Sirens blaring, tires spinning wildly, the black sedan crashed through the late afternoon traffic in its rush to get to the hospital. Hotch sat in the backseat, Emily's head cradled in his lap.

"Morgan, what's our ETA?"

Derek didn't take his eyes off the road as he answered, "We're about 5 minutes out, Hotch. The medics are waiting, they know we're coming."

Reid spoke urgently from his place in the passenger seat, "You need to keep her talking. She almost certainly has a major concussion and we can't let her lose consciousness."

Prentiss moaned at this moment, weakly struggling to shift herself into a sitting position. Hotch placed a hand on her forehead, gently brushing back her hair. "Prentiss, we're almost to the hospital. Just hang in there."

"It hurts," She mumbled, prompting the agents in the front seat to exchange concerned glances. If Prentiss was admitting to pain, then they knew it must serious.

"I know, it'll be alright," Hotch attempted to soothe his hurt agent, at a loss on how to comfort his usually stoic partner.

Emily's eyes fluttered shut and Hotch yelped, "Emily! You have to stay with us. Talk to me."

"'Bout what?" She mumbled, furrowing her brow as if the request was an impossible task.

"Anything." Hotch replied. "Tell me about Sergio. Or London. I don't care what it is, just say something."

Emily's eyes came open, and she stared up into Hotch's face. He heard in the back of his mind Reid instructing Morgan to turn right, and Morgan announcing that they had arrived.

Emily reached up one shaky hand and touched the corner of Hotch's eye. "I knew a man once," She murmured dreamily, "We spent the summer together, in Sicily. Then one day in August I woke up and he was gone. I never saw him again. He…"

"He what? Emily, tell me what happened," Hotch insisted urgently. Anything to keep her awake.

She closed her eyes, head lolling back into Hotch's lap. She sighed a small sigh and whispered softly, Hotch leaning his ear down to her lips in order to hear, "He had beautiful eyes… like yours." She smiled faintly and then was gone, the medics closing in around her unconscious form.

Stunned, Hotch allowed the medics to load Emily onto a stretcher and wheel her inside. He dimly heard Morgan asking where they were taking her, and barely felt Reid's hand on his arm as the younger agent guided him inside. What he could feel was the tiny patch of skin Emily had pressed with her finger, just to the left of his eye.

He knew that Emily had not been herself, had been imagining a different man in a different country years ago. Despite that, he couldn't the feel of a glimmer of something else at her whispered words and brief brush of affection.

Affection? Hotch shook himself out of his thoughts. No matter what had happened in that car ride, his first priority had to be Emily's well-being. His reaction to her concussion-reduced remarks would have to wait.