The desert was quiet in the way only a place designed to kill could be - still, dry, empty. The wind pushed loose grit along the ridgeline, whispering over sun-cracked stones and dry brush. Heat radiated off the sand in pulsing waves even though the sun hadn't fully crested the horizon.

Emily Prentiss stepped out of the SUV and let the door slam shut behind her, eyes sweeping the landscape. Her boots crunched against gravel as she moved forward, scanning the horizon. There was nothing but scrub, dust, and silence.

Then - something.

A shape near the base of a weathered post. Too still. Wrong.

She didn’t yell for the others. Didn’t wait. Her breath caught in her chest and she just ran.

Each step felt longer than the last, every heartbeat punching harder into her ribs. She crested a small rise, the wind slapping at her face with dry fingers - and there you were.

Tied to a post like an afterthought. Like garbage left out in the middle of nowhere to be swallowed by the desert.

You were slumped, barely upright, your hands lashed above your head. Lips cracked. Skin scorched. A strip of duct tape clung uselessly to your shoulder, half peeled by sweat and heat. Your eyes were closed.

Emily dropped to her knees in the dirt, skidding the last few feet.

“Hey, no, no, no…” Her hands reached out without hesitation, cupping your jaw. “Look at me. Come on.”

For one horrible second, she thought you were already gone. But then - a flutter. Your eyelids cracked open, dazed and slow, and your dry lips parted.

“I knew you’d come,” you rasped. Barely more than breath.

Her chest buckled under the weight of it.

She reached for her knife - hands trembling now that the panic had somewhere to go - and began cutting through the rough rope around your wrists.

He had left you like this. Left you here. Like bait. Like a warning. She didn’t care what he’d said in interrogation. He’d done it to hurt them through you. He knew exactly what he was doing.

The ropes gave way and you collapsed forward into her arms. She caught you, pulling you close with more care than she knew she was capable of. You were burning up, shaking despite the heat.

“You held on." She whispered, voice thick.

You gave the smallest nod, your cheek against her shoulder. “Didn’t want to die out here. Not alone.”

Emily closed her eyes for half a second and breathed you in - dust, blood, heat. Alive. “You're not alone. Never.”

She protected her people.

And you were her person.

Behind her, the sound of approaching footsteps and the distant thrum of helicopter blades barely registered. She didn’t look back. Let them handle logistics. Let them bring the medics. Right now, all that mattered was that she had you - alive, in her arms, against impossible odds.

She tightened her grip around your back, grounding you. Grounding herself.

“We’ve got you,” she said, a quiet vow in her throat.

And for the first time in hours, something inside her began to settle.

The desert was a distant nightmare now, replaced by sterile walls and the rhythmic hum of machines. The room was dim, lit only by the glow of a small lamp and the soft green pulse of the heart monitor beside the bed.

You were asleep. Or resting - it was hard to tell. A saline line ran into your arm, and your skin was still flushed from dehydration, but the colour had returned to your face.

Emily stood in the doorway for a long moment before stepping in. She carried a coffee she hadn’t touched and didn’t intend to. Her jacket was gone, sleeves rolled up, still faintly dust-stained from the desert.

She pulled a chair close and sat down without a sound, letting herself just look at you. There was a thin bandage on your temple and red lines at your wrists from where the rope had cut in.

“I should’ve found you sooner.”

The words came out before she meant them to. Quiet. Raw. You stirred at the sound, eyes blinking open slowly. “You okay?”

That stopped her. Of all the things to say. After what you’d just gone through.

“No," she said honestly, leaning forward, elbows on her knees. “But I will be. When you are."