Aaron Hotchner felt everything happen in slow motion. Was the ambulance crashing? Was reality coming up to bite them in the ass yet again? Why was this torturous pain hoarding over them?

They were sharing an ambulance with the young woman Emily had helped out of the warehouse. She was laid out along a stretcher, an IV attached to the crook of her arm. Her hair was matted to her head and there were dark circles under each closed eye. Her bottom lip was swollen and torn. Cracks of dried blood travelled down along her neck where a cut from her jaw had bled out. The woman wasn't unconscious but was resting for the first time in days. The comfort in knowing two FBI agents were with her along with medical attention left the woman more at ease.

Emily had opted, very determinedly, to sit up and left no room for argument. They sat side by side while the paramedic ran some fluids then turned his attention towards bandaging a scrape along the woman's thigh.

Emily's eyes were focused on the woman and Hotch could tell that she wanted desperately to take the pain and horror away from the young soul. That dire need to help someone lived in her very skin. It's what thrived in them all. Why else would they be doing any of this?

Hotch had let go of her hand. Why did he let go of her hand? He knew the loss of contact hadn't been long. The space between them could not have been very far. But that small space made all the difference. His fingers couldn't tell the temperature change of her skin. He couldn't feel the thump of her pulse running along her wrist and down to each fingertip. He did however see her body slipping slightly.

And then, like a slow moving car crash in the middle of the night, Emily collapses.

With the movement of the vehicle, perhaps hitting a bump in the road has Emily falling the opposite way of Hotch. Despite the space between them, he throws himself forward, managing to grab her before her head reaches the floor. Arms wrapped around her waist and shoulder, Hotch heaves her limp body to rest against his. Her head falls to his shoulder, the flushed skin along her cheeks clammy. The smooth strands of hair brush at his neck and Hotch can't seem to find enough oxygen. His heart was beating out of his chest.

Panic sets in and he immediately calls breathlessly to the paramedic for help.

There were no tires screeching along the pavement. No glass shattered. No painful screams or frightful shouts. His ears didn't ring piercingly from a loud crash. But to Hotch his world was definitely turning traumatically, flipping everything he knew completely over and smashing to pieces.

And again, he asks himself why.

….


With the help of the paramedic, they manage to lay Emily down on the only other small stretcher that fit along the inside of the ambulance. The space was tight but they make it work without waking the other woman, who was completely out and completely oblivious.

Emily's head lolled to the side, eyes shut away from Hotch. He needed to see her eyes. He needed an answer. Why was this happening to her? Why was she always the one to suffer? Why did she have to push herself so hard? Why were these feelings hurling themselves at him?

The paramedic was working quickly, something Hotch was extremely grateful for and he made a mental note to thank him later. He'd done so much already to help them.

Dried blood was smeared here and there, quite a difference marred against Emily's pale skin. Her gun was still attached to her hip. Her stained Kevlar seemed to swallow the fit body that suddenly looked so frail. The gauze and makeshift bandage wrapped around her injured arm was already discolored and in need of a change. Hotch helped with what he could and in no time Emily was hooked up to machines, IVs in place. The two women were in matching positions and if someone didn't know any better, they would say both had went through the same hell. And ironically, they almost have. This thought has his stomach churning.

The paramedic talks with the driver and tells Hotch they aren't much farther from town. The local hospital had been advised and was setting up for them.

Only slightly eased, Hotch leans forward to gently touch her uninjured arm. His hands skirt along till both engulf her small, blood tarnished hand. And that's when he is reminded of the blood on his own hands, matching hers. Her blood…

He regrets ever letting go of her fingers. Touch was something he wasn't accustomed to, especially when it comes to her. The sudden urge to touch her was unbearable and heartbreaking all the same. The nails along her fingers are extremely short, as usual. Her nervous tick caused her to bite off every fingernail. His heart aches again at the thought of her in pain, virtually always in pain. Whether self-inflicted or by the hands of a sick bastard, she never seemed to be void of discomfort.

The long lashes lay atop her cheeks. If only she would open her eyes.

He wanted to be mad at her. He needed to be furious; that anger should be at a boiling point that he lets slip over. He was the boss, in charge and he ought to be blind with fury. She had endangered herself, knowingly continuing when she should have stopped and rested. He should have made her stop. He should have dragged her ass out of there straightaway. She was stubborn and again imperiled herself without so much of a thought towards what she was doing. The recklessness shown was unacceptable. And the consequences were immovable.

All of these thoughts swirled in his mind, making him dizzy. His lips are thin and tight. His trademark scowl is in place but inside, that resolve was sinking. Despite all, he knew deep down that he couldn't be angry. They were both doing their job. The harsh tone he'd put into those words earlier was worry and fear. He was extremely concerned and within that emotion, heated feelings pushed through.

Normally punishment would be put into play, effective immediately when they get back to Quantico. She would be chained to a desk, doing piles of paperwork that no one in any sense would want to do. She would be banned from field work for quite a time. Hell, she probably wouldn't see the light of day for weeks. That's how angry he should be.

But this wasn't normal. And he wasn't angry. Well…not necessarily. She was passed out along a stretcher, white as a sheet and bleeding still. Emily had pressed herself so much that exhaustion and loss of blood kicked in. This was serious.

Hotch is frustrated more than anything. Every situation they've been in always ends with someone being hurt. And nine times out of ten that someone was Emily. He was simply tired of that conclusion. After everything that she has already been through, this was just the icing on the cake.

Who was he kidding? If this was Morgan or Rossi, he wouldn't be as anxious as he is now. This was Prentiss. Emily…

His stomach starts to twist even more and he knew a sickening knot was forming. He squeezes her hand gently, trying in some way to get her attention, to bring her back to consciousness. His small attempt goes unnoticed as Emily is still, lashes unmoving.

The moving of the vehicle jostles her hair slightly.

"Dammit Emily…" He mumbles to himself. He's been referring to her as Emily rather than Prentiss more so as of late. A switch had been flicked somewhere and her first name was comfortable rolling off his tongue now. What was she to him?

He understood more and more that they were much alike. Maybe that's why the anger wasn't as present as it should be. Hotch realizes that more than likely he would have done the exact same thing. He would have continued pressing on till the job was done. Ignoring every concern thrown his way; they needn't bother, he would tell himself. Exerting his strength and body to a point where all control is lost.

Hardheaded didn't even begin to describe the half of it.

Sighing deeply, Hotch closes his eyes for a moment. He hangs his head, feeling the past few hours weigh heavy upon him. So much has happened. The entire case flashes behind his lids, causing a shuddering breath to be released. And the knot tightens.

Emily's hand remains motionless.

He is more than sure his anger will come in time. But professing that rage wasn't important. Not now, at least. Seeing her eyes and hearing her breathe, watching her move and smile, this is what's important. Hearing that her arm would heal perfectly, with as little damage as possible; that is what he needed to perceive.

A turn is made and then another. Hotch could tell the ambulance was coming to a stop. Before he knew what was going on, the back doors fly open and a medical team was there waiting. Talk about being sufficient.

They get the other woman out quickly; she was gone and out of his sight before he could even blink.

The paramedic steps down from the ambulance, information rolling off his tongue, as he does this every day. Hotch is barely standing on weak legs and two pairs of hands reach up to pull Emily's stretcher down. Hotch has no choice but to follow, his hands swiftly pulled out of their embrace around Emily's as she is being carried away from him.

The waiting doctor and the paramedic exchange a few words. Then without further ado, they are wheeling her into the building. Hotch can barely breathe. He tries to follow but is stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"Sir, I'm sorry but you'll have to go in through that side door and check in with the secretary in the waiting room."

The paramedic, whom Hotch was silently praising before, now has Hotch silently cursing.

"But why can't I go in with her? I'm the Unit Chief, can't I be allowed in? I need to know how she is. She's one of my agents." He was rambling now, but he didn't care. He even fumbles with his badge, trying to find every attempt to let him go forward. Desperate anger and worry flared inside of him, threatening his resilient self-control.

The paramedic looks sympathetically up at him. "I understand Agent Hotchner. It's just the hospitals protocol. I promise you, they are an exceptional medical team. She is in good hands. Please…the secretary is a sweet woman. She'll keep you updated. I promise you."

The man lightly claps him on the shoulder then turns to pack up.

Hotch sighs deeply, trying to calm himself. The FBI badge goes back into his pocket reluctantly. He looks down, realizing he won't win this unless he cooperates.

He turns to the paramedic and extends his hand. "Thank you…for everything."

They shake and without waiting any longer, Hotch makes his way into the hospital.


Behind closed lids, Emily can make out a bright light shining down upon her. She was slowly coming to.

The first feeling to slap her right across the face was pain. She was experiencing several different kinds of pain. A dull ache thudded in her head. Sharp jolts running up and down her arm, a constant reminder to what has occurred. As if she needed one.

The next thing that she grasped was she is in a hospital.

Ah hell no.

This was the last place that she ever wanted to be.

Her eyes open slightly. That bright light is almost blinding at first and she blinks several times to adjust. She looks down and a pristine, white bandage was wrapped around her now well cleaned arm. An image of how the mangled, blood splattered limb looked before passes through her mind.

She could also recall Hotch; his profound, dark eyes piercing hers through the night. She could still feel his hands, large, warm and calming, holding hers tightly. Where were his hands now? That warmth was no longer there. His absence was profound.

He had let go of her hand. He had to.

She had passed out; completely blacked out away from everything around her.

Suddenly a face joins the light and Emily sucks in a startled breath, unconsciously pushing herself farther back into the pillows. "Ah, Agent Prentiss…Welcome back! I'm Doctor Nicholson. You had us worried there for a bit." He pauses and Emily can only stare. Her body felt like every limb had been ran through an industrial sized grinder.

The doctor continues, his kind eyes moving to check a chart in his hand. "I know things may seem hazy right now for you. Let me explain. You are here at St. Joseph's Medical Hospital. You've been here for just a few hours now. Your team is down in the waiting room. You were brought in with an extreme amount of blood loss and your arm had an incredibly deep cut. We have managed to repair tissue and as you can see we have it stitched up. Thankfully there were no infections and what was torn will heal with time. It was a smooth surgery with no complications. I promise you, the stitching was precise. You will have a bit of scarring, but nothing severe. But after all, the cut wasn't text book as you know. The curve, direction and force used were out there to be sure. Do you understand?"

Heart rate coming back down to somewhat normal, Emily slowly nods. Swallowing, she tries out her voice. "Yes. Yes I do."

He smiles, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes showing. A couple of nurses were working behind him, clipboards in their hands.

"I just need to ask a question or two and check your IVs, then soon I can send for your team to come up here to join you if you'd like."

Her team…Hotch…yes, she needed to see them. She nods again, despite a dense throbbing at the back of her head, "Of course. Yes I would. Thank you."

"Very well, Agent Prentiss. On a scale of one to ten, ten being the strongest how is your level of pain?"

"Um, I'd say about a seven."

"Alright…I will go ahead and up the pain medication one if you'd like?" No protest was made. "We have run fluids and I just need you to know that this will take rest and time to get your full strength back. It's a lengthy process, especially with the amount you've lost. You'll more than likely experience moments of dizziness, which is common. But we don't want what happened in the ambulance to happen again now do we? I'll be informing your Unit Chief of a time frame. Bed rest is best as the saying goes." He smiles kindly. "I would recommend for you to stay here for at least a night or two. Well, if you have no questions I will go sign for a prescription and send for your team."

Emily swallows the lump in her throat. Despite the kind help they have provided, the idea of her here much longer still made her cringe. "Ok. Thank you, Doctor. Thank you very much."

They shake hands, her right arm not completely useless and soon she is left alone. She could tell a difference flowing through her body as the medication settles in. The pain was slowly being swept away.

Before she had time to even start getting anxious about being single-handed in a hospital, a knock is heard. She turns her head, expecting to see all the different faces of her team.

She finds, instead, only Hotch entering.

….


His eyes always brooding, always stern now look all over her with a compassion that sends a thrilling shiver to wrap around Emily's spine.

He moves farther into the room. Emily notices he still has his Kevlar on. Though his hands have been washed, she sees that he hasn't changed his shirt. The Kevlar covered the majority of the torn fabric but she knew if he turned just so, a small portion of skin would be seen.

He is still moving closer. His eyes latch onto her bandaged arm and she can see his Kevlar stretch with the heavy breath he takes. He seems to struggle to speak and his eyes are restless upon her.

"Emily…"

His voice sounds torn. Managing a small smile, Emily pushes down the quiver in her stomach. She told herself that feeling was just from the aftereffects of surgery and not from his presence. If only she could believe that.

"…Hey Hotch."

Their eyes lock. He is right by the side of her bed now. That warmth she was missing was secretly returning. Silence welcomes them both, only to be interrupted by the beat of her heart monitor. Hotch let the sound comfort him. Not only seeing her alive, awake and breathing but hearing her heartbeat calmed the storm raging inside of him.

Her right hand is near his and Hotch finds himself itching to reach for the contact. But he continues to stand there, staring into her eyes.

Emily rolls her lips between her teeth, feeling a slight exposed. Breaking the stillness, she offers an apology.

"I'm sorry about your shirt."

She watches through wary eyes as his expression changes to curiosity. Then he realizes what she means and he can't help it. A small laugh leaves his mouth and he's shaking his head slowly at her. His eyes are bright and relieved. Emily lets another smile grace her lips as her stomach flutters again.

His voice rumbles as he speaks, stepping right up to her, black dress pants brushing the edge of the hospital bed. "You have been through hell and back and all you can worry about is my shirt?"

She shrugs lightly with her right shoulder, "Yeah, well...I hate to see your good work shirt ruined. I am, Hotch I am really sorry. For everything that has happened recently…"

Now he's shaking his head but with a different meaning, "No. No Emily, no apologies. I'm just happy to know you are ok. That is what's important over anything else." He takes a breath, losing eye contact with her to look down at her hand. "I wanted to be mad. Trust me; I knew I needed to be. But while I was phoning the team, pacing in the waiting room and wearing a hole in the carpet, I realized yet again how close and how quick things can transpire."

This time he doesn't hold himself back.

His hand covers hers.

He swallows hard, "You'd think by now I would get that through my thick skull. All of us, really, need to accept this fact." He felt out of his element for a moment. This wasn't him. Aaron Hotchner didn't talk like this. He didn't open up like this. The question flashed in his mind again, 'What was she to him?' What was it that made this different?

Emily nods, watching as their fingers intertwine. She couldn't help but still feel shocked at the idea of Hotch touching her. They don't touch, simple as that. And suddenly their hands are together like they do this every day.

And that warmth was back.

Then a thought rushes to Emily and she asks quickly, breaking the spell.

"The women! How are they? Have you heard anything? Are they ok?"

That stricken, hard look appears again across Hotch's face. Emily could decipher her heart falling at the look.

"Carrie, the one that was with us in the ambulance, she will be okay. She's still weak but it's all promising. Jessica, whom JJ helped, is going through a lot and infection took charge in her right thigh before we even got her out of the building. It's not favorable on whether they can save her leg or not. There is round the clock care for her. And Allison…" His thumb moves slightly, whispering along Emily's knuckles. Another lump forms in his throat and he forces the words out. "Allison was strong…but the damage done to her body was too much." He didn't continue and Emily didn't need to hear anymore.

Silence overcomes them again.

As a tear slips down her cheek, Emily fights to breathe. Her eyes focus on the white sheets covering her legs but she knows his eyes are still on her. Watching, searching, and becoming familiar all over again. He was pacifying himself as well as her.

In that small knowledge she finds comfort, something she never thought she'd be feeling this much, this completely with Hotch. And that helped.

Through the tears and sorrow, hope was still within reach.

…..


I would like to thank each and every one of you for taking the time to review. I appreciate the follows and the saves but actually reading your thoughts…now that is really special.

I plan to do one more chapter and I really want to have some true one on one with Hotch and Prentiss, away from all the pain and hospitals. But we will all have to see. Thank you again!

Love,

Lilylynn