So, I wrote this one a while back, but was hesitant to post it. Typically, I try to have something to say with my stories, but as far as I can tell, this one just seems to say, 'life sucks' so I didn't post. I tried to edit some meaning into it, but that didn't work either. So, it just is what it is. And, I have no clue where this idea came from. Thanks for reading, and please review!

Note: Olly Olly Oxen Free is yelled at the end of the children's game hide and seek to let the still hidden players no it's safe to come out. There's many variations on spelling and what the phrase itself.

This wasn't even Lifetime movie bad. It was just absolutely fucking ridiculous. Emily was jammed into a kitchen cabinet in Blake's expensive suburban home while he ran around the house with a very large knife, hollering and from the sounds of things breaking many of his belongings. For hours. Her glock was locked in the car, since she didn't think she'd need it, not on a date with what she'd thought to be a nice guy. And, her cell phone was open and crushed by the stairs, though she had managed to get a few words out to Morgan.

So, she was stuck kissing her knees until the team found her. Because, not only was she squished into the cabinet like a contortionist, but the damn thing had gotten stuck or locked or god only knew what. She couldn't get out if she wanted too. That may very well have saved her life a few hours ago when he'd run into the kitchen after her and started ripping it apart.

He'd be unable to wrench the cabinet open.

She was literally stuck in the damn thing until someone came to rescue her.

And, she had no pants.

Prentiss had driven to his house right after work, and they'd gotten take-out and watched a movie. Well, most of a movie. They'd ended up horizontal on his sofa before it was through. It was when they moved things to the bedroom that her clothes started coming off. Boots, socks, pants, until he'd yanked open her blouse, sending buttons flying in what should have been an erotic show of excitement. But, Emily had seen his eyes.

The cold, detached eyes she'd seen in a dozen or more psychopaths over the years. That moment, when her mouth fell open and her body instinctively moved away, was when he pulled out a long switchblade.

Prentiss had run like a bat straight out of hell.

Blake followed. He got her on the stairs, grabbing her cell phone and wrecking her balance, sending them both rolling down. They'd landed on the phone. She'd kicked him, and taken off again, only to be grabbed as she scrambled toward the front door. She was perfectly prepared to run into the street wearing almost nothing. Utilizing her Bureau defense training, she'd disarmed him, and bounced his head off a wall. Then she'd run again.

The knife had landed practically under him, otherwise she'd have grabbed it.

She'd run away from the front door to the one in the kitchen, which turned out to have a rather elaborate lock system on it. With his footsteps sounding in her ears and getting closer, Emily had done the one thing she'd never done before.

Emily Prentiss did not hide. Not once in her whole life. Until now.

At least, she hadn't started crying; that would really destroy her tough girl image. Instead she ran a hand over her bare legs, feeling at least one of the bruises she'd earned, and wondered how the hell she'd gotten to this place. Was she really that lousy a judge of character?

No. No, she knew that psychopaths are gifted actors, playing to other people's insecurities, and winning their trust. And, he'd known just how to play to hers, appearing to delight in all the little nerdy things about her, and unbothered by her dangerous, unfeminine job, and unpredictable schedule. No, Emily didn't love him, and she didn't even really trust him. But, he'd made her wonder if maybe this time would work out. If maybe she wasn't such a complete lost cause.

Clearly, she was pretty much done in the dating department. If she had trouble trusting before this, then assuming she survived, she wasn't coming anywhere close to trusting anyone else. And, if you won't trust anyone, or open yourself up, you can't date, not really. Then again, right now, a threesome with Ben and Jerry was looking pretty damn good. She was a sucker for Magic Brownies.

She'd have to invest in a really good vibrator. And, chocolate. And, a cat. Maybe a slightly pathetic existence, but it could be a happy one nonetheless. She had the team, they were family enough, and she was sure there was a poor little kitty in a shelter somewhere that could use a good home. Emotional needs met. Work satisfied her intellectual and action drives, and junk food and a vibrator would satisfy everything else.

Of course, there was always the local sperm bank and a turkey baster, which frankly was something she'd been considering more and more recently. Turning forty did that to you. She'd have to be willing to leave the team though, and Emily wasn't there yet. She wasn't sure if she'd ever be there. Okay, so her biological clock was a little dysfunctional. Maybe she'd just do what Garcia did-borrow Henry.

She needed to call JJ, it had been too long. They emailed regularly, but still that wasn't the same as talking to each other. And, their last girl's night was...a while ago. Actually, it had been a while since she'd even gone out with Morgan or Reid. Hotch didn't do much hanging out anymore, he was happy just to get time with Jack. Rossi had never been much for hanging out with the team, he preferred wining and dining his lady friends. So, if she lived through this, she was organizing a team hangout-JJ included.

Emily inhaled and felt a shiver run through her. It was by no means cold in her tiny cabinet, but she was half-naked and completely terrified. She couldn't help but wonder what her body would look like, what aspects of Blake's personality it would reveal. He would be angry, so she was betting on overkill. Multiple stabs wounds, uncontrolled, no signs of hesitation, and a whole mess of defensive wounds if she had anything to say about it. Signs of sexual assault...she wasn't going to think about that. Would he dump her like garbage, leave her naked and exposed, or would he find some inventive and highly disturbing way of getting rid of her body? Part of her was hoping for the latter, to spare the team seeing crime scene photos. Because they would see them, and they'd be pissed and hell bent on finding him.

Prentiss heard footsteps thundering back toward the kitchen and tensed, slowing and quieting her breathing. If he found her, if he got the cabinet open...this was a completely indefensible position. She would be completely at his mercy.

Emily sunk her teeth into her hand, and channeled her growing panic into focusing on the pain. Not that she didn't already hurt, but a sharp pain was more attention-demanding than a constant ache. He began slamming cabinets, and she struggled to keep her body rigid and still. He wanted her to jump and shriek and reveal herself. When he got close, her arm tightened around her legs, and she dug the fingers of her other hand into her own skin. He banged on her door, centimeters from her head, and she sunk her teeth deeper into the hand in her mouth.

She damn near bit through her hand when the pounding on the front door started. It wasn't loud, especially in comparison to his pounding on her door, but it was a surprise. He stomped away, and Emily finally removed her teeth from her skin. The taste of salt and pennies on her tongue told her she'd definitely broken the skin.

Prentiss could hear raised voices at the front of the house, but couldn't make out words, or even pick out distinct voices. It could be the team coming to her rescue, or it could be one of his buddies with an even bigger knife. The voices grew louder, angrier, and then she heard footsteps, which grew louder.

"You're really going to stand there, and tell me that isn't her phone?" It was Morgan's voice, and she could hear the vein of barely controlled fury in it.

The cavalry had arrived. She wasn't going to die tonight.

"You have no right to be in here, I told you that's my phone, and Emily isn't here." Blake, perfectly calm through his denials.

"That's her vehicle out front, Mr. Warner. We aren't leaving until Agent Prentiss is in front of us." Hotch's voice.

"I told you she isn't here. She got wasted and took a cab home. Have you thought to check there?"

"We've had officers outside her home all night, she isn't there." Hotch again, the voices weren't far now.

Emily opened her mouth, drew in a deep breath, and screamed as loud as she could. There was seconds of silence.

"Prentiss?" Morgan yelled.

She heard footsteps again, and now with her pulse rocketing through her head, and she began to kick and pound on the cabinet, giving him sound to follow. Now, she could hear several pairs of feet hurrying toward her.

"Prentiss! Emily, where are you?" Morgan hollered again.

She could hear Hotch, Rossi, Reid, and what she'd swear sounded just like JJ, calling her name as well. She pounded on the cabinet. "In here!"

"Keep talking!" That was Reid.

"Guys, he's got a switchblade! Get it off him!" Sounds of a scuffle, Blake cursing them out, and then something clanging to the floor.

"Em, you can come out now!" Definately JJ.

"I can't get out!"

"What do you mean?" Rossi was suddenly closer.

"The damn door is stuck, I can't get it open." Even she could hear the defeat in her own voice.

"I think I've got a crowbar in the SUV." Morgan's boots trotting away.

"Prentiss, are you alright? Do you need medical attention?" Hotch, of course.

"No, I'm fine...feeling a little bit cramped though." Emily could just barely make out the chuckles that followed.

"How long have you been in there?" Rossi's voice was incredulous.

"Uh, I'm not sure. Since 10:30, maybe?"

Murmurs that she couldn't quiet make out, but she could hear the worry accompanying them. That didn't bode well. "What time is it?"

"Just after 2:30," Reid announced.

Four hours squeezed into a kitchen cabinet? She sighed. "That feels about right."

"Alright, coming through." Morgan was back, hopefully with that crowbar. He tapped on the cabinet. "Prentiss, can you move away from the door?"

"Are you kidding? It's a cabinet, Morgan, do you really think there's extra room?"

She had to strain to hear him chuckle. "Alright, I'll try to be careful."

Emily swallowed as she watched the teeth of the crowbar dig enough space to get inside. She held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut as Morgan tugged once, and then gave a mighty heave, damn near ripping the door off it's hinges. She opened her eyes slowly and found the team staring at her.

And, what a freaking sight she must have been. Half-naked and contorted to fit into the cabinet.

"How the hell did you squeeze yourself in there?" Rossi asked, looking almost amused over his worry.

"Panic and desperation." She held a hand out to Morgan, and very slowly and gently, he helped her pull her sore, stiff body out until she practically fell into his lap.

"Easy Princess, I got you."

Breathing heavily, she nodded. "Thanks." She inhaled deeply, and let her lungs feel the pleasure of enough room to completely inflate.

"What the hell happened to your hand? Did that son of a bitch bite you?" Morgan was holding the hand she'd been gnawing on and looking absolutely furious.

"No, that was me. To uh, keep myself from screaming…it's not that bad." They clearly did not believe her. She changed the subject. "How did you find me?"

"There's surprisingly few Blakes involved in real estate in the Washington DC area," Reid commented.

"Yeah, but unfortunately this guy is in Maryland, and it took us a few tries before we expanded the search enough for the local patrols to find your car."

She nodded. "In other words, thank god for Garcia." They chuckled and then Emily was suddenly acutely aware that she was surrounded but the team, half in Morgan's lap, wearing barely more than underwear.

As if reading her change in demeanor, Morgan pulled off his windbreaker, and handed it to her. She slipped it on, and offered him a grateful smile. "I guess this means my pants are evidence?"

Hotch nodded. "Speaking of, what charge should we have the locals arrest Warner under?"

Emily finally managed to slowly push herself up to standing, instantly thankful that Morgan's windbreaker covered her ass. Her still numb legs didn't quite hold her, so Reid wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her from falling. "Assault with a deadly weapon and attempted murder."

That seemed to drain all the relieved humor out of the room, and they were all back to worried and upset. She couldn't blame them, if it had been one of them in her place, she'd have felt the same, but that didn't make her feel any less uncomfortable. She looked around, trying to figure out a way to walk out of the room. "Uh…I need to go to the bathroom."

"I'll help you," JJ quickly volunteered, and she shot her a thankful look. The blond switched places with Reid, and very carefully and pathetically slowly they moved a step. She was wincing the whole time.

"Is your go-bag in your car?" Rossi asked.

"Yeah, should be in the trunk." He nodded and headed out to get it.

"I'll get the locals and OPR together so you only have to give your statement once," Hotch said. "And, I'd like you to get checked out at a hospital before we question you."

She nodded, too concentrated on just moving her feet and legs to actually respond. God, at this rate a diaper would be a better solution. At least, her arms weren't numb. Her legs and most of her body had been crammed in the same position, but her arms, she'd been able to move. So, her arms were fine, but her hips hurt and her back hurt, and she had a wicked pounding headache. And, she could feel the guys watching her, feel the soft sympathy in their eyes, and feel the anger in their bodies.

By the time she made it to the bathroom, she was a wobbling, shaking mess. Emily leaned against the sink, and shut the door with her other hand. She loved JJ like a sister, but she was not about to accept help getting to the toilet. Lowering herself to the seat was so incredibly painful for her stiff thigh muscles that she almost cried out. She did her business, washed her hands, and then sank down onto the bathroom floor. She could joke, she could screw around, and compartmentalize everything that didn't soften with well-placed humor, but it didn't really change anything. Blake tried to kill her. The man she'd been dating and sleeping with for a month greeted her tonight with a smile and kiss all the while knowing that he was going kill her.

Tears pricked her eyes, and a sob curled up her throat. Tonight, she'd almost become another victim in a file. She'd have been a dossier with one smiling photo, and a stack of gruesome crime scene shots. An ME's report would have told them everything she suffered through, and everything she was too dead to feel. She almost died tonight. Like so many victims they saw, she went on a date with the wrong guy. That's all it took for her to end up crammed in a cabinet for hours hoping to god that the team would find her.

A knock startled her, and Emily quickly wiped away any traces of tears. She went to push herself off the ground, braced one hand on the toilet seat, got a little ways off the ground and then her legs went out, and she fell back. Sighing, and struggling to back down a well of emotions, she called out. "Doors unlocked, Jayje."

Tentatively, JJ twisted the knob, and slowly opened the door, looking very surprised to find her on the floor. "Can you help me up? My legs are getting better, but…you know."

JJ nodded, and got an arm around her again, lifting her to her feet slowly. And, Emily suddenly found herself hugging the younger woman, tremors of fear or adrenaline still coursing through her body. The blond was surprised at first, but after a minute Emily could feel a hand stroking her head.

When she pulled back she said, "We haven't seen each other in a while, we need to make plans for a girl's night."

JJ looked surprised for a moment, but then just nodded. "Sure, okay. I called Garcia by the way, she's going to meet us at the hospital." She suddenly remembered something and got Emily to the sink, before disappearing outside the bathroom for a few seconds. "Rossi grabbed you bag."

"Wonderful, pants." She took it and tossed it on the floor.

JJ looked around awkwardly. "You're okay with this right?"

"Yeah, I think I can manage." She damn well was going to manage if it killed her. JJ nodded and shut the door, and left Emily alone to figure out how to get dressed.

It took some doing, but she managed to lower herself to the closed toilet, and that made get changed much easier. It was slow work, but she managed to change her undergarments, get pants on, and change into a blouse that still had buttons left on it. She was a little out of breath by the time she finished though. She slung her bag over her shoulder, and pushed herself back up to stand. Her legs were getting better, just rather slowly.

JJ was still outside, waiting patiently when she emerged, and Reid was beside her, offering an encouraging, if slightly awkward smile. "You're going to forget you saw me in my underwear, right?" She asked.

He opened his mouth, but it wasn't his voice she heard.

"Oh princess, we aren't ever forgetting that beautiful image," Morgan said, joining them, teasing grin on his face.

"As soon as I can move again, I'm going to hurt you," she promised.

"We'll forget, don't worry," Reid said, shooting Morgan a look.

He held up his hands in surrender. "Time to get you to a hospital though. Hotch wants you checked out before you start answering questions."

Emily nodded, and took a deep breath. She wanted to go home and soak in a hot bath with Epsom salts, she wanted to forget this day ever happened, and she wanted to sleep for a month. This was not destined to happen.

"Let's get this over with then," She said.

With JJ still gently supporting her, Emily followed Morgan and Reid, in socked feet (her boots were among the evidence in the bedroom) out of the house she knew would be in her nightmares for a long time.