Emily started at the knock on her door. Inhaling deeply, she lifted herself from the couch and quietly moved towards the front door, depositing the glass of wine she'd been nursing on a small end table in the hall. The knock repeated itself. Gun trained on the door, Emily slowly pressed her eye to the peep-hole. Aaron Hotchner stood before her, hands clasped calmly.

"You know that's a good way to get yourself killed?" she opened the door, locking eyes with her superior as she holstered her gun at her hip.

"I'd hope you've had enough training not to blindly shoot through an open door. May I come in?" he offered her the slightest smile, moving into her apartment as she stepped aside.

She chuckled in response, careful to keep her damaged hand out of his view.

"How are you?" Hotch awkwardly hovered in her entryway, not wanting to impose on his subordinate.

"Well enough." She moved back to her perch on her couch, nodding at the cushion next to her in invitation.

"Prentiss?" he perched himself a foot away, locking eye-contact.

"Yes?" her eyes met his, cautious to keep her guard up.

"How are you?" he repeated his question, reaching for the hand she'd nonchalantly covered with her thigh. Her eyes closed briefly, her brain trying desperately to grasp for a suitable explanation, yet she found nothing.

"I'm fine, Aaron. Really." she held his eyes as he moved her bruised hand onto the couch cushion between them. Wordless, his gaze held hers, intensity quickly rising.

"How'd you know?" She broke away first, her eyes falling to her lap.

"You holstered with your non-dominant hand. What happened?" Cautiously, he raised his hand to the back of the woman's neck, encouraging her to meet his eyes once more.

"Nothing, it's fine. It's just a couple scrapes and bruises." her voice was harsh, triggering immediate regret. It was clear he cared - she shouldn't brush him off so harshly. Backtracking slightly, she offered him a small smile and placed her good hand on his knee, squeezing gently. He stared at her intently, wishing for her honesty but knowing she wouldn't budge.

"Is there something you needed?" she asked the question softly, no hint of irritation in her voice.

"I, uh. Garcia has us all on a rotating shift to check on you and Reid..." the admission clearly made him uncomfortable.

"Of course she does," Emily laughed, expecting nothing less, "So are you supposed to report back?"

"Of course. I'm supposed to find out if you're eating and taking your medications. And if Reid has visited you." Her response reassured him, but Hotch was still rigid.

"Well, I am eating. And I'm taking my medications, but not the pain killers. I don't need them anymore." Emily rose and padded towards the kitchen, ignoring the last part of his inquiry.

Hotch sat in awkward silence, unsure of how to respond to her sudden movements.

"Sorry." Emily murmured, returning with a glass of wine. "I sat it down when you knocked and forgot about it."

"Is this why you don't need your pain killers?" he eyed her wearily.

"No. I don't need pain killers because I was comatose through 90% of my healing." she rolled her eyes, the slightest hint of irritation entering her voice.

"I- I'm sorry, Emily. That was out of line. I should go." Shaking his head, he stood abruptly, bumping her elbow slightly. Pain caressed her entire left side, rolling from her fingertips to her shoulder, down into her legs. Eyes closed, her hand clutched at his elbow, trying to steady herself on weakened legs.

"Are you okay?" his voice was quiet, gingerly placing one hand on her hip to help steady the brunette. She nodded, but remained unmoved, unsure whether or not her legs would continue to support her. Her stomach flipped, nausea spreading over her.

"You're in pain." It wasn't a question. His voice was soft, closer to her ear than anticipated. She felt his coarse hand cover hers, lifting the wine glass from her hand. His hand carefully braced her against his side, stabilizing her. She nodded in defeat, allowing the older man to support the majority of her weight. Her body ached. Everywhere.

"What can I do?" Careful not to shift her, he placed her glass on the coffee table so as to free his other hand, which found real estate on her upper back. Worry was heavy in his voice and her lack of response only made it worse, "Emily?"

"J-just, I... I just need to lie down." Blinking back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes, she looked up at him and offered a small smile. Concern creased his forehead. "I'm fine, Aaron. I promise."

Emily rested her forehead against his shoulder briefly before placing her hand against his chest. He took her cue and stepped back, slowly letting her support her own weight. Easing down onto the couch, she finally released the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. He sank silently onto the couch beside her, eyeing her carefully.

"Hey, Hotch?"

"Hm?"

"If you tell anyone about this, I swear..." she warned, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Of course not." He nodded solemnly. "You've been through a lot, Emily. I can't even begin to imagine. No one expects you to be fine."

Emily laughed at this, the first real full laugh in longer than she can remember:

"Except the moment I show any sign of vulnerability, everyone rushes to my side and treats me like a helpless puppy."

"You are a victim, Emily. There's nothing wrong with that. But I see your point. Regardless, I won't mention anything to anyone. And I don't see you any different." He offered her a small smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. He was tense. "Would you like me to go?"

"N-no. The company is nice. If you want to stay, that is."

He didn't respond, but squeezed her hand gently, for just the briefest moment. The pair sat in silence for a while, Emily lost in her own head while he eyed her out the corner of his eye. After a while, she shifted, allowing her body to lay against his arm, head resting against his shoulder.

"Have you spoken to Reid?" the words were barely audible as they left her lips and she regretted them the moment they did.

"Officially, yes. Personally, no." He didn't acknowledge her change in position, but gazed down at the brunette curiously. He'd always seen Emily as closed-off, but her position suggested vulnerability. It surprised him, but it was nice.

"Morgan's worried about him." she confessed.

"We all are, Emily. It was hard on all of us, but he took it harder than anyone." his hand rested against her knee, an attempt at support.

"How so?" she sounded small, insecure.

"If Jonathan Clayton hadn't turned himself in, we wouldn't have found you in time. We did everything we could, but it wasn't enough. During other cases, I think we understand that sometimes the Unsub has to kill again for us to establish a pattern or find the mistake. But this time, we couldn't wait for the next piece of the puzzle." He sighed, "He didn't sleep from the moment you were abducted. He's the one who... found you."

Emily flinched at the end of his sentence.

Hesitantly, Hotch continued:

"He disappeared after you came out of surgery. Sent me a request for personal time, which I granted of course. He hasn't been the same since."

She sniffed quietly, and he thought she was crying, though he couldn't be sure. Carefully, he moved his arm from beneath her and wrapped it around her shoulders, careful not to hurt her. He wasn't sure what to say. There was weight in her words, so much underneath such a simple statement. They stayed that way, in silence, Emily gently tucked into the older man's side, comforted solely by his presence.

A/N: Y'all know the drill, make sure to drop me a review! I'm taking requests for things to include and I'd love some input!