Hello! Haven't been in the writing game for a while but slowly working my way back in. This story has been in progress for a while now and I have a few chapters already written so I decided to bite the bullet and post it! Not sure if it's any good, but if you write and never let anyone read it, then what's the point of writing?

Spoilers for basically anything that has aired. This takes place after Prentiss returns after the whole Doyle extravaganza but before she leaves. All spelling and grammar mistakes are my own and I apologize. Also word of warning, I'm not the best with the whole "case" aspect of stories, so it it seems weird or unrealistic, sorry!

If you have any ideas or opinions just let me know and if I dig em, I shall write them in! Enough babble and on with the reading! Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer - I own nothing!

Chapter One

Going Back

The knife sliced into her skin.

Smooth.

Clean.

Quick.

In a flash she was thrown against the ally wall with the force of the man pushing the blade into her body; her head collided with the brick behind her with a resonating crack. Her eyes blurred with the sudden onset of intense pain.

The hand that had thrust the intruding object into her shoulder quickly pulled the bloody knife out and in just mere seconds, three bullets entered his body and he crumbled to the ground at her feet.

Breathing heavy, she lowered the gun and let it fall to the ground, clattering in the sudden silence. Eyes squinting in pain, she slowly slid down as her legs could no longer hold her weight.

Her hands were soaked in her own blood as she blindly fumbled to apply pressure to the fresh wound as a smell of iron filled her lungs. Each breathe in sent waves of radiating pain throughout her body; she struggled against the dark grip of unconsciousness that was threatening to engulf her.

A strong hand was on her shoulder and she let her own weak arms fall to the side as he began applying pressure to the gash that steadily seeped blood. As he pressed down a new intense wave of pain echoed through her and she couldn't help the broken and cracked moan that escaped from her lips.

Even as her eye sight blurred, she could feel the presence of another person next to her as the two of them exchanged words that sounded foreign to her ears. Then suddenly she was being moved so she lay flat on her back against the gritty pavement.

They were talking to her and she desperately wanted to respond but it seemed that no words would form behind her dry lips. Taking fresh air into her lungs was becoming difficult enough, let alone getting enough air to speak.

A warm hand brushed her cheek and she desperately wanted to let go; slip away into unconsciousness, but she knew she had to fight. She had to fight the unconsciousness; the want to give in.

This wasn't going to happen again.

"Just hold on."

The words broke through the haze of fog that had begun to cover her mind. She knew that voice, and she longed to see the face that it belonged too.

She struggled to open her eyes; to see the light of day instead of the darkness that held her captive.

"Just hold on, Princess, hold on."

She clung to the words like her life depended on them, and in some reality her life really did. But her weak body could no longer fight the clutches of darkness that were pulling her deeper into unconsciousness, and she slipped, feeling like she was falling into an empty abyss until all she saw was black.

Five weeks had passed and the scar was almost healed. It still hurt like hell at times, but it didn't look as horrible as it had the first few weeks of her recovery. The two inch gash on the back of her head had also healed; the only evidence of it now was the dull throbbing that pounded in her head every so often. But that she could deal with.

She had even survived the first few days back on the job, although still confined to desk duty. Part of her couldn't complain; she wasn't sure if she was ready to return to the dark and gruesome world they so often lived in; flying to remote places and spending sleepless hours reading over heavily detailed case files was not something that sounded the most appealing to her still somewhat fragile body.

Somehow seeing things on a computer screen in the comfort of Garcia's lair made it easier for her to cope and detach, separating her from fine line of being good at the job and from becoming just another jaded agent, spiraling into a burn out. It was like a little holiday, without the escape but still the distance.

A larger part of her craved the rush again; the familiar feel of a Kevlar vest, the cold metal of a gun in her hand, trigger finger at the ready, boots pounding pavement in hot pursuit of an UnSub.

She had to keep telling herself that her job wasn't going anywhere and neither were the murderers and rapists that they hunted. And every time her body ached with the, what was now an all too familiar, twinge of pain, told her that recovery time was still very much needed.

But as she heard her name called from across the bullpen, she had a mixed feeling of excitement and dread that her recovery time would be cut short. The way his voice held a hint of authority and sharpness, she knew they had a case and it wasn't good.

She closed the door of his office and turned to face him. She saw the tiredness in his eyes and paleness of his cheeks; he looked as bad as she felt. After her time away from work, his sullen appearance seemed more evident to her than it ever had before.

"Take a seat."

She was concerned by his abruptness; since the incident he had been much more soft spoken and polite. "Is everything okay?"

"You're wound is healing nicely?"

Annoyance flashed through her but she quickly buried it before it rose to the surface; of course he wasn't going to answer her. "Yes. The doctor said I'll be fit to return to field duty in a week or two."

"And do you agree with him? That you need two weeks?"

"Hotch, would you just tell me what in the hell is going on."

She watched as his shoulders slumped ever so slightly, like he was realizing his evasive behavior. "I'm sorry."

Satisfied that that was all she was going to get, she spoke again. "If I had to return to field work now, I would be ready for it."

He raised an eyebrow, as if gauging the amount of truth that she spoke. "Then I will send a note and override the doctor's decision. I need you on this case."

Feeling a surge of adrenaline and excitement run through her body at the thought of returning quickly faded at his next words.

"Emily, the man who stabbed you has a partner." This time his voice was soft, almost compassionate. "A body was found and another woman is missing in Idaho. We're going back."

The faster you review, the fast I will update! =) Thanks for reading!