"What the hell was that?!" Morgan yells once they're out of earshot from the Los Angeles P.D, staring at Emily with crossed arms. An alarmed look crossed Hotch's and face, as they shared a glance. Emily scoffed, yanking off her FBI vest, tossing it into the back of the SUV. "What do you mean?" Emily shot back, locking her jaw as she met his hard glare. "Oh, I don't know! Running after an unsub with a half loaded glock, with your same 'Im Invincible' demeanor, Prentiss!? What the hell is wrong with you!" Morgan was furious - she could tell. But it only spurred her on.

"Its none of your business what I decide to do, Morgan. You don't control me-" she bites back, as Hotch steps between them, shooting both a hard glare. "Enough, both of you. Neither of you have the authority to do what either of you just did-" Hotch says in an eerily calm tone, his jaw clenched as he unstraps his vest. "Its late. Get in the SUV so we can pick up Rossi and Reid from the police department-" Hotch didn't give both of them another glance, as he spun on his heel, J.J behind him.

The ride was quiet back to the hotel, Reid and Rossi sitting uncomfortable between herself and Morgan. The scrape on her left forearm was throbbing, but she didn't dare mention the injury out loud, in fear of Morgan making a scene again. She instead cradled her arm to her chest, staring at the lights outside the window.

Once Hotch pulled to a stop, she heard Morgan grumbling as he grabbed his vest, walking through the automatic doors without the rest of them. Emily bit back what she was feeling, grabbing for her vest. Only, she grabbed someone's hand, and looked up with a blush creeping at the corners of her cheeks. "I'll take it-" Hotch said quietly, and she bowed her head once, slamming the car door shut.

She trekked behind everyone, both arms secured around herself, as if to protect her body from everyone and everything. As she got on the elevator, Hotch side glanced her, noticing the way she was babying her arm. His eyebrows rose, but she merely shook her head and dropped her arm. All she wanted was the confinement of her room, so she was able to deal with what she was feeling alone.

Like usual.

The nightmares, the day scares, the scars, the memories. All they did was remind her of what happened to her. She would get ghost pains from the wooden board that was stabbed through her side, her scar an ugly pink color. She had sacrificed her safety for the teams grievance, and ultimately lost everyone's trust. Almost, everyone. Aside from the couple that knew what was happening, she was alone.

"Prentiss, I cant hold the elevator doors open forever-" She looked up to see Hotch staring at her, and she finally got her feet moving again. "Sorry-" she muttered, her chest constricting. She approached her door, everyone side glancing her. She may have been out of line today, but she didn't dare admit it out loud. She was being brave and dauntless; not stupid and reckless.

She unlocked the door, stepping into the lightly air conditioned room. Removing her coat, she sat on her bed, running fingers through her hair. Don't cry, don't cry. You're stronger than this. Wetness covered her cheeks, sliding down her throat. Suddenly she felt so heavy, her throat aching to release the tears it withheld. As if in syncronization, the throbbing in her arm turned to sharp pains, as she realized she was bleeding.

"Fucking shit-" she ground out, pushing her way toward her attached bathroom. Switching on the light, she realized her mascara was running. She rolled up her navy blue long sleeve, wincing as the cool air touched her wound. Looking around for anything to stop the bleeding, she heard a knock at her door. Cursing, she rolled it back down, only to yelp in pain. She kept the cuff rolled up, and swung open the door.

Hotch stood in night wear, looking exhausted yet so casual. Something she's never seen before. "Prentiss-" he began before his eyes widened. "Your arm, what happened?" he asked, pushing his way inside. Gently taking her by the arm, he led her into the bathroom. She was glad he didn't mention the tears on her cheeks, as he sat her on the toilet lid. "Was this from your surprise stunt?" he asked quietly, gently. He must have noticed her vulnerability. Only it didn't soothe her, it made her want to cry.

"I grazed it on a pipe, its not a big dea - oh my god-" she gasped out, her arm throbbing as he applied cold peroxide from under the sink to her arm. He held it steady, as her head tilted back slightly, as she groaned. "Maybe a warning next time?" she groundout through gritted teeth, as she clutched the lid under her.

He dabbed at her wound, tossing away soiled gauze. "Then I wouldn't have gotten this far, now would I?" he says, and she just looks away, scowling. He applies gauze and wraps it in bandages, his fingertips skimming the soft flesh below her wound. "Do you want one to wipe your cheeks?" he asks seriously, and she smacks at his hands. "You barged in on me. I can handle myself-" she said defensively, standing up.

"I know you can. That's what amazes me-" he says, catching her good arm. He turned her body back toward his, looking down at her through steady eyes. "-how you can compartmentalize so easily. Switch off the emotions. You handled Doyle better than I did Foyet-" Hotch says gently, his thumb brushing away a tear that streaked down her cheek. "You're strong-"

"I'm not-" she chokes out, squeezing her eyes shut as another warm tear falls off the bridge of her nose. "I'm weak, and tired of the nightmares-" she says, her voice wavering as she bites back the tears. Not in front of Hotch. Not in front of your boss. "-exhausted from trying to be strong, from putting on a brave face when all I can think about is why? Why didn't I just die that day? Why didn't Morgan let me go?"

She didn't care she was sobbing, she needed to release what she was feeling. Even if it made her pathetic.

"You're not weak-" Hotch says, grasping her chin in his deft fingers, as he tapped between her eyes so she would open them. He held her to him, as he composed his thoughts. "You're stronger than anyone I know. Crying, feeling sad, angry, depressed. All you have to do is come to me. Ill be here for you-" his soft words made her finally fling her arms around him, as she buried her face in his neck.

"I want it to stop-" she cried, and he nodded as he ran a hand over her head. "I know, god I know. But you're going to be okay, because Ill be with you every step of the way-" he murmured, his chest constricting as he listened to her cries, her pleas of wanting it all to

just

end.

"I can't keep pretending I'm okay. Its exhausting, I'm exhausted. I can't continue like this, Hotch I can't, I - I-" she tried talking through her tears but she couldn't. Hotch ached to be able to fix her problems, but he didn't know what to do. His agent was broken and all he could do was watch as she shattered everywhere.

He didn't know how long they stood in the hotel bathroom clutching each other. All he knew was that it felt right. Her body perfectly fit against him, making him question how he couldn't see it before. How he couldnt truly see her until now. Her breathing evened out, as she sniffed, her arm cradled between them. "There's always going to be a bad day-" Hotch whispers, closing his eyes as he listened to her heartbeat.

"But you can bet your ass that I'll be here to listen, or to help. We all go through things we're terrified to fight alone." Hotch felt his own chest constrict, as his throat squeezed. Just like how Emily had helped him with the aftermath of Foyet. "I know why I did it. Why I went in there without the go signal-" Emily said quietly, referring back to their case earlier that day.

"Because when I was laying down on that cold floor with the plank running through my body, there was this moment that I felt where I knew nobody was coming. Where I couldn't fathom the idea of getting out of there alive." Emily took a pause before she continued. "But Morgan was there kneeled at my side with such a strong mindset that I was getting out of there alive. If he were only seconds later I would have given up. I wouldn't have fought-" Emily said, her hands squeezing Hotchs as she clenched her teeth. "I couldn't let that little girl inside that building go through that. I couldn't let her believe she wasn't going to see her mom or her dad again. Because in those split seconds to secure the perimeter, she could have been dead."

Hotch had only stared at her as she finally let out her emotions. "I know what Morgan said to me was rational, but he didn't know what I was feeling. What I felt. I'm not the invincible hardass everyone assumes I am. I just wish I could be vulnerable or not have to mask what I'm feeling to avoid the stares and the judging." Hotch caught the tear on his thumb before it fell down her cheek, composing his words. "We're human. You're human. Bottling up your emotions for so long is bound to end up messy. Because once you can't contain anymore they explode-" Hotch murmurs and she nods, wiping her face.

"We're messed up, you and me. But we manage to get by, now, don't we?" Emily asks and he smiles a little. "I guess we do. One day at a time." Emily released her death grip on his hands as she stepped back putting space between the two brunette agents. "Its late. And we have a flight to catch at 6 am tomorrow. I should be headed back-" Hotch says quietly, as her features fall.

"I was hoping you'd stay. Hopefully giving me a nightmare-less night. I would feel better if you were there when I woke up instead of having to deal with it alone." Hotch looked down at his brunette agent and nodded.

"Ill go get my things."

So this was just a little one shot that came to mind. It's not the best, but it's whatever :)

With that, review, maybe?