It was snowy. Cold. Wet. The snowflakes dabbled on your face, melting a second later. How long until frostbite gets to you? 15 minutes? What was the temperature outside? 18 below? It felt like it. The snow seeped through your jacket, freezing you to the bone. How long had you been lying there? Twenty minutes? Thirty? Forty? Time seemed to not matter. How did you get there? How did this happen? Where was Hotch? The memories slowly came back.

Hotch had sent you and him to go to an unsub's---Malcolm, last name unknown---house to do an inspection. Malcolm was in custody, but they didn't account for a partner. You split up, very stupid on both of your parts. You were ambushed as you walked into the backyard, which was with heaps and heaps of stuff. It was hard to get past, and hard to see into. When you were on the ground, your gun was tossed aside.

You were beaten senseless. A black eye, cuts all over your face, bloodied nose. Being in this situation isn't easy for anyone. For one, you didn't have your gun, and for another, you didn't want to bother anyone---not like you could call for help anyway, the partner had broken your comms and then left you there. You probably couldn't describe them, you were slowly losing consciousness.

Eventually, Hotch found you, after an hour of you missing. The team had been notified, they were also looking for you. Please be awake. Was the only thing that came to mind.

"Why didn't you call for HELP?" Hotch shouted as he ran up to you, gently touching all of the wounds on your body. He knelt. He tried to get your attention on the wounds and not the cold. "Like here! And here! There's blood all over you!"

"I didn't want to bother anyone.." Was all he could hear out of mumbles from you. You were so cold, you could barely talk. Frostbite, maybe?

"But you wouldn't have bothered anyone at all..?" Hotch whispered as he slowly pulled you up from the ground, moving his hand to his comm to call for medics. The team joined now. "I need a medic at Malcolm's house."