The usual disclaimers. I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters.
Hotch and Prentiss stood outside the abandoned barn, listening for any sign that the Unsub was inside. He had escaped custody two weeks ago, leaving two dead little girls in his wake. The most recent abduction had been less than 24 hours before, and there was still hope.
"I thought I heard something." she said anxiously. "We have to go in, now."
Hotch shook his head.
"I didn't hear anything. We have to wait for backup."
"That little girl doesn't have time for us to wait for back up. God only knows what he's doing to her right now..."
"Prentiss, I said ..."
There was a muffled scream from help from inside.
"That, I heard." he stated. "I'll go around back. You take the front."
She nodded that she understood, and he was gone into the darkness. Slowly she opened the door, holding her weapon out in front of her, glancing quickly from side to side. She stopped, waiting for something that would tell her which way to go. Hearing what she thought was the little girl again, she moved toward the sound, through a horse stall area. She flicked her light around and caught a glimpse of the child, who was gagged and tied to a chair. Her eyes were wide, and she motioned wildly to the ceiling with her head. It was too late. By the time Prentiss tilted her head to look, the unsub had jumped off the rafter, landing squarely on her back. Her gun was knocked away, and just out of her reach. Pushing his knee into her back, and with one hand on the back of her head, the unsub shoved her forcefully into the ground.
"It's a shame we don't have more time." he growled. "The things I could do to you."
"I'm a little old for you, don't you think?" she shot back.
As Prentiss struggled angrily, he raised his arm, knife in hand, prepared to end her life. Before he could even start the downward swing, a shot rang out, hitting him square in the forehead. His eyes opened wide just for a minute, the knife dropped to the ground, and he slumped over. Dead.
Hotch rushed over, shoving the unsub off of her.
"Prentiss, are you all right?"
"Yeah..." she said, struggling to get to her feet. "Thanks to you."
It was the only exchange they had, before completely turning their attention to the little girl in the chair. She was crying hysterically, as they tried to get her untied. None of them even noticed Morgan and Reid coming up behind them.
"What the hell happened?"
"Morgan..." Hotch said while making sure the man had no pulse. "We got him, the girl is ok"
"You should have waited for back up"
"There wasn't time."
"Hotch we were three minutes behind you! You couldn't wait three minutes?"
Hotch ignored him, instead looking over toward Prentiss, just now realizing how close she had come to being killed. Her lip was bleeding, and her forehead was scuffed from being shoved in to the ground. Nothing life threatening. Still, it was literally a matter of seconds that had decided between her life and death. There was a tightness in his chest, and a feeling of panic rising inside him that he couldn't quite understand. He prided himself on never getting too low, or too high - keeping emotions in check and on an even keel. What was so different about what happened in the last five minutes that seemed to affect him this way?
"Hotch, you okay?"
Her voice brought him out of his trance, and he realized he just needed to get out of that barn. And clear his head.
"I'm fine. Have JJ call the parents."
And with that, he strode out of the building, and out towards the vehicles.
It was a victory. They were few and far between these days, and the team had decided to get together that night for a celebration of sorts. Really, it was just a way to decompress before going home. Prentiss was the last to arrive, having wanted to change her somewhat bloody clothes before she went out. She found them sitting at a table in the back, but as her eyes scanned over them, she realized someone was missing.
"About time you got here, girl," Garcia shouted when she saw her. "You're two drinks behind!"
"Where's Hotch? Didn't he come with you?"
Morgan glanced around. He had not even realized that the boss man was not around.
"Not really sure." he said, taking a swig from his beer bottle. "He went to the bar to get a drink, but come to think of it, he's been gone quite a while. Anyway, sit down, we'll get the waitresses attention."
"I think I'll head over there." she gestured towards the bar "and see what's keeping Hotch."
Morgan shrugged, as if to say "suit yourself" and went back to watching the ladies sitting at the next table.
The bar was crowded, and it took her awhile to work her way through. She looked around, but didn't see Hotch anywhere. He had acted strangely the entire time on the jet, not wanting to talk to anyone. Instead he had kept his nose in a file, using it as a buffer. He was always silent and brooding, but there was just something different. And it didn't make sense. This was the best possible ending that they could have hoped for, yet he didn't seem to even realize it.
Prentiss ordered herself a beer, and leaned back against the bar, again scanning the area. Finally, she noticed him. He was sitting down at a corner booth, staring in to the glass in front of him. She watched him for a few minutes before walking over, as if trying to figure out what was going on in his head.
"Hotch?"
He had been completely zoned out, and he tried not to act startled.
"Prentiss." his eyes immediately went to her wounds. "Are you all right?"
"What? This?" she asked, motioning to her forehead. "This is nothing. Just some minor war wounds."
He looked away.
"It's not nothing."
She slid into the booth opposite him, trying to get him to make eye contact.
"Hotch what's going on here? You should be celebrating. We saved that girl's life, and the doctors said there wasn't even any sign of abuse."
"We should have waited for back up."
"You wanted to wait, I pushed you to go in there."
"I shouldn't have agreed. It's my job to be objective and follow procedure."
"If we had followed procedure, that girl would probably be dead right now."
"You don't know that."
"Where is this coming from? Is this because Morgan questioned you back there? Because, really, Hotch, he's the last person to..."
"This isn't about Morgan." he said, finally meeting her eyes. "You could have been killed tonight, Emily."
"But I wasn't."
"Five seconds later and I would have been too late."
"Hotch, we put our lives on the line every time we go out on a case. This was nothing different. It was a close call, that's all."
He shook his head, and raised the glass to his lips, quickly downing the contents.
"Look, the team is wondering where you went. Let's go join them, at least for one drink, and get your mind off of whatever is bothering you."
He was going to protest, but he knew it was useless. He made a conscious decision to push his troubling thoughts out of his mind. It had been an emotional case, and maybe all he needed was to go home and get a good nights sleep. Things would be much clearer to him in the morning. Or so he hoped.
He stood up and gestured for her to lead the way.
"All right." he relented. "One drink."
