Author's Note: Picking up shortly after we left Will and Emily. FYI, Em does some 'notable' cursing here.

Flight

Emily was about to lose her shit.

For the last five plus minutes, she and Will had been standing on the outer edge of the blockade, arguing with the street supervisor on the scene, a Lieutenant Rooney. Even though they had explained and RE-explained, and explained again . . . the third time with MULTIPLE profanities(!) . . . why they were there, what they knew, and who they needed to find, Rooney STILL hadn't sent in a rescue squad for Hotch!

And the fucker had no PLANS to!

His reasoning . . . the brass had ordered everyone to hold their positions. That the tip line had just received an anonymous phone threat alleging there were more bombs planted on the block, and that the whole area was currently under surveillance. So any fire or police personnel who attempted to get into the hot zone, would be quote, "blown to smithereens."

End quote.

If she wasn't so furious, Emily might actually have laughed out loud when the jackass regurgitated that idiocy. Because the 'threat' he'd repeated, was probably the most asinine, textbook, clichéd, 'mad bomber' bullshit that she'd heard since she'd started with the Bureau! And given that not ONCE in the last seventeen days of attacks had the actual cell actually terrorizing the city, given ANYONE a heads up prior to killing someone, the odds of that call coming from a legitimate source, were about one in one thousand.

Basically all of her training said that it was just some idiot, Baba Booey, troll who was trying to get his rocks off by jumping into the investigation.

Not that Emily could have given two shits about the threat even if it WAS real!

Because as her wild eyes bounced past the blue and white wall of uniforms and cruisers, she was going out of her freaking MIND thinking of Hotch being down in there!

Down where everything was burning.

But she couldn't get to him.

And although Will had given her hope that Hotch was still alive . . . and she was clinging to that hope by the skin of her teeth . . . she also knew that if he had been at all mobile, he would have gotten himself out of that conflagration by now. Which meant that he needed help. Immediate, help. So she was not going to have him die because of some fucking PROCEDURE being pulled out of a God damn manual!

But unfortunately the idiot lieutenant was all about proper procedure and following the God damn manual. And besides that, to his mindset her desire to run into the hot zone was nothing but a fool's errand anyway.

"Anyone in the vicinity of that blast is likely already dead, MA'AM!"

That was what he'd said. Three times. The second time the words left his mouth, Emily's left hand had begun to curl into a fist. The third time he'd said it, she was ready to break his face. And that's when she knew for sure . . . they'd reached an impasse. And by "impasse" she meant that Rooney was now having her and Will physically restrained while he screamed in their faces.

That's when she decided to start screaming back.

Literally just SCREECHING, at the top of her lungs.

It was a full on shriek of rage. And even though, mostly, it was a calculated move on her part, a little bit of it was being fed by just her sheer frustration at the situation. But either way, her actions clearly threw the lieutenant for a loop.

Just as she'd expected it would.

Because when she started screaming . . . he stopped speaking. He was now just staring at her, wide eyed, with his mouth half open. It was clear that he could not fathom the situation he had just found himself in. That a federal agent had suddenly begun screeching, WORDLESSLY, at the top of her lungs.

At a crime scene no less.

So when he finally broke his paralysis, he started trying to reason with her.

"Ma'am, PLEASE!" He sputtered, "if you'd don't stop that, we're going to have to remove you!"

But she didn't stop.

Because he was going to remove her anyway . . . that was clear as fucking day . . . and knowing that this was her last chance to get to Hotch, she just went full throttle. After shooting the bewildered Will a quick look . . . one that she hoped he would understand in a moment . . . she sucked in another breath . . . and let go another raged filled bellow.

This one was directly into the ear of the hulk sized officer holding her left arm.

And seeing him wince in pain, she felt his grip on her bicep lessen ever so slightly. And that's when she made her move.

She simultaneously yanked that arm free, while shifting her weight the other way. The result was Emily shooting a sharp elbow to the first officer's gut, a split second before she flipped his stunned partner over her other shoulder.

He went flying.

His boot actually clipped Hulk Number One in the head, right before they both fell into Will and his two human shackles.

Everybody went down hard.

The lieutenant was once again gasping in shock and disbelief. And seeing that Will was now also free . . . though slightly banged up from the elbow he'd taken to the cheek . . . Emily took off at a dead run.

She knew that he (and half the force on-site) wouldn't be far behind her.

So off she went through the crowd of first responders. Ordinarily these people would be her comrades, but not tonight. Tonight she was dodging and weaving . . . and elbowing and punching . . . anyone who tried to stop her race towards the next set of metal barricades.

They were all that separated her from the man that she needed to save.

And when she finally hit the portable metal structures . . . and realized that they were too high to jump from the ground . . . she darted instead to the right, hoisting herself up onto the trunk of an unattended cruiser. Then she scrambled up the back windshield and slid over the roof, before pounding across the hood.

She was just about to leap off and over the fencing, when her ankle was snagged by the patrol officer who apparently OWNED the cruiser she was currently using as a step ladder.

"Get the fuck off my RIDE!" was the scream she heard in her ears, just before she yanked her leg free. But with her balance now off kilter, she wasn't able to jump off the hood like she'd planned.

It ended up being more of a dive.

One which resulted in her hitting the ground face first, and getting road rash on both her nose and cheek. It hurt like a bastard, but still, she didn't let that slow her momentum.

With a groan, she pushed herself up . . . shrugged off the hand that tried to snag her windbreaker through the metal bars . . . and kept on running. At that point not only was her cheek bleeding, but her palms were skinned, her pants were ripped, and she'd SERIOUSLY wrenched her left shoulder, but none of that meant anything.

All that mattered was that Hotch was now within her reach.

And although she could hear the yells from far behind her, she paid them no attention. The police couldn't go any further, Lieutenant Rooney had made that clear, because she was now in The Hot Zone. And nothing was moving in The Hot Zone.

Nothing but her.

By her estimation, from the edge of the inner barricade (where she'd jumped off the cruiser), it took her about thirty seconds of flat out sprinting . . . five seconds of which she got soaked cutting through the spray of a fire hose . . . to reach the outer edge of the burning cars. Given the enormous response from the NYFD, it was unbelievable that the cars were actually still burning. But that's when Emily remembered that because of that God damn phone threat, the fire department hadn't yet been allowed to get close enough to actually DEAL with the fire from the MAIN EXPLOSION!

Which was an insanity unto itself.

Because when she saw the flames suddenly coming up in front of her, the heat was so intense that she had to stop short. And she realized then that the NYFD spray that she'd run through, was itself now far behind her. A good thirty yards at least. Because all they could do from the other side of the barricades, was try to keep the fire from spreading beyond the half a block that was already ablaze.

And that was admittedly a job unto itself.

Because as she stumbled back from the heat, she could feel that the front of her previously soaked clothes, were mostly dry now. That's how hot it was. So hot in fact that she had to put her arm up to try and shield her face from getting burned. And she realized then, that all she could see . . . in every forward direction . . . was fire.

In that moment, her terror became all consuming.

Because up until then, she'd been operating completely on adrenaline. And although the adrenaline was still PULSATING through her veins . . . now she'd just lost her forward momentum. So her brain was racing to catch up with the physical distance that her body had just covered. A distance which had been covered with no plan, no rhyme, and little reason. All she'd wanted to do was find Hotch. And now that she was where he should be . . . she was frozen in place!

And she didn't know what the fuck to DO!

She was, since the mob attack when she was fifteen, PETRIFIED of getting burned again. And although she had brought herself this far . . . she didn't know if she could actually walk through flames to find him.

And flames were all there was to see.

It was the first moment since she'd heard the explosion through the phone, that Emily was truly on the verge of a full out panic attack. Because now she might have reached an obstacle that was beyond her ability to surpass. What if she'd gone as far as she would be able to go? What if now she was just psychologically unable to go further?

What if she was just that fucked up?

Posing these questions to herself, caused an unexpected, and immediate, recoil in Emily's brain. A surge of fury came up that rivaled what she'd been feeling when Lieutenant Rooney had been screaming at her minutes before.

But now her disgust and rage was directed at herself.

That she would allow a human frailty to not only keep her from doing her JOB(!) . . . pathetic by itself . . . but that it would also prevent her from saving the life of the man who she was falling in LOVE with!

A man she knew without a doubt would walk through fire for her.

And feeling a wave of shame at her actions . . . that she'd stopped for even a moment . . . Emily turned around to suck in a breath of cooler air, then she steeled her strength . . . and turned back.

She was still absolutely terrified, but now she felt strong again. It was strength born out of that shame and fury, but she'd take it either way. And with her windbreaker pulled up to try and keep not only the heat from her face, but also out of the air she was breathing, she started circling around the burning metal husks in front of her.

The husks that were once motorized vehicles.

Of course she still couldn't see anything. Not with the squinting needed to even look into the flames. So with no other options available . . . and her body starting to bake . . . she had to stumble back a few feet (really close to ten) just to get some cooler air into her lungs. And once she could take a deep breath again, she simply started screaming Hotch's name.

"AARON! AARON, ARE YOU IN THERE?! IT'S EMILY! YOU ANSWER ME! ARE YOU IN THERE?!"

But there was no response. All she could hear were the sounds of the fire. It was like that cereal . . . snap, crackle, and pop.

But the pops were deafening shrieks of twisting metal.

And then just when she started to take a few steps to the right . . . she thought she'd seen some movement . . . suddenly something else blew up.

She hit the deck.

Shrapnel went flying over her head. One large piece of God only knew what, singed her cheek when it fell with a clatter right by her head. She shrieked in pain even as she rolled to the left and tried to push herself back to her feet. But then there was another pop of metal, and something else flew through the sky, so she dropped back down to the asphalt.

It was burning her hands.

But then she started coughing on the grey smoke suddenly surrounding her. Because when she'd rolled to get away from the shrapnel . . . her eyes started to tear up with the smoke irritation . . . she'd rolled the wrong way. She was much too close to the fire.

And she couldn't put her head up long enough to even figure out which way was out!

OH CHRIST SHE WAS GOING TO DIE THERE!

That terror stricken thought flew through her brain, and then a split second later she heard a voice. It was coming from somewhere behind her.

It was an anchor in the sea of flames.

Because that voice was screaming her name just as she'd been screaming Hotch's a moment before. And at first she felt a burst of elation cutting through her terror, because she thought that it was him. That he'd finally responded to her cries. But when she started crawling blindly towards the voice, she realized that it wasn't Hotch calling for her.

It was Will.

And she knew that because he'd begun cursing too.

"GOD DAMN IT ALL TO HELL, EMILY PRENTISS! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!"

"HERE!" She half yelled, half croaked, while still scrabbling along on the ground, trying to keep her head down, "I'M HERE! I'M OKAY!"

It took a second, and her eyes were still squints, but she got them open wide enough to see Will come breaking through the smoke. Before she'd even gotten up to her knees, he'd yanked her up and to her feet.

"Come on!" He yelled while tugging her to his side and raising his leather jacket over her head, "You need to get back behind the barricades! That looked like a propane tank that went flying over your head!"

"No!" she choked back, half hanging off the grip she had on his vest, "Hotch is in here somewhere! I'm not leaving him!"

At least her plan had been not to leave him. But Will seemed to have changed her plans.

Because he was most definitely taking the lead on the general direction of her movements.

And with her still coughing up the smoke that she'd inhaled, he was half dragging, half carrying her back out the way they'd come in. The air was starting to clear enough that she could actually almost see the barricade again.

She could also hear the noise that came with it.

It was just when she tried to plant her boots to stop Will from taking her any further, that Emily caught sight of something off to the left. It was something outside the ring of burning cars. She blinked and squinted, trying to get the soot out of her eyes.

And then her watery eyes popped.

HOLY SHIT!

IT WAS HOTCH!

She'd been so focused on the explosion site . . . the flash and the fire . . . that it hadn't even occurred to her that he might have been outside of it!

Or at the very least thrown clear from it.

But now that she'd seen him, she started screaming again.

"IT'S AARON!" She elbowed Will in the side, "IT'S HIM! OVER THERE, BY THAT WALL!"

The wall was part of a shop front that was, so far, clear from the spreading fire. Hotch was lying in a crumpled heap right next to the blown out doorway. And as Will started running them over there, just above Hotch's head, Emily could see that a large piece of metal had imbedded itself into the brick wall.

That was how strong the blast had been.

But she tried to ignore the implications of that . . . the implications for Hotch's injuries . . . as she and Will ran towards him. Both of them were now screaming Hotch's name.

There was no response.

And when they finally got to him, and they both stopped and dropped to their knees, at first Emily couldn't even find Hotch's pulse. And there was SO much blood on the ground, that she wanted to weep. He'd lost at least a pint.

Maybe even close to two.

And knowing that he'd been lying there all alone since the first explosion, was sending her stomach into summersaults. Because that initial blast was probably close to twenty minutes ago.

He'd been bleeding out for a good twenty minutes.

Jesus CHRIST!

Feeling her control start to unravel, Emily's watery, horrified, gaze snapped up to Will on the other side of Hotch's body. She wasn't sure what she was expecting him to say, how he was going to make this one better for her, but surprisingly, what he said was exactly the right thing.

"Darlin, he's not gonna die," he stated calmly while yanking off his belt, "I already told you that earlier. Now you just keep talking to him," he looped the length of leather around Hotch's thigh to cut off the blood pooling under him, "and I'll take care of this bleeding."

"Right," Emily sniffled and nodded, "right, okay."

So with Will moving on to tearing up his flannel shirt to triage the worst of Hotch's injuries, Emily leaned down and pressed her lips to his ear.

There was blood running out of there too.

There was blood running out of both of his ears actually. And out of the corner of his mouth. Plus there was a horrible gash on his forehead, and then there was the bleeding from his thigh. The worst though was the condition of his chest. It looked like a concussive injury there. And it was likely from his breathing . . . raspy and faint . . . that one of his lungs had collapsed.

But she ignored all of that. Because she couldn't fix those things.

She couldn't fix any of them.

Instead she just focused on Hotch's mind, and let Will take care of his body. Her voice was a tearful whisper as she told him that she was there, and that Will was there, and that Will was fixing him up, and then they were going to get him to the hospital. And that he would be just fine. And though she kept pleading with him to open his eyes or even just to squeeze her hand, there was no indication that he was hearing anything that she was saying.

But that didn't stop her from saying it.

Not as Will pressed a square of his shirt onto the gash in his forehead, or when he used his sleeve to tie a tourniquet around his calf.

And then another one around his arm.

He laid the last patch of fabric over the wound on his chest, and then he put his borrowed FBI vest over that. Next to stopping the bleeding, keeping him warm was about all they could do for him at the moment.

Just to try and keep him from going into shock.

And once Will had done all that could be done for triage, he suddenly leapt up, now dressed only in his jeans and black t-shirt. His leather jacket was lying on the ground, and his eyes . . . now wild with fear . . . had just locked onto Emily's.

"Oh Jesus Christ!"

His tone, and his body language, were scaring the shit out of Emily. And even as she instinctively crouched over Hotch, trying to shield him from further injuries, she yelled back in a half panic, "what is it?! Did you hear something?!"

"No!" Will's head was violently shaking as he smacked his hand into his forehead, "I just thought of something! That other agent that was with Hotch!" He spun around.

"Where the hell is SHE?!"

A/N 2: Just in case any of you were thinking, um, guys where's Kate? There you go. And actually I got to the end of the first draft, read it over and said to myself, 'oh yeah, Kate. Probably should mention here somewhere here too :)'

Of all the ridiculous 'take you out of the scene' things they've done on that show, Hotch's 'nothing' injuries from that explosion ranked right up there as the most asinine. Just the idea that he could be ten feet from a CAR bomb, be hurled like twenty feet through the air, slam into concrete with absolutely zero padding on his body, and just basically suffer a few scratches on his face, a perforated eardrum, and a bit of residual tinnitus was like, what the actual fuck. I mean the SUV was in flames and Kate was nearly RIPPED into two pieces! I'm not saying they should have put him in a coma, but he should have been DOWN for the full count. I know it was the season opener so he had to be back in tip top shape for episode two, but it was still baseline stupid. They could have just had him get 'realistically' injured, and then indicate a time lapse before the next episode. Like the actual time lapse on the show. It was May…now it's September! So easy. But whatever, I know my irritation is stupid but when I have to dig back into these old canon bits, is when I get RE-annoyed at the little things they half assed the first time. But that's why FF was created. To rewrite the stuff that pissed you off originally :) So here, I moved him a bit further back from the SUV, but still broke him the way he should have realistically been broken. Badly :)

And again, funny reposting these chapters while I'm also reposting the arc I'm working over in Second Chances. Very much mirror universes of one going through hell to save the other. And the other being seriously fucked up when they find them.

Thanks all!