A/N: My fellow Tiger, Tigerlily, requested a "stranded HotLy" story for her birthday. This is a bit of a twist on that and it's a multiple part one that should be finished no later by next weekend. I'm hoping over the next few days as it's only about a 2-3 part one. Maybe four parts, though that last one would be smutty. Haven't decided on that one yet. I hope dear Tigerlily enjoys it. Yes, it's got angst, but you request things from the Angst Pimp, expect that to be in the story. But I hope you also think it's romantic. Some wee spoilers for Season 7 finale.

Happy Birthday, my fellow smutty Tiger!

Sweat beaded across his forehead and his shirt stuck uncomfortably to his body, but Aaron Hotchner didn't notice. Nor did he pay any attention to the relentless sun beating down on him as the temperature on the desert floor soared to 112 degrees. Search and rescue personnel, law enforcement officers and his own team surrounded him, talking at once and simply creating a cacophony of noise that he simply ignored, like he did the helicopters that buzzed above them, receiving orders on where they were to search from the coordinator located at the heart of all this activity and barking orders into a radio.

He stood alone and that was how he wanted it. He could not be near anyone now, especially his own team. If they got too close, if they examined his face that currently were hidden behind his sunglasses, they would see how close to the edge he was, how he was about to scream and bellow for them all to do something and stop wasting time and find her!

Emily was missing.

His heart had lurched when they realized that the unsub they were seeking was actually the local police officer Emily had been paired off with and who was currently driving with her to interview a witness. Or so they thought. They listened on their end as Hotch called her and told her what they learned. He had ordered her to get to a public place as soon as possible and not tip her hand, but something had happened and they heard Emily emit a grunt and sounds of a struggle in the car. As Hotch cried out her name frantically, they heard a squeal of brakes and the unmistakable sound of a car crashing.

The GPS in the car was disabled, but they thought they had an approximate idea of where Emily was given the route most likely taken and how long they had been on the road. But the desert was a big place and it had been three hours since they last spoke to her. During that time, it had taken all of Hotch's efforts to not demand the local search and rescue team work faster, harder. They need to find Emily. Even if she wasn't injured in the crash, they still didn't know if she was in jeopardy from the unsub. He wanted to take over, take charge and do something, but he and his team were useless here. They didn't know the terrain. They weren't trained in search and rescue. They could help, but this was where they had to depend on someone else, trust someone else to save Emily.

That didn't sit well with Hotch. He wanted to tear his hair out from the wait, but it took time to assemble the rescue personnel and get them out this remote location, and they were not even sure if they were searching in the right area. Hotch had his doubts they were looking in the right place. They were only guessing Emily and the suspect had taken this route. It was the most likely if they were going to interview the witness. But what if the unsub had focused in on Emily to be his next victim? She fit his victim profile. What if they were wasting time now, futilely looking for her in the wrong spot? They couldn't afford to waste time.

This was Emily who was missing. HisEmily.

Oh, she wasn't actually his. Or at least she didn't know he regarded her as his. Ever since JJ's wedding, when he held her in his arms as they danced, he knew then that it was her. It had always been Emily, only he didn't realize it until that night. But it all it took was holding her once in his arms and it was as if a fog had lifted and he could clearly see what he wanted in his future, who he wanted. It was simply Emily Prentiss.

The next day she told him she was resigning from the Bureau and he felt equal parts elation and sadness. With Emily no longer his subordinate, he was free of the Agency's policies on intimate relationships. He had sadly accepted her resignation, effective in three weeks. There was some trepidation when he heard that Clyde Easter had offered her an Interpol assignment, but was relieved when she made it clear she was not certain if she wanted to go back there. He could change her mind. He could give her a reason for staying. It was all Hotch could do to not sweep her up in his arms then and there, to declare himself to her. But he was going to do this right. Pursue her, woo her in a manner she deserved. To show her that she was and would always be the queen of his heart.

He broke up with Beth that evening. It was easier than he had anticipated as the curator had suspected something had happened at the wedding for she had been watching Hotch dance with Emily. She had seen the expression on his face as he held the other woman close. And after that, each time he danced with her, he was distant physically and emotionally. Beth had been gracious, though hurt and that was one thing Hotch regretted, but their relationship was new and neither had put too much into it at that point. That hadn't even slept with each other. He knew she would get over him soon.

Then this case had come up. A serial killer in Nevada, just outside of Las Vegas, was killing women in their thirties and forties and the BAU had been called in to help. It was to be Emily's last case with them but no one had foreseen something like this happening.

The Captain Landes, in charge of search and rescue, was barking orders, sending off groups to specified regions. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is one of ours we're looking for. We do not know what condition she may be in and she is with a dangerous suspect. He may be holding her captive. Our first priority is finding Agent Prentiss and bringing her home."

Bringing her home. That's all he had in mind when he had Emily shipped off to Paris to protect her from Doyle, but he couldn't protect her from the psychological toll it had taken on her and then thrusting her into a situation where she would alone to deal with the aftermath. Hotch wondered if he had done her as much harm as good. He had likely saved her life, but he had also deprived her of the help and lifeline she desperately needed to save sane and whole.

He chastised himself, bitterly. It seemed like he was constantly failing her.

But he couldn't fail her now. He will not fail her.

The rest of his team were split into separate search groups. The Captain looked at Hotch who shook his head. This caused the Search and Rescue officer to raise his eyebrow, but he said nothing. Hotch spun around and moved off towards the shade of the tent they had set up as a command center, ignoring the surprised and curious eyes of his own team and the other officers.

"Aaron?" Rossi suddenly appeared by his side. "Aren't you going to help look for Emily?"

Hotch slowly shook his head. "This is wrong, Dave. She shouldn't be out there."

"I know. But we'll find her," the older man assured him in a soft voice. The last time he had seen Hotch this uncertain and confused was at the explosion in the bank when they didn't know if Emily and Will were still alive.

"But this is wrong," Hotch repeated, frowning. He wasn't talking about the situation now. Something was nagging at his brain. Some detail. He just knew they were looking in the wrong spot.

"Prentiss."

"It's Hotch. Don't react, just listen. Detective Booker is our unsub. I need you to not tip your hand and get to some place public right away. We're on our way now."

"I never had that file. You're looking in the wrong place, Hotch. Maybe Reid has seen it? I know he's not the obvious choice to have it, but he does tend to hide things away and forget he has them."

"Prentiss?"

That was when they heard the grunt and sounds of a struggle before the crash and the line going dead.

Hotch's head snapped out and he turned to Dave. "We're looking in the wrong area," he said in a firm voice.

"How can you be sure?"

"What Prentiss said earlier. 'You're looking in the wrong place, Hotch.' Booker must have been taking her to a different spot. Emily isn't familiar with the area, the roads, but she knows enough to maybe question a route he was taking. We're looking here because it would be the road he would take to interview Dr. Fairgate, but if he was going somewhere else…"

"Then there's no telling where they are now," Rossi finished as they gazed out into the large, desolate expanse of the desert.

Emily struggled to consciousness, her head and body protesting all her attempts because waking up meant feeling the pain radiating throughout her body. But she forced herself to continue. Her last act was to open her eyes. She blinked, trying to focus and realized she was staring into the shattered windshield of the sedan.

She groaned and tried to take an inventory of her body. Nothing felt broken but everything did hurt. She hit her seat belt release button and let out a sigh of relief when the strap silently slid off of her. It was then that she remembered why she was in this situation and she glanced quickly over to her left. Booker's head was pressed up against the window of the driver's side door. He was unconscious or dead.

Hesitantly, Emily reached out to feel for his pulse. Just as her fingers were about to press against Booker's neck, his hand suddenly grabbed her outstretched wrist. She couldn't stop the gasp that came out and he turned to look at her, his face bloodied from multiple cuts to his face.

"Don't touch me, bitch!" he snarled out as his other hand fumbled for his gun.

Frantically, Emily tried to pull her hand free even as she went for her own gun. Her fingers touched her empty holster and Booker wasn't letting her go, no matter how hard she pulled. She could see him, starting to pull his gun out. She also saw a wet stain in his side and knew he was injured there. In desperation, she balled her free hand into a fist and punched Booker straight in his wound.

The killer cried out in pain and released Emily's wrist. She fumbled for her door handle and yanked hard on it, falling out of the car as she tumbled backwards in an attempt to get away from the man screaming in agony and anger.

Emily's body screamed in pain as she hit the ground hard and scrambled to her feet. At a low crouch she tried to hurry away, stumbling and scrabbling. She heard a crack of gunfire as Booker fired through the windshield at her. The dirt next to her foot exploded as the bullet just missed her.

Her one thought was to get away from Booker as quickly as possible. She didn't know where she was going, but she just needed to get away from this man. So she ran, far into the desert.

A/N 2: For those who may not have made the connection, I owe a nod of thanks to CSI for a part of this idea which was based on the episode where the Miniature Killer traps Sara Sidle in the desert.