Disenchantment

Disclaimer: As per usual I own nothing related to any TV show, book, movie, etc. How sad D:

Pairing: Hotch/Prentiss friendship and romance. Everything else is friendship :D

Genres: Crime, Drama, Friendship, and Romance.

Rating: 14 Advanced. There will be swearing, violence, and sexual implications. Nothing too bad without me warning you (or) changing the rating.

Spoilers: Some time during season five, I suppose.

Summary: Aaron and Emily have an accord but it is put in jeopardy when the illusions of one man finally push him over the edge.

Date of Completion: Tuesday July 19 2011

Author's Comment: So I disappeared for a long time. But now I'm back. Sorry for the inconvenience. I'm awful. Here's a new chapter!

Chapter Eighteen. Homecoming

"There's nothing half so pleasant as coming home again."

— Margaret Elizabeth Sangster

8:04AM
Friday March 26th 2010
Saint Dymphna Medical Care Center

Finally time to go home.

Emily is sitting up in bed, the linens around her hips, watching the sun fill the pale walls with something other than white. Right now she is supposed to be getting dressed but the motivation to do anything but stare at the pale white walls surrounding her have been zapped right out of her. It could not have been only a few days since Monday, since she was living a relatively normal life, since she was safe and things finally seemed to looking up after the craptastic year that their team had endured. Now there is just another scar on the SSA's history or rather multiple scars to add.

Silently, the dark brown haired woman pulls the shirt that Hotch and Rossi brought her over her head and then carefully tugs on the pair of pants, Emily wishes that she could see how bad she must look so that she can try to hide all the nasty bruises and other imperfections. Next on went a pair of socks and it takes a moment for the thought to catch up but when it does Emily feels panicked and embarrassed; she is not wearing a bra.

JJ had told her that Dave and Hotch picked her up a few things, necessities, she had said. The two of them must have forgotten a bra or they did not know what type to buy her or they had just felt too awkward to do so but in any case the end result remains the same. It is no big deal; Emily reasons with herself but deep down she cannot help but dwell on it. Just how long will it be until Emily can take care of herself entirely and will no longer need her team to do it for her? Can she really blame her team for worrying? For God's sake, Emily could not even save herself, which was probably the worst part of the sick story that has become the last four or so days of her life.

A knock at the door takes Prentiss from her thoughts.

"Come in."

The doorknob twists and a head pokes in. It's Morgan.

"Hey Em, how are you holding up?"

Derek looks so sweet, all caring and soft-spoken, and Emily supposes it is wrong to be tired of it already but she can't help it. Her mother was right; Emily can be such a cynic.

"It looks worse than it actually is, Morgan." At the doubtful look on the handsome man's face, Prentiss presses her point. "I promise."

"You ready then?"

Morgan doesn't say it out loud but Prentiss hears it hanging on the end of his question anyway and she knows that he isn't just talking about heading back toQuantico. Assuring her friend that she is, in fact, feeling up to getting the Hell out of the sanitary prison that she has been stuck in overnight, Emily informs Derek that she won't fight him about being pushed in a wheelchair so long as she gets shotgun. Smartly, Morgan plays along and their conversation falls right back into place, like it has only been minutes since they last saw each other and the circumstances were completely different.

It is almost normal and that, by itself, is enough to bring a small smile to Emily's tired face.

"Be right back, Princess."

Reclining in the bed, Emily watches as Derek retreats, off to grab that wheelchair for her. Maybe things are shifting back to normal already.

No more than a second late there is another knock and Emily is pretty certain that it is Morgan again. "Yes?"

To Prentiss' surprise she is wrong because it is Dave who she can see slipping through the threshold.

"You almost look as bad as the rest of us."

Smiling just a little bit, the lady agent waves Rossi towards her.

"Yeah, you guys do kinda look like crap. Tell me, have you all been camped out overnight?"

Rossi lets a small laugh escape and his whole face changes from tired to thankful, concerned to amused, saddened to pleasant.

"Should I even bother lying?" He skips a beat and then resumes speaking. "Yeah, didn't think so. Now how are you doing cara?"

"Better now, much better actually." Prentiss is honest, tired but honest, and presses her head back into her pillow.

"We'll be out of here as soon as we can, no need to tell us twice, Prentiss."

At that statement the brunette woman smiles slyly. "I've never been any good with subtly have I?"

She is speaking rhetorically but Emily can still see the answer in Dave' eyes. The younger agent smiles, mainly to prove to her friend that she still can, and shoos him away to tell the rest of the team that she is more than ready to get of here.

"I'll go alert the team, take it easy why don't you?"

There is a retort on the tip of her tongue but she somehow manages to suppress herself until the Italian-American agent leaves the room. Once he does she is left in the room alone. Again.

8:21AM
Friday March 26th 2010
Virgo, Virginia, USA

Morgan is glaring out the window, his attention dashing at everything that the vehicle passes, which includes pedestrians and scenery and road signs that Prentiss supposes comes as some kind of threat in her over-protective co-worker's mind. Although the woman can hardly blame him, considering what has transpired throughout the week, she still wishes that maybe he could just settle down for a few moments. Like Rossi, for example, who is being pretty quiet from his seat on the brunette woman's right. The Italian agent has been offering bits and pieces of conversation but nothing too substantial and Emily isn't sure if she prefers it this way or not so she, like he, remains silent for the most part.

To her credit JJ is attempting to make conversation.

The liaison is kind and soft-spoken, like a mother and friend should be, but Emily cannot seem to find the words to tell her beloved blonde friend that she doesn't need that right this moment. On Prentiss' left, the beautiful blue-eyed and blonde haired woman speaks about everything under the sun without saying very much at all and it amazes Emily how that's even possible. Is it always like this after things go horribly wrong? To be frank, Prentiss can't really remember the aftermath of events like these. The brown-eyed agent is hard-pressed to recall how she had felt when the team had spoken to her after Cyrus or Matthew or The Fox. It's always been easier just to move on.

In the driver's seat is the fearless team-leader, who is either being a cautious driver by keeping his attention solely on the road or is trying desperately to avoid the one-sided conversation that JJ is carrying on in the backseat. Prentiss doesn't mind though, she doesn't need Hotch to stop for her even after all that has happened in the past week and in the years prior. Maybe, Emily supposes, she has never really needed him and only believed that she did. Perhaps Prentiss has been duped in moments of weakness, in which Hotch has appeared so strong and heroic, and has allowed herself to think that she could actually be fixed.

It must have been the idea of him, of needing and being needed that had attracted her so blindly.

No, she's never needed him.

No way. Not her. Not ever.

After all she is a Prentiss and a Prentiss is nothing if not self-reliant, good at getting what they want and above all elseproud. Beside Emily a cell phone chirps to life and everyone but Hotch has turned their attention to it. JJ hits a button and holds the device to her ear.

"Jennifer Jareau."

There is silence and the lady agent wonders if it is out of respect, curiosity or suspense.

"Hey Spence, yeah, we're in the car now. Uh-huh, of course. I'm pretty sure, no really. Okay, do you want to talk to her? Okay, just a sec."

The blonde mouths the words "for you" to Emily despite the fact the aforementioned agent is the only other female currently in theYukonand nonetheless, Prentiss, who is polite and interested, takes the phone.

"Hey there, boy genius."

"Emily! How are you?"

"I'm great, peachy in fact. How are you?"

"Well I'm fine but I haven't been..."

"You can say it Reid. I won't bite."

"I didn't think you would, it's just I can't judge how sensitive you'll be to certain topics so I find it safest to approach with caution."

"I sure did miss you, Doc."

"I've never been very good with social graces, Emily. I've missed you too."

"You got that one right."

"Because it isn't a mannerism, it's genuine. I'm glad you're okay; you are okay, aren't you?"

"What part of 'peachy' did you not understand?"

"No one is going to be fine, let alone 'peachy', after what has happened."

"I am."

"I'm glad you answered; they said you were sleeping the last time I called."

"When'd you call?"

"Last night around nine o'clock; Morgan told me you were beat and I was worried and-"

"He didn't mean it literally, you know."

"Apparently not. I don't understand why people use expressions when literalism is so much easier to follow."

"We do it just to bother you, didn't you get the memo?"

"I'll never understand yours and Morgan's perverse obsession with mocking me. But you're well-rested now and I hope you've ate."

"You worry too much; has no one ever told you that?"

"You have a number of times actually and JJ and my—"

"Reid."

"I'll still worry though, every time something bad happens or might happen."

"I think JJ is running out of minutes; I should hang up."

"Good idea, I'll speak to you when you get back, okay?"

"Of course, can't wait. See you then."

"Bye."

There is a dial tone but it is far away to Prentiss, who absently-mindedly hits the "End" button before handing the device back to its owner.

"What'd Reid have to say?" Morgan asks from the passenger seat, his eyes set on Prentiss through the rearview mirror.

"He's nervous as usual and glad I'm okay."

A pause fell and Emily is not even going to pretend she doesn't know why.

"Because, you know, I am. Perfectly fine."

Rossi nods his head and drawls slowly, "oh we know."

After that no one says much of anything.

4:45PM
Friday March 26th 2010
The Hotchner Household

Subconsciously, Hotch grasps his gun in his holster when he hears the doorbell ring even though he is certain there is no real danger. Prentiss shoots him a look that reads, oh please,so he drops it for now. As it turns out there is no danger, only Jane dropping Jack off.

"Hey, Mr. Hotchner, how's it going with your—uhm—latest case?" The teenager asks tentatively, unsure of how else to broach the topic properly.

Jack, who is seemingly unaware of the deeper meaning behind his father and babysitter's conversation, busies himself with stripping off his backpack, jacket and running shoes. Hotch quickly hugs his son and then looks back up at his sitter with a smile. "Fantastic; we caught him."

Jane's whole body relaxes, "oh thank gosh, and her?"

"All in one piece," Hotch assures her and as he thanks her again and they bid their goodbyes Jack is left wondering.

The five year old looks up at his father and speaks what's on his mind, "you catched a bad guy, Daddy?"

And all Hotch can do is break out in a smile even though sadness hints on the corners. "Me and the team, buddy, which reminds me that I've got a special surprise for you."

Suddenly there are fireworks in the boy's eyes and his smile is full-fledged, "a surprise?"

Before Hotch has the chance to answer his son both of the Hotchner's hear footsteps coming down the stairwell and when they turn their attention to the sound in question they are met with the smiling face of a woman in flannel pajama pants and pastel purple tank top with her dark hair framing her face.

"Aunt Em'ly!" Jack cries out as he rushes towards the stairwell, embracing Prentiss' shins eagerly. Falling to her knees so she is near the same height, Emily wraps her arms around the boy's body, hugging him as tightly as she can.

"Ahh, you hug too hard." Jack complains as he wiggles around in her embrace, unintentionally forcing Hotch to remember the last time Jack had said that, which had been to his mother. Emily pulls away a little and apologizes; "oh I'm so sorry, baby, I just missed you somuch."

Not understanding what his "aunt" is talking about, Jack makes a funny face at her odd behavior. "You were here Tuesday. And I'm not a baby, I'm four."

Oh God how she had missed how Jack pronounced it "choose-day" instead of "Twos-day" but rather than saying anything Emily just kisses Jack's cheeks, forehead, nose, and temples for she cannot believe how relieved she is to see this sweet little boy again.

"Eww," Jack whines but he is giggling to as he tries to wipe off the kisses. "Girl cooties."

Aaron rolls his eyes but there is no denying the small smile that is playing on his face, which contrasts with the full-blown smile that is worn on Emily's. Picking herself off of her knees, the lady agent hoists Jack on to her hip Prentiss walks towards Hotch with a smile plastered across her face. "Actually I missed more than just one Hotchner."

"But you see Daddy ev'ry day, Aunt Em'ly." The young boy points out as he plays with Prentiss' long dark hair.

Not every day, Hotch thinks bitterly although it doesn't project on his face.

Certainly Hotch sees a lot of Prentiss, both during the job as well as on their personal time but once she had disappeared he hadn't realized how much more time he could have spent with her. There were countless cases that he could have teamed up with her and a number of evenings which he could have spent an hour longer out with the team; time that could have been spent with the ones that he loves rather than in his own lonely home. But Prentiss... well Hotch never really thought about her impact on his life until there was a crisis, that is.

Supportive and understanding, the raven-haired woman had been there for him in almost every way possible without pushing him but still keeping him on track. Now that Aaron thinks back on it, the months and even years leading up to this, there is a lot more that he wishes he had done to show Prentiss how much her friendship means to him especially after the week they've been through. Hell why hadn't he spent one more goddamn minute in bed with her in the morning during the few mornings that she stuck around? The adage 'you don't know what you've got 'till it's gone' comes to mind but Aaron pushes it aside, choosing to commit the image of Jack in Prentiss' arms to his memory instead.

"You'd think I'd get sick and tired of him," she says it teasingly because Emily has never said a single thing to hurt Hotch.

Jack smiles with his eyes lit up like the fourth of July as he continues on the conversation: "Guess what I did in school!"

"Hmm, you made an art project?" Head shakes no and hair flops in every direction.

"Field trip to the moon?" It's sweet how Emily plays along; how she goes out of her way to be okay.

"I give up, Jack." She replies, shifting the boy's weight over her hip. "What did you do in school?"

"A new kid came to school and we're friends now."

"Oh?"

"Mm-hmm, his name's Rory."

"And is Rory nice?"

"He's from Pencil-Pencil-"

"Vania?"

"Yeah!"

Hotch watches the scene unfold from the sidelines, amused and disheartened by the back-and-forth. Smiling a smile that reaches her eyes, Prentiss moves towards the kitchen, "well I would love to meet Rory fromPennsylvaniasometime."

Following her lead, Hotch moves along inches behind her, watching as she carries his son with ease that he is dying to see more of.

"I dunno where he lives." The unit chief can hear the innocent pout in his son's tone, his eyes wide open, looking to Emily for the answer.

"Okay then, when you see him again on Monday I will write you a note with your phone number and address on it to give to give to Rory and you can ask him to call that night so you can get his phone number and house address. How about that?"

Vigorously, Jack nods along to Emily as she sets him down on the kitchen counter, grabbing a pad of paper and stray pen, printing as neatly as Hotch has ever seen her penmanship, and hands it over to his young son once she is done with Jack's contact information. "You need to put this in your backpack right away so that you have it on Monday, you got that?"

Eager, the four year nods and takes the note, rushing to his backpack to tuck it away. As he makes his way back to the kitchen he is stopped by the low voices of his father and aunt. It's the kitchen, which is part of the house, and Jack knows he is allowed everywhere in the house whenever he wants (except his Daddy's room and the bathroom since he has to knock first) but there is something that wills the boy from making his presence known to the two adults. Instead, he presses up against the wall, and strains to listen. It almost feels wrong but they're speaking in quiet voices and if that didn't send warning bells off in Jack's head he would later, much later, decide that he simply wasn't observant enough.

"God is he amazing, Hotch."

"Yeah, he really is but it's been a long day and you don't have—"

"I want to. I've missed him—you—and I love him."

There is this pause and for a half a second, Jack wonders what is happening because neither his father or Emily are saying anything and he can't see them well at all from his angle. Did his aunt say something wrong? Or did they leave the kitchen? Holding his breath the young boy decides to wait a few more seconds and if nothing happens only then will he peek around the corner.

One Mississippi.

Two Mississippi.

Three Missis-

"He loves you too, he'll understand if you—"

"Hotch, please, hear me out: I will not let this get in the way of my life and especially not yours and Jack's, I couldn't live with myself if I did."

"That doesn't mean you can't slow down, you need some time to—"

"I know, I know, but can it wait just one night?"

"You shouldn't over-exert yourself after everything especially before you've had some proper rest."

"I will get some rest, I promise, but first can we just try and enjoy tonight?"

"Okay but if you—"

"No, I got it, completely understood."

"It's just that we're all worried, Prentiss."

"I know and that means the world to me, it's what makes you guys family, I just need to know we can have things be normal for one night first."

Taking this as his cue, Jack steps through the threshold, and instantly he is the center of his father's attention. It's something like a superpower to Jack, how, regardless of what his father is preoccupied with, the moment that he steps into the room he is the star. Before his mother went to Heaven to live with the angels, Jack had that same power with his mother, but only to an extent. His father, however, would still field phone calls or plow through the never-ending piles of paperwork that covered his desk.

But now that it is only Jack and his dad (as well as his aunts Jessica and Emily), the young boy is acutely aware of his importance to his father and rarely uses that for manipulation. However, he doesn't see how in this instance, where his father and aunt Emily are not "fighting" but "talking" in the adult way that sounds a whole lot like fighting yet is apparently very different but really probably isn't, Jack shouldn't be allowed to step in to take the attention off whatever it is they are "talking" about.

"Hey there, sport." His dad looks away from Emily and tries to smile but Jack can see through it. It's the fake smile that he wears when Jack talks about his mom or when his aunt Jessica tells him to stop working all the time. He means to be happy but it doesn't seem to work 100% perfect.

"Is aunt Em'ly sick?"

The reactions are not expected but Jack appreciates them all the same, after all, it's nice to see his father's face in some other shape than tired.

"No, why would you think that?"

Because they've been talking behind Jack's back and smiling to his face the same way people always did after his mom went to Heaven and because his dad is telling his aunt to get some rest and that "they" (whoever "they" are) worry over her. No one keeps secrets about unimportant stuff, Jack knows that much. And Aunt Emily has been acting weird anyways, not her usual self, but the same kind of fake smile adults use when they want kids to think everything is okay even though it's not. It's a smile that hurts for the young boy to look at but he can't turn away because they're trying so hard and he doesn't like letting them down. Aunt Emily never used to do that but today she's acting all anti-aunt and no one is telling Jack why.

"Coz' you're all weird."

His aunt laughs but it sounds like when he hits against something that's empty on inside, Jack searches for the word. Hollow. She sounds hollow. Plus her smile is poking the corners of her cheeks but instead of the silly smile he usually sees it looks like she's wearing a mask: fake.

"Oh honey, I've always been pretty weird."

"Yeah but this time you're not happy 'bout it."

Instantly Jack regrets speaking his thoughts aloud, he wishes he could draw all the words back into his mouth and swallow them in one big lump, so that Emily never had to hear them. He sees the way her smile quivers, just the slightest bit, and can't ignore how she's trying not to blink. For a moment the boy wonders if she'll cry and he honestly believes that if he sees that happen, while knowing he's the cause for it, he just might break under pressure.

Before he can say anything to help the situation, Jack is swept up in his father's arms and told that his aunt is fine, although even he doesn't seem all that sure. Jack looks to Emily, while not sure what he's searching for, and is met with a sad smile that makes the boy think of his mother before she died. It was the face she had on whenever Jack's dad said he would be staying overnight somewhere far away from home and she didn't want Jack to know how much she didn't like that.

"Your dad's right, kiddo, don't worry."

There are words on the tip of his tongue but the last time he spoke he said everything wrong. This time he tries a smile. "What's for dinner?"

8:16PM
Friday March 26th 2010
The Hotchner Household

"I really think you should get some sleep, Emily." Hotch informs the aforementioned woman who is currently resting on the couch, swallowing yawns, and watching Jack play with some toys on the floor in front of her. Her head rotates to where Hotch is entering the living room.

"Hmm- I'm not that tired, thanks."

Walking around the couch, Hotch looks between his son and his friend, wondering if this is a domestic scene that Prentiss had been involved in for the past few days.

"Well I knowthat's it time for you to go to sleep, buddy." The unit chief states as he drops to the floor next to Jack whom, in response, frowns and looks up at his father.

"But Aunt Em'ly doesn't havta." The boy argues, nowhere close to a tantrum but still stubborn.

Aaron frowns a little, mirroring his son, and glances back at Prentiss, who is half asleep on the couch despite her earlier dismissal of sleep.

"Actually Jackie, I have to go to hit the sack too." Emily surrenders out of nowhere whilst she rolls off of the couch. "Your Daddy's right; you and I need our sleep."

At this admission of the truth Aaron's lips curl up into a small but genuine smile. "So you're finally going to get some proper rest?"

"Only if you do," Emily winks but Aaron can hear the seriousness in her tone, he nods in agreement and scoops his son up so that all three of them can head up the stairs.

On their way to the master bedroom, Hotch and Prentiss pass Jack's room but once they try to let him go the young boy is persistent in his desire to sleep in the same bedroom as them. Unsure, Hotch and Prentiss don't understand seeing how Jack doesn't know about what had happened or why it was such a big deal for both his father and his "aunt" to be home, together, after days of separation and frankly neither adult wants to give Jack any details.

"I dunno why you and Aunt Em'ly are acting so weird but I wanna stay with you."

Now how could they say "no" tothat?

"Of course you can, baby." Emily informs Jack after asking Aaron with her eyes. "But you need to get changed and washed up, okay?"

Hopping out of his father's arms with a hasty "kay", Jack rushes into his own room to change out of his jeans and t-shirt and into pajamas.

Continuing on their way towards the master bedroom, Hotch and Prentiss don't speak but they aren't left with an awkward silence either, they just don't think saying anything at this point is that important. When they enter the bedroom they divide with Prentiss heading towards the bed and Hotch off to find something to wear. From her side of the mattress Prentiss keeps her eye on the closed closet door, imagining Hotch changing out of his white button down shirt and slacks into pajamas.

Of course Prentiss isn't being graphic, picturing her boss' hands groping for clothing, his bare body flexing and stretching. Not that, she simply couldn't. Instead she is thinking about how nice it is to not be in a bedroom that is scary and unfamiliar as well as how wonderful it feels to know that she will be falling asleep with a man whom she has known and cared for instead of someone who was making her play "pretend". Emily doesn't even notice that she is still staring off into space when Hotch exits the closet in a pair of navy blue pajamas; he meets her gaze.

"How are you feeling, Prentiss?" Aaron asks, effectively shattering the silence. "Honestly."

Her face is wiped of most emotion so she really just looks tired more than anything else.

"Like…like…" Emily struggles, unable to articulate her feelings, "like I've finally come home."

Hotch feels both thankful and sorry. "I shouldn't have left you alone." He states in that matter-of-fact tone of his.

Prentiss' eyes, expression, and body language soften. "I shouldn't have played along."

"It saved your life." Aaron points out as he tugs at the covers, fitting himself inside them.

"Theteamsaved my life." Emily stresses, facing her friend. "Thanks for that, by the way."

Refusing her thanks (because honestly why should she thank him for doing his job as well as wanting her back?) Hotch pushes some hair away from Prentiss' face. "You don't have to thank us." The dark-haired, dark-eyed man confides softly. "I'm just sorry we weren't faster."

Emily sighs, "Oh, Hotch." She speaks softly, stroking her friend's stubble clad cheek. "You really need to start taking care of yourself, you know that right?"

Raising an eyebrow, Hotch does something completely unexpected to both Prentiss and himself. The unit chief rolls her on to her back and looks down at her surprised face, the one that he has been trying to update in his memory all day. "Lead by example, Agent Prentiss." He whispers with a solemn expression on his face.

Prentiss laughs outright and Hotch smiles. The lady agent's teeth are showing and the unit chief's dimples are adorable. Prentiss is tempted to kiss each indentation and Aaron is fantasizing about her pretty lips. "Hypocrite," she teases, this time making himlaugh. And then they both laugh and laugh and laugh until she feels tears prick her eyes and he feels pains in his sides. They don't know why they are laughing so hard or for so long but they know that they don't want to stop, not now or ever.

"What's so funny?" A curious voice asks from the threshold, neither adult had to think to know it was Jack.

Rolling off of Emily, Aaron waves his son over to him and Prentiss, "Nothing, buddy."

Little eyebrows rise as Jack climbs into the space between his father and Emily, "Really?"

Emily laughs a little and kisses the young boy's forehead. "Really," she assures him with a smile. "After all you know that your daddy doesn't have a sense of humor."

Aaron rolls his eyes but is sporting a small smirk of his own, "oh very clever, Prentiss."

Situated between the two adults, Jack watches the verbal back-and-forth happening before him. First Emily says something and his father throws it back and soon enough one of them 'wins' so the other just stops trying. Jack is about to delve deeper when his aunt scoots over to offer him more room, which he makes himself comfortable in. The whole scene is fine, great really, with the three of them looking so at peace for once in almost a week. Then, out of nowhere, there is the slightest sound and a previously relaxed Aaron Hotchner is in Unit Chief mode. Just like that.

"I'll be right back."

It isn't so much a statement of what Aaron will be doing as it is a demand of what Emily and Jack will be doing, staying put that is. No questions asked and this time Prentiss thinks that she'll let it slide, namely because she doesn't feel like putting up a fight and the look on her boss' face is keeping her from opening her mouth.

"Where are you going?"

Aaron looks back at his son for a split-second and his stomach knots; how is he supposed to explain to a child?

"He needs a drink, sweetie." Prentiss, God bless her, jumps in. "He'll be right back."

When Emily says that last part, repeating what Hotch has just said, their eyes lock and the man nods a reassuring nod that really isn't all that reassuring. Jack, who is only somewhat satisfied with the answer provided, opts not to press the conversation and instead watches the brunette woman watch his father leave the room and it doesn't take much for the boy to know that his father has anything but thirst on his mind.

"Em'ly?"

"Yes, Jack?"

"Daddy's not thirsty."

There is a pause and even though Prentiss supposes that this moment shouldn't be as awkward as it clearly is that fact does so little to alleviate the tension; she has been caught in a lie by a four year old. Swallowing, which hurts due to the sudden lump in her throat, the dark haired-dark eyed woman sinks further into the mattress. What is she supposed to say? 'Yeah, you're right hon; your father is really double-checking for psychopaths who plan on abducting us in our sleep. Sweet dreams!' Treading on the topic lightly, Prentiss brushes some hair from Jack's face even though it isn't long enough to get in the way.

"No he's not."

Silence falls around the woman and child, heavy and familiar, whilst both look directly at the bedroom door.

"What's going on you two?" Hotch queries as he enters through the threshold with a glass of water in one hand.

"Nothing," the brunette woman replies as she relaxes into the bed and Hotch comes around the mattress to his side.

Sitting the half empty glass on the nightstand, Hotch climbs on to the mattress and crawls under the covers, feeling both Emily and Jack shift along with him as he makes himself comfortable. They've done this before—the three of them—not very often but enough to know the routine. However, tonight is different, for the painfully obvious reason but also in subtler ways. Jack, for example, is quieter than he has been all day, and Aaron doubts that it is sleep finally catching up on the young boy.

Out of the corner of his eye Hotch watches as his son lies on his chest and faces towards him with his eyes closed. Opposite the four year old, the lady agent lies on her right side so that she is facing the window, her legs bent upwards. The unit chief wants to tell Emily that she doesn't need to be scared right now, that she doesn't have to keep vigil on the window and bedroom door but can simply sleep easily tonight.

However that would mean that Hotch would be lying and that would be pointless because despite the fact that it is what he wantsfor Jack, Emily, the rest of the team, as well as the world at large—for everyone to feel safe, that is—Hotch knows better than most that it isn't always going to happen. Concurrently, Aaron is dreadfully aware that as long as he has his job that peace of mind will be unachievable.

"Goodnight Jack."

Aaron speaks quietly, firmly, as though what he is saying is more of a demand than fatherly well wishing. Blankets muffle Jack's reply as well as half-sleep, which is nice only because it is anticipated. Right now, Hotch needs that normalcy.

"Goodnight Emily."

This time there is an eerie lack of a response, almost ominous really. No noise and no movement, nothing but still darkness. It takes a few drawn out moments but when it's spoken aloud Jack is already off in a land of dreams, Hotch is uncharacteristically relaxed and Prentiss is... deflated.

"Sweet dreams."

7:03AM
Saturday March 27th 2010
The Hotchner Household

Awake for more than two and half-hours now, Aaron sits upright in his bed. His back is slumped against the headboard; his eyes are on the two other occupants in his bed and he is doing a rather fine job of driving himself insane. For the hours in which Aaron was asleep the SSA had been extremely restless, the slightest of movements and noises waking him, terrifying him. Nervous, he had started checking and double-checking and triple checking that his son was between he and Emily and that she was, in fact, still there.

It had been a nerve-wracking week and for Aaron that meant once Emily was finally back—in Quantico, the BAU, his house, hers—he and the team could try to sleep properly for the first time in the past five days. He had only been somewhat right. Emily, for the most part, had slept quite soundly with the exception of a few tosses and turns, barely anything to take note of. Jack, who also has been sleeping quite well, has barely moved a muscle since he had crawled under the covers the previous evening. Surprisingly, or maybe not so much, it had been Hotch who had suffered the most.

So now he is lying in bed, doing nothing more than staring at some blank patch on the wall, willing everything to go away. It is instances like these that Aaron wishes he were better at dealing with emotions, both his personal ones as well as others. As he drops his gaze to the lump in the comforter that he has come to recognize as a sleeping Jack and Emily, Aaron remembers something that his female agent had once said as a flippant excuse, if anything. "I guess I'm better at compartmentalizing than other people."

If only everyone could be so fortunate.

It's all about Emily, he tells himself. He drills this truth into his head until he's sick of hearing it and when he gets too frustrated to go on he switches it to just her name, a reminder of what is really important right now. He says it over and over and over and over again: it's not about me, it's about her. Emily. This is about Emily. Emily. Emily. Emily.

And Hotch feels awful, truly awful, because even though he knows it's wrong because Prentiss is the one who needs the support and the strength right now Aaron is still lying in bed thinking about how angry he is about his friend being taken from him and in his very own home, how frustrated he was when they couldn't find her right away, how heartbroken he was to see Prentiss has battered as she was.

Selfish, he accuses himself.

But is it really? Of course it was Prentiss who was the victim: taken away in the middle of the night, locked up and required to play house with her captor, subjected to God only knows what kind of abuse. However, it was Aaron Hotchner and his team who were left as the family members who don't know how to pickup the pieces. It's not just him, Aaron realizes but not for the first time. It's Reid, who looks to Emily as an older sister and confidant. It's Derek and Rossi, the two people who are so similar to Emily that sometimes they just can't stand it. It's JJ and Penelope who were left fretting over the lost link of their trio of brilliant, passionate, stunning women.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees something, someone.

In the windowpane, a silhouette of a person, whose fingers are fiddling with the locking mechanism. Instantly, Aaron is depleted of oxygen. The window lifts just an inch, slow motion, before being forced upwards as a leg slips over the sill. Not again, Aaron thinks. Too soon. His arm flings towards the nightstand table, he fumbles with the drawer, and he retrieves one of his service weapons.

Then he sees the man; tall and built, disguised in black, with of his own gun already drawn. Except it's not pointed at Hotch and it takes a split-second for the unit chief to realize who's in the bed with him: Jack and Emily. Hotch doesn't know what move to make next (hell, he can hardly even hear himself think over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears) and the man is taking miniature steps forward, slow and steady, like he's taunting Aaron. Honestly, Hotch wouldn't put it past him.

"Put the gun down."

The words come out stronger than Hotch had anticipated but they don't seem to do anything.

"I said put your weapon down!"

There's no way Aaron can negotiate his way out of this, mainly because he doesn't know enough about the Unsub, but he's compelled to try, all things considered.

"Who are you?"

Peeling the black mask away, the man stands with his Glock pointed directly towards a soundly sleeping Jack and Emily, whose chests are rising and falling in accordance to one another but the rhythm dies mid-breath once a bullet enters Jack's back and exits Emily's. Aaron doesn't think, he doesn't blink or breathe, he just presses and he can feel the bullet leaving the barrel of his service weapon.

The man staggers slightly, a blow but not a bad one so Aaron pulls the trigger again. Stumbling backwards, hand over heart, the man doesn't say a word as a third bullet propels through him, this time in his gut. Blood pours out but still no words. Back to the wall, the man begins to slide down to the carpeted floor but as he does Hotch is sure to make one final shot—the icing on the cake—and it is just as sweet.

Blood splatters across the man's face until it's impossible for Hotch to see anything but the color red, which is infinitely better than what he just had to face.

Disgusted, Aaron turns from the mess of the man on his bedroom floor only to find a single bullet wound penetrating the pajama clad back of his young son and the blood soaked tank-top of his friend. Vomit inches up the back of his throat; he's going to be sick. He refrains though, instead curling his fingers so tight around his Glock, the one that feels unnaturally light in his hand, and presses it too harshly against his left temple. His eyes open the entire time.

"Hotch... Hotch... Hotch." The voice is distant, feminine, familiar and Aaron wishes he could answer back.

Paralyzed, Aaron doesn't feel her hands on his bicep, holding him awkwardly, yes, but it was the thought that counted. "Are you okay, Hotch?"

"Emily?" Her name comes out as a question and before this moment he has never felt so unsure of her, afraid that she might not exist at all.

The wall is sprayed red, unholy and undeniable, which Aaron cannot tear his eyes from. He sees the spatter pattern, he sees the man sliding down the wall, he sees the expression on the man's face as he loses is grip and falls to the floor. The images are stuck on a constant loop in Hotch's head and even though he knows, according to his rational mind, that what he is replaying is all made up the truth does little to make shake away his concerns. Beside him firm, feminine hands run up and down his arm, intimacy on a whole other playing field; unfamiliar to touching like this. Hotch lets out a shaky breath and the fingers on his bare bicep tremble, afraid of having hurt him.

Impossible.

"You're still here?" It sounds like a statement to her, he supposes, but it really isn't.

Her voice is quiet but full of assurance, assurance that only proves she knows there's something to worry about, "of course."

"I woke you." Aaron knows that if he stops talking Emily will know that something is awry and the last thing that he wants right now is for her to be asking any more questions. And yet he can't stop staring at the Goddamn wall, which he's certain Emily will soon catch on to.

Quickly, Emily pounces on the silence but she's playing it by ear and doesn't know what she's going to say next. "It's okay-"

"You weren't sleeping anyway." He doesn't mean to sound so harsh, he honestly doesn't, but it comes out rough and upset. Not at Prentiss though, never at Prentiss, but at everything else. The fact that this is the first morning they've spent together it what feels like eons, that Hotch has been having nightmares, and that Prentiss hasn't been sleeping as soundly as usual because every little noise has left her rattled.

The mattress sinks on Prentiss' side and her hair is fanned across the pillows, words muffled by linen, she tells Hotch to "try and get some rest." Aaron wants to but soon realizes he won't when every time he closes his eyes all he sees is the colour red sprayed across the back of his eyelids and his reflection staring right back.

6:20AM
Sunday November 8th 2009
The Hotchner Household

Neck aching, eyes crusted shut, and parted chapped lips are how she had woken that dark November morning. Limbs had been bent in all sorts of awkward shapes so that the agent was able fit in the chair comfortably without falling off, which had taken some effort on her part but it had been worth it in the end. Stretching herself out, the lady agent had rubbed her eyes to adjust to the dim setting of the room that had enclosed her. Something was off but at the time she had simply written it off as sleepiness. Prentiss, only half awake, had shaken her head of all disjointed thoughts before she scanned her surroundings for anything out of place. At first, there had been nothing but upon a second glance something had caught her eye.

One SSA Aaron Hotchner was sprawled across what Emily had only just realized was his own bed, beneath some rumpled covers, dead to the world.

Now that had been a wake-up call if Prentiss had ever needed one.

Aaron Hotchner, as in 'Hotch'. Hotch who Emily should not have been sharing a bedroom with unless they had been on some undercover op or they had been bunking in some no name hotel during a case. Certainly not as personally—intimately—as the man's own bedroom with no professional motive in place whatsoever. Why had she even been there? The female SSA had backtracked, her eyes squeezed shut or else they would've stayed stuck on Hotch, and she had finally come to the conclusion that she had spent the night with her boss, in his bedroom. Oh God, that had been all kinds of inappropriate.

But it hadn't been. Honestly. It had been completely and irrefutably innocent. The two of dark haired-dark eyed agents had spent the night with one another but it wasn't in any other context but friendship. Right?

"Hotch?" It was but a timid whisper and when a half a minute passed without response, Emily had let go of the breath she had been holding. "Hoootch?"

Nothing.

Unfolding her legs, Emily had pushed herself up from her seat, and felt the earth twirl all around her. Balance found, the lady agent had ventured a first few steps, towards the sleeping figure of her boss and had somehow repressed the desire to poke him to see if he was really there. He had shifted in his sleep, just a few inches but it had rattled Prentiss all the same, which had encouraged her to back away from the unit chief and make her way to the bedroom door, not forgetting to pick up her disbanded cell phone as she had silently padded out of the bedroom. Briefly, Prentiss had considered closing the door behind her but decided against it in the off chance that the sudden noise would waken her superior, which would surely put them both in an awkward 'morning after' position.

Except for the fact that the cliché hangover moment would have been preferable at the time, seeing how they hadn't even had sex the night before. After all, what were they expected to say to one another given the circumstances? "Well, I had a great time but you don't have to call or anything."

It hadn't been like that, no, instead the conversation probably would have gone something like, "Well, I'm glad that we're both over a respective emotional breakdowns so I'm just gonna head out now and I'll see you bright and early on Monday, right? Okay, yeah, seeya!"

No, Emily hadn't thought so either. So she had been trying to make that difficult morning just a bit easier on both agents by allowing herself a few moments to collect and organize her thoughts before having to go back into that bedroom and face Hotch.Oh sweet Jesus, she hadn't had a clue.

"It's was just one night, you were being a good friend and he was being a good friend, nothing else to it, right? Right. You slept on the chair and he slept in his bed and now he's still asleep and you're going to straighten up and leave a note and high-tale it right the Hell out of here, aren't you? Exactly, good girl."

She had been whispering to herself in hushed tones, assured that if made even a peep that Hotch would re-enter the land of the living and she would be faced with the incredibly uncomfortable reality that they had spent the night together. As friends, of course, but nonetheless. Splashing some water on her face, Emily had tried to calm herself down while in the upstairs bathroom, but it seemed that the cold liquid did little to calm her reckless nerves. In the mirror, she had searched herself for answers to the dozens of questions rushing through her mind at the time.

What had they done the previous night?

Why had she stayed?

When did it become acceptable for her to be in Hotch's home anyway?

Where did this leave them now?

At the time there had been too many questions and too few answers to match.

She had rubbed a damp towel over her face, cooling herself down and bringing some wakefulness back to her face, however, the woman in the mirror still appeared very exhausted. Sudden noise had drawn Prentiss from her thoughts, her hand fallen to her hip, searching for her Glock, which she was accustomed to wearing. It was left in his bedroom, Emily had to go back. Silently, the brunette agent had tip-toed back towards her boss' bedroom, fixing things that appeared out of place before turning on her heels and getting the fuck out of there.

Minutes later Prentiss had been sitting behind the wheel of her vehicle, still in Hotch's driveway, unable to do anything but stare out her windshield. What a cliché. It had been a rough night for Hotch, who had been just making some form of recovery in the aftermath of very likely one of the darkest moments in his entire forty-odd years on the plant and Emily had done everything she could think of to calm him. Well, not everything, but that was probably because he was her boss and the possibility of she and Hotch doing anything like what had very (repeat: very) briefly crossed her mind seemed simply unfathomable.

Prentiss had shuddered to think of the ramifications of sleeping with the boss. As she had been sitting in the driver's seat—thinking over what would happen if she had done anything less than professional with Hotch—she realized that her main concern hadn't been about losing respect as a professional, being bitched out by Erin Strauss or even the consequences that Hotch would have to face as a unit chief boning a subordinate. No, Emily had worried about what it would mean for their own accord (relationship had felt like such an awkward word to describe what was going on between them) and their budding friendship.

Yes, sex would have just complicated everything and at the time that was the last thing that Hotch or Prentiss had needed. It was this statement that Emily had repeated back to herself the entire drive from Hotch's place to her own, the words she trained herself to say whenever she started to doubt herself. Emily had supposed that once she was familiar enough with the words to recite them perfectly from memory she would have successfully convinced herself that they were true.

Author's Comment: I realize that it's been quite a while since I've last updated so I'm expecting this chapter to go by fairly unnoticed but the story is coming to close. The next chapter is my last one and I'm debating whether or not the story should have a sequel.