it by gripping the man's neck, suffocating the guy's lungs from much needed air.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Judging from the way the man dress, Hotch guessed the guy worked in the building. It sickened him, knowing that everyday they went out to catch criminals, and yet they were already in the building he worked.

The man struggled to breathe, and with no sympathy, Hotch loosened his grip.

"The bitch deserved it," he spat ruthlessly.

Hotch wasted no time decking the guy in the face. Pain shot up his arms when his fingers suddenly curled and cramped up. But the result was more than satisfying. The man stumbled backwards, holding his now bloody nose. It actually made Hotch's throbbing hand feel a little better.

Anger ripped through the man's eyes and Hotch realized too late that he had hit a sore spot with him. The next thing Hotch knew was the guy's fist slamming into the side of his face, and a second after that, the man was gone.

Hotch pushed himself up, more than determined to run after the bastard, but a muffled moan caused him to retreat.

She was curled up in the corner, her legs pulled up against her chest. His stomach dropped at the realization that he knew her. His blood boiled. Those bastards hurt her. He felt ready to throw up.

"Prentiss?" he asked, unsure of how to go about the situation. He reached out to touch her hand, slowly though, so he wouldn't startle her. He did anyway, and she let out a cry that was so unlike her, it caused him to freeze. Never had he seen Emily Prentiss look so vulnerable, so frighten and confused. He realized then that she looked like one of their victims. He didn't like it.

"Emily," he tried again. This time she glanced up to meet his eyes. He saw the fear in them. Saw the way her eyes darted around the room, looking for a way out. "Emily, it's me, Hotch…Aaron."

"Hotch?" She finally seemed to register that fact, and once she did, she threw herself into his arms. He caught her against his chest and he didn't dare let her go. She was shaking against him, and Hotch held her close to him, afraid to let go. Her essence was that fragile in his mind, that vulnerable. With one misplaced breath, she would disappear off the face of the earth, and he would be left with nothing. He couldn't stop thinking about that horrible moment – that moment where that guy was on top of her, assaulting her. He hadn't known before, he hadn't fully understood, just how much his existence depended on hers.

By the time she pulled back, there was no trace of fear written on her face, only slightly shaken. However, Hotch saw through the solid armor of courage she wore around her. Her mind had created an image of bravery and selflessness which she lived off of. It was incredible, and showed just how tough Emily was. He realized then that the protection wasn't to keep people coming in; it was to prevent emotions from spilling out.

"Emily," he said gently. "Did they… they…?" He was dancing around the word rape. He just couldn't bring himself to say the word.

"No."

He sighed in relief. "We have to get you to a hospital."

"No." Emily forced herself up, limping away from him. He realized then that she was more hurt then she appeared.

It surprised him how reluctant she was to go. "You're hurt. You have to –"

"No!" she shouted, shaking her head vigorously.

"Emily, look at me," he said gently, as if he were talking to Jack. He reached out to cup her cheek, letting her know that she wasn't alone in this. "Those men tried to do something horrible. We put these guys behind bars for a living."

"I…I… don't want to go."

He took in her bruised eye and wrists. Her shirt was torn open, and a heinous looking hickey was slowly beginning to form on her neck. Her pants were undone and ripped. Red marks covered her stomach, which would no doubt turn to bruises in a few short hours. Hotch realized then that she didn't want to go to the hospital because she didn't want to be a victim. She didn't want to be a case. She didn't want to be seen weak and broken. But did she really think that he would think any less of her if she went?

"Come on," he reached out for her, and she sort of stumbled into his arms as her legs gave out from under her. It both surprised and worried him when she buried her face in his chest. He assumed it was for comfort, she felt safe with him. He sensed she wasn't telling him everything. It worried him.

"It wasn't rape..." she told him, choking back a sob.

"It was almost," he clarified. "In my book that counts as rape."

"Even if a rape is reported, the chance of the guy going to prison is slim. I'm sure Reid knows the statistics."

His instincts flared. He ran an appraising eye over her figure. She wouldn't look at him. She shifted her weight, she cradled her stomach, her posture shouting defensive and trapped. He sensed that there was a reason behind why she didn't want to go to the hospital. Something similar must have happened before and no one helped her. It was the only thing that made sense.

She was shaking and she desperately tried to cover herself with her arms.

"Here," he took off his jacket and wrapped it around her.

"Thank you."

By now she was almost back to her original, courageous self, and it worried him. She was blocking out her emotions, refusing to accept what had nearly happened. It wasn't healthy. "Emily, I'm taking you to the hospital." He took a step towards her, to which she took a step back. "I'll go with you. I'll be there. I promise"

It felt like an eternity before she finally answered. "Okay."

"Okay," he repeated her answer, sighing in relief.

It was going to be a long night.

What do you think? Should I continue?