A/N: The story is based off an attack that never occurred in the show. I made it up. I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!

One week after Emily Prentiss's Attack

Emily's arm had fallen asleep hours ago even if she herself could not. She didn't dare move for fear that the moment her shifting dampened her hearing would be the moment the doorknob would twist under the slight hand of an intruder.

Her bottom ached from the hardness of the wood floor beneath her and her back felt as though it would break in two. She looked at the blinking clock that was the only source of light in her bedroom. 4:56. She had been sitting in that corner with her comforter mounded around her for 6 hours. She looked back around to the window. If she looked hard enough, she could almost imagine that there was a little bit of sunlight over the horizon.

She swallowed the dense saliva in her dry mouth. It was funny how you could sleep all night and not get thirsty but stay up and you'd feel like you hadn't drank anything in days. She looked back at the clock. 4:58. She was so exhausted by this. At 5 she would just get up.

Emily tensed at a sudden brushing sound and gripped the gun that had gone limp in her hand. No, it was Sergio. She could see his dim silhouette in the doorway. He was scratching himself on the door frame with his delicate back arched high. Her heart pounded until she thought it would break but she lowered the gun. It was 5:00. She'd be at work by 5:30. It's not like Hotch could be upset with her for being too early.

When Emily arrived at the office, the sun had yet to rise. The doors were open and the guards on night shift were on duty but the auto sensor lights were off. The morning shift guards were just coming in for their shift at 6. She waved her hand at the sensor as she shuffled in towards the elevator. When the elevator door closed her safely in alone, she pulled out her gun and held it toward the ceiling at her chest. She stood with her back to the buttons, watching, as the neon numbers counted up to her floor. The door dinged and slid open ominously. She pressed herself against the wall tighter and closed her eyes, releasing a steadying breath.

Then, she swung around, her elbow keeping the door open, with her gun poised ahead of her in a sturdy hold. Her eyes pierced down the barrel and scanned the area. The lights flipped on as she took a step out of the elevator and each cubicle was bathed in light. Nothing to the left, or to the right. No one was there yet. She rounded each corner, and softly said "clear", to herself with each empty alcove.

When she had satisfied herself, Emily sheathed her weapon and went to the coffee machine. The machine rumbled loudly as it produced the first cup of coffee for the day and Emily winced. She carefully kept her back to the wall while her hearing was impaired. With her coffee in hand, she settled herself in the corner with the broadest perspective of the room and waited.

The first early bird arrived at 6:30 along with Hotch. When they began to arrive, Emily removed herself from her seated position in the corner so as to not attract attention but leaned casually against the wall with last weeks case file in hand.

Hotch spotted her almost immediately and casually took a detour on his way for coffee.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. Emily shrugged. "Just thought I'd catch up on what you guys have been doing." His sturdy frame paused a meter from her slight one. He shook his head.

"No, I mean why are you here at all? Have you passed your psych evaluation?"

"Yeah, I've got the paper right here. I can join the team on cases as long as I continue biweekly therapy for at least 12 weeks." Emily passed him the signed paper. He looked it over and she stifled a yawn.

"Did you answer truthfully or did you tell her what she wanted to hear?"

"Just because I told her what she wanted to hear doesn't mean it wasn't truthful." She chided. He read her body language flawlessly.

"You lied through your teeth, didn't you?" Hotch said as he pocketed the paper. "Maybe a little." she said. She felt him reading her micro expressions. It felt like having someone putting a magnifying glass over your face and studying your large pores and imperfect features. she tapped her foot rapidly and looked away. His gaze almost hurt. He continued to look at her even after she had broken eye contact and she squirmed uncomfortably.

"Well," he said as he studied her, "if you need to talk, let me know. You can take a break from the cases any time you need." Emily nodded and looked over his shoulder. She edged her way to the left so that she was no longer between him and the wall. The intense feeling of being trapped like an animal fought for her attention. She remembered so vividly the way Alex White seemed to just be an endless wall of barb wire and stone separating herself from freedom. She had never trusted him; he was a stranger; but yet it felt like he had broken some kind of trust she had in people. A hug is confining yet kind. But he beat her. Even that had been before the worse terror of all, when he had raped her.

"Have the other's arrived?" He asked. "What?" She asked irritably. He tried again to make eye contact with her and she tried to pull away. He managed to catch her eye for just a moment. The way she looked right through him was disconcerting and he began to rethink letting her rejoin the team.

"Have the other's arrived?" He said again. "Oh, no." She responded. He nodded to her and continued on his way. Emily breathed a sigh of relief. It was exhausting trying to focus on even a simple conversation. To make matters worse, she hadn't slept for more than 2 hours at a time for the past week.

Rossi appeared in Hotch's office half an hour later. His suit was pressed with pristine perfection. His dark hair was still wet from showering. "Hey, Prentiss is back already?" Hotch was at his desk, his head resting thoughtfully in his chin. "Yeah." He said flatly. "So she's doing ok, that's good."

"She's not." "Not what?" Rossi asked. "Doing ok." Rossi stepped further towards Hotch's desk. His frown deepened. "But I thought you said she was back. She had to have completed the psyche evaluation."

Hotch clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back. He stared at the ceiling intently. "She's not ok. But at this point I don't know how not-ok that is." Rossi pressed his lips together and nodded. "The team will look out for her, Hotch." Hotch looked back down at Rossi. "I know."

The team gathered in the bullpen an hour later. Emily was the first to sit down, choosing her seat carefully. She scanned the area. There were two open doors and several windows over a fire escape. The windows were locked but accessible. From where she sat, she was only a few strides from the door she had come in. Hotch and Rossi waited at the head of the table by the whiteboard. Reid and Morgan bantered as they came in.

"I swear, if you bend spaghetti, it will always break into 3 pieces." Reid insisted. Morgan shook his head. "No way, that sounds like voodoo stuff to me, Kid." Emily readied herself. Garcia will be coming in late so prepare yourself, she thought. Don't jump.

"Actually it's not. It's Chemistry. Physics too, you see-" "Alright," Morgan interjected. "I believe you."

Hotch raised his hand. "Guys, that's enough. We have a case."

Garcia bustled in with a laptop in hand. "Sorry, sorry, sorry Sir! I'm here." Emily breathed. There, that wasn't so hard. Now there should be no surprises. And there weren't any. Hotch presented the case with the help of JJ and announced, "Wheels up in 30." It was happening. They were about to leave on a case and everything would go back to normal. Just not necessarily for Emily.

A/N: If readers are interested, I would like to continue this story. I hope to go at a paced speed with developing the story and Emily's mental state. Thanks for reading!