This one is tagged to season 4's "Minimal Loss" episode.

"We all need reassurance and encouragement. We're human, and that's how we work." – Richard Templar

"Yes, ma'am," I say with a nod, even though she can't see it. "We're spending the night here and will fly out tomorrow morning. Pilots weren't able to get clearance to fly out tonight."

"Good. Find me in my office when you get back. We need to go over everything that happened on this case."

I hold in the sigh I want to release. I should have known Strauss would want to discuss it immediately. "Of course. I'll see you first thing tomorrow," I say before ending the call and slipping the phone back into my pocket.

"Would you let me out of this thing? I can walk!"

I feel a smile tug at the corners of my mouth as I hear her familiar obstinate tone. Of course she'd be giving the doctors hell. If nothing else, Emily Prentiss was one hell of an independent woman.

"Prentiss," I say, a tinge of scolding seeping into my tone. "It's protocol, and you know it. Stop giving the nurses a tough time."

She shoots me a look, but I'm pleased to see the fierceness of her glare is diminished at my words. She still takes the opportunity to mutter under her breath though. "Protocol, my-"

"I'll take it from here," I interrupt, not letting her finish her statement which I'm quite sure the poor nurse pushing her wheelchair would have overheard. I'm sure she's frustrated them quite enough.

"I walked out of the ranch just fine, and that was before my injuries were treated, so I'm pretty sure I'll be able to walk now…"

"We can test that theory once you've been officially discharged and are off hospital property," I reply, giving a nod of gratitude and apology to the nurses and doctors watching our exchange. "But for now you sit there and enjoy the ride to the SUV."

I hear her let out a breath and watch as her body sags with defeat. "This seems like a massive waste of resources, if you ask me."

"It's a good thing no one asked you then," I retort.

She lets out an unimpressed huff of frustration and I feel a smile tug at the corners of my mouth again. Point, set, and match. "Besides, you already conned them into releasing you tonight instead of tomorrow. The least you can do is give them some peace and quiet.

She stays quiet for the rest of the journey through the hospital's halls, but I swear I can feel the glare of her hard expression. I do find myself wondering what she's thinking about though. She'd been through a hell of a lot in the past couple days, and I'm not entirely sure where her head's at. Silence can be unnerving in some cases…even for profilers.

I leave her in the more than capable (if somewhat unwilling thanks to her testy demeanour) hands of the nurses as I go and get the SUV. Just as I go to put the key in the ignition, my phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out to find Dave's number on my screen.

"Hey, Dave," I answer as I balance the phone between my ear and shoulder and start the SUV.

"You on your way yet?"

"Just about to get her in the car now, and then we'll head to the hotel."

"How is she?"

I pause for a moment as I consider his question. How is she? "She's giving the nurses a hard time," I finally say. It's an answer without a lot of information, but it tells him what he needs and wants to hear.

I hear a soft chuckle from him as he answers. "So she's fine, is what you're telling me."

"Something like that."

"Good. You guys should grab some food – she hasn't really eaten in a bit."

"I'm not sure how hungry she'll be, but I'll make sure to ask."

"Perfect. See you in about an hour?"

"You don't have to wait up for us. I can get us checked in."

"I think we both know that we're all going to be waiting up for you two."

Dave's right. Everyone had been anxious to make sure she was okay. We'd all had to hear in excruciating detail what she'd been through, and before we'd been able to spend any real time with her, she'd been whisked away by the paramedics to get looked at the hospital. No substitute for seeing things with your own two eyes, it seems.

"Yeah, I guessed. Try to persuade them to head to bed though. You know she's not going to be a happy camper when they ambush her with their well-wishes."

"No promises."

"I'll see you in a bit then."

"See you."

I slip the phone back into my suit pocket and turn over the ignition before maneuvering the SUV to the entrance where Prentiss is sitting in the wheelchair, looking very frustrated and quite frankly, exhausted.

I hop out, leaving the car running, and offer her an arm that she swats away. "I can get into the car," she says with a roll of her eyes.

I hold up my hands in surrender and instead settle for opening the door for her. I watch as she slowly steps up and into the passenger seat, unable to keep the grimace of pain off of her face. Looks like those ribs are going to be sore for quite a while…

"Thank you," I say to the nurses who'd accompanied us down to the main floor. They both nod in reply and I head back over to the driver's side and slide back into the seat.

We begin the drive to the hotel in silence. She's looking contemplatively out the window at the passing scenery, her head balanced on her hand. She's quiet, and I can't say I'm surprised. If I were her, I'd want nothing more than to just have some time to sleep and be away from the prying eyes of the team.

It's not that she doesn't appreciate the concern – I know she does – it's that she has a strong desire to not be seen as weak. Her desire to walk out of the hospital made that abundantly clear, after all.

"Are you hungry?" I ask, glancing over at her once more.

"Not really, no."

"Side effect of the pain pills?" I guess.

"I didn't take any," she answers, meeting my gaze briefly before turning her eyes back out the window.

My brow furrows ever so slightly as I absorb her words, but I can't say I'm surprised that she didn't take any. She and I are alike in many ways – we're both intensely private people, we prefer to be in control of situations, and we compartmentalize better than almost anyone. And it's because we're alike that I can understand her reasoning. While pain medication blissfully takes away the pain, it also tends to dull the world for you. That loss of sharpness is what neither of us looks forward to. Loss of control is not something either of us likes, and if we can help it, we don't let it happen.

"How's your pain level?" I ask, looking over at her again. The bruising is starting to show up more clearly on her pale skin, and more and more of her face is succumbing to the dark purples, blues, blacks, and vibrant yellows and greens.

Her head turns lazily and she shrugs when she meets my worried gaze. "I'm okay."

"That's not what I asked you," I point out. I know I'm going to have to prod a little more to get a real answer out of her, if I get one at all. I know if it were me, I would have said the same thing.

Her eyes narrow at my reply and she holds my gaze for a moment longer before I look back to the road. "It's not that bad," she answers finally. "I've had worse."

"You need anything?"

I see her shake her head gently out of the corner of my eye. "I just want to sleep for a while, and then go home tomorrow."

I nod in understanding. Just as I suspected.

"Hey, Hotch?" she asks after a few minutes of silence.

"Yeah?"

"How's Reid doing?" she asks, her voice quiet and filled with worry. She's no doubt feeling guilty over how Reid is handling this. She did, after all step in and protect him in a big way when she admitted she was the FBI agent. And she's shown that she has a huge amount of compassion, so it's not at all strange for her to be concerned about how Reid is coping with it all.

"He's coping, just like you are," I answer after a moment of careful thought.

She frowns, and I know immediately she's confused by my response. "You can't tell me that you're not trying to reconcile everything that happened on that ranch."

She stays quiet, but I see her eyebrows rise in surprise. Clearly she hadn't considered that – which to anyone other than her seems ridiculous. She was beaten, and there was something of a bond or a promise or something between her and Jessie's mother.

"Don't belittle what you went through, Prentiss. It was traumatic, and it deserves to be acknowledged as such. Reid is coping with his guilt over you having to go through that, and you need to cope with coming to terms with everything you went through."

"I'm fine, Hotch," she says defiantly. "Really," she adds to emphasize her point.

"I'm sure you are," I say, looking over and meeting her gaze briefly before looking back out the windshield, "but that doesn't change the fact that you need to deal with what happened."

She lets out a sigh and turns her gaze back out the window, clearly done with our conversation. I can imagine her thoughts are not at all focused on herself. No, I think they're likely to be exclusively on our young colleague. Not unlike myself, she has a fierce protective instinct when it comes to the team, and always puts others before herself. It's part of what makes her such a good agent, and a worthy member of this team.

We finish the rest of the drive to the hotel in silence, with only the sound of the tires on the pavement filling the car. I pull into a parking space and turn off the ignition before turning and facing Prentiss.

"Prentiss," I say to stop her actions of opening her door. She looks over with slightly wide eyes, her gaze finding mine. "I'm sorry we couldn't-"

"No," she says firmly, interrupting me. "You don't have to apologize. It wasn't your fault."

"I'm responsible for my agents," I reply firmly. "And what happened to you and Reid shouldn't have."

"True, but it wasn't your fault. Ultimately you got us out of there."

"Not before you were hurt," I point out.

She sighs heavily. "Hotch, this wasn't your fault. We're both okay, and you got basically everyone out of there before the explosion. That's about as good an outcome as you could have asked for, given the circumstances."

I stay quiet as I hold her gaze, letting her words sink in. "You did great work today, Prentiss. I mean it," I say finally.

She nods and once again begins her actions of exiting the vehicle. I find myself still feeling tinges of guilt for having sent her and Reid in there in the first place, and having it turn out with her body bruised and nearly broken. It's not something any team leader wants to see happen.

But she's right – given what we walked into, things turned out relatively well. And we would all do well to focus on that. Of course that is very difficult to do, given the multitude of colours marring her face, and the way she winces when she twists her body a certain way.

She is an excellent agent, and a vital member of this team. That was never in question, but her actions to submit herself to that pain so that we could get a better outcome was a strong reminder of that. Her strength and character are important parts of the person she is, and they are part of what make her such a great agent. This team is damn lucky to have her. And I think I'll focus on that instead, which is a little easier to do.

So...thoughts on Hotch's thoughts of post-Cyrus Emily? Was Prentiss believable? Did you agree with Hotch's assessment of their similarities? Let me know...