Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: Many thanks to mingsmommy and losingntrnslatn for making sure this was okay. They are the best.

Sighing, Emily looks at her reflection. This black eye is gonna look really bad tomorrow, she tells herself. Her head and arm are throbbing in unison; the pain is only dulled by the pills the hospital gave her. Gingerly, she raises a hand to touch the bump on top of her head, wincing at the size of it. With a final look in the mirror she turns and opens the bathroom door.

"Jeez!" Emily jumps, her hand clutching at her chest. "Damn, Dave, you scared me. What are you doing here?" She casts a furtive glance up and down the hall outside the women's room, thankful that the building is all but deserted at this time of night.

"Waiting for you." His voice is calm, but the set of his jaw, the flinty look in his eyes, tells her that calm is far from what he's feeling.

She leans against the wall beside the door and offers him a tired smile. "Well, you found me."

Rossi shakes his head. "Not here." Looking away, he runs a hand through his hair. "Come with me."

"What about…?" She trails off, gesturing helplessly in the direction where the team is waiting. He simply turns and starts along the hallway away from the squad room. With a shake of her head, she follows.

Dave rounds the corner at the end of the hall and stops in front of the door to the supply room. Opening it, he gestures for her to enter. "What are we doing in here?" she asks as he closes the door and locks it.

"It's the only room on this floor without any damned windows." His voice is rough and the corners of his mouth are turned down.

"Rossi," she begins, reaching for his hand. "Dave, I'm okay."

He sucks in a deep breath and pulls his hand back, running it over his beard. Meeting her eyes for the first time since she and Morgan came through the front doors, he mumbles, "That makes one of us."

Stepping forward, Emily lays her hand on his chest. His heart thunders beneath her palm. "Please don't be mad. It's the job. You know that."

Dave barks out a harsh laugh. "I'm not mad, Emily. I'm terrified." He turns away from her, pacing toward the door. "Terrified."

Unsure of what to say, she follows him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her forehead between his shoulder blades. "I'm so sorry."

Seconds pass. The air is thick with all the things they have never spoken of: love and fear and life and death. With a sigh, he turns inside the circle of her arms and pulls her close.

"I don't know what I'd do, Em." Rossi presses a kiss to her forehead.

With tears stinging her eyes and clogging her throat, Emily raises her mouth to his. His lips are trembling when she covers them with her own. But he kisses her back, desperation evident in the way he moves against her. His hands slide gently along the length of her spine and he breaks the kiss, burying his face in her hair, inhaling deeply, as if he can breathe in her very being.

She holds him, her hands stroking over his shoulders and along his back, until she feels him begin to relax, until he's not holding her quite so tight. Pressing a kiss to his throat, Emily murmurs, "We should go back. They'll miss us. J.J's probably in the restroom looking for me right now."

Dave nods. "Yeah. I'm supposed to be making coffee."

She takes a step back, her eyes finding his. "Are you okay?"

"I will be." He tucks her hair behind her ear and smiles at her, a soft smile that warms her. "Come on, Agent Prentiss. Let's go catch a killer."

"I'm with you, Rossi," she says with a grin and follows him out the door.