So this essentially takes place sometime after season nine in a universe where Emily Prentiss never left and the events of the finale didn't happen (i.e. everyone is relatively happy and uninjured). I have nothing against Blake and I like her but I suppose I just prefer the dynamics with Emily. Anyway, I am sorry I can't make any promises about regular updates because I'm terrible, but I will try. This has canon pairings only. The title comes from the song 'Into the Fire' by Thirteen Senses. Now, on with the story.

"I'm not afraid of death; I just don't want to be there when it happens."

― Woody Allen

The monotonous hum of the jet engines provides a soothing backdrop for the agents of the BAU as they fly home after another grueling case. Six days on the Northern Indiana/Ohio border spent mediating turf wars between law enforcement officers from both sides while trying desperately to stop a pedophilic cyber stalker turned kidnapping murderer. Erik Rogers took five victims under the age of thirteen before they managed to apprehend him as he went for his sixth. And if not for the added presence of Garcia and her quick computer work on the case, they might not have caught him in time.

The team had stayed just long enough to sort out the necessary paperwork and to accept the proclamations of gratitude from parents and LEOs alike and then they found themselves departing yet another tragic scene. Now the members of the Behavioral Analysis Unit are just looking forward to being able to enjoy a rare weekend free of work.

Hotch quietly observes his team from where he sits at the table by one of the windows. It's almost 4 a.m. so half of them are already asleep or nearly so. Reid and Garcia are the only ones still awake. They sit across from him, whispering excitedly over the tablet computer held between them, which casts a bluish glow across both eager faces. Emily is dozing with her chin in her hand, elbow propped on the armrest to his left, and he can hear the quiet snores of either Morgan or Rossi from the seats behind him. On the other side of the darkened plane, Hotch can just make out the petite form of JJ stretched across the couch, wrapped snugly in a blue fleece blanket.

They've only been in the air for about thirty minutes, so Hotch decides to use the remaining hour of the flight to try and catch up on some sleep. By the time he gets home, he knows he'll only get about two hours tops before Jack bounds into his room ready to start the day.

The team leader leans his head back against the tan leather seat and lets his eyes drift closed, focusing on the lulling drone of the jet in order to tune out the whispers of the two geniuses on the other side of the table.

He's only been sleeping for a few minutes when a jolt of turbulence startles him awake. Next to him, Emily's head slips off its perch from the sudden movement and she's roused from sleep, blinking rapidly for a moment before her tired gaze meets his.

"I just hate turbulence," Garcia whispers once the plane has settled. She punctuates the comment with a small shudder.

"It can be unsettling," Emily whispers back, nodding in agreement.

Soon after, another bout of turbulence shakes the jet, harder this time, and the four of them direct their gazes out the small windows. There isn't much to see in the darkness that shrouds the early morning, but they stare quietly anyway.

It only takes another five seconds for everything to go to hell.

The next jolting of the plane is accompanied by the horrendous screech of tearing metal. Penelope, Reid, Hotch, and Emily have only a fleeting moment to register the sight of the jet's right turbine hurtling away into the darkness before a deafening roar fills their ears as the plane lists to the left and begins plummeting towards the ground below.

Something blue sails past their seats as their world descends into chaos. Hotch can't determine if the screaming he hears is coming from the aircraft carrying them to their inevitable deaths or from one of his colleagues or both, but it is incredibly difficult to focus when he's being forcefully sandwiched between Prentiss and the wall. Somewhere behind him he hears Rossi shouting about brace positions and the distinctive click of a seatbelt and he tries hard to remember whether he buckled his own before they took off. But there's more screeching metal and terrified screams and roaring air rushing by at alarming speeds and he can barely hear his own thoughts over the mayhem, so he just hangs on tight and waits for impact – or death, whatever comes first.

His last thoughts are of his son's smiling face before the blackness consumes him with an almighty crash.

"Do not be afraid; our fate
Cannot be taken from us; it is a gift."
― Dante Alighieri, Inferno

Thanks for reading! Reviews are greatly appreciated. I'll try my best to get the next chapter up within a week.

Oh, and if any you happen to be following any of my incomplete NCIS or Warehouse 13 fics, I seriously apologize but I don't know if I'll ever finish those, because I've just become disillusioned with NCIS after Ziva's departure and I was pretty underwhelmed with the way they handled the last season of Warehouse 13. But we'll see. There could still be hope if my muse someday gains some sudden inspiration.