Emily's eyes shot open and she sprang up in to an upright position, immediately regretting her fast movement as her head began to rattle. She called out in pain, closed her eyes and slapped her hands to her head, hoping that this would somehow reduce the agony.
As she sat in this position, her mind started to wander back to the party. That's when she began to panic, as she remembered her confrontation with Will. Images of what little she saw of the male flashed through her head.
The brunette could feel her heart speeding up as she opened her eyes for a second time and glanced around the room. As her vision began to focus, she realized that this environment was unfamiliar to her. She was on a couch in a room she definitely didn't recognize. It was still dark so she couldn't see much, but what she did see, didn't seem familiar.
Where was she? How did she get here? Will couldn't have taken her here, could he?
No, Will lived in New Orleans and although he had been staying with JJ for a few nights, Emily had spent a lot of time at JJ's in the past and this definitely wasn't her place.
But what if Will had taken her somewhere else and she was trapped here?
Her mind soon became filled with what ifs. Emily wasn't sure if she was still drunk or suffering from a hangover, but what she did know was that she was in a lot of pain. Her insides were churning and her throat felt as if it were on fire. Her head was spinning and thumping. She could tell she had cuts on her upper back and her legs and they added to the overall agony.
The female profiler didn't know where she was, but she needed to get out of there. She tried to stand up and this proved to be more difficult than she had originally thought. She was still very wobbly and her body clearly lacked a lot of energy.
The brunette staggered quickly out of the room and headed clumsily for the front door, which luckily wasn't too far away.
Emily let out a sweet sigh of relief as she reached the exit. Turning the handle to the door, her panic returned as she realized the door was locked. She searched for a lock that would turn, but there wasn't one. Frantically she turned and explored the surrounding area with her eyes, desperately searching for a key.
It was still very dark and she wanted to turn on the light as her vision wasn't at its best at the moment, but she didn't want to wake Will if he was here. She didn't have the strength to fight him off at the moment and as much as it killed her to admit it, he could overpower her.
She pulled open a drawer on a small unit in the hallway; her fingers carefully hunting for the keys. She slammed the drawer shut when she had no luck finding the keys and huffed out in annoyance.
Who was she kidding? If Will really did have her locked up here, and she was now pretty sure that he did, there was no way he was going to leave the keys lying around.
Emily held her hands to her head as a piercing pain shot through her head. She stumbled backwards into the unit, accidently knocking a vase onto the laminate floor, causing it to shatter.
The female froze and kept her eyes fixed on the staircase. She hoped and prayed that if Will was here, she hadn't woken him.
Her heart began to race faster than she thought possible, as she heard movement upstairs. Then the light flickered on, on the landing.
Badass FBI agent or not, Emily knew she was in no fit state to fight off Will and her instincts kicked in before she even realized what she was doing. The profiler sped towards the door, raising her fists and banging on it like King Kong. She hoped that a neighbor would hear her and help.
The loud noise she was making did nothing to help the pounding inside her head.
Emily could hear footsteps rushing down the staircase and her panic increased. "HELP!" She screamed out, continuing to bash her fists against the wooden barrier that stood tall between her and freedom. "HELP ME!" Tears began to streak down her cheeks. "I'M IN HERE. PLEASE HELP ME!"
Suddenly a hand gripped the brunette's shoulder, pulling her back away from the door.
"NO!" She yelled, attempting to push the hand away, but she had used up what little energy she had trying to call for help and just fell to the floor as a flood of tears consumed her.
"Emily." The male called for her attention as he watched her breakdown before him. "Emily, what's wrong?"
The female's eyes shot up to look at the man in front of her; she knew that voice and it wasn't Will. "Rossi?"
"That's right Kiddo." David Rossi crouched down by her and gently moved the loose strands of hair out of her face. "Who did you think I was?"
Emily chose not to answer that, instead she launched forward into the older profiler's arms grabbing hold of him tightly, as if she never wanted to let go.
Rossi couldn't understand what had happened. When he found Emily passed out outside that party, he actually thought it was a little funny, after he was sure she was okay of course. He'd often thought she needed to let her hair down a little more, but he didn't expect her to get as drunk as she did.
Now as he held her, gently rubbing his fingers up and down her back and whispering reassuring words in her ear, he couldn't believe it was really happening. Everything they'd dealt with in their careers, he'd never seen Emily so scared and so… broken.