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geekystudmuffinTitle: With Both Hands (1/2)
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
innerslytherin and severity_softly
Pairing/characters: Hotch/Prentiss
Rating: NC-17/FRAO
Summary: When Hotch is injured, Emily has to confront the way she feels about him.
Word count: ~15,500
Notes: This was written formcgarrygirl78's birthday, which is still technically a bit over 3 hours away, but we're impatient. I (Severity) wanted to write something for you, and I figured what better than to write your OTP. Of course, I wasn't sure I could do it, so I enlisted help... and as usual, we can't seem to write short. Anyway, we wound up having fun doing it (!), and we hope you enjoy it. Happy birthday, dear!
“One of the hardest things in life
is having words in your heart that you can't utter.”
~James Earl Jones
Dave's voice echoed over the radio. "If you have the shot, take it!"
Emily aimed and fired without hesitation. She was twenty seconds too late to stop the unsub from pulling the trigger. She was nineteen seconds too late to stop Hotch from pushing the unsub's wife out of the path of the bullet. She was ten seconds too late to catch him before he fell.
It was like time had slowed, and a single thought went through her head: I didn't tell him.
***
Emily Prentiss knew she compartmentalized well. JJ and even Hotch had commented on it during the Hankel case, and she'd heard Morgan complain about it once to Reid when he didn't know she was nearby. She supposed it came from a childhood spent being dragged all over the world, never knowing if she would have friends (or what she would have to do to make friends), and not being able to rely on her mother.
She liked her safe little boxes. And most of the time she could fit people into them. But the one exception she'd met so far was Aaron Hotchner.
Aaron Hotchner was a consummate FBI Unit Chief, a crack shot, a caring authority figure, old money, a loving father... He didn't fit into a single box.
And it drove Emily crazy.
She knew she shouldn't be peeking through the window of his office, but she had a habit of glancing in when she came in every morning, and this morning the huge smile on his face had made her stop in her tracks and stare. He was watching his laptop, but he must have seen her sudden stop out of the corner of his eye, because just a few seconds later, his brows drew together. The smile didn't fade completely, but it slipped and he looked up and caught her before she could move on.
His smile went a little strange, as if he wasn't sure whether to keep smiling or put the Unit Chief face back on, then he lifted his brows and nodded an unspoken good morning before turning back to his screen.
He was probably trying not to now, but the corners of his lips crept up again when he did.
Before she'd really thought through what she was doing, Emily's feet had propelled her into the doorway of his office. She felt her eyes widen, and then she blurted, "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to, ah, intrude. I just...I wanted to say good morning and you just..." Looked happy. But she couldn't say that.
His brows lifted again, as if he were expecting her to finish, and when she didn't, he nodded. "Good morning, Emily," he said. He glanced at the door, then back at her. "Is everything all right?" She could have sworn there was just a hint of amusement in his eyes.
"Yes, I'm sorry, I..." She started backing away, then stopped. "Okay, I just have to know. What is it that can make you smile like that?"
He looked thoughtful for a moment, the amusement gone, but then shrugged and looked back at the laptop. "Haley," he said. "She sends me these videos of Jack."
"Ooh, what's he doing?" Emily asked, excited to see. Then she realized Hotch probably didn't want to share this with the team, or else he would have shown them these videos before. "Um, sorry," she said, feeling utterly stupid and awkward. She should have kept walking when he caught her looking in. "I don't mean to intrude."
His gaze was discerning for a moment, then he shook his head. "It's fine." His lips thinned for a moment as she watched him, and then he looked down. She thought maybe that meant it was time to leave, but then he cleared his throat, and reached out to his laptop to pull up something. "The team really hasn't seen him since he was an infant. You've never met him at all."
She nodded, trying on a smile that didn't feel right. "I wish I could," she said. "I love kids." Why did it feel so strange, talking to Hotch about his personal life? It was so complicated; Haley probably didn't want her son to grow up around the FBI, but Emily thought he ought to have the right to know his father. And she knew Dave had given Jack a Christmas present, since she'd heard him asking Hotch about it earlier this year. It sort of made her sad that the rest of the team had that much more connection to Hotch than she did, even if it was silly. He'd just said they hadn't seen him since he was a baby.
He nodded. "You're very good with children. I'm sure that translates outside of work." She could tell he had stiffened a little, and she wondered if she should tell him he didn't have to share anything if he didn't want to, but before she could, he sucked in a quiet breath and turned the laptop to face her.
Jack was grinning at the camera. "Look, Daddy! Look!" He sat down and the camera followed as he untied a shoe. "Look at what I can do." Mumbling to himself, he crossed the shoe laces and made the initial knot, then paused. Emily heard a woman's voice--presumably Haley--murmuring, "Bunny ears", and then Jack giggled and made the loops, then tied them. Then he jumped up and waved at the camera, bouncing. "I can tie my shoes all by myse'f!" he announced, beaming. "I love you, Daddy!"
By the end of the video clip, Emily found herself grinning, though she automatically caught her lower lip in her teeth, trying to tame the expression. "He's so cute," she said, knowing she probably looked like an idiot. God, she wanted kids of her own. She wanted to be the one teaching them how to do that.
"Thank you," he said quietly after a moment. When she glanced up, he was watching her, and she suddenly realized he probably knew exactly what she was thinking--it had been to him that she'd first mentioned bringing Carrie Ortiz home with her to after that case in Denver.
He wasn't smiling anymore, but his gaze was kind, then he turned the laptop back to him. "Everyone says he looks like his mother."
I hope not, was Emily's first thought, but fortunately she managed to bite back that reaction. "His hair could still darken up," she offered. "But I think he has your smile. It's just that you don't use it often enough." Oh, God, she couldn't seem to stop putting her foot in her mouth today.
He didn't look upset, however; he just shrugged lightly. "I'd rather he have it anyway," he said, then his lips twisted a little, like he wasn't sure he should have said that. "He resembles my brother, actually, but Haley's family never sees Sean, so it's not surprising they don't see it."
"Oh, I didn't know you had a brother," Emily said. He was like Batman, with two different identities, and no one at work ever saw the family man. Not any more, at least. She wondered if the team had seen it more before she joined them.
"He's in New York. Culinary school," he said, watching her.
"Cool." If a bit odd. She wondered if Sean had got all the free-spirit easy-going nature that Hotch didn't have. All the same, she couldn't imagine Hotch any other way, though she did wish he would smile more. No matter how early she came in to work, he was always here already, and he was almost always the last one out. He needed to relax a little more. She smiled. "Thanks for letting me see the video of Jack," she said softly.
He nodded. "You're welcome," he said, his tone matching hers, a faint smile crawling back on his lips.
Her smile gained strength and she nodded back at the doorway. "I'd better get to it." She took a step backwards, then turned to go.
Of course, by the time she got down to the bullpen, she was only there a little over an hour, trying to ignore Reid and Morgan annoying each other, before JJ called them up to the round table. There was a serial killer in Alabama who was targeting middle-aged women. He was raping them and shooting them execution style, and had already killed five women.
On day two of the case, Emily found herself missing that smile she'd seen a couple days earlier. It was stupid. For one thing, she shouldn't be thinking the way she did about Hotch, but for another, if he rarely smiled when they were relaxed, he almost never smiled on a case, even when making a joke.
"What are you thinking?" Hotch murmured, and Emily jumped. She hadn't heard him walking up behind her as she studied the timeline of victims. "I'm just wondering who these women are surrogates for," she said quickly. She couldn't tell him what she'd really been thinking just then. "They're all the same type, brunette, a little overweight, middle-aged... He's got someone in mind when he chooses them, so who is she? Wouldn't she recognize him if we gave the profile to the media?"
She glanced up to see he was watching her closely, but then he just turned and looked at the timeline. "If this woman is still in his life, it's possible. But if she recognizes him and confronts him before coming to us, we could be putting her in danger."
She nodded. "But we could emphasize that in the profile. We could tell her that her life is in danger, ask her to come to us. I know it's a risk that she might not do it, but Detective Lazar said he wanted a proactive approach."
His mouth tightened as he listened, staring down at the files, and she could practically hear him weighing the pros and cons. She knew he didn't want to take the risk, and after a moment, he shook his head. Her heart sank for a moment until he spoke. "We don't have any other leads." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Garcia hasn't found anything?"
"Nothing," Emily said, shaking her head.
Hotch sighed. "Right. I'll get JJ on the press conference." His frown had deepened so much it looked almost painful.
She nodded, then reached out and touched his upper arm, stopping him. "Hotch," she said quietly, leaving her hand there despite the surprised way he looked at her. "Are you okay?"
He stared at her for a minute, and then his eyebrows lowered again. He shook his head, but then just said, "Yes. Fine." She didn't think she believed him, but she let him go after that.
It should have worked. And frankly, Emily felt like it was the unsub's wife's fault that it didn't. Carol March called the hot-line and said she was afraid her husband might be the person they were looking for. She agreed to talk to them, but when the local police sent an unmarked car around to her house, she wasn't home.
Garcia did her usual magic and came back with BMV records for Carol March and her husband Ralph. Carol fit the victim type to a tee, and further digging revealed that the couple owed several years worth of back taxes. Ralph had recently been laid off because of the economy, and when Morgan and Reid talked to his boss, they discovered that Ralph had often complained that his wife was 'eBaying him out of house and home'. They had the stressor, but they also had a missing unsub who quite possibly had a hostage.
Emily had talked to Ralph's sister, who had been concerned recently about her brother's spiraling depression, and felt that Carol hadn't been very supportive over his recent job loss. After some thought, the sister thought Ralph might go to the state park where he had proposed to Carol twenty years ago, and the team and local police had raced to the scene.
Hotch and Emily were still fitting the Velcro on their Kevlar vests as they headed for the gazebo by the lake. Morgan, Reid, and Rossi were approaching from the other direction, and JJ and the local police had been covering the other exit from the park.
"Ralph March! This is the FBI. Let your wife go."
March swiveled around the direction of Hotch's voice, his gun pointed directly at his wife's head. She was crying and gripping the arm around her neck, but appeared too scared to try to struggle free.
"Come any closer, and I swear I'll kill her," he said.
Emily had her gun trained on the man, but she knew she couldn't afford to take the shot. She wasn't as good as Hotch. She might hit Carol. "We know you don't really want to do that, Ralph," she said. "You love your wife. Times are hard right now; we know that. But you don't want to hurt Carol."
Carol let out a sob and Ralph jerked her around. "You don't know what I want!" he snarled. "She's done nothing but nag me for years. I'm sick of it. It's over."
"But somewhere in there is the woman you love," Emily said, nodding as if she understood. "She could stop nagging. She could get a job and help you out." The words had a bitter taste as she said them, but there was always a chance he would let Carol go if he thought Emily understood.
"She won't. Lazy bitch." He hit his wife with the back of the hand gripping the gun, and Carol let out another wailing sob. It seemed to be the straw that broke the camel's back, though, and she thrashed in his arms. She drove her elbow into his ribs and it was enough to loosen his hold. She jumped away from him and began to run away from all of them.
Hotch was moving to intercept her even as Ralph brought the gun up, aiming it at his wife.
Dave's voice echoed over the radio. "If you have the shot, take it!"
Emily aimed and fired without hesitation. She was twenty seconds too late to stop the unsub from pulling the trigger. She was nineteen seconds too late to stop Hotch from pushing the unsub's wife out of the path of the bullet. She was ten seconds too late to catch him before he fell.
It was like time had slowed, and a single thought went through her head: I didn't tell him.
Hotch hit the ground hard, and Carol fell too, as well as Ralph. For a moment, there was panicked confusion as she watched them all topple. Before she could even sort it out, though, she was holstering her gun and running at them. She could see Dave and Morgan coming in from the other direction.
She leaned over Ralph, doing a quick check to see if he was still breathing and disarm him if he was. As she did, she could see Carol sitting in the dirt, hysterical, and it struck her how utterly amazing Hotch was when she saw him lift a shaking hand up to touch her arm. Blood was soaking through his shirt over his other shoulder, but his fingers were gripping Carol's arm lightly and he was saying something to her.
Emily reached Hotch at the same time Dave and Morgan got there, and Dave helped Carol up off the ground while Emily leaned over Hotch. His eyes were wide, almost disbelieving, and his breathing was shallow. His face was too pale, but he seemed calm considering what had happened.
"Hotch," Emily said, touching his cheek. "Hotch. Aaron. Look at me." His gaze found hers after a moment and, bizarrely, he smiled. It made her heart jolt.
"Good shot," he said.
"I wasn't fast enough," she replied. She checked his shoulder and found only the entry wound. "God." She pressed her hand over the wound to try to slow the bleeding.
"Emily," he murmured. His eyes were closing.
"Hey, stay awake," she ordered, scared. "Come on, keep talking to me." She could hear sirens in the distance.
"March is dead," Dave said from behind her. "Ralph March," he clarified. "Morgan's got Carol March. She's not hurt, except for a couple of bruises."
"Good," Hotch managed, sounding strained now.
"Look at me," Emily demanded, but his breathing was getting more rapid and he wouldn't open his eyes.
"I shouldn't have called it," he muttered, then tried to roll away, obviously becoming a little less rational, though she didn't know if it was due to pain, blood loss, or something else. She put her free hand against his hip to stop him from moving, and he settled again.
"Called what?" she murmured, wishing she dared touch his face again. After a moment she decided the hell with it and moved her hand back up to cup his cheek. "Hotch, called what?"
"Press conference," he managed, then sucked in a shaky breath and groaned. "Need to move."
"Stay down, idiot," Dave growled, and Aaron blinked his eyes open and squinted blearily in his direction, smiling faintly again.
"Dave?"
Emily exchanged a look with Dave, a thrill of fear going through her at the thought that Aaron was that out of it, that he wasn't sure if that was Dave.
"Yeah," Dave said, kneeling down on Hotch's other side. "You've been shot. You can quit bleeding on Emily any time now."
Emily glared at him, afraid that would make Hotch try to move again. At least the sirens were nearly there.
Hotch only groaned a little in response, and let his eyes close again. "Not as funny as you think you are." When Dave touched his other arm, a flicker of something crossed Hotch's face, then was gone.
"We did everything we could," Emily said. "You did everything you could." If it had been anyone else, she would have been surprised that he was blaming himself even now. She looked up at Dave for a moment, but he didn't say anything else. A few moments later an EMT knelt beside Emily and she could relinquish her responsibility.
"Are you all right?" Dave asked her as they stood back and watched the EMTs working on Hotch.
"I'm fine," she said, though her voice was shaking suddenly and she knew he wouldn't believe her. He put a bracing arm around her shoulders, and she leaned on him until one of the EMTs said, "I have room for one person to ride with him."
"Emily should go," Dave said, pushing her forward. She didn't argue, didn't even look back until she was in the ambulance next to Hotch. Then she met Dave's gaze just before the ambulance door shut.
Please be okay, she thought desperately, looking at Hotch's unnaturally pale face.
They were working on him during the ride there, trying to keep him stable, and he wasn't responding much, but at least he didn't seem to be going into shock. At one point she glanced up from where she'd had her head in her hands to see he was watching her, and she reached out and took his hand automatically.
A moment later, she realized she wouldn't have dare done that normally, but he didn't seem to mind right now, so she didn't let go until she had to.
She managed to hold herself together until they unloaded him at the hospital and she was left standing in the emergency room covered in his blood. That was when she finally started shaking, and her eyes flooded with tears that she couldn't blink away. She found her lips automatically forming the first prayer of the rosary before she stumbled to a chair and buried her face in her hands again.
She didn't notice Dave come in, but an arm slid around her and she jumped, then let out an explosive breath when she realized who it was.
"He'll be fine," Dave said lightly. "Made of iron."
Emily huffed a laugh. "Right," she murmured. They all knew that wasn't true. They all knew how much pain Hotch had been through recently, and what he lived with. But she knew what Dave meant. "Where is everyone?"
"They're tying things up with Mrs. March and the local PD," he said. "They'll be here shortly, I'm sure." His arm tightened on her.
She sighed and leaned against him and stopped fighting her tears. She hated crying, and she especially hated crying in front of people, but Dave obviously wasn't going to leave her alone, and frankly tears were a relief right now.
"We need to get you cleaned up," Dave said, rubbing her shoulder. "I think this suit is probably a loss."
She gave a strangled laugh and nodded, and Dave's handkerchief wiped gently at her eyes.
"Come on," he said. "We'll get you a nice set of scrubs until JJ can get your ready bag from the hotel." She laughed again, not sounding happy, but she let him lead her out of her seat anyway.
She was able to clean up a little, but the blood under her nails would take more scrubbing. She managed to stop crying too, which was a blessing, because by the time she got out of the bathroom, the team had made it to the hospital. They all stared at her for a moment, and she was sure they'd never seen her look this disheveled, but they didn't mention it, and she settled with them in the waiting room.
JJ took Dave's place and slid an arm around her, rubbing her shoulder as Emily attempted to stop blaming herself for being too slow. JJ didn't waste her breath making promises or trying to distract Emily. She just stayed there, and when the doctor finally came out to tell them that Hotch was going to be okay, JJ hugged Emily tightly.
"You need to go see him," she whispered. The doctor agreed that Hotch could have one visitor, and Dave nodded when JJ pushed Emily forward.
Emily followed a nurse to Hotch's room and settled down on the edge of a chair. He was asleep, but the machines hooked up to him provided a reassuring presence of steady beeps. After a moment, Emily's hand crept out so her fingers could rest against Hotch's wrist.
She stayed like that for what felt like forever, listening to the machines and Hotch's steady breathing. He looked a little less pale, but not by much, and she wished she could look away, but she couldn't. God, she probably looked so obvious. She slid her hand down and squeezed cold fingers, and Hotch sucked in a sharper breath and groaned.
She bit her lips together, feeling bad for waking him, but unable to pull away, even though she knew she ought to push these feelings back into a box and close the lid. I'm sorry, she thought, watching his eyelids flutter. His lashes were long and dark against his cheek. He was so handsome.
He blinked lazily at the ceiling for a moment, seemingly not realizing he wasn't alone. He sucked in another breath, and let it out, then shifted and groaned. That's when he seemed to realize someone was touching him. He rolled his head to the side and met her gaze. "Emily," he murmured, looking tired.
She opened her mouth, trying to find words to say, then just whispered, "Hi." God, she probably looked like hell.
"Hi," he returned. "'m'I going to live?" he asked, his lips curling barely.
For some reason the joke made her eyes prickle. "No," she said. "The doctors said stupidity is fatal." She squeezed his hand and hoped he knew she was mostly joking.
He laughed quietly, then closed his eyes. "Thanks," he mumbled, and let out a stifled sound of pain. "How long?"
She checked her watch. "Three hours since we took down March," she said. It seemed impossible that it had been that short a time. It felt like an eternity. "Can I get you anything?"
"No," he said, and shook his head a little. "Pretty groggy." He sighed and wiggled his hand under hers. "I'm a big boy."
She let go of his hand regretfully when he wiggled; he probably thought it was wildly inappropriate for her to be holding his hand anyway. "I'm sorry," she whispered after a while. "I'm so sorry."
"Mmm," he hummed, and shook his head again. "Granted, I'm not thinking as clearly as I should, but if I recall, I stepped in from of the bullet. You didn't push me."
"I wasn't fast enough," she said, curling her fingers over his wrist. She couldn't help it. She needed the reassurance of touching him. "God, you scared me."
"You got him before he shot anyone. You were fast enough," he murmured. He opened his eyes again and looked at her, blinking slowly. He seemed to be studying her, but she couldn't tell if he was figuring anything out, or if he was just out of it.
"Are you okay?" he asked after a silence.
"I'm fine," she lied, tightening her fingers. He was probably wondering why Dave wasn't in here. She lowered her head. "I was worried about you." I was a wreck. The entire team saw me falling apart. God, I'm a mess.
He moved his hand again, and she went to pull away, embarrassed, but he curled his fingers around hers before she could pull away. He brought their hands back to the bed. "I'm okay," he said quietly.
She nodded and blinked hard against the stinging of her eyes. "I'm glad," she managed.
His brows drew together. "Are you sure you're okay?" he murmured. "You're not to blame. I mean that."
Damn it. Her tears spilled over and she shook her head. "I know," she said. "You are for stepping in front of a bullet." She discovered that she was angry at him for doing this to her, for getting himself shot and scaring her and making her fall to pieces in front of the team. Even if he hadn't known what he was doing. And now she was crying in front of Hotch. Stupid man. "I'm fine."
"Emily..." He trailed off, apparently not knowing what to say. He squeezed her hand lightly. "You should rest."
She wanted to tell him to shut up. She wondered if he wanted to be left alone. She wanted to go half drown herself in a hot shower. "I'm fine," she repeated.
"It's been a long week," he insisted.
"Would you rather be alone?" she asked. She didn't want to leave. It was stupid that these feelings had crept up on her. She needed to put them back in their box and start acting like a professional again. Instead she just pushed her hair back from her face with her free hand.
"No," he said. "You just don't need to exhaust yourself. None of you do."
She managed a shaky smile. "This isn't exhausting," she said. "Waiting to find out if you were going to be okay was bad, but this..." This is too wonderful. This is what I shouldn't want. "This is fine."
He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, a voice that was a little too loud for the hospital cried, "Daddy!"
Emily stiffened and looked at the door, where Haley was standing, holding Jack in her arms despite the way he was leaning away from her and straining towards the hospital bed.
Haley's eyes flicked down to Emily's hand, and Emily felt a flash of something go through her and pulled away. Hotch was too busy giving Jack a sedated smile to respond, but he lifted his hand toward Jack a little when it was free. "Hey, buddy," he said quietly.
"Daddy," Jack whined, and Hotch glanced at Haley. "It's okay," he told her, and she put Jack down, where he made a beeline towards the bed. He clutched at Hotch's hand and tried to climb up on the bed. Hotch pulled him, groaning; it obviously hurt, but he just said, "Be careful of Daddy's other arm," as Jack draped himself over his father and kissed his cheek. Hotch smiled broadly in spite of his obvious discomfort, wrapping his good arm around his son.
Emily couldn't help smiling too, though she was uncomfortable with the way Haley was studying her.
"I love you, Daddy," Jack said. "Mommy said you got hurted. Did you fall off your bike?"
Aaron managed a chuckle. "Not quite. Jack, this is Emily. Emily works with me. Emily, this is my son Jack."
Emily smiled at him. "I'm happy to meet you, Jack."
"Hi, Em'ly," Jack said, turning his head to look at her but not letting go of his dad.
Hotch made another little noise of pain, and Haley stepped forward. "Jack, maybe you should get down. Daddy's not feeling good."
"He's fine," Hotch said, squeezing Jack tightly. "This is making Daddy feel all better," he added, his voice low in Jack's ear, which made Jack squirm happily and nuzzle his face against Hotch's chest.
That was quite possibly what did Emily in entirely. Just the fact that Hotch loved his son so much was wonderful, and the way Jack adored him said volumes about what kind of dad Hotch was. God, she was lost.
She only realized she was grinning at Jack and Hotch when Haley cleared her throat. Emily straightened and glanced over at her. "Sorry, I...I should go." She tamed her grin a little and looked back at Hotch.
Hotch looked up at Haley, then over to Emily as Jack searched for a more comfortable position. He drew in a deep breath, and pulled Jack back against him when he was done moving. "Go get some sleep," he told Emily. "Tell everyone else to go too. I'm sure they won't be letting me go tonight, will they?"
"Will you come home with me and Mommy?" Jack interrupted, and Hotch closed his eyes, his lips thinning a little, though Jack wasn't looking at his face.
"Probably not, Jack," he murmured.
"Who's going to take care of you while you're sick?" Jack asked.
Hotch's lips curled, but Emily didn't think it was an entirely happy smile. "Daddy can take care of himself, and you can come over whenever you want while I get better, as long as Mommy says it's okay."
Emily smiled at Jack. "Plus, your daddy has all his friends at work to take care of him too." She glanced at Hotch, hoping her smile wasn't too warm. "I'll be happy to help out however I can."
Hotch's smile went a little less pained, and he turned to look at her, but Jack spoke first. "You'll take care of my daddy?" he asked, and Hotch looked at him and reached up to stroke his hair.
"Emily has other things to do than look after me, Jack," he said. "I told you, Daddy will be fine." Jack was just smiling at Emily though, and Emily had to ignore Haley's discerning gaze.
"If that's okay with you," she said to Jack. "Only when you're not around to take care of him yourself."
Jack looked at her for a moment, then nodded vigorously, and Emily grinned at him again. "Deal," she said, then glanced at Hotch. He would probably try to say no, but it was past time someone took care of him. "I'll see you tomorrow," she promised. "And call if you need anything... Even if it's just better food than they serve here." She winked and then realized she'd just winked at her boss. But she couldn't help it; having Jack here made her feel a hundred times better about going back to the hotel.
"I'm glad I got to meet you, Jack," she said, and Jack waved at her, but curled up against his dad again. Emily gave Haley a neutral smile, then left the room.
***
"You don't have to do this just because you told my son you would," Hotch said. He wasn't looking at Emily, but she didn't think he was putting too much effort into protesting.
"Actually that's a very good reason to do something," she said. "But as it happens, that's not why. I said I would do it because I want to."
Emily was starting to think Dave had a pretty good idea of how she felt about Hotch. He'd insisted she should drive him home once they got back to Virginia, and she hadn't protested. Hotch was sitting in the passenger seat, looking a little lost.
"You don't have to do it out of guilt, either," he said quietly, after a few moments of silence.
She glanced over at him. "I'm not," she said, matching his tone. It was true, though she wasn't sure if she would have been able to dispel her guilt as easily if his injury had been more serious. "Hotch, I offered to help out because I want to." Because I've realized I'll do a lot just to get more time with you, to see the part of you we don't see at work.
He sucked in a slow breath and nodded. "Okay," he said, but there was something uncertain in his tone. She wondered if he didn't believe her, or if he was just feeling uncertain about going home knowing he was going home to stay for a while. The Bureau had forced him to take leave following his injury, and he hadn't been able to talk himself out of it this time, given he would need physical therapy before he could even handle a gun again.
She wanted to touch him, to reassure him that the team would still need him when he came back. She wanted to promise she wouldn't let him get lonely, but frankly she didn't even have any idea if he really wanted her company. Maybe he had only agreed to this because he couldn't drive yet and Dave had been as insistent as Emily.
God, this was crazy. She had to stop thinking about it, because nothing was going to happen. He was oblivious to how she felt, and she wasn't going to do anything to change that. It was better that way. She loved her job as much as he did, even if she didn't define herself by it as much. It would be stupid to do anything that might endanger the job for either of them.
He quietly pointed her towards his house, and when they pulled into the drive, he awkwardly got himself out of the seat belt and looked at her. "Thank you," he murmured.
She raised her eyebrows. "I'm not going to dump you on the front drive and leave," she said, unfastening her own seat belt. "And don't argue with me. You know Dave would have my head if he found out I'd left you like this."
His lips quirked up. "I only have my ready bag, and you two make it sound as though I'm crippled."
"You may as well get used to the idea of being taken care of for a while," Emily said, giving him a wry smile. "And look at it this way, if you kick me out, Dave might send Morgan." She felt the smile turning more mischievous. "And Morgan might decide the easiest way to take care of you is to handcuff you to the couch and make you watch football with him."
Hotch shook his head, but his eyes were amused, even if they were still unsure. "You're staying?" he asked.
She felt a flicker of self-doubt. Maybe Dave hadn't meant for her to really stay. Maybe she ought to just get Hotch settled in and leave him alone. But she shrugged. "Frankly, there are a lot of things that are hard to do one-handed. And considering I don't think you'd accept help in the bathroom from anyone, you might as well have me." She gave him a faint grin, hoping he would laugh.
He didn't laugh, but his smile strengthened. "You're lucky I don't have the energy to argue," he said, his tone kind, and shifted to get out of the car. He was lucky, actually, that he'd been shot in his right shoulder, but he still had to reach around to get the door handle, then kick it open gently. She got out too, watching him.
"Am I allowed to carry my own bag, Agent Prentiss?" he asked lightly, but he was already pulling open the back door to reach for it.
"If you insist, sir," she replied. She folded her arms across her chest. "But maybe you'll let me get the door for you."
"You don't have the keys," he said, shutting the car door and walking towards the front door of the house.
Emily rolled her eyes and followed, wondering if she ought to call Dave and concede defeat. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. She really didn't think Hotch ought to be alone until he figured out what he could and couldn't do without hurting himself, not to mention the fact that he was still on pain meds so strong Emily was surprised he could walk straight.
He was forcefully (she was sure) holding himself together, and he let them in the house. She took a moment to take in the front room. It looked lonely and impersonal and it made her chest ache, but then she supposed he was alone here, and she doubted that he'd taken the time to try to make it cozy, given that he was almost never home.
As soon as he reached the couch, he slumped there, dropping his bag to the floor, then he looked at her. "I'm going to be terrible company, I'm afraid."
"Oh, I don't know. You're basically high right now," she joked. "We ought to play truth or dare and I could get the answers to a few running bets in the BAU."
He laughed quietly. "I think it's probably better that we don't, but I can't say you haven't got me curious now."
Emily smirked at him. "Oh, no, if you're not giving answers, I'm not telling." Besides, she didn't really want to know about him and Kate Joyner, and since the other bets had to do with what he looked like without a shirt and whether he wore boxers or briefs (Garcia's bet was 'commando' but Emily wasn't sure that was serious), she didn't think she could get away with asking.
"You can't bring that up, then take it back," he said, his eyes fluttering shut as he dropped his head against the back of the couch. "You don't have to stand. You can sit." He sucked in a breath and sat forward again. "I'm sorry, do you want a drink or anything?" he asked, ready to push back off the couch.
Emily sat on the couch, near but not quite next to him. "I'm fine. I should have asked if you want something. I'm the one who's supposed to be taking care of you." She tilted her head, wondering if there were other questions she could get away with. "One of the bets has to do with Rossi," she said slowly, hoping it wouldn't make him angry.
He leaned back, but lifted his eyebrows and gave her a look to continue.
She swallowed and glanced at him, suddenly afraid to go on. "Just the question of who exactly he was involved with when they decided on anti-fraternization."
Hotch stared at her for a moment, and Emily wondered suddenly if she should apologize, but then he laughed quietly. "I certainly hope no one is under the impression Dave and I have ever been intimate," he said, his gaze lazy.
She laughed, pleased as always by hearing him joke. "We just thought you would know who it was," she protested, smiling back at him. God, he was handsome.
"Yeah, I do. He was married to her for nearly a decade after she left the Academy, but the powers that be were more concerned with how it looked to have one of their more prominent agents involved with an Academy student than whether or not he was actually taking advantage of anything," Hotch said, resting his head back and closing his eyes again. "That's not to say his reputation doesn't hold some truth, but these things get inflated over time."
"He isn't like what I expected when he first came back," Emily admitted, hoping it would sidetrack him from the mention of the other bets. "I mean, he can be cocky and arrogant, but he's such a good man..." She had never forgotten how Dave stood by her when John Cooley showed up in her life again. And she knew she would never forget the way he'd held her when she was afraid Hotch was going to die and her emotions were overwhelming her. "He's a good friend."
Hotch nodded slowly, not opening his eyes. "He's one of the best men I know, flawed as he is," he said, and Emily thought she could easily say the same about Hotch. Hotch opened his eyes and looked at her again. "How did we wind up talking about Dave?" he murmured.
God, she just wanted to hug him. "Bets," she said. "But the others are all too inappropriate to mention. Would you like me to make some tea?"
He watched her a moment, then shook his head slowly. "I can get some."
She shook her head too. "I'm supposed to be taking care of you," she reminded him, smiling faintly. "You stay here, and I'll get the tea." When he started to get up anyway, she pressed a gentle hand to his good shoulder. "Rest," she ordered, and went to the kitchen.
Of course, after she'd waited for the water to boil and the tea to brew, she went back out to the living room only to find him sprawled out, fast asleep. Smiling fondly, she covered him with the afghan from the back of the couch, then went out to the car and got her ready bag. Taking out the novel she'd started on the jet, she kicked off her shoes and curled up in the recliner.
She wasn't aware of the passing of time, but when she heard him stirring, she realized the room had gotten dim, the light outside the windows turned to dusk.
She glanced up when he sucked in a sharp breath, and his brows were already drawn together, his eyes clamped shut. It wasn't difficult to tell he was in pain; the medicine must have worn off while he was asleep.
"Nghh," he sounded out, and shifted awkwardly away from his bad arm, blinking his eyes open and trying to focus on the couch cushion.
She set her book aside and got up. She shouldn't have lost track of time. He needed to take the pain medication with food, and she could have been fixing something. Or at least ordering pizza.
"Where are the painkillers?" she asked. "I'll get them."
He sucked in another breath and looked up at her, then shook himself a little. "Emily," he murmured.
"Mm. Painkillers?" He'd obviously forgotten he wasn't alone, but she was more interested in making him comfortable than talking.
He huffed and unhappy sound. "Front pocket of my bag," he said. "Need food, though." She went to his bag, and he sighed. "Emily, I can--"
"I know you need food, and I know you can, but you're not going to," she said. "God, Aaron, just let someone take care of you for once, okay?" She realized a moment too late what she'd said, but she forced herself to keep rummaging in the front pocket of his bag until she came up with the pill bottle. She set it on the end table, then went into the kitchen to make a sandwich and reheat the tea.
When she got back with the plate, his eyes were closed tightly again, his fingers curled into the edge of the couch, but he was utterly still until she told him she was there. He took the plate from her and rested it on his knee, looking up at her. "Have you eaten?" His voice was almost inaudible.
"No," she said, settling down on the edge of the couch. "I lost track of time. I meant to make a real supper." As always, she couldn't quite manage to be what she wanted to be. She couldn't be the perfect ambassador's daughter, she couldn't even be a good caretaker. But somehow, even though she was disappointed by the peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich she'd made him, she thought maybe he wasn't.
He shook his head. "This is probably better than I would have done on my own. Easier to throw something in the microwave," he said, strains of pain running through his voice. "You need to eat too," he added. "I don't mind halving this. It's... probably late."
She smiled at the thought of Hotch sharing his peanut butter sandwich with her. Somehow the sandwich didn't seem as disappointing as it had a minute ago. Her first inclination was to refuse, since she could make another sandwich for herself, but as silly as it might be, he'd offered her something, and she didn't want to turn it down. "Thanks."
He smiled faintly, then handed her the plate. "I don't think I can split it one handed."
She tore the sandwich roughly in half and handed him the bigger portion. Then she licked grape jelly off her fingers before taking a bite. He watched her for a moment, then took a bite of his half, looking thoughtful as he chewed.
His piece was almost half gone when he murmured, "You should consider opening your own restaurant."
She grinned at him. "Feeling nostalgic for the food you used to carry in your lunch pail? Come to Emily's and get all the peanut butter and celery sticks you can stomach."
He smiled, and while it was obvious he didn't feel well, it still transformed his face. "Themed restaurant. Even better," he said, putting his sandwich down to reach for the bottle of pills. He pressed it against his knee and tried to work it open one handed, but wound up struggling with the child-proof cap.
Emily felt her lips curling up, and after a moment she reached out and took the bottle from him. A shiver went through her as their fingers touched, but she made herself just open the bottle and shake a pill out onto his palm.
"Thank you," he said, but he wasn't looking at her as he took the pill and put the cup of tea back on the table by the couch. God, this had to be difficult for him, having to have help with simple things.
"You're welcome," she said quietly. She didn't like the discouraged slant of his shoulders, and she made an impulsive decision she hoped wouldn't backfire. "Boxers or briefs?" she asked.
His eyebrows shot up immediately, and he turned to look at her. "What?"
"It's another of the bets. Boxers or briefs." She ducked her head and glanced up at him, trying to hide her sudden grin. "I could have looked in your dresser while you were asleep, but I thought that would be cheating."
He was staring at her like she'd lost her mind, but he didn't look angry or upset. After a pause, he cleared his throat. "I'm not sure whether to be flattered or disturbed to know my team is sparing even the briefest consideration on my underwear."
Emily's grin widened. "So briefs, then?" she teased. "One person voted commando, by the way."
"Garcia?" he said. It wasn't really a question, actually. "Oh my God," he added and lifted his good hand to press it over his eyes.
"Come on, if you tell me, I'll split my winnings with you." She nudged his thigh, then felt a wave of heat go through her at that contact.
He sucked in a breath at the same time, and looked away. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, and he reached for his tea again.
She cleared her throat. "Odds are currently four to one against boxers," she whispered, "so if you feel like making a real profit..." The joke didn't seem quite as funny suddenly. Her heart was pounding; Hotch had noticed that too. It wasn't just her.
"You'd have no tangible proof to take your winnings with, no matter what I told you," Hotch said, the he pressed his lips together, still not looking at her.
"I think they'd take my word for it, since Dave sent me to take care of you." God, what if she'd messed up by mentioning underwear? It had been funny at first, but now he seemed embarrassed or uncomfortable or...well, she didn't know what, but it didn't seem funny at all any more.
He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. "You think?" he said, his tone light. "Was he expecting you to..." He trailed off. "Emily..." he said, the hint of humor gone from his voice. He looked back at her. "Why are you here?"
The words sent a thrill through her, though whether it was excitement or fear, she wasn't sure. She looked back at him, suddenly understanding how a deer felt when faced with oncoming headlights. "I...I just wanted to help," she said lamely. "To try to make you smile."
He shook his head, his lips pressing together. "You have helped."
"I like seeing this side of you," she blurted, trying to find the right answer, the answer he seemed to want, even though she had no idea what it was.
His brows drew together a little, but he didn't say anything for several heartbeats. Then he swallowed again, and murmured, "That hard to believe I have a human side?"
She looked at him in surprise. "No," she said quietly, shaking her head. "But it's nice to know you can relax enough around me to show it."
He nodded, but then fell silent again. This time he just seemed lost in thought, though.
She took a swift breath, telling herself not to say anything... "I like being the one to make you laugh," she admitted. "And I wanted to find some way to make things better for you." Her chest felt too small from the way her heart was pounding. "I was so scared--" She broke off. That wasn't the right thing to say. Finally she managed an embarrassed laugh. "Maybe Dave was expecting that."
"Expecting...?" he asked, but then seemed to realize what she meant, and he looked at her, his expression surprised and uncertain. "Is that why you've been so insistent?"
She blinked at him, deciding she hadn't been this terrified since those first panicked moments at Liberty Ranch when she realized she and Reid were hostages. "I wasn't--I didn't mean to--" God, she was bad at talking to men. "I really just wanted to help," she said finally, feeling awkward and horrible and utterly convinced that he was going to make her leave. It was inappropriate and she'd let her stupid emotions get carried away with her.
"I know," he said. "I... appreciate it." He blinked, and she could see the medicine was starting to take effect. Not only could she not do this right, but she was doing this to him when he was in pain and/or not fully capable; it made her feel even worse.
"I'm not sure what you're thinking," he said.
"Oh," she breathed, surprised at how utterly crushing those words were. God, what had she been thinking? How could she have let her boss' affection for his son unlock the vault she'd carefully shoved all her admiration into? How could she have thought...but they had chemistry. She wasn't imagining that; he'd felt it too. She'd seen his reaction. She licked her lips.
"I...I'm thinking that I'm really terrible at telling someone how much I admire and like and--and want to kiss him," she blurted finally.
He sucked in a swift breath, his lips parting, and she saw him hold it for a moment. Then his mouth worked for a moment like he was searching for words, only to come up with, "We can't."
"Dave doesn't seem to think that," she countered as hope surged up inside her. He hadn't said he didn't want her; he'd even implied, in a way, that he wanted it too. Dave had been encouraging her. Dave knew Hotch better than the rest of them did. He wouldn't encourage Emily if he thought Hotch had no interest.
Hotch expelled a breath, then rubbed a hand over his face. "Dave is... Dave," he said.
"You didn't say you don't want to," Emily murmured. She touched his good shoulder, shivering at the thrill that sent through her. "Aaron..."
He tensed slightly, then shook his head. "We can't," he repeated.
She shouldn't push him. She knew she shouldn't. "Why not?" she whispered. She was leaning closer, she realized, but she didn't pull away.
"It's--" He shook his head again. "I'm your boss."
"And would you ever change the way you treat me while we're at work?" she asked. "Because I have a hard time imagining that." She couldn't help that his reaction was fanning the tiny sparks of hope inside her. He was giving excuses, but he wasn't saying he didn't want this.
"No," he said. "I wouldn't, but that's hardly the point. It's inappropriate. It would make us both look bad and could possibly damage our careers. I wouldn't do that to you." He pressed his lips together and looked away. "Not to mention that I'm not..." He sucked in a breath. "I'm not in any place for a..."
Emily couldn't help herself. She lifted her fingers to press gently against his lips. "Aaron," she murmured, "I think you're making excuses."
He took her wrist gently and pulled her fingers away, but didn't let go of her. "I think you're being impulsive," he countered, not looking at her.
"I'm not," she said in a low voice. "It isn't because you got shot. It isn't even because you shared the video of Jack with me. I've liked and admired you almost from the beginning." Not from the very beginning, of course, since he hadn't trusted her at first. But the day he defied Congresswoman Steyer to stop the man who was killing DC prostitutes, he'd won her undying devotion as a man who was committed to personal excellence even in defiance of politics. "I'm just very good at pushing away things into little boxes and ignoring them for a long time."
"I know," he said, bringing her hand down to his knee and covering her wrist with his hand. He closed his eyes. "Emily..." He seemed to want to say something, but then just repeated, "We can't."
"We can't, or you don't want to?" she asked softly. "If you don't want to, just say so straight out, and I'll drop it."
"I can't say that honestly," he said.
She stared at him, her heart jumping. Then she nodded. "Then quit making excuses," she said quietly, and leaned in and kissed him, her lips just brushing against his. After a few moments she pulled back just enough to try to gauge his reaction without getting too far away. God, she couldn't believe she'd just thrown herself at her boss.
He exhaled a shaky breath. He didn't look upset. He looked like he was trying to convince himself to stop this, but wasn't quite managing it. She could see the internal debate that was going on, so she decided to try to tip the scales a little, and leaned in again.
He sucked in a sharp breath at the brush of their lips, then gave in, his good hand lifting to bury itself in her hair as he kissed her back, his tongue running along her lower lip and lighting her body on fire.
She whimpered and cupped her hand against his cheek as they kissed, wanting to show him how good it was without jostling his bad arm. Her lips parted against his, letting him deepen the kiss.
"Mmm," he hummed, his fingers curling in her hair for a moment as he leaned in, and then he sucked in a another sharp breath and pulled away, shaking his head quickly. "Emily... I-- I'm not thinking clearly. I..."
"I shouldn't take advantage of you while you're on drugs, is that what you're saying?" she murmured, letting her fingertips slide into his hair.
He glanced up and gave her a look that said that 'taking advantage' wasn't possible, then he shook his head. He kept doing that, and she was starting to think it was mostly for himself. "I'm saying I shouldn't be saying anything at all, except that maybe you should go home."
"I'm not going anywhere," she said quietly. "Put a stop to this if you have to, but you're not getting rid of me completely. I still consider you my friend as well as my boss, and until you've learned what you can and can't do easily, I'm here to take care of you." She gave him a hesitant smile. "On the orders of the acting Unit Chief," she added, since she supposed that's what Dave would be while Hotch was out.
Hotch sighed, but then nodded. "There's a guest bedroom upstairs at the other end of the hall," he said. "I should really go to bed before I fall asleep on you again. I don't doubt you'd have a difficult time carrying me"
Her smile gained strength. "Yeah, I'm not quite up to bench-pressing my own weight the way Morgan is," she joked. She sat back, drawing her fingers down along his cheek before pulling away entirely.
She thought she saw him suppress a shiver at the touch, but then he pressed his lips together. "I'm sorry... about..."
She touched one fingertip to his lips, shaking her head. "Please don't apologize," she said, then pulled away again and stood up, offering him a hand. He took it, and she followed him up the stairs, where he joked that even if he fell, he'd just crush her and they'd both wind up hurt. She just rolled her eyes and followed anyway.
He pointed her down the hall, but she hung around outside his door until he assured her he was fine, and she flipped the lights off for him before heading back downstairs for her bag so she could change for bed.
She was always careful to take modest sleeping clothes on their trips, considering there was always a chance her coworkers would see her in the middle of the night. She was especially grateful for that now, since she thought Hotch would be more comfortable seeing her in sweatpants and a t-shirt. She hadn't meant to kiss him, after all. She settled in bed comfortably, but set the alarm on her watch to wake her in four hours. He would be set for another dose of pain medicine then, and her philosophy was that it was better to wake him up and keep him pain-free than have him hurting when he woke on his own.
When she tried that, four hours later, she discovered that Hotch slept heavily when he was drugged. Finally she stood to one side and gripped the wrist of his good arm, hoping he wouldn't wake violently.
His brows drew together, and he made an unhappy noise. Then he seemed to try to pull away, but was too drugged or still too asleep to accomplish much, so he blinked his eyes open, focusing slowly on her. She saw his shoulder relax, then tense again, his eyes widening. "Emily, is everything okay?" he asked, moving to try and sit up.
"Shh, everything's fine," she said, sliding her hand up along his arm to his shoulder. "I brought you some water and your pain meds." She sat on the edge of the bed, watching him.
He let out a gusty breath and relaxed back. "What time is it?" he mumbled.
"Not quite two," she told him. "I thought if I didn't wake you, you'd just wake up on your own in pain, so..." She shrugged awkwardly.
"You don't have to do this," he said, but sat up enough to take the water from her, and added, "Thank you."
"You're welcome," she murmured, trying not to look at his chest. Even in the dim light, she could see he was nicely muscled, without being too sculpted like Morgan. God, this whole taking-care-of-Hotch had been a bad idea, and she was going to regret not shoving her feelings back into their box and throwing away the key. She was just going to get hurt.
He took the pills and put the glass on his nightstand after taking a few healthy gulps. He settled back down and looked at her, his gaze sleepy. "It's very strange seeing you like this," he murmured. "Getting to see you this casual twice in forty-eight hours is almost surreal."
She laughed. "I could say the same thing." She tilted her head. "I think we're a lot alike, you and I." She wasn't sure if that fact would be an advantage or a disadvantage if they were to start a romantic relationship. For that matter, she was sort of amazed that she'd managed to kiss him at all, and if that was the case, she had a feeling he'd never do anything, even if he felt the same way she did. She gave him a smile, feeling sad, and wondered if they'd reached an impasse that neither of them would ever cross.
"Probably," he agreed.
She met his gaze and then looked down, wishing her throat didn't feel tight suddenly. Her mother had often told her that she tried too hard, and Emily knew it was true in some cases. But her father had always said that Emily should find what she wanted and hold onto it with both hands. It was how he'd stayed married to her mother for over thirty years, before they lost him to cancer. And Emily could never figure out if she was more like her mother or her father.
"Thank you," she said finally. She glanced up at Hotch and saw the confusion on his face. "For letting me take care of you. For letting me help."
He looked at her for a moment, then smiled softly. "You should go back to sleep," he murmured, his gaze affectionate.
It warmed her, and she smiled back. Impulsively, she lifted a hand to stroke her thumb against his jaw. She did want to sleep, but she didn't want to leave him. She wanted to sleep next to him and know that he was here. "You're so handsome," she whispered. "So strong."
He closed his eyes, but didn't move at first. After a moment, he lifted a hand to touch hers. "We shouldn't," he murmured. Her heart skipped a little. He'd switched from can't to shouldn't.
"Maybe," she said. "Or maybe we should." Find what you want and hold on with both hands, she thought, and leaned in to press her lips against his.
He made a quiet noise, but didn't protest, he just murmured her name, then kissed her back. He touched her cheek awkwardly, as he was half-lying on his good arm, but he encouraged her closer anyway. "Such a bad idea," he whispered, but then just kissed her again.
"Shh," she replied, leaning against him carefully and kissing him back. "Aaron," she breathed against his lips, her fingers running through his hair.
He made a little noise of pain, and she started to shift back, but he moved first to roll back and free his good arm, which he looped around her and used to pull her closer . "This is--" He shook his head, and kissed her slowly instead of finishing.
It felt so good to have him holding her, even just with his good arm. She hummed and traced a thumb against his jaw. "This is good," she murmured.
"Mmm-hmm," he hummed, pulling her until she had to climb into the bed, and then he closed his eyes and turned his head. "God, I shouldn't be doing this."
"If you don't stop saying that, I'm going to think you don't want me," she murmured, settling down at his side and kissing his jaw.
"I don't think you can honestly doubt that at this point, can you?" He turned his head to look at her. "Stay."
She smiled slowly at him, then lifted her head to kiss him again. "I will. I'm right where I want to be just now."
He nodded slowly, still looking unsure, then closed his eyes. "I'm afraid... that I'm not the most exciting bed partner at the moment," he murmured.
"Hm." She snuggled against him, wrapping an arm around his waist and resting her head on his good shoulder. "Did I say I expected exciting at the moment?" God, it felt good to be lying with him like this, feeling the quiet strength of his body.
He pulled her closer, his hand stroking her back. "Good."
PART 2/2
Authors:
innerslytherin and severity_softly Pairing/characters: Hotch/Prentiss
Rating: NC-17/FRAO
Summary: When Hotch is injured, Emily has to confront the way she feels about him.
Word count: ~15,500
Notes: This was written for
mcgarrygirl78's birthday, which is still technically a bit over 3 hours away, but we're impatient. I (Severity) wanted to write something for you, and I figured what better than to write your OTP. Of course, I wasn't sure I could do it, so I enlisted help... and as usual, we can't seem to write short. Anyway, we wound up having fun doing it (!), and we hope you enjoy it. Happy birthday, dear! is having words in your heart that you can't utter.”
~James Earl Jones
Dave's voice echoed over the radio. "If you have the shot, take it!"
Emily aimed and fired without hesitation. She was twenty seconds too late to stop the unsub from pulling the trigger. She was nineteen seconds too late to stop Hotch from pushing the unsub's wife out of the path of the bullet. She was ten seconds too late to catch him before he fell.
It was like time had slowed, and a single thought went through her head: I didn't tell him.
***
Emily Prentiss knew she compartmentalized well. JJ and even Hotch had commented on it during the Hankel case, and she'd heard Morgan complain about it once to Reid when he didn't know she was nearby. She supposed it came from a childhood spent being dragged all over the world, never knowing if she would have friends (or what she would have to do to make friends), and not being able to rely on her mother.
She liked her safe little boxes. And most of the time she could fit people into them. But the one exception she'd met so far was Aaron Hotchner.
Aaron Hotchner was a consummate FBI Unit Chief, a crack shot, a caring authority figure, old money, a loving father... He didn't fit into a single box.
And it drove Emily crazy.
She knew she shouldn't be peeking through the window of his office, but she had a habit of glancing in when she came in every morning, and this morning the huge smile on his face had made her stop in her tracks and stare. He was watching his laptop, but he must have seen her sudden stop out of the corner of his eye, because just a few seconds later, his brows drew together. The smile didn't fade completely, but it slipped and he looked up and caught her before she could move on.
His smile went a little strange, as if he wasn't sure whether to keep smiling or put the Unit Chief face back on, then he lifted his brows and nodded an unspoken good morning before turning back to his screen.
He was probably trying not to now, but the corners of his lips crept up again when he did.
Before she'd really thought through what she was doing, Emily's feet had propelled her into the doorway of his office. She felt her eyes widen, and then she blurted, "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to, ah, intrude. I just...I wanted to say good morning and you just..." Looked happy. But she couldn't say that.
His brows lifted again, as if he were expecting her to finish, and when she didn't, he nodded. "Good morning, Emily," he said. He glanced at the door, then back at her. "Is everything all right?" She could have sworn there was just a hint of amusement in his eyes.
"Yes, I'm sorry, I..." She started backing away, then stopped. "Okay, I just have to know. What is it that can make you smile like that?"
He looked thoughtful for a moment, the amusement gone, but then shrugged and looked back at the laptop. "Haley," he said. "She sends me these videos of Jack."
"Ooh, what's he doing?" Emily asked, excited to see. Then she realized Hotch probably didn't want to share this with the team, or else he would have shown them these videos before. "Um, sorry," she said, feeling utterly stupid and awkward. She should have kept walking when he caught her looking in. "I don't mean to intrude."
His gaze was discerning for a moment, then he shook his head. "It's fine." His lips thinned for a moment as she watched him, and then he looked down. She thought maybe that meant it was time to leave, but then he cleared his throat, and reached out to his laptop to pull up something. "The team really hasn't seen him since he was an infant. You've never met him at all."
She nodded, trying on a smile that didn't feel right. "I wish I could," she said. "I love kids." Why did it feel so strange, talking to Hotch about his personal life? It was so complicated; Haley probably didn't want her son to grow up around the FBI, but Emily thought he ought to have the right to know his father. And she knew Dave had given Jack a Christmas present, since she'd heard him asking Hotch about it earlier this year. It sort of made her sad that the rest of the team had that much more connection to Hotch than she did, even if it was silly. He'd just said they hadn't seen him since he was a baby.
He nodded. "You're very good with children. I'm sure that translates outside of work." She could tell he had stiffened a little, and she wondered if she should tell him he didn't have to share anything if he didn't want to, but before she could, he sucked in a quiet breath and turned the laptop to face her.
Jack was grinning at the camera. "Look, Daddy! Look!" He sat down and the camera followed as he untied a shoe. "Look at what I can do." Mumbling to himself, he crossed the shoe laces and made the initial knot, then paused. Emily heard a woman's voice--presumably Haley--murmuring, "Bunny ears", and then Jack giggled and made the loops, then tied them. Then he jumped up and waved at the camera, bouncing. "I can tie my shoes all by myse'f!" he announced, beaming. "I love you, Daddy!"
By the end of the video clip, Emily found herself grinning, though she automatically caught her lower lip in her teeth, trying to tame the expression. "He's so cute," she said, knowing she probably looked like an idiot. God, she wanted kids of her own. She wanted to be the one teaching them how to do that.
"Thank you," he said quietly after a moment. When she glanced up, he was watching her, and she suddenly realized he probably knew exactly what she was thinking--it had been to him that she'd first mentioned bringing Carrie Ortiz home with her to after that case in Denver.
He wasn't smiling anymore, but his gaze was kind, then he turned the laptop back to him. "Everyone says he looks like his mother."
I hope not, was Emily's first thought, but fortunately she managed to bite back that reaction. "His hair could still darken up," she offered. "But I think he has your smile. It's just that you don't use it often enough." Oh, God, she couldn't seem to stop putting her foot in her mouth today.
He didn't look upset, however; he just shrugged lightly. "I'd rather he have it anyway," he said, then his lips twisted a little, like he wasn't sure he should have said that. "He resembles my brother, actually, but Haley's family never sees Sean, so it's not surprising they don't see it."
"Oh, I didn't know you had a brother," Emily said. He was like Batman, with two different identities, and no one at work ever saw the family man. Not any more, at least. She wondered if the team had seen it more before she joined them.
"He's in New York. Culinary school," he said, watching her.
"Cool." If a bit odd. She wondered if Sean had got all the free-spirit easy-going nature that Hotch didn't have. All the same, she couldn't imagine Hotch any other way, though she did wish he would smile more. No matter how early she came in to work, he was always here already, and he was almost always the last one out. He needed to relax a little more. She smiled. "Thanks for letting me see the video of Jack," she said softly.
He nodded. "You're welcome," he said, his tone matching hers, a faint smile crawling back on his lips.
Her smile gained strength and she nodded back at the doorway. "I'd better get to it." She took a step backwards, then turned to go.
Of course, by the time she got down to the bullpen, she was only there a little over an hour, trying to ignore Reid and Morgan annoying each other, before JJ called them up to the round table. There was a serial killer in Alabama who was targeting middle-aged women. He was raping them and shooting them execution style, and had already killed five women.
On day two of the case, Emily found herself missing that smile she'd seen a couple days earlier. It was stupid. For one thing, she shouldn't be thinking the way she did about Hotch, but for another, if he rarely smiled when they were relaxed, he almost never smiled on a case, even when making a joke.
"What are you thinking?" Hotch murmured, and Emily jumped. She hadn't heard him walking up behind her as she studied the timeline of victims. "I'm just wondering who these women are surrogates for," she said quickly. She couldn't tell him what she'd really been thinking just then. "They're all the same type, brunette, a little overweight, middle-aged... He's got someone in mind when he chooses them, so who is she? Wouldn't she recognize him if we gave the profile to the media?"
She glanced up to see he was watching her closely, but then he just turned and looked at the timeline. "If this woman is still in his life, it's possible. But if she recognizes him and confronts him before coming to us, we could be putting her in danger."
She nodded. "But we could emphasize that in the profile. We could tell her that her life is in danger, ask her to come to us. I know it's a risk that she might not do it, but Detective Lazar said he wanted a proactive approach."
His mouth tightened as he listened, staring down at the files, and she could practically hear him weighing the pros and cons. She knew he didn't want to take the risk, and after a moment, he shook his head. Her heart sank for a moment until he spoke. "We don't have any other leads." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Garcia hasn't found anything?"
"Nothing," Emily said, shaking her head.
Hotch sighed. "Right. I'll get JJ on the press conference." His frown had deepened so much it looked almost painful.
She nodded, then reached out and touched his upper arm, stopping him. "Hotch," she said quietly, leaving her hand there despite the surprised way he looked at her. "Are you okay?"
He stared at her for a minute, and then his eyebrows lowered again. He shook his head, but then just said, "Yes. Fine." She didn't think she believed him, but she let him go after that.
It should have worked. And frankly, Emily felt like it was the unsub's wife's fault that it didn't. Carol March called the hot-line and said she was afraid her husband might be the person they were looking for. She agreed to talk to them, but when the local police sent an unmarked car around to her house, she wasn't home.
Garcia did her usual magic and came back with BMV records for Carol March and her husband Ralph. Carol fit the victim type to a tee, and further digging revealed that the couple owed several years worth of back taxes. Ralph had recently been laid off because of the economy, and when Morgan and Reid talked to his boss, they discovered that Ralph had often complained that his wife was 'eBaying him out of house and home'. They had the stressor, but they also had a missing unsub who quite possibly had a hostage.
Emily had talked to Ralph's sister, who had been concerned recently about her brother's spiraling depression, and felt that Carol hadn't been very supportive over his recent job loss. After some thought, the sister thought Ralph might go to the state park where he had proposed to Carol twenty years ago, and the team and local police had raced to the scene.
Hotch and Emily were still fitting the Velcro on their Kevlar vests as they headed for the gazebo by the lake. Morgan, Reid, and Rossi were approaching from the other direction, and JJ and the local police had been covering the other exit from the park.
"Ralph March! This is the FBI. Let your wife go."
March swiveled around the direction of Hotch's voice, his gun pointed directly at his wife's head. She was crying and gripping the arm around her neck, but appeared too scared to try to struggle free.
"Come any closer, and I swear I'll kill her," he said.
Emily had her gun trained on the man, but she knew she couldn't afford to take the shot. She wasn't as good as Hotch. She might hit Carol. "We know you don't really want to do that, Ralph," she said. "You love your wife. Times are hard right now; we know that. But you don't want to hurt Carol."
Carol let out a sob and Ralph jerked her around. "You don't know what I want!" he snarled. "She's done nothing but nag me for years. I'm sick of it. It's over."
"But somewhere in there is the woman you love," Emily said, nodding as if she understood. "She could stop nagging. She could get a job and help you out." The words had a bitter taste as she said them, but there was always a chance he would let Carol go if he thought Emily understood.
"She won't. Lazy bitch." He hit his wife with the back of the hand gripping the gun, and Carol let out another wailing sob. It seemed to be the straw that broke the camel's back, though, and she thrashed in his arms. She drove her elbow into his ribs and it was enough to loosen his hold. She jumped away from him and began to run away from all of them.
Hotch was moving to intercept her even as Ralph brought the gun up, aiming it at his wife.
Dave's voice echoed over the radio. "If you have the shot, take it!"
Emily aimed and fired without hesitation. She was twenty seconds too late to stop the unsub from pulling the trigger. She was nineteen seconds too late to stop Hotch from pushing the unsub's wife out of the path of the bullet. She was ten seconds too late to catch him before he fell.
It was like time had slowed, and a single thought went through her head: I didn't tell him.
Hotch hit the ground hard, and Carol fell too, as well as Ralph. For a moment, there was panicked confusion as she watched them all topple. Before she could even sort it out, though, she was holstering her gun and running at them. She could see Dave and Morgan coming in from the other direction.
She leaned over Ralph, doing a quick check to see if he was still breathing and disarm him if he was. As she did, she could see Carol sitting in the dirt, hysterical, and it struck her how utterly amazing Hotch was when she saw him lift a shaking hand up to touch her arm. Blood was soaking through his shirt over his other shoulder, but his fingers were gripping Carol's arm lightly and he was saying something to her.
Emily reached Hotch at the same time Dave and Morgan got there, and Dave helped Carol up off the ground while Emily leaned over Hotch. His eyes were wide, almost disbelieving, and his breathing was shallow. His face was too pale, but he seemed calm considering what had happened.
"Hotch," Emily said, touching his cheek. "Hotch. Aaron. Look at me." His gaze found hers after a moment and, bizarrely, he smiled. It made her heart jolt.
"Good shot," he said.
"I wasn't fast enough," she replied. She checked his shoulder and found only the entry wound. "God." She pressed her hand over the wound to try to slow the bleeding.
"Emily," he murmured. His eyes were closing.
"Hey, stay awake," she ordered, scared. "Come on, keep talking to me." She could hear sirens in the distance.
"March is dead," Dave said from behind her. "Ralph March," he clarified. "Morgan's got Carol March. She's not hurt, except for a couple of bruises."
"Good," Hotch managed, sounding strained now.
"Look at me," Emily demanded, but his breathing was getting more rapid and he wouldn't open his eyes.
"I shouldn't have called it," he muttered, then tried to roll away, obviously becoming a little less rational, though she didn't know if it was due to pain, blood loss, or something else. She put her free hand against his hip to stop him from moving, and he settled again.
"Called what?" she murmured, wishing she dared touch his face again. After a moment she decided the hell with it and moved her hand back up to cup his cheek. "Hotch, called what?"
"Press conference," he managed, then sucked in a shaky breath and groaned. "Need to move."
"Stay down, idiot," Dave growled, and Aaron blinked his eyes open and squinted blearily in his direction, smiling faintly again.
"Dave?"
Emily exchanged a look with Dave, a thrill of fear going through her at the thought that Aaron was that out of it, that he wasn't sure if that was Dave.
"Yeah," Dave said, kneeling down on Hotch's other side. "You've been shot. You can quit bleeding on Emily any time now."
Emily glared at him, afraid that would make Hotch try to move again. At least the sirens were nearly there.
Hotch only groaned a little in response, and let his eyes close again. "Not as funny as you think you are." When Dave touched his other arm, a flicker of something crossed Hotch's face, then was gone.
"We did everything we could," Emily said. "You did everything you could." If it had been anyone else, she would have been surprised that he was blaming himself even now. She looked up at Dave for a moment, but he didn't say anything else. A few moments later an EMT knelt beside Emily and she could relinquish her responsibility.
"Are you all right?" Dave asked her as they stood back and watched the EMTs working on Hotch.
"I'm fine," she said, though her voice was shaking suddenly and she knew he wouldn't believe her. He put a bracing arm around her shoulders, and she leaned on him until one of the EMTs said, "I have room for one person to ride with him."
"Emily should go," Dave said, pushing her forward. She didn't argue, didn't even look back until she was in the ambulance next to Hotch. Then she met Dave's gaze just before the ambulance door shut.
Please be okay, she thought desperately, looking at Hotch's unnaturally pale face.
They were working on him during the ride there, trying to keep him stable, and he wasn't responding much, but at least he didn't seem to be going into shock. At one point she glanced up from where she'd had her head in her hands to see he was watching her, and she reached out and took his hand automatically.
A moment later, she realized she wouldn't have dare done that normally, but he didn't seem to mind right now, so she didn't let go until she had to.
She managed to hold herself together until they unloaded him at the hospital and she was left standing in the emergency room covered in his blood. That was when she finally started shaking, and her eyes flooded with tears that she couldn't blink away. She found her lips automatically forming the first prayer of the rosary before she stumbled to a chair and buried her face in her hands again.
She didn't notice Dave come in, but an arm slid around her and she jumped, then let out an explosive breath when she realized who it was.
"He'll be fine," Dave said lightly. "Made of iron."
Emily huffed a laugh. "Right," she murmured. They all knew that wasn't true. They all knew how much pain Hotch had been through recently, and what he lived with. But she knew what Dave meant. "Where is everyone?"
"They're tying things up with Mrs. March and the local PD," he said. "They'll be here shortly, I'm sure." His arm tightened on her.
She sighed and leaned against him and stopped fighting her tears. She hated crying, and she especially hated crying in front of people, but Dave obviously wasn't going to leave her alone, and frankly tears were a relief right now.
"We need to get you cleaned up," Dave said, rubbing her shoulder. "I think this suit is probably a loss."
She gave a strangled laugh and nodded, and Dave's handkerchief wiped gently at her eyes.
"Come on," he said. "We'll get you a nice set of scrubs until JJ can get your ready bag from the hotel." She laughed again, not sounding happy, but she let him lead her out of her seat anyway.
She was able to clean up a little, but the blood under her nails would take more scrubbing. She managed to stop crying too, which was a blessing, because by the time she got out of the bathroom, the team had made it to the hospital. They all stared at her for a moment, and she was sure they'd never seen her look this disheveled, but they didn't mention it, and she settled with them in the waiting room.
JJ took Dave's place and slid an arm around her, rubbing her shoulder as Emily attempted to stop blaming herself for being too slow. JJ didn't waste her breath making promises or trying to distract Emily. She just stayed there, and when the doctor finally came out to tell them that Hotch was going to be okay, JJ hugged Emily tightly.
"You need to go see him," she whispered. The doctor agreed that Hotch could have one visitor, and Dave nodded when JJ pushed Emily forward.
Emily followed a nurse to Hotch's room and settled down on the edge of a chair. He was asleep, but the machines hooked up to him provided a reassuring presence of steady beeps. After a moment, Emily's hand crept out so her fingers could rest against Hotch's wrist.
She stayed like that for what felt like forever, listening to the machines and Hotch's steady breathing. He looked a little less pale, but not by much, and she wished she could look away, but she couldn't. God, she probably looked so obvious. She slid her hand down and squeezed cold fingers, and Hotch sucked in a sharper breath and groaned.
She bit her lips together, feeling bad for waking him, but unable to pull away, even though she knew she ought to push these feelings back into a box and close the lid. I'm sorry, she thought, watching his eyelids flutter. His lashes were long and dark against his cheek. He was so handsome.
He blinked lazily at the ceiling for a moment, seemingly not realizing he wasn't alone. He sucked in another breath, and let it out, then shifted and groaned. That's when he seemed to realize someone was touching him. He rolled his head to the side and met her gaze. "Emily," he murmured, looking tired.
She opened her mouth, trying to find words to say, then just whispered, "Hi." God, she probably looked like hell.
"Hi," he returned. "'m'I going to live?" he asked, his lips curling barely.
For some reason the joke made her eyes prickle. "No," she said. "The doctors said stupidity is fatal." She squeezed his hand and hoped he knew she was mostly joking.
He laughed quietly, then closed his eyes. "Thanks," he mumbled, and let out a stifled sound of pain. "How long?"
She checked her watch. "Three hours since we took down March," she said. It seemed impossible that it had been that short a time. It felt like an eternity. "Can I get you anything?"
"No," he said, and shook his head a little. "Pretty groggy." He sighed and wiggled his hand under hers. "I'm a big boy."
She let go of his hand regretfully when he wiggled; he probably thought it was wildly inappropriate for her to be holding his hand anyway. "I'm sorry," she whispered after a while. "I'm so sorry."
"Mmm," he hummed, and shook his head again. "Granted, I'm not thinking as clearly as I should, but if I recall, I stepped in from of the bullet. You didn't push me."
"I wasn't fast enough," she said, curling her fingers over his wrist. She couldn't help it. She needed the reassurance of touching him. "God, you scared me."
"You got him before he shot anyone. You were fast enough," he murmured. He opened his eyes again and looked at her, blinking slowly. He seemed to be studying her, but she couldn't tell if he was figuring anything out, or if he was just out of it.
"Are you okay?" he asked after a silence.
"I'm fine," she lied, tightening her fingers. He was probably wondering why Dave wasn't in here. She lowered her head. "I was worried about you." I was a wreck. The entire team saw me falling apart. God, I'm a mess.
He moved his hand again, and she went to pull away, embarrassed, but he curled his fingers around hers before she could pull away. He brought their hands back to the bed. "I'm okay," he said quietly.
She nodded and blinked hard against the stinging of her eyes. "I'm glad," she managed.
His brows drew together. "Are you sure you're okay?" he murmured. "You're not to blame. I mean that."
Damn it. Her tears spilled over and she shook her head. "I know," she said. "You are for stepping in front of a bullet." She discovered that she was angry at him for doing this to her, for getting himself shot and scaring her and making her fall to pieces in front of the team. Even if he hadn't known what he was doing. And now she was crying in front of Hotch. Stupid man. "I'm fine."
"Emily..." He trailed off, apparently not knowing what to say. He squeezed her hand lightly. "You should rest."
She wanted to tell him to shut up. She wondered if he wanted to be left alone. She wanted to go half drown herself in a hot shower. "I'm fine," she repeated.
"It's been a long week," he insisted.
"Would you rather be alone?" she asked. She didn't want to leave. It was stupid that these feelings had crept up on her. She needed to put them back in their box and start acting like a professional again. Instead she just pushed her hair back from her face with her free hand.
"No," he said. "You just don't need to exhaust yourself. None of you do."
She managed a shaky smile. "This isn't exhausting," she said. "Waiting to find out if you were going to be okay was bad, but this..." This is too wonderful. This is what I shouldn't want. "This is fine."
He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, a voice that was a little too loud for the hospital cried, "Daddy!"
Emily stiffened and looked at the door, where Haley was standing, holding Jack in her arms despite the way he was leaning away from her and straining towards the hospital bed.
Haley's eyes flicked down to Emily's hand, and Emily felt a flash of something go through her and pulled away. Hotch was too busy giving Jack a sedated smile to respond, but he lifted his hand toward Jack a little when it was free. "Hey, buddy," he said quietly.
"Daddy," Jack whined, and Hotch glanced at Haley. "It's okay," he told her, and she put Jack down, where he made a beeline towards the bed. He clutched at Hotch's hand and tried to climb up on the bed. Hotch pulled him, groaning; it obviously hurt, but he just said, "Be careful of Daddy's other arm," as Jack draped himself over his father and kissed his cheek. Hotch smiled broadly in spite of his obvious discomfort, wrapping his good arm around his son.
Emily couldn't help smiling too, though she was uncomfortable with the way Haley was studying her.
"I love you, Daddy," Jack said. "Mommy said you got hurted. Did you fall off your bike?"
Aaron managed a chuckle. "Not quite. Jack, this is Emily. Emily works with me. Emily, this is my son Jack."
Emily smiled at him. "I'm happy to meet you, Jack."
"Hi, Em'ly," Jack said, turning his head to look at her but not letting go of his dad.
Hotch made another little noise of pain, and Haley stepped forward. "Jack, maybe you should get down. Daddy's not feeling good."
"He's fine," Hotch said, squeezing Jack tightly. "This is making Daddy feel all better," he added, his voice low in Jack's ear, which made Jack squirm happily and nuzzle his face against Hotch's chest.
That was quite possibly what did Emily in entirely. Just the fact that Hotch loved his son so much was wonderful, and the way Jack adored him said volumes about what kind of dad Hotch was. God, she was lost.
She only realized she was grinning at Jack and Hotch when Haley cleared her throat. Emily straightened and glanced over at her. "Sorry, I...I should go." She tamed her grin a little and looked back at Hotch.
Hotch looked up at Haley, then over to Emily as Jack searched for a more comfortable position. He drew in a deep breath, and pulled Jack back against him when he was done moving. "Go get some sleep," he told Emily. "Tell everyone else to go too. I'm sure they won't be letting me go tonight, will they?"
"Will you come home with me and Mommy?" Jack interrupted, and Hotch closed his eyes, his lips thinning a little, though Jack wasn't looking at his face.
"Probably not, Jack," he murmured.
"Who's going to take care of you while you're sick?" Jack asked.
Hotch's lips curled, but Emily didn't think it was an entirely happy smile. "Daddy can take care of himself, and you can come over whenever you want while I get better, as long as Mommy says it's okay."
Emily smiled at Jack. "Plus, your daddy has all his friends at work to take care of him too." She glanced at Hotch, hoping her smile wasn't too warm. "I'll be happy to help out however I can."
Hotch's smile went a little less pained, and he turned to look at her, but Jack spoke first. "You'll take care of my daddy?" he asked, and Hotch looked at him and reached up to stroke his hair.
"Emily has other things to do than look after me, Jack," he said. "I told you, Daddy will be fine." Jack was just smiling at Emily though, and Emily had to ignore Haley's discerning gaze.
"If that's okay with you," she said to Jack. "Only when you're not around to take care of him yourself."
Jack looked at her for a moment, then nodded vigorously, and Emily grinned at him again. "Deal," she said, then glanced at Hotch. He would probably try to say no, but it was past time someone took care of him. "I'll see you tomorrow," she promised. "And call if you need anything... Even if it's just better food than they serve here." She winked and then realized she'd just winked at her boss. But she couldn't help it; having Jack here made her feel a hundred times better about going back to the hotel.
"I'm glad I got to meet you, Jack," she said, and Jack waved at her, but curled up against his dad again. Emily gave Haley a neutral smile, then left the room.
***
"You don't have to do this just because you told my son you would," Hotch said. He wasn't looking at Emily, but she didn't think he was putting too much effort into protesting.
"Actually that's a very good reason to do something," she said. "But as it happens, that's not why. I said I would do it because I want to."
Emily was starting to think Dave had a pretty good idea of how she felt about Hotch. He'd insisted she should drive him home once they got back to Virginia, and she hadn't protested. Hotch was sitting in the passenger seat, looking a little lost.
"You don't have to do it out of guilt, either," he said quietly, after a few moments of silence.
She glanced over at him. "I'm not," she said, matching his tone. It was true, though she wasn't sure if she would have been able to dispel her guilt as easily if his injury had been more serious. "Hotch, I offered to help out because I want to." Because I've realized I'll do a lot just to get more time with you, to see the part of you we don't see at work.
He sucked in a slow breath and nodded. "Okay," he said, but there was something uncertain in his tone. She wondered if he didn't believe her, or if he was just feeling uncertain about going home knowing he was going home to stay for a while. The Bureau had forced him to take leave following his injury, and he hadn't been able to talk himself out of it this time, given he would need physical therapy before he could even handle a gun again.
She wanted to touch him, to reassure him that the team would still need him when he came back. She wanted to promise she wouldn't let him get lonely, but frankly she didn't even have any idea if he really wanted her company. Maybe he had only agreed to this because he couldn't drive yet and Dave had been as insistent as Emily.
God, this was crazy. She had to stop thinking about it, because nothing was going to happen. He was oblivious to how she felt, and she wasn't going to do anything to change that. It was better that way. She loved her job as much as he did, even if she didn't define herself by it as much. It would be stupid to do anything that might endanger the job for either of them.
He quietly pointed her towards his house, and when they pulled into the drive, he awkwardly got himself out of the seat belt and looked at her. "Thank you," he murmured.
She raised her eyebrows. "I'm not going to dump you on the front drive and leave," she said, unfastening her own seat belt. "And don't argue with me. You know Dave would have my head if he found out I'd left you like this."
His lips quirked up. "I only have my ready bag, and you two make it sound as though I'm crippled."
"You may as well get used to the idea of being taken care of for a while," Emily said, giving him a wry smile. "And look at it this way, if you kick me out, Dave might send Morgan." She felt the smile turning more mischievous. "And Morgan might decide the easiest way to take care of you is to handcuff you to the couch and make you watch football with him."
Hotch shook his head, but his eyes were amused, even if they were still unsure. "You're staying?" he asked.
She felt a flicker of self-doubt. Maybe Dave hadn't meant for her to really stay. Maybe she ought to just get Hotch settled in and leave him alone. But she shrugged. "Frankly, there are a lot of things that are hard to do one-handed. And considering I don't think you'd accept help in the bathroom from anyone, you might as well have me." She gave him a faint grin, hoping he would laugh.
He didn't laugh, but his smile strengthened. "You're lucky I don't have the energy to argue," he said, his tone kind, and shifted to get out of the car. He was lucky, actually, that he'd been shot in his right shoulder, but he still had to reach around to get the door handle, then kick it open gently. She got out too, watching him.
"Am I allowed to carry my own bag, Agent Prentiss?" he asked lightly, but he was already pulling open the back door to reach for it.
"If you insist, sir," she replied. She folded her arms across her chest. "But maybe you'll let me get the door for you."
"You don't have the keys," he said, shutting the car door and walking towards the front door of the house.
Emily rolled her eyes and followed, wondering if she ought to call Dave and concede defeat. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. She really didn't think Hotch ought to be alone until he figured out what he could and couldn't do without hurting himself, not to mention the fact that he was still on pain meds so strong Emily was surprised he could walk straight.
He was forcefully (she was sure) holding himself together, and he let them in the house. She took a moment to take in the front room. It looked lonely and impersonal and it made her chest ache, but then she supposed he was alone here, and she doubted that he'd taken the time to try to make it cozy, given that he was almost never home.
As soon as he reached the couch, he slumped there, dropping his bag to the floor, then he looked at her. "I'm going to be terrible company, I'm afraid."
"Oh, I don't know. You're basically high right now," she joked. "We ought to play truth or dare and I could get the answers to a few running bets in the BAU."
He laughed quietly. "I think it's probably better that we don't, but I can't say you haven't got me curious now."
Emily smirked at him. "Oh, no, if you're not giving answers, I'm not telling." Besides, she didn't really want to know about him and Kate Joyner, and since the other bets had to do with what he looked like without a shirt and whether he wore boxers or briefs (Garcia's bet was 'commando' but Emily wasn't sure that was serious), she didn't think she could get away with asking.
"You can't bring that up, then take it back," he said, his eyes fluttering shut as he dropped his head against the back of the couch. "You don't have to stand. You can sit." He sucked in a breath and sat forward again. "I'm sorry, do you want a drink or anything?" he asked, ready to push back off the couch.
Emily sat on the couch, near but not quite next to him. "I'm fine. I should have asked if you want something. I'm the one who's supposed to be taking care of you." She tilted her head, wondering if there were other questions she could get away with. "One of the bets has to do with Rossi," she said slowly, hoping it wouldn't make him angry.
He leaned back, but lifted his eyebrows and gave her a look to continue.
She swallowed and glanced at him, suddenly afraid to go on. "Just the question of who exactly he was involved with when they decided on anti-fraternization."
Hotch stared at her for a moment, and Emily wondered suddenly if she should apologize, but then he laughed quietly. "I certainly hope no one is under the impression Dave and I have ever been intimate," he said, his gaze lazy.
She laughed, pleased as always by hearing him joke. "We just thought you would know who it was," she protested, smiling back at him. God, he was handsome.
"Yeah, I do. He was married to her for nearly a decade after she left the Academy, but the powers that be were more concerned with how it looked to have one of their more prominent agents involved with an Academy student than whether or not he was actually taking advantage of anything," Hotch said, resting his head back and closing his eyes again. "That's not to say his reputation doesn't hold some truth, but these things get inflated over time."
"He isn't like what I expected when he first came back," Emily admitted, hoping it would sidetrack him from the mention of the other bets. "I mean, he can be cocky and arrogant, but he's such a good man..." She had never forgotten how Dave stood by her when John Cooley showed up in her life again. And she knew she would never forget the way he'd held her when she was afraid Hotch was going to die and her emotions were overwhelming her. "He's a good friend."
Hotch nodded slowly, not opening his eyes. "He's one of the best men I know, flawed as he is," he said, and Emily thought she could easily say the same about Hotch. Hotch opened his eyes and looked at her again. "How did we wind up talking about Dave?" he murmured.
God, she just wanted to hug him. "Bets," she said. "But the others are all too inappropriate to mention. Would you like me to make some tea?"
He watched her a moment, then shook his head slowly. "I can get some."
She shook her head too. "I'm supposed to be taking care of you," she reminded him, smiling faintly. "You stay here, and I'll get the tea." When he started to get up anyway, she pressed a gentle hand to his good shoulder. "Rest," she ordered, and went to the kitchen.
Of course, after she'd waited for the water to boil and the tea to brew, she went back out to the living room only to find him sprawled out, fast asleep. Smiling fondly, she covered him with the afghan from the back of the couch, then went out to the car and got her ready bag. Taking out the novel she'd started on the jet, she kicked off her shoes and curled up in the recliner.
She wasn't aware of the passing of time, but when she heard him stirring, she realized the room had gotten dim, the light outside the windows turned to dusk.
She glanced up when he sucked in a sharp breath, and his brows were already drawn together, his eyes clamped shut. It wasn't difficult to tell he was in pain; the medicine must have worn off while he was asleep.
"Nghh," he sounded out, and shifted awkwardly away from his bad arm, blinking his eyes open and trying to focus on the couch cushion.
She set her book aside and got up. She shouldn't have lost track of time. He needed to take the pain medication with food, and she could have been fixing something. Or at least ordering pizza.
"Where are the painkillers?" she asked. "I'll get them."
He sucked in another breath and looked up at her, then shook himself a little. "Emily," he murmured.
"Mm. Painkillers?" He'd obviously forgotten he wasn't alone, but she was more interested in making him comfortable than talking.
He huffed and unhappy sound. "Front pocket of my bag," he said. "Need food, though." She went to his bag, and he sighed. "Emily, I can--"
"I know you need food, and I know you can, but you're not going to," she said. "God, Aaron, just let someone take care of you for once, okay?" She realized a moment too late what she'd said, but she forced herself to keep rummaging in the front pocket of his bag until she came up with the pill bottle. She set it on the end table, then went into the kitchen to make a sandwich and reheat the tea.
When she got back with the plate, his eyes were closed tightly again, his fingers curled into the edge of the couch, but he was utterly still until she told him she was there. He took the plate from her and rested it on his knee, looking up at her. "Have you eaten?" His voice was almost inaudible.
"No," she said, settling down on the edge of the couch. "I lost track of time. I meant to make a real supper." As always, she couldn't quite manage to be what she wanted to be. She couldn't be the perfect ambassador's daughter, she couldn't even be a good caretaker. But somehow, even though she was disappointed by the peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich she'd made him, she thought maybe he wasn't.
He shook his head. "This is probably better than I would have done on my own. Easier to throw something in the microwave," he said, strains of pain running through his voice. "You need to eat too," he added. "I don't mind halving this. It's... probably late."
She smiled at the thought of Hotch sharing his peanut butter sandwich with her. Somehow the sandwich didn't seem as disappointing as it had a minute ago. Her first inclination was to refuse, since she could make another sandwich for herself, but as silly as it might be, he'd offered her something, and she didn't want to turn it down. "Thanks."
He smiled faintly, then handed her the plate. "I don't think I can split it one handed."
She tore the sandwich roughly in half and handed him the bigger portion. Then she licked grape jelly off her fingers before taking a bite. He watched her for a moment, then took a bite of his half, looking thoughtful as he chewed.
His piece was almost half gone when he murmured, "You should consider opening your own restaurant."
She grinned at him. "Feeling nostalgic for the food you used to carry in your lunch pail? Come to Emily's and get all the peanut butter and celery sticks you can stomach."
He smiled, and while it was obvious he didn't feel well, it still transformed his face. "Themed restaurant. Even better," he said, putting his sandwich down to reach for the bottle of pills. He pressed it against his knee and tried to work it open one handed, but wound up struggling with the child-proof cap.
Emily felt her lips curling up, and after a moment she reached out and took the bottle from him. A shiver went through her as their fingers touched, but she made herself just open the bottle and shake a pill out onto his palm.
"Thank you," he said, but he wasn't looking at her as he took the pill and put the cup of tea back on the table by the couch. God, this had to be difficult for him, having to have help with simple things.
"You're welcome," she said quietly. She didn't like the discouraged slant of his shoulders, and she made an impulsive decision she hoped wouldn't backfire. "Boxers or briefs?" she asked.
His eyebrows shot up immediately, and he turned to look at her. "What?"
"It's another of the bets. Boxers or briefs." She ducked her head and glanced up at him, trying to hide her sudden grin. "I could have looked in your dresser while you were asleep, but I thought that would be cheating."
He was staring at her like she'd lost her mind, but he didn't look angry or upset. After a pause, he cleared his throat. "I'm not sure whether to be flattered or disturbed to know my team is sparing even the briefest consideration on my underwear."
Emily's grin widened. "So briefs, then?" she teased. "One person voted commando, by the way."
"Garcia?" he said. It wasn't really a question, actually. "Oh my God," he added and lifted his good hand to press it over his eyes.
"Come on, if you tell me, I'll split my winnings with you." She nudged his thigh, then felt a wave of heat go through her at that contact.
He sucked in a breath at the same time, and looked away. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, and he reached for his tea again.
She cleared her throat. "Odds are currently four to one against boxers," she whispered, "so if you feel like making a real profit..." The joke didn't seem quite as funny suddenly. Her heart was pounding; Hotch had noticed that too. It wasn't just her.
"You'd have no tangible proof to take your winnings with, no matter what I told you," Hotch said, the he pressed his lips together, still not looking at her.
"I think they'd take my word for it, since Dave sent me to take care of you." God, what if she'd messed up by mentioning underwear? It had been funny at first, but now he seemed embarrassed or uncomfortable or...well, she didn't know what, but it didn't seem funny at all any more.
He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. "You think?" he said, his tone light. "Was he expecting you to..." He trailed off. "Emily..." he said, the hint of humor gone from his voice. He looked back at her. "Why are you here?"
The words sent a thrill through her, though whether it was excitement or fear, she wasn't sure. She looked back at him, suddenly understanding how a deer felt when faced with oncoming headlights. "I...I just wanted to help," she said lamely. "To try to make you smile."
He shook his head, his lips pressing together. "You have helped."
"I like seeing this side of you," she blurted, trying to find the right answer, the answer he seemed to want, even though she had no idea what it was.
His brows drew together a little, but he didn't say anything for several heartbeats. Then he swallowed again, and murmured, "That hard to believe I have a human side?"
She looked at him in surprise. "No," she said quietly, shaking her head. "But it's nice to know you can relax enough around me to show it."
He nodded, but then fell silent again. This time he just seemed lost in thought, though.
She took a swift breath, telling herself not to say anything... "I like being the one to make you laugh," she admitted. "And I wanted to find some way to make things better for you." Her chest felt too small from the way her heart was pounding. "I was so scared--" She broke off. That wasn't the right thing to say. Finally she managed an embarrassed laugh. "Maybe Dave was expecting that."
"Expecting...?" he asked, but then seemed to realize what she meant, and he looked at her, his expression surprised and uncertain. "Is that why you've been so insistent?"
She blinked at him, deciding she hadn't been this terrified since those first panicked moments at Liberty Ranch when she realized she and Reid were hostages. "I wasn't--I didn't mean to--" God, she was bad at talking to men. "I really just wanted to help," she said finally, feeling awkward and horrible and utterly convinced that he was going to make her leave. It was inappropriate and she'd let her stupid emotions get carried away with her.
"I know," he said. "I... appreciate it." He blinked, and she could see the medicine was starting to take effect. Not only could she not do this right, but she was doing this to him when he was in pain and/or not fully capable; it made her feel even worse.
"I'm not sure what you're thinking," he said.
"Oh," she breathed, surprised at how utterly crushing those words were. God, what had she been thinking? How could she have let her boss' affection for his son unlock the vault she'd carefully shoved all her admiration into? How could she have thought...but they had chemistry. She wasn't imagining that; he'd felt it too. She'd seen his reaction. She licked her lips.
"I...I'm thinking that I'm really terrible at telling someone how much I admire and like and--and want to kiss him," she blurted finally.
He sucked in a swift breath, his lips parting, and she saw him hold it for a moment. Then his mouth worked for a moment like he was searching for words, only to come up with, "We can't."
"Dave doesn't seem to think that," she countered as hope surged up inside her. He hadn't said he didn't want her; he'd even implied, in a way, that he wanted it too. Dave had been encouraging her. Dave knew Hotch better than the rest of them did. He wouldn't encourage Emily if he thought Hotch had no interest.
Hotch expelled a breath, then rubbed a hand over his face. "Dave is... Dave," he said.
"You didn't say you don't want to," Emily murmured. She touched his good shoulder, shivering at the thrill that sent through her. "Aaron..."
He tensed slightly, then shook his head. "We can't," he repeated.
She shouldn't push him. She knew she shouldn't. "Why not?" she whispered. She was leaning closer, she realized, but she didn't pull away.
"It's--" He shook his head again. "I'm your boss."
"And would you ever change the way you treat me while we're at work?" she asked. "Because I have a hard time imagining that." She couldn't help that his reaction was fanning the tiny sparks of hope inside her. He was giving excuses, but he wasn't saying he didn't want this.
"No," he said. "I wouldn't, but that's hardly the point. It's inappropriate. It would make us both look bad and could possibly damage our careers. I wouldn't do that to you." He pressed his lips together and looked away. "Not to mention that I'm not..." He sucked in a breath. "I'm not in any place for a..."
Emily couldn't help herself. She lifted her fingers to press gently against his lips. "Aaron," she murmured, "I think you're making excuses."
He took her wrist gently and pulled her fingers away, but didn't let go of her. "I think you're being impulsive," he countered, not looking at her.
"I'm not," she said in a low voice. "It isn't because you got shot. It isn't even because you shared the video of Jack with me. I've liked and admired you almost from the beginning." Not from the very beginning, of course, since he hadn't trusted her at first. But the day he defied Congresswoman Steyer to stop the man who was killing DC prostitutes, he'd won her undying devotion as a man who was committed to personal excellence even in defiance of politics. "I'm just very good at pushing away things into little boxes and ignoring them for a long time."
"I know," he said, bringing her hand down to his knee and covering her wrist with his hand. He closed his eyes. "Emily..." He seemed to want to say something, but then just repeated, "We can't."
"We can't, or you don't want to?" she asked softly. "If you don't want to, just say so straight out, and I'll drop it."
"I can't say that honestly," he said.
She stared at him, her heart jumping. Then she nodded. "Then quit making excuses," she said quietly, and leaned in and kissed him, her lips just brushing against his. After a few moments she pulled back just enough to try to gauge his reaction without getting too far away. God, she couldn't believe she'd just thrown herself at her boss.
He exhaled a shaky breath. He didn't look upset. He looked like he was trying to convince himself to stop this, but wasn't quite managing it. She could see the internal debate that was going on, so she decided to try to tip the scales a little, and leaned in again.
He sucked in a sharp breath at the brush of their lips, then gave in, his good hand lifting to bury itself in her hair as he kissed her back, his tongue running along her lower lip and lighting her body on fire.
She whimpered and cupped her hand against his cheek as they kissed, wanting to show him how good it was without jostling his bad arm. Her lips parted against his, letting him deepen the kiss.
"Mmm," he hummed, his fingers curling in her hair for a moment as he leaned in, and then he sucked in a another sharp breath and pulled away, shaking his head quickly. "Emily... I-- I'm not thinking clearly. I..."
"I shouldn't take advantage of you while you're on drugs, is that what you're saying?" she murmured, letting her fingertips slide into his hair.
He glanced up and gave her a look that said that 'taking advantage' wasn't possible, then he shook his head. He kept doing that, and she was starting to think it was mostly for himself. "I'm saying I shouldn't be saying anything at all, except that maybe you should go home."
"I'm not going anywhere," she said quietly. "Put a stop to this if you have to, but you're not getting rid of me completely. I still consider you my friend as well as my boss, and until you've learned what you can and can't do easily, I'm here to take care of you." She gave him a hesitant smile. "On the orders of the acting Unit Chief," she added, since she supposed that's what Dave would be while Hotch was out.
Hotch sighed, but then nodded. "There's a guest bedroom upstairs at the other end of the hall," he said. "I should really go to bed before I fall asleep on you again. I don't doubt you'd have a difficult time carrying me"
Her smile gained strength. "Yeah, I'm not quite up to bench-pressing my own weight the way Morgan is," she joked. She sat back, drawing her fingers down along his cheek before pulling away entirely.
She thought she saw him suppress a shiver at the touch, but then he pressed his lips together. "I'm sorry... about..."
She touched one fingertip to his lips, shaking her head. "Please don't apologize," she said, then pulled away again and stood up, offering him a hand. He took it, and she followed him up the stairs, where he joked that even if he fell, he'd just crush her and they'd both wind up hurt. She just rolled her eyes and followed anyway.
He pointed her down the hall, but she hung around outside his door until he assured her he was fine, and she flipped the lights off for him before heading back downstairs for her bag so she could change for bed.
She was always careful to take modest sleeping clothes on their trips, considering there was always a chance her coworkers would see her in the middle of the night. She was especially grateful for that now, since she thought Hotch would be more comfortable seeing her in sweatpants and a t-shirt. She hadn't meant to kiss him, after all. She settled in bed comfortably, but set the alarm on her watch to wake her in four hours. He would be set for another dose of pain medicine then, and her philosophy was that it was better to wake him up and keep him pain-free than have him hurting when he woke on his own.
When she tried that, four hours later, she discovered that Hotch slept heavily when he was drugged. Finally she stood to one side and gripped the wrist of his good arm, hoping he wouldn't wake violently.
His brows drew together, and he made an unhappy noise. Then he seemed to try to pull away, but was too drugged or still too asleep to accomplish much, so he blinked his eyes open, focusing slowly on her. She saw his shoulder relax, then tense again, his eyes widening. "Emily, is everything okay?" he asked, moving to try and sit up.
"Shh, everything's fine," she said, sliding her hand up along his arm to his shoulder. "I brought you some water and your pain meds." She sat on the edge of the bed, watching him.
He let out a gusty breath and relaxed back. "What time is it?" he mumbled.
"Not quite two," she told him. "I thought if I didn't wake you, you'd just wake up on your own in pain, so..." She shrugged awkwardly.
"You don't have to do this," he said, but sat up enough to take the water from her, and added, "Thank you."
"You're welcome," she murmured, trying not to look at his chest. Even in the dim light, she could see he was nicely muscled, without being too sculpted like Morgan. God, this whole taking-care-of-Hotch had been a bad idea, and she was going to regret not shoving her feelings back into their box and throwing away the key. She was just going to get hurt.
He took the pills and put the glass on his nightstand after taking a few healthy gulps. He settled back down and looked at her, his gaze sleepy. "It's very strange seeing you like this," he murmured. "Getting to see you this casual twice in forty-eight hours is almost surreal."
She laughed. "I could say the same thing." She tilted her head. "I think we're a lot alike, you and I." She wasn't sure if that fact would be an advantage or a disadvantage if they were to start a romantic relationship. For that matter, she was sort of amazed that she'd managed to kiss him at all, and if that was the case, she had a feeling he'd never do anything, even if he felt the same way she did. She gave him a smile, feeling sad, and wondered if they'd reached an impasse that neither of them would ever cross.
"Probably," he agreed.
She met his gaze and then looked down, wishing her throat didn't feel tight suddenly. Her mother had often told her that she tried too hard, and Emily knew it was true in some cases. But her father had always said that Emily should find what she wanted and hold onto it with both hands. It was how he'd stayed married to her mother for over thirty years, before they lost him to cancer. And Emily could never figure out if she was more like her mother or her father.
"Thank you," she said finally. She glanced up at Hotch and saw the confusion on his face. "For letting me take care of you. For letting me help."
He looked at her for a moment, then smiled softly. "You should go back to sleep," he murmured, his gaze affectionate.
It warmed her, and she smiled back. Impulsively, she lifted a hand to stroke her thumb against his jaw. She did want to sleep, but she didn't want to leave him. She wanted to sleep next to him and know that he was here. "You're so handsome," she whispered. "So strong."
He closed his eyes, but didn't move at first. After a moment, he lifted a hand to touch hers. "We shouldn't," he murmured. Her heart skipped a little. He'd switched from can't to shouldn't.
"Maybe," she said. "Or maybe we should." Find what you want and hold on with both hands, she thought, and leaned in to press her lips against his.
He made a quiet noise, but didn't protest, he just murmured her name, then kissed her back. He touched her cheek awkwardly, as he was half-lying on his good arm, but he encouraged her closer anyway. "Such a bad idea," he whispered, but then just kissed her again.
"Shh," she replied, leaning against him carefully and kissing him back. "Aaron," she breathed against his lips, her fingers running through his hair.
He made a little noise of pain, and she started to shift back, but he moved first to roll back and free his good arm, which he looped around her and used to pull her closer . "This is--" He shook his head, and kissed her slowly instead of finishing.
It felt so good to have him holding her, even just with his good arm. She hummed and traced a thumb against his jaw. "This is good," she murmured.
"Mmm-hmm," he hummed, pulling her until she had to climb into the bed, and then he closed his eyes and turned his head. "God, I shouldn't be doing this."
"If you don't stop saying that, I'm going to think you don't want me," she murmured, settling down at his side and kissing his jaw.
"I don't think you can honestly doubt that at this point, can you?" He turned his head to look at her. "Stay."
She smiled slowly at him, then lifted her head to kiss him again. "I will. I'm right where I want to be just now."
He nodded slowly, still looking unsure, then closed his eyes. "I'm afraid... that I'm not the most exciting bed partner at the moment," he murmured.
"Hm." She snuggled against him, wrapping an arm around his waist and resting her head on his good shoulder. "Did I say I expected exciting at the moment?" God, it felt good to be lying with him like this, feeling the quiet strength of his body.
He pulled her closer, his hand stroking her back. "Good."
PART 2/2
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Date: 2009-04-26 06:30 am (UTC)DragonLady
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Date: 2009-04-26 12:28 pm (UTC)Is there another way to do any Hotch pairing (het or slash) realistically? ;) Not that I mind or dislike fluff, but I think it's unavoidable that Hotch would have issues in "reality", especially with women.
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Date: 2009-04-26 03:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-27 05:02 am (UTC)I think it's about time I started worshiping the ground dragonladyk walks upon. Barring that, I'll just build her a shrine.
Reason being she pointed me towards this GREAT Hotch/Prentiss fic. There are way too few of those types of fics.
Thanks a bunch you two for bringing the awesome!
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Date: 2009-04-27 09:58 pm (UTC)