Emily watched them wheel Hotch down the corridor toward the emergency surgery area, her heart beating faster than it ever had in her life. This was so much worse than when Garcia was shot, though the fear was the same.

Garcia's blood hadn't stained Emily's hands. They hadn't been that close back then. Now, though, it was like someone had shot her as well.

The team was her family, save for her mother. Emily hadn't seen her father in ten years, and she saw her mother rarely. No, she spent eighty plus hours each week with the team, and the head of that team, her family, was lying vulnerable on a hospital bed, waiting for some strange doctor to pull shards of metal from his body.

Superman wasn't invulnerable after all.

Dave and Derek, and the rest of the team arrived on the heels of the locals who'd pulled the case. Emily recognized Hotch's neighbor, but she still didn't know his name. She knew the locals would have questions for both of them. Questions she wasn't sure she could answer.

Dave reached her first. His hands rose to wrap around her elbows and he led her to the nearest bench. It was then she realized she was still shaking. "Emily, tell us everything you know."

"They just took him back into surgery. They think the bullet to his chest has punctured his lung, and the one in his thigh may have nicked an artery. They'll let us know." Emily knew what the team would want first. "He was in and out of consciousness when I found him, and throughout the ambulance ride."

"How did you find him?" Derek asked. Emily knew why, Derek was well aware of the fact that she was the least closest to Hotch of all the men on the team. "Why were you there?"

"We'd switched cells." She said, dully. She pulled Hotch's cell from her pocket, where she'd shoved it earlier. "Must have happened on the plane. I thought he'd need his phone, so I decided to drop it off on my walk home."

"Thank God." JJ said. "Thank God. If you hadn't."

"His neighbor heard the shots. He would have found him." Emily said. Maybe. If he'd decided to knock Hotch's door down just to check. "I think he would have found him."

"Emily, love. Did Hotch say who?" Dave rubbed her shoulder, comfortingly.

"Foyet." Emily said. "It was Foyet. I passed him in the stairwell, but I didn't recognize him. I'm sorry. But Hotch said it was Foyet."

"He was that close to you?" Derek nearly growled the words, and Emily's head rose sharply. Once she realized Derek wasn't angry with her—just protective—she nodded. "Dark sweatshirt, hooded. Dark pants. Wasn't hurrying, but wasn't dawdling, either. I thought he looked familiar, but I'd only seen photos of Foyet from years ago. I'm sorry."

"Don't blame yourself." Emily didn't miss the chastising look Dave shot at Derek. Dave, her new protector. Had been ever since she'd lost Matthew. Emily found that incongruous. She didn't need a protector. She was used to doing the protecting. "Emily, just thank God that you were there to help Hotch when he needed it."

She nodded. "I'll need to talk to the local LEOs. Are we…keeping jurisdiction on this one? Or will IA take it?"

Dave leaned his shoulder against hers. "I don't know at this point. We could probably strong arm our way into this one. Foyet is not someone the locals are adequately equipped to handle. I know Hotch was working the case on the side, as well, even though it had went cold."

"I thought he'd come after Derek, if anybody." Emily said, shooting the man in question an apologetic look. "Since he had his address and ID. Why Hotch?"

"The same reason why he didn't shoot Morgan when he had the chance. Having his whereabouts lessened the challenge. Hotch was more of a prey for him. Plus, by refusing to play his game, Hotch both angered and intrigued Foyet." Dave said. "He saw Hotch as more of a worthy adversary than Derek. No offense, Morgan."

"None taken. My question is how do we find this guy?" Morgan paced, resembling a caged jungle cat. Dangerous, feral, sleek. It made Emily almost dizzy to watch. She leaned back and closed her eyes. Morgan dropped to his knees in front of her. "Em, tell us exactly what happened."

She kept her eyes closed. "I realized we'd switched cells, and I knew he'd probably need his phone. I walk by his apartment complex every time I walk to and from work, so it wasn't a biggie. I'd just drop it off then head home. I wasn't quite ready to be alone, so I figured the walk would do me good and I'd just pick up my car from the lot tomorrow afternoon. I took the stairs, and passed Foyet. Something about him made me leery, I'll admit it. But I couldn't place him, I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing." JJ ordered. "I wouldn't have recognized him, either."

Emily opened her eyes and looked at JJ, seeing the woman was sincere. "I reached Hotch's floor. Only about half the apartments are rented. Hotch is near the stairwell. There was a man outside Hotch's door. He told me he'd heard gunshots. I heard Hotch cry out. We went in and found him. He told me it was Foyet. I called Derek. He wanted me to call you and warn you, make sure you were alright."

She looked at Derek, reaffirming to herself that he was right there in front of her.

"So where do we go from here?" Reid asked, just as the local LEOs surrounded them, all their eyes focused on Emily. She shrank back, almost cuddling back into Dave, and Derek, who'd immediately moved to her other side.

Hotch's neighbor moved to the front of the small group. "I'm Detective Mick Lowell, Agent Hotchner's neighbor. You all are?"

He still wore the shirt stained with Hotch's blood. Emily knew no one on the team had missed it, any more than they'd missed the blood staining her shirt. Hotch's blood. Oh, God. "His team."

Lowell looked at her, compassion in his eyes. "And you are? Emily, I think I heard?"

She nodded. "This is David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau, Dr. Spencer Reid, and Penelope Garcia. Thank you, for your help earlier."

"No problem. I'm just glad we got there when we did. Can we speak with you for a moment, in private?"

She hesitated, looked at Dave. With Hotch down, he was team leader; it was up to him how they dealt with things from that point on. "I'll stay with her."

His tone left no argument, and the locals must have read him correctly for they didn't protest. Emily stood along with Dave, conscious of his supporting hand on her back. Did he think she was going to fall apart? She wasn't. Emily Prentiss only fell apart in private. Never in public. Hadn't her mother taught her that little trick at an early age?

"Detective Lowell, I don't think there's anything I can tell you that you don't already know. I passed the man in the stairwell. He's an UNSUB from a previous case of ours who'd slipped through the net. He'd threatened Hotch, but we didn't see it as an imminent one. I guess we should have." Emily sighed, crossed her arms over her chest. Hotch's blood was under her fingernails. She needed a shower, a change of clothes. Something, anything, to get his blood off. She began rubbing furiously at the nails on her left hand.

Neither Lowell nor Dave missed her sudden focus. Dave took her hand in his. "Emily, kiddo. Focus. We'll get him, I promise. Just a matter of time."

"Will we?" She asked, for a moment ignoring the police detective to focus on her team mate. "How do we know he's not out there, watching? Just waiting? How do we know he won't try again, either with Hotch or someone else on the team? How do we know?"