Five: CAN'T CATCH A BREAK

Consciousness is nature's nightmare—Emile M. Cioran

Emily did not want to wake up. But she wanted to face the monsters in her mind even less, so she forced her eyes open. Her mouth formed a silent scream around the tube in her throat and she panicked, tried to thrash on the bed.

Anesthesia always made her hallucinate, and a part of her was aware of where she was and what most likely had happened. But what she didn't remember at that very moment was why or how she'd ended up in that hospital bed. A man leaned over her, his face lined and kind. He looked vaguely familiar to Emily but she couldn't place him. He was saying something, and Emily blinked, trying to focus on him.

"Hello, my dear. Remember me? I am Dr. Mallard, a friend of young Ziva's. Blink if you understand me."

Emily deliberately blinked slowly. Three times. She'd met him, she thought, when she'd stopped by NCIS to go to lunch with Ziva and Abby. But why was he here? She tried to speak.

"Shh. That nasty endotracheal tube is in there because you had a reaction to something and they can't remove it just yet, you've shown some sensitivity to medications that restricts the airway, and they want to keep everything working properly. And you're still very weak. I'm just here for a moment to check your condition while I wait for young Ziva to finish up, the girl is exceedingly stubborn. No questions, just rest." She felt him pat her hand softly. "I'll be back later, probably with a guest or two for you. You've quite a crowd waiting to see those lovely eyes. Just relax and stay calm, my dear. You'll be fit and fine in no time."

Then he was gone, leaving Emily alone in the room, with no one but the monsters in her mind for company. Emily hated monsters. Tears leaked from her dark eyes, and she squeezed them shut, vainly trying to stop the flow.

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Wyatt stared at the man invading his personal space. The man was athletic, and probably considered to be good looking. "I ordered your agent to lower her weapon. At the time, I couldn't ascertain that Corruthers was armed, when I realized he was, I allowed your agents to keep their weapons, yes. But Corruthers drew and both your agent and I fired. I followed my department's procedure thoroughly."

"Morgan." Hotchner said. "Now's not the time."

"When is, Hotch? This is Emily we're talking about!" The man's fists were balled, and Wyatt tensed, waiting for the first swing.

"I know." Hotchner said. "But stand down. Wyatt was just doing his job. Just like we would have done, like Prentiss would do."

"Has anyone called Emily's mother, yet?" The tall, skinny kid asked suddenly. He'd spoken off and on through the evening, in a fast-paced, slightly breakable voice that Wyatt hadn't paid much attention to. Apparently the kid was a member of her team, too, though he looked more like a grad student. "The ambassador?"

"I left a message with her answering service, it was the only number I had." Hotchner said. "I don't know if she got it or not."

"Anyone else we need to call?" The writer guy asked their team leader. "Any other next of kin who might want to be here when she wakes up?"

"No." Agent Hotchner said. "There's nobody else to notify. Everyone's already in this room. Agent Delgado and the ambassador are listed as next of kin."

"I see." The writer said. "So now we wait."

"Now we wait." Hotchner echoed, hands crossed and fisted, knuckles showing white.

"I hate waiting." The grad student said, sighing. He jumped up and began pacing erratically around the room.

"We know, youngster." Agent Morgan said. "But what else is there?"

Wyatt settled back into his corner seat, back to watching the strange group, seventeen in all, including the baby. That damned Hotchner just kept standing by the waiting room door. He didn't really move until the NCIS doctor returned. Then the man tensed, and the room's entire occupants turned. The man began talking, holding the attention of everyone. "Our girl has been moved to recovery. She awoke briefly, seemed coherent, and is now sleeping again. They do have her intubated, she apparently had an allergic reaction to the anesthesia, and went into anaphylaxis, but appears to be breathing well on her own now. She is now doing well, and should be awake fully—and breathing completely on her own—by morning. I suggest everyone go and get some rest."

Wyatt remained in his seat as those around him began speaking animatedly about who should stay and who should go.

Hotchner spoke. "I'll stay, Detective La Montaigne, take JJ home. Rest, I'm sure you'll want to be here in the morning when Prentiss wakes. Morgan, Reid, Rossi—I'll call if anything changes. Garcia—somehow I doubt you're going anywhere, correct?"

A murmur of yes, sir's sounded from most of those he ordered.

"You know me so well, handsome one." The loudly dressed blonde winked, lightening the mood. "Not budgin' until Emily kicks me out herself."

The mother stood, lifting the infant. Malone rose as well, one hand going to rest on her back. "Danny, I have a hotel room near here. Has double beds. Not ideal, but we can all share. Then head back up to New York after the girls see their friend."

"You will call, Agent Hotchner, if anything changes?" Elena asked. "I can be here in fifteen."

"Of course." The man nodded, imperiously. Wyatt really didn't care for the man. Not at all. Lord of the manor bullshit, expecting everybody to kowtow to his orders. Wyatt never had been one to bow down before superiors. More likely to sneer and kick back, that was Wyatt's style. He wondered how the dark-haired agent handled her boss. "I'll be sure to contact you all with any changes."

The NCIS man ordered his own agents out of the waiting room, though the little one protested. She waited, foot finally bandaged , near the door, crutches tucked neatly under the chair. She'd apparently broken a bone in her foot when she busted one of Corruthers cronies' head. Tough little lady, Wyatt couldn't help but think.

He sat back after the NCIS agents left; sat back and waited. He wasn't leaving until the lady woke up. And told him to go herself.

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Emily was being chased by them, faces grotesque and hideous. Then they'd morph into the very monsters she chased during the day. She saw Hinkle standing over Reid, saw Battle shooting Garcia, saw Hotch's SUV exploding over and over again. Then she was back in the compound with Reid. These images played over and over in her mind. She struggled, fought with all she could. Something held her by the throat, making it impossible for her to breathe, something was jammed down her throat, her hands felt heavy. There were tentacles wrapped around her chest.

Her chest was on fire, her head hurt, her lungs, her arms, her legs. She was screaming, and no one could hear her. No one came to help her.

Like always, when it came right down to it—Emily Prentiss was completely alone.

The nurse jumped when the woman on the bed started thrashing . She pressed the call-button, bringing a few orderlies in. Paged the physician. If the patient kept up the wild movements, she'd jerk her tubes free, and possibly damage herself.

"Hold her down." The head nurse ordered, also rushing in to the room. "I don't want to have to use hard restraints. I've paged Dr. Thomas, she'll be here shortly."

"What the hell's going on?" The younger nurse asked, moving to hold the arm where the IV was attached, keeping the woman from inadvertently ripping the tubing free. "What's wrong with her?"

"My guess is nightmares!" The head nurse said, watching the patient's face carefully. "We'll have to get that damned tube out or she'll hurt herself."

The doctor rushed into the room, hastily giving orders for another push of the morphine, hoping the drugging effect would calm the woman.

It didn't. The patient just kept fighting. Dr. Thomas moved to the woman's head, and order the two orderlies—both young , male, and strong—to hold her as still as possible. Soon the tube was removed from the woman's throat. The patient's dark eyes flew open and she looked around, letting out a deep throaty scream that had everyone rocking back on their heels.

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Wyatt jerked when the first scream ripped the air. He was only a few steps behind Hotchner and his blond subordinate as they ran down the hall full tilt. Hotchner shouldered his way into the recovery room, and the blond was on his heels. Wyatt stood at the rear, not wanting to intrude, but willing to help if needed.

"What the hell's going on?" Hotchner demanded. Wyatt looked past him to the woman on the bed. She was fighting the arms holding her down, her eyes wide and unbearably frightened. He fought the urge to move closer. Hotchner apparently felt no compunction. He stepped to the edge of the bed.

"Emily? You're ok." Hotchner said, in a firm and reassuring voice. He didn't move to touch her. The blond grabbed her friend's hand and squeezed.

Emily calmed, slightly, and Wyatt figured she recognized her colleagues on a deeper level. Hotchner demanded of the doctor to know what happened, and Wyatt listened from the doorway.

But it was the soft voice that caught everyone's attention. "Hotch? Sir? God, make it stop, please!"

"Make what stop, Emily?" Hotchner asked, one hand rising to cover the blonde's where it held the brunette's. "Tell me, and I'll do my best."

"Dreams. Hinkle. Battle. All of them, in my head. Running around. Everywhere I turn. Where's Reid, is he alright? We didn't leave him, did we? Did we find him?" Emily rambled, her words running so quickly no one really understood her. Except that damned Hotchner, who murmured reassurances.

"Hotch?" She said, her body beginning to shiver uncontrollably. The doctor cursed, and Wyatt looked at her.

"Yes. I'm here." The man said, moving just a little closer.

"No morphine. No other narcotics. Too sensitive. Nightmares, you know. Breathing, can't breathe with them."

"Emily, are you allergic to morphine or any other NMBAs?" The doctor demanded sharply. All movement stopped.

"Yes." The woman's eyes closed again, as her teeth began to chatter.

"She's going into shock! Why the hell wasn't I told about this? Have we got her charts here yet? Get them!" The doctor yelled, "All non-essential personnel out! Wayne! I need epinephrine, before she seizes! Everybody move!"

(Gee, maybe I'll just have Wyatt and Emily have a relationship without ever actually meeting! Wouldn't that be weird...next chapter, maybe they'll meet!)