He watches her stumble out of the compound and he thinks he might actually cry out with relief, and when Morgan and Reid get out he does. He stands back, watching her hug them, his ears ringing. She's alive. Limping and bleeding and crying, but she's alive, and all he wants is to come forward, wrap his arms around her, press his nose into her hair, tilt her face up and kiss her bruises… The strength of it overwhelms him, and when she turns, her eyes glistening with tears, he can do nothing but stare back at her.
When she's been checked out and they can head for the airport, she gravitates toward him and he doesn't hesitate – he opens the passenger door of the SUV for her and helps her in, hating the way she has to struggle to sit straight. "Take your painkillers," he says, and realises too late his voice sounds as strangled as he feels. He closes the door, gets in beside her and they sit in silence for a few moments, watching the others drive off. "Emily -"
"I'm okay," she says softly, staring straight forward. "I knew…"
He waits for her to go on, but she doesn't. Eventually he reaches across, takes a bottle of water from the glove compartment and hands it to her. "For your painkillers," he says.
She gives him a quick smile as she opens it, takes a couple of pills. "We should get going. The jet -"
"They'll wait for us," he replies, his voice so quietly intense she actually shivers. She nods, waits for him to go on. For the first time since she met him, he struggles to make eye contact, looking past her and down at her feet and at the dashboard before eventually meeting her eyes. She smiles, can't help it, although it makes her face sting. "Emily, you did great work. You never stopped trying to communicate with us, and you were incredibly brave and quick thinking."
"Thank you," she says, although her name in his voice is spinning around and around in her head. He never says it, not directly to her, and there's something about it… "I knew you'd be out there," she says, surprising herself. "That's what I was going to say before. I was… I mean, it sucked. But I knew you were out there and I knew you'd do everything…" she trails off and shrugs, sending searing hot pain shooting through her ribs, and drops her head back.
He reaches across and takes her hand, and her eyes snap back to his, her expression unreadable. "It was the worst sound I've ever heard," he says quietly, his throat aching with every syllable. "When he was hurting you, I couldn't… I couldn't think straight, I just wanted…" He realises what he's saying and stops abruptly, and her hands close over his and she squeezes. "I'm sorry," he says, watching their hands because he can't look at her face any more.
"You have nothing to be sorry for," she replies, her voice gentle and comforting, and he knows he must be doing a terrible job of keeping himself together. "I'm sorry you had to hear that." He keeps looking down and she traces over and over the back of his hand with her fingertips. His eyes flick up to hers, surprised at the intimacy of the touch, but he doesn't stop her. "You did everything right," she adds. "I meant it. If you'd come in then…"
"I know," he says, sitting back and looking straight out of the windscreen again, leaving his hand in her lap – a big part of him knows he shouldn't, they shouldn't be this intimate, but a bigger part of him can't care about that right now. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you."
Tears start stinging at her eyes and she gives him a watery smile. "You don't need to protect me," she says. "Not all the time. We protect each other."