HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII! I hope everyone is well and wonderful! I have missed these two! Closer should be read first. This takes places after the end of that story and shows them throughout the next few years. It is very compact and fast paced and seems very disjointed. I am aware that some will not agree with my writing or their characterization but I cannot change that. I took into consideration of Closer and thinking how they would again change over time after seeing each other. So time is very important. Mistakes are mines and my sincerest apologies because I loathe proofreading, lol. As always then, comments would be wonderful. Peace, love and thanks!

And to the readers who nominated Toxic for the awards, thank you for the support! It was such a lovely and shocking surprise to see that. It's been years since that story was written. I've always considered myself hiding in the corner with my writing so not as many people read my stuff, lol. So it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy to know some of you have been going back to reread it and seriously loving it enough to consider it worthy to be recognized. Thank you so much!

1. Repeat

When Emily Prentiss is on the plane to London, it feels as if everything is on repeat.

The growing distance doesn't erase and can't stop him (and them) from invading in her head (and heart). She's wondering about him what he is thinking of. She's thinking about him what he is feeling at the moment. She's questioning how one night together after three years of silence has changed nothing and everything.

It seems (They are) inevitable.

And once the plane touches the ground and halts, Emily makes her way through the crowded jet bridge. She smiles tiredly towards the security guard at the customs checkpoint. A quiet seat away from the rest of the world she locates. Her phone she tugs out. A deep (shaky) breath she takes. The number she hasn't dialed in three years she finds. Every ring has her head jumbling for the right words, has the nervousness in her rising until everything suddenly stops because his voice she hears.

"Hey."

In an instant, the simplest greeting from Aaron Hotchner has her heart thumping louder than the roaring airplane engines behind her. It has the butterflies swarm into her stomach. The soft curve her lips forming cannot be stopped. She feels like she's sixteen again. An almost breathless laugh escapes from her.

She cannot help but wonder (be amazed).

"Hey."

2. One

He feels the apprehension. She feels the awkwardness.

It is expected and obvious despite all that have been said and done.

Nothing is perfect (especially them).

3. Anxiety

It will be a lot of getting used to because there is the Atlantic Ocean that separates them. There is the five hours difference that has him sleeping when she's waking. There is the unpredictable and difficult schedule that comes with both of their jobs. Add to those fears, she's a little (or a lot) damaged. After so long the doubts and shame remain in her when she knows it shouldn't because it's over. And she's nervous and scared of this and them. Something (anything) can go wrong because she will not lie that this will be a first for her. The long distance thing and what they're doing because she doesn't (can't) recall when she has been part of a pair. So she's not sure of the things to do (not to do) and the things to say (not to say).

Emily doesn't want to hurt him (in any way).

4. Hope

When Morgan is opening the first (of many) bottle of red wine and there are loud cheers and applause filling Rossi's kitchen, Hotch glances towards the kitchen doorway once and twice. He listens carefully, waiting for the sound of the bell. He knows she will not. He knows where she is. But it doesn't stop him from having the sliver of hope (and anticipation) dangle in him hoping she will.

5. Family

At night Hotch calls her. It's her voicemail he expects and gets because it's only after five in the morning there. Regardless he speaks after the beep. He tells her of what they did (the bet JJ and Morgan had going for the game, the match of tag football that had Reid outsmarting every one of them), what they ate (he's never seen so many side dishes to the side dishes) and how Rossi is thinking about doing this every year now (we are family he had said). All of this he tells her with a smile and a laugh when really, all he wants to tell her he wished she had been there because she belongs here too.

6. Journey

Hotch doesn't want to scare her (in any way).

He has his own set of fears that he will not mention to her since he's sure she has hers. But he knows it (this) will be (very) difficult. Even if he has done this once upon a time ago from Virginia to New York, it had been with a different person under different obstacles. He thinks this to be a greater challenge because it's three thousand seven hundred and ninety six miles that separate them. She is a challenge (the greatest). No, she's not fragile or complicated even if she thinks herself to be because he knows her all too well sometimes. It's her joys, her trepidations, her pain and all the minuscule intricacies that run through her head (and her heart).

Discover them and explore her, she is a journey within a journey.

7. Telephone

Two weeks later Emily calls him. It's only their third time (actually speaking to one another) since she has move back across the ocean. They have been busy (him in Providence searching a man killing couples and her tracking a group for human trafficking). The weather they talk about because six inches it has snowed where he is and the work load she mentions because she has been up since seven in the morning and it's after midnight as they speak. Home she arrived just a mere ten minutes ago. And right before they hang up because he wants her to sleep for more than six hours; Hotch says her name (low, intense, gentle, smooth and rough just like when he saw her for the first time after three years). Emily stops on the other end of the line. The sudden heat rises to his face. He scratches the top of his head. He rubs the back of his neck. He takes a deep breath because he thinks this might be a little (or a lot) stupid even if he has been pondering over this idea of his. Nevertheless though, he asks if it is alright (with her), if she agrees to it, if it is okay, if they can communicate by phone. There are so many ifs his head spins.

Home phone, cell phone, work phone, it's what he means.

They will just communicate (just talk) by phone.

There will be no texts. There will be no emails. There will be no Skype.

He believes it will be nice (beautiful)… just talking on the phone (listening to each other's voices).

Almost instantly her brows furrow because to say Emily's not a bit confused and very curious will be a lie. She doesn't understand him. Texts are quick. It just requires a few taps and swipes. It would easy to say the simplest 'hello.' Emails can cover everything in five minutes (especially when they're in the middle of meetings and a busy schedule). And there are video chats. If they find the time, can fit it into their schedule, they can see each other (just like how she does with JJ and Garcia) even if it will just be in pixels. She will not deny that she would love to see his face.

But Hotch has his reasons for all his actions, for all his decisions (always). So a deep breath Emily takes. He thinks it all through. A nervous chuckle she lets out. And she trusts him (always). The answer he wants to hear she gives with a small upward curve of her lips even if he's not around to see it.

"Okay."

Just by phone.

8. Fix

The past he can't (ever) change even if he (desperately) wants to. It's said and done. It's in the history books. But the future has not been written. The future he can make better (and he intends to).

9. Motive

Hotch has a reason for his request. (He has a reason for everything he does.)

It's not because he doesn't believe in the technology. It's not because he doesn't have the technology. He is old fashioned, but he isn't that old fashioned. He has the latest phone and the other electronics in this day and age. Skype had been his best friend when he was stationed in the middle of a Pakistanian desert. And he has Garcia (a one of a kind).

So yes, he's well aware there are perhaps better ways to do this because everything is new. He is certain there are much easier ways to do this because he finds himself imagining the future.

Then Hotch remembers though.

He remembers the three years they did not speak. He remembers the phones ringing late in the night. He remembers the connection to New York. It had been disappointment (over and over again). Not anymore though. It is excitement and jumpiness (the good kind) when the phone rings. He gets to hear her soft voice and sweet laughs. And it's his opportunity. To make things right, to fix all that had happened in three years because he (and she) had been a coward and too afraid. He doesn't (can't) take this (her) for granted. He will make the most of everything.

Emily deserves it and deep down, Hotch thinks he does too.

10. First

It's a new year.

He wonders if this will be the year.

11. Butterflies

They just talk by phone (home phone, cell phone, but not the work phone because he and she realize the dangers of it because no one knows).

His breath gets stuck in his throat whenever the phone rings under the moon. It's foolish he knows. Her heart pounds a little harder whenever his name flashes across the screen. It's irrational she feels. But then they speak. Greetings are exchanged. The events of the day are shared. Laughs from both ends send the chill down his and her spine.

Time halts but their worlds are spinning madly.

And what he knows and what she feels, is really okay after all.

12. Winter

January, February and March comes and goes.

It is too cold. There seems to be a blizzard every week. But the weather changes (it always does) and so do they because some time between the second and third month of the year, Emily starts calling him by his given name.

13. Petals

Emily calls him on a Sunday evening for her and a Sunday afternoon for him. Underneath the cherry blossom trees Hotch is observing (Jack's request to see them because it has been eight days of learning about the history of the blossom's country in school) when he picks up his ringing phone. His location and the festival he informs her of.

"It's beautiful there, isn't it?"

And she says it as if she's been there numerous times because she really has. It's their meaning (life is beautiful but short), their scent (it lingers even after a while) and their scenery (it's quite unforgettable how delicately they fall to the ground).

His son isn't the only one to learn something.

14. Permanent

She doesn't have an eidetic memory.

Emily has trouble remembering what (or when) she eats. She forgets holidays and (sometimes) birthdays. She can lose track of days and dates.

But when it comes to him (what he says, what he doesn't say, what he does and what he doesn't do) she remembers it all. With him everything is (he is) unforgettable. The tone of his voice, the words he uses, the way he smiles, the feeling of his hands on her body and every little thing in between, it is burned into her mind and seared into her heart.

She doesn't (can't) forget even if she tries.

15. Evidence

He opens his phone bill.

All he sees is London.

16. Tag

Hotch picks up his phone and calls her when it's eleven minutes after ten on a Thursday night even though he knows it will be a message that will be left. Home he has just gotten back to after eight days in Maine (but calling her has been what's on his mind since three days ago). So he knows very well she's fast asleep. Still though, he allows it to ring once, twice and a final third before the automatic voice on her end remind him to leave a message after a beep, he takes a deep breath.

Yes, spring is here. Yes, that little riddle of April showers is true because it's the last week brings too much rain. And yes, he has been careful (even if the killer from Maine tried to shoot him). This is what he says into the phone with a soft (almost sad and pathetic) chuckle. She and he is humoring because in between each line he says (and doesn't say), Hotch really (and simply) wants to tell her he just misses her.

But instead he jokes (with the twinge of ache in his chest), "Tag… you're it."

17. Ignore

Emily still remembers what she told him that night on the jet from Houston. That old life, the old her she had wanted back and the old her he had told her the impossibilities of getting back. She knows she shouldn't, but sometimes she wonders about (and wants) the old her back because she compares and over thinks with lists.

She just had the cuts and the cracks in her before. After everything she thinks she might have become a little broken. (She's still putting herself together.) She imagines herself still with them (her family) across the ocean finding the monsters there. Instead she finds herself looking over the dozens of people following her orders, her leadership. And him and them, she's a lot certain that it would still be, they would still be in denial and resistance because he is he and she is she. Too much had been on the line if they had continued.

Her phone is chiming. His name she reads.

Now she finds herself missing him from a continent away.

Emily's not sure what hurts more.

18. Understanding

When he's working for six straight hours and needs to give himself a moment because his mind does eventually hurt from the serial killers, Hotch moves to his office window. He looks out at them like how they look up at him. His lips twitch the slightest. Reid showing his magic tricks to Blake, JJ's fist pumps with Morgan, Garcia's appearance with homemade cookies. They are happy. Regardless though, he cannot stop himself from wondering the what if (of her never leaving, of her staying there).

But she needed to. She still needs to.

19. Admission

"I miss you."

"I know."

20. Second

It's a new year (again).

He wonders (again) if this might be the year.

21. Reassurance

When Emily has her virtual tea date with JJ and Garcia (on a Sunday), they wonder (again) if she has found someone (British) yet because they don't know.

No one does.

"It's cold outside. Don't you want someone to cuddle with to keep you nice and toasty?"

Garcia playfully (and teasingly) wiggles her eyebrows as JJ nearly chokes on her tea with a loud cackle.

They want to see her dating. She tells them she doesn't need a man to validate her. They want to see her happy. She jokingly rolls her eyes and tells them she is. They mean well. She knows. They love her. She knows that too. But her head Emily shakes and she says with a smile that's genuine and bright.

"I'm good… I really am…"

22. Fight

Emily still remembers her bad days (without him). She can't really ever forget them. She remembers how her heart had thumped so loud they began sounding like drums. She remembers the shiver running down her spine despite the sweater she wore and the blanket covering her. She remembers the deafening silence and the noises coming from somewhere and nowhere that had her reaching for the loaded metal piece. But most of all she remembers staring at the phone and fighting herself because out of everything, out of everyone, she just wanted (needed) him (always).

23. Save

The workload he has is a little bit more since Rossi's retirement (even if he still does come in once in a while and helps and advises). He has been instructed to get a new member. The empty spot on his team needs to be filled. The office beside him remains vacant. It will also be a help to him because he does most of the extra work even with everyone's help. But one, then five then ten and fifteen agents he interviews. He smiles politely. He offers a firm handshake. And he always ends up deciding he or she is no good.

Elle. Gideon. JJ (once). Seaver. Emily (twice).

Hotch doesn't know if he can take someone else leaving.

24. Someone

When she's getting ready to climb into bed with Sergio nuzzling into the pillow beside her, he calls her right before he sits down to have dinner with Jack.

"I just want to wish you a goodnight…"

Emily thinks she has her someone (even if he is three thousand seven hundred and ninety six miles away).

25. Spring

April, May and June pass by.

The rain sets the flowers to bloom and for summer to come and every tea of the month she sends to the team, Emily sends one (a secret) just for (to) him.

26. Partners

Sometimes it's unavoidable talking about their jobs and the killers they are both chasing.

If she's trapped and can't understand it, can't figure out the next move, Hotch reminds her of the skills. He reminds her to think of what makes them tick. He reminds her to look at it from another perspective. If he's stuck and doesn't understand it, doesn't know what else to do, Emily reminds him of previous cases. She reminds him of the connections he has discovered. She reminds him how it is the past that predicts the future.

When this happens though, they are reminded (but don't say) what it's like to be partners (once again).

27. Impossible

Emily doesn't tell him that sometimes (too often) it's (very) difficult to fall to sleep after they talk because all she hears after they hang up is his voice while all she thinks about how it feels (felt) to be in his arms.

28. Bliss

She sends him Capital of Heaven (oolong tea with faint notes of honey and oranges).

(His eyes are the night sky when she gazes up. His arms are the columns in the clouds she holds onto. His body beating and slapping against hers sends her high into the sky.)

Emily thinks the title's quite fitting.

29. Grateful

Of all the things Hotch has yet to say (to her) it's thank you that stands on the tip of his tongue.

For holding onto him during Foyet because her hands he still feels in his. For letting him know alone he will never be because the (comfortable) quietness replays in his head. And for being his second chance because his time left in this lifetime he wants to make the most of it. He wants to do it with her. He needs to live it with her. He wants (needs) no one else but her.

It will (always) be her.

That's why Hotch wants (needs) to tell her thank you.

30. Habits

She still compartmentalizes. It's a (bad) habit she doesn't believe she can ever break. Putting away what she feels and what she thinks into little black boxes. Stacks at the back of her brain and the corner of her heart, they get (progressively) higher and higher. She doesn't know if that makes her weak, not facing her feelings, her thoughts and her problems. It's just about control. She needs that in this job. It's necessary for survival.

In the end Emily determines that it's okay to compartmentalize. It's normal to want control. It's nothing to keep them (feelings, thoughts and problems) in little black boxes. It doesn't make her weak. She wants (needs) to survive.

So she's not weak.

She's not.

31. Doyle

At a conference about arms deal, murder rates and terrorism, out of nowhere someone mentions his name. Her head darts so fast up from the files in front of her to the dozens of people in the large lecture room Emily feels the slight dizziness and the pull on her neck. Her pupils are searching for the source of the voice but she can't pinpoint it because everyone continues to speak as if it is nothing (even if it's not to her).

Ian Doyle.

A while it has been since she has heard anyone say his name and she cannot lie that it feels like a sudden blow to the pit of her stomach (and her heart). And a deer caught in the headlights she thinks she looks like before she blinks once and twice. Her head she slowly bows. Voices surrounding her begin to blend. The files she stares down upon. Words beneath her bit by bit blur.

Running and hiding she doesn't ever have to do anymore. Dead he is in the ground (she doesn't forget she put him there.) A (distant) memory (nightmare) he should be to her. But the lump forming in her throat she tries to rid of, the tugs of her heart and the sudden picking of her short nails, tells her he's not.

And deep down, Emily wonders if he ever will be.

32. Push

Faster and faster she falls. Her eyes are shut. She can't make herself look.

33. Bad

Left she turns. A cool spot on the big fluffy pillow she finds. It doesn't help. Right she shifts. The heavy comforter she tugs up a little higher. It doesn't help either. And the late night programs, the cup of tea, they do nothing too because nearly two hours it has been since she climbed into bed.

Ian Doyle fills her with guilt and relief.

Emily glances at the clock. It's a haze. The wetness at the tip of her fingertips against her cheeks gives her the reason. Seven minutes after four in the morning and five hours ahead she is. Baltimore they are in working a case last time they talked two days ago. (That afternoon on the plane she recalls like the back of hand.) But whether he is still there, in his office working late into the night or at home ready to unwind, she doesn't have a clue. (What she had confessed to him that night months ago she replays.) She debates, counting in her head. However in thirty six seconds she reaches for her phone on the nightstand. Two rings it takes.

"Hey."

And with his greeting, Emily thinks she might have made a mistake. She doesn't want him worrying. (He already worries too much and she doesn't doubt he has already started worrying about why she's calling him when it's in the middle of the night for her.) But it's too late and she cannot rewind back the sixty seconds.

"Emily, is everything alright?"

His words are low and steady. The furrow of his brows and the terse line of his mouth, she feels (knows) has formed on his face. The quiet deep breath she (attempts) to take ends up a little louder than she hopes for. The tears she fails to control fall.

"Um… yeah…"

The shakiness in her response she cannot miss and Hotch catches all too quickly.

"I'm… just…"

She's not weak.

"I… just… I had a bad day…"

34. Safe

He catches her.

Always.

35. Sleep

The scars from fears and tears he takes and turns into stars.

36. Romantic

In New York twelve days later Hotch spots it tucked away between the gorgeous century old brownstones and colorful autumn trees of the city. A chalkboard sign stands among the fallen leaves in the front. A peak through the large window he takes when he walks by it with JJ. The name he remembers. The location he notes. And five days later after they catch the unstable man staging murders in the city subways and before wheels are up; he finds the place he remembers.

The door Hotch pushes open. The bell above rings. The blend of leaves, flowers and fruits filter up his nostrils. The caddies he notices and counts. It's overwhelming because there's at least three dozen and more. He's a little lost and perhaps uncomfortable (he cannot lie). Out of place he feels in his suit and tie. He might have lost his mind because he wonders if anyone has ever made the request he's about to. Yet her he is thinking of and this place he knows she will thoroughly enjoy. A dozen steps he takes.

The woman behind the counter smiles at him, "How can I help you today, sir?"

He tells her what he is (hoping) to find.

37. Send

Hotch is not the romantic type.

(The sheets of The New York Times he crumbles and puts into the bottom of the box.)

Flowers, chocolates and the occasional pieces of jewelry he has given once upon a time.

(The folded index card he debates on for a while he finally slips in.)

That is all he has ever done since he had begun dating nearly four decades ago.

(The plum hued caddy he nestles in between those crumbled sheets of newspaper.)

He doesn't know anything about big surprises, grand gestures and expensive gifts.

(The box he closes and seals up with three good layers of tape.)

Times have changed but he doesn't believe he has.

(The name and address he writes big and clearly to avoid any mix ups.)

Hotch honestly wouldn't know where to start.

(He just hopes she likes this.)

38. Guilt

She wonders if she's holding him back when he's letting her go.

39. Special

Emily finds herself in meetings for the last eight hours and forty three minutes on a Tuesday. They're long and tiring (as always). Regardless though, information she presents and information she receives about the horrors in the world. It is twelve minutes until five before she is finally on her way to her office. One hand she grips onto the handle the navy mug emblazoned with the Interpol design filled almost to the brim with hot tea. In the other she grips and hugs a dozen different files that she must read through and sign to her chest. Her door she pushes open. The light switch is flipped up. She gently kicks her door shut.

Instantly Emily notices it.

Sitting on the center of her desk on her blotter, is a white box. Her brows furrow. She hasn't been expecting anything. Each step closer has her staring and wondering what in the world is in there. (A part of her thinks that she should have it scanned because all these years of dealing with serial killers tell her unexpected boxes are dangerous.) Her tea she puts down beside the desk lamp. The files she sets aside. Her head tilts to the side as she settles into her chair because she sees no name, no label. A red flag rises in her head. But still she picks it up. And to her surprise, the box is almost light to the touch. She flips it over.

Oh.

Emily wonders if her eyes from the long day are playing a trick on her. He would have said something even if they have not spoken since she called him because he and she have been busy. Yet the longer she stares at his name and address and her name and address, she recognizes it. She remembers it all too well. There's slightest slant in his handwriting. There are curves and the loops of the letters.

This is real. This is from him.

There is no question about it.

She wastes no moment. To grab a pen, to break the thick layers tape and to lift up the flaps, Emily is met by crumbled up sheets of newspaper. One page she pulls out has her reading page five of The New York Times from almost two weeks ago. Then sheet after sheet of the same paper from the same day she takes out until color comes into her view. The plum hued caddy she lifts up. Her gaze turns hazy. The top she unscrews. She can't help but grin. The woodsy scent tangled with lavender and peaches hit her nostrils.

He's something.

And she's inhaling once more because Emily doesn't know how she has ended up deserving him, deserving this when she realizes it. There's something else amongst the mess of the black and white paper. The folded index card she picks up and opens.

Oh.

Again.

Her breath (and her heart) catches in her throat.

It's called Tranquil Dreams. Just the name alone, the lady behind the counter said it might help.

Nothing more is written but everything is said.

40. Third

It's a new year (again and again).

He wonders (again and again) if this will be the year.

41. Tease

The entire eastern coast is suffering from unbearable weather because temperatures are dipping into the single digits. The leftover snow turns into ice. The city has become a winter wonderland. Hotch drives slower. He drives more carefully. He turns the heat in his apartment a little higher than usual because he's not a big fan of the cold. He hates it.

"Too bad I'm not there to keep you warm," Emily tells him sweetly (seductively) over the line.

The immediate deep chuckle comes from the pit of his stomach as he ponders if she knows what she does to him with her simple words because at night when he is lying in bed with the thick comforter over his body all he thinks about are the many way she can keep him warm.

42. Grey

In Concord they look for a man setting up bombs in neighborhood establishments.

At the corner café under a sunny sky he and JJ interview the barista about the locals and anything suspicious. They end up walking out the door with new information and two cups of coffee (on the house). JJ calls Garcia for cross references as he takes sip of the steaming black liquid.

In an instant everything feels too hot. There's smoke. People are running everywhere.

He can't hear anything.

43. Secret

Hotch tells no one that one of his favorite sounds is her voice.

44. Lies

He can't fly (again).

He's okay. (This is a pain.) He can hear. (There's a schedule.) He just can't fly. (A fight with the doctor and Morgan because he means well, he had lost.) So now he's walking through some town in the middle of somewhere in Pennsylvania looking for coffee. His body needs the fuel. His legs need a stretch. Three hours he has been driving alone because he had declined the offers for a little company.

"You guys can get a head start on the paperwork," he had quipped. (That received an immediate eye roll from everyone.)

Down a block and up another Hotch wanders. The scenery of the quaint town impossible to see on a map he takes in when he hears a distance ringing. Pass a market. Pass a shop. It takes him moments to realize that the ringing is coming from him. His pocket he reaches into. A glance at the display tells him it's her calling. The corners of his mouth curve as he answers.

"How's everything? You still in Concord?"

A diner across the street he spies.

"Yeah… we're still in Concord."

He just doesn't want her to worry.

45. Summer

July, August and September disappear in a blink of an eye.

The heat doesn't match (can't even compare) to the burn in their bodies (for one another) before the apples are growing and Hotch is left thinking (and remembering) about how she smelled (and tasted) once upon a time.

46. Regret

It is six minutes after five on a Saturday night when Emily calls him. Jack's still deciding on a Halloween costume, her night of drinks with the people on her team, it is catch up and the minuscule things. It's just nice (and normal). And then it's a little quiet after he tells her of how his day went. His breathing and her heart beating she hears because she's debating. His name she whispers.

"Aaron…"

Emily thinks (knows) she shouldn't ask this.

"Yeah?"

However it nags her mind and the weight (the guilt) on her heart is too heavy because still after so long and all this time, she thinks (knows) he (perhaps) deserves something (someone) more than phone calls and her across the ocean.

"Do you… do you regret this?"

And at the other end, Hotch thinks he should be surprise by the question because this has been occurring for a while (two years and counting). But he's not. He's not because he knows what she means even if the question is short, even if she will say no more. He knows her and her fears and her doubts too well. He thinks he's just surprise that she asks this now and not sooner. So for a minute Hotch doesn't know what to say and remains hushed. Her words and his thoughts mix in a pot. What he will tell her, how he answers her will matter to her (and him).

A sudden nervous shaky laugh she releases. Foolish she is. "I'm sorry…" She wishes she can take it back. Embarrass she feels. "I'm just-"

"I think…"

His steady words cut her off. (She takes a deep breath.)

"Love is hard…"

He cannot deny this. (Her fingers run through her locks.)

"This is hard…"

Hotch tells her the truth. (The water clings onto her lashes.)

"But I love you… and that matters the most…"

He feels his lips twitch upwards. (She feels her world stopping.)

"So no… I don't regret this…"

47. Liar

Emily's a little (or a lot) glad that he requested to only communicate by phone (and the occasional set of teas). She tells herself it only means she misses him less by not seeing his face.

She's such a liar.

48. Discoveries

All the teas in the colorful caddies she sends (just for him) slowly but surely begin lining up at the middle shelf of the third cabinet. Hotch has thought about leaving them out on the countertop, making room for them at the end, but he decides that maybe he shouldn't because that would mean a question or two. So one, three, seven and more he keeps them up there as if they're a secret (she's a secret) because no one knows. But Jack discovers them and takes notices of how they are all neatly in place when he's searching for the mini chocolate chips (Hotch had promised him chocolate chip pancakes for dinner). He wonders what they are because he's more than a little fascinated. Plus they look and smell interesting because his son opens them up and comments on the ones he likes the most. (It's the black tea scented with apples and cinnamon and Hotch does his best to hold back his amused face and the laugh that dances at the back of his throat because it's his favorite too since he thinks it tastes of her skin and smells of her once upon a time.)

"Where did you get all of them?"

It's an innocent question with so much of a back-story. He will keep it simple.

"They're from Emily."

It's the Emily that used to work with him. (He remembers.) It's the Emily that he hasn't seen in a few years but still hears about every now and then because she's in London working on finding the bad guys there. And every month she sends him tea that she thinks he might enjoy instead of coffee. (He doesn't tell him of the phone calls.)

A stare and a simple nod his son offers before he speaks again. "Do you miss her?" Jack questions before taking in a mouthful of his pancakes.

Hotch feels the hesitation. He's unsure how he should answer this, let alone tell his son he more than misses her. But the way he's looking at him and realizing that his son is growing up and that he doesn't want to hide her or (completely) lie to him, he feels the faint smile appearing on his face before bobbing his head the slightest and decides on half of it.

"Yeah… I do." He believes he hears the sudden break in his voice but hopes Jack doesn't.

And Hotch thinks he might not have since dinner resumes as if the conversation never existed because in moments he learns of the upcoming science fair at school.

49. Wait

It's another delivery. It's another box. It's bigger. It's a little heavier. It's fragile (there's the big red stamp). It's his name and her name again written with slightest slant and the all too recognizable curves and loops on the top.

Emily doesn't open it though. She wants to, but she will not. Not until she talks to him because it has been a week of playing tag and trying to catch one another. Until then she lets herself guess (and guess).

Curiosity (and anticipation) might kill her.

50. Speechless

An hour before midnight on Saturday Hotch returns home. (They were looking for an arsonist in Portland.) The lights of the living room he flicks on as he gently kicks the door shut. His keys he drops into the ceramic bowl on the shelf. The alarm he resets. He thinks about some tea before he officially calls it a night until morning when he picks Jack up. His briefcase he settles on the couch. His coat he hangs up. Towards the kitchen he goes. Another light switch he flips and in an instant he feels the slight tightness in his chest.

Closer steps (only half a dozen) Hotch takes.

One, three, seven; all twenty one of those tea caddies that are supposed to be on the middle shelf of the third cabinet he counts on the countertop. They're lined up neatly into three rows. The many colors seem brighter and (more) beautiful in the open space.

Surprised and baffled he should be, but it's the feeling of awe that seems to be the most powerful.

51. Surprise

Flowers he will bring her when he picks her up at precisely seven. Beautiful (like always) she will look. Dinner at a restaurant he knows she will love he takes her. It will be a night filled with good conversation and delicious wine. And as long as the stars are in the sky, they will have a dance for only the two of them. That is how Hotch imagines (wishes) it can be like tonight (right now). But it's a scene he will save and store in the back of his brain for a next time because across the ocean she is.

So for now, he has this.

Her on the other end telling him he shouldn't have (he really shouldn't) because she's not used to this. Emily doesn't do a lot of this (opening boxes or presents). If he's honest with her though, he's not used to this either. He doesn't do a lot of this because he reminds himself again.

Hotch's (really) not the romantic type.

(But her he had thought of when he saw it in that middle of somewhere in Pennsylvania months ago after he had hung up the phone with the tiniest ounce of guilt sinking into him for lying even if he just didn't want her to worry. He had spotted it by the large glass decorated with the gold letterings for antiques besides Victorian plates and under a Tiffany lamp. A sign of some sort he made it out to be even if he really never believed in those things. Nevertheless, he had ventured in and left with a bag in his hand and hope in his heart.)

The tape Emily cuts with a knife. The rustling he makes out. He and she remain silent as she goes through the papers and the bubble wrap. Five, ten and twenty seconds Hotch counts in his head before the soft gasp escapes her lips. And he knows then that she sees it.

"Happy birthday..."

52. Teapot

The curve of the spout her gaze travels along. Her bottom lip she bites. The handle she barely touches. Her hands are trembling. The pale pink petals of the festival she misses mark across the clean and shiny porcelain. Her eyes blur.

All the things she says to him, Hotch remembers them too.

53. Fault

Emily wants to tell him it's his fault.

For all the things he makes her feel (the want for him, the need of him), for all the things he makes her dream of (the possibilities, the future), she thinks it's easier if she blames him. He's at fault and not her. But she knows she can't for the simplest reason it's not. Really it's not because it's all on her. It's her head. It's her heart. They're at fault too because they had opened the door. (They had given him permission to enter. And when she had finally realized, she couldn't do anything.) She's still can't do anything because he stays. Memories of them he hangs up. Passion for her, for them he spreads out. He's making himself comfortable. The back of her brain, the corner of her heart, his presence makes these organs of her whirl faster and beat harder.

A home he has found in them (in her).

She hopes he never leaves.

54. Return

His phone buzzes when he says his goodbyes and goodnights to the sheriff Syracuse. A brief glimpse tells him it's her. It's nearly three in the morning for her. Knowing everyone is waiting for him though he (reluctantly) lets it buzz and buzz before it stops. A message she doesn't leave. Surprised he is because she always does even if it's small. Regardless though, he waits the twenty one minutes until they arrive at the hotel and he is in his room. And the first thing he does after the locks are turned is take out his phone. He doesn't hesitate even though he should because it's late. One ring then two and three, he's thinking she might have fallen asleep within that small timeframe. But with the fourth ring it has him hearing the rustling and her voice.

"Hey."

And Hotch cannot stop himself from smiling even if it has been hard day and a too long a week of searching for a group for murders and home invasions.

"Hey."

"How was your day?" Good (and happy) she sounds.

He smiles, "Better…" He doesn't doubt it's because he gets to talk to her now. "I'm sorry for missing your call. We were just finishing up at the station and I wanted to talk you when I got back to the hotel…"

A faint laugh filters through. "Hmm… it's fine…"

"Why are you up so late?" Rest she needs. "Are you having trouble sleeping again?" The immediate concern Emily notes. The aches and tugs to her heart happen at once. Always concerned about her he is.

"No… no… I'm not having trouble sleeping…" Even if he's not there her head shifts back and forth. "No… I just…" The faint warmth rises in her cheeks. "I just… wanted to wish you a happy birthday…"

That's all.

55. Change

The many things changing in the world (every second of every day) the one thing that remains unwavering and (too) constant is what he and she feel for each other.

56. Declaration

"I love you."

"I know."

57. Fourth

It's a new year (again, again and again).

He wonders (again, again and again) if this will be the year.

58. Gratitude

Every once in a while when she's laying in bed, Emily thinks about what she wants (needs) to say when they (finally) see each other again. She's making an invisible list. (There's the obvious that she misses him. There's the given that she loves him.) Her brain runs on express. Maybe a speech or perhaps a quote, she tries to figure it out. Nothing seems good enough until she realizes it.

She wants (needs) to tell him thank you.

These words are used by billions of people daily. They can be said in hundreds of languages (though English is what she will stick with). And Emily knows she has uttered those two words to him. In the field when he had her back. In the conference room when she had been reinstated. In bed when he had confessed that he had wanted (but couldn't) ask her to stay. In too many times at so many situations she can keep track of, she has told him those words.

Thank you.

This time though it is different because she remembers.

That night so many years ago when he had returned from St. Louis and he had discovered her sitting in the dark in his office. She had wanted (needed) to prove herself to him. Words about the case she had said she can hardly recall. All she remembers is her asking (begging) for that chance as his gaze had studied her. The distrust she hadn't been able to deny. The nervousness he had probably sensed. Despite it all though, he had given it to her, that chance that leads her to now.

The now that has her wondering if how they have become something. The now that has her worrying a little too much if he's okay. The now that has her missing him because too long since she has seen his face and felt his body against hers. And the now that has her questioning what would have become of him, her and them if he would have rejected her once more.

That's why Emily wants (needs) to tell him thank you.

59. Imagine

When Hotch was younger, his mother let him be a boy and pretend like all little boys do.

A blue sheet had been tied around his neck. His arms had been in position. A mask had covered his face. Around the house he had ran (flew). And when it hadn't been a blue sheet, it had been the homemade eye patch over the right eye. On the couch he had stood with his clean feet because he knew the rules. His hands had formed a telescope. To the ends of the world he had declared.

Up and down. Here and there.

He wanted to conquer the world.

60. Valentine

Emily sends him Spice of Life (black tea infused with ginger and mint).

(Images of them flash through her mind. The way their footsteps move in unison. The way their hands fit perfectly together. The way their heartbeats beat in a rhythm when he is in her.)

It arrives on the fourteenth day of February.

61. Desires

People complain about being with someone who knows their every thought and every emotion. It's too much. It's too predictable. It's too boring. She knows him well. Sometimes he believes she might even know him better that he knows himself. He's sure it sounds like such a cliché. Yet with him and her, Hotch is certain it's the truth. So he doesn't complain. He will not ever complain because it's not too much. It's not too predictable. It's not too boring. Because really, in his eyes, he sees it, feels it as stability. It's security. It's comfort. It's something after everything that he has endured he wants (needs) more than anything.

62. War

Hotch is his own worst enemy.

A fight eventually turns into a war in his head and his heart. About Jack (he wants to be a wonderful, the best father), about work (he needs to save them all) and about every move he makes (he always considers everything); there will (always) be a battle. Words are exchanged. Guns are drawn. Before he realizes it, the trigger is pulled.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Out he will come out with bruises and scars.

(He can't count them all.)

Another one he sees. There's always another one.

(He wonders what the limit is.)

63. Telepathy

They finally catch each other. After nine days, it's not a miss call she has, it's not a voicemail he leaves. Her (real) voice causes the tired (relief) smile to break out. (He has just gotten back from the station in Tulsa.) His (real) voice causes her to lie in bed a little longer than usual. (She woke up a mere seven minutes ago for work.)

And then it's silent.

Hotch is a lot exhausted (body and mind) he cannot deny.

(Searching for killer taking away the beautiful women with the ivory skin and raven hair, around the clock they had been working because it had been nine victims in six weeks. The tenth they had been looking for. And it had been bad, so bad because once Blake lined up their photographs on the board, Hotch thought of her.)

"Aaron…"

(The nightmare of her running years prior crept back out into his brain. Her photograph hanging on the board with her ivory skin and raven, she had been the missing victim they- he- needed to find. And then they had discovered the tenth victim on the park ground covered in leaves. He had recalled the sight of her body lying on the cement ground as Morgan clutched her hands.)

"Aaron…"

(He had felt the guilt and the failure because every horrified feeling and agonizing thought he wished to never feel again he had relived. He had thought of losing her once more.)

"Aaron…"

Half a minute it takes him to register the (repeated) sound of his name. Another half a minute it is before Hotch realizes that she is on the other end. She is okay. And she is waiting for his response because he's talking to her. (He's still feeling the twinges of guilt and failure.) His throat he clears.

"Yeah… I'm still here…" he whispers.

That tired (relief) smile remains intact even with the slight hoarseness of his response. His eyes gradually shut. A hand he runs across his face. All he wishes to do is sleep (that might be impossible) and hold her (that's truly impossible).

"Aaron?"

He can hear the concern. "Yeah?"

"You did everything you could…"

64. Sacrifice

Sometimes Emily wishes she can crawl into them (his head, his heart). She wants to see what he sees (in the light or in the dark). She wants to feel what he feels (about himself, about her and about the world). She wants to fight that constant battle within him (with him, for him) because she thinks (knows) about all his doubts and his regrets.

Bruises she is willing to take. Scars she is willing to accept.

It will be (is) all for him.

Because Emily's certain (with every fiber in her being and beats of her heart) that he will do the same for her.

65. Autumn

October, November and December are left.

When the leaves change colors while the winds pick up and the sky turns dark too early, Hotch turns the calendar around and wonders and hopes.

66. Crazy

Hotch doesn't (really) take risks. He doesn't do (most) things on impulse. He calculates and deducts and he gets his answer and makes his decision. But then he's drinking the tea she sends. When it's late and he's (not surprisingly) the only left, he stares at the brown liquid and reminds himself of the month, the day and the date. He doesn't forget how long it has been. He recalls where Jack is (with Jessica at Hershey Park). And he thinks and remembers that he's getting older (fifty four) and on two hands he can count the things the risks he takes (and he is surprised but not really that she's behind a lot of the things he do).

So he takes the risks. He's a lot impulsive. He makes his decision based on his head; his heart because they're telling him he misses (loves) her. He wants (needs) to see her. Three years has been too long.

There's no better time like the present.

67. Heart

Emily's not a big fan of (receiving) surprises.

It makes her relive back to over thirty years ago when she sat in the doctor's office. Fear fills her. It makes her remember the truth about joining the team. Panic sets into her. It makes her think about how she had put her family in danger all those years ago. Control is out her hands. She comes out with her shattered heart in her hands.

He's changing her opinion though because he's the biggest of one of them all.

There are the butterflies in her stomach. She wants him. There are the tugs to her heart. She needs him. What he makes her feel is multiplied by a million (or infinity). He makes her think (dream) about the possibilities. Him she sees; him she feels when her eyes fall shut. He is somewhere and everywhere. And she comes out without her heart in her hands because when Emily looks up, it's in his.

68. Airport

She's anxious. She feels her hands shaking. She's excited. She hears the pounding of her heart mix with the click and clack of the heels of her boots because she can't sit. It's impossible. So pacing she does back and forth from here to there until she stops with the sound of the sliding glass doors opening. Her head shoots up. Her breathing quickens. And her shoulders drop because it's another false alarm.

This goes on one too many times.

But then it's the sixteenth time because Emily has nothing to do but wait and keep track. It's thirty nine minutes after her arrival because she didn't want to be late. Her head shoots up (again) at the sound of those glass doors sliding open (again). She's prepared to be fooled once more.

She's not though because he (finally) steps through.

Frozen for a minute or two she stands. His gaze searches his surroundings as hers turn cloudy. But once she makes her first movement, her right foot lifting up and touching the tile flooring, it's as if he senses her. His head turns instantly. A soft yelp unmistakably escapes. She has been found. His body shifts. She feels her heart ready to pop out. His feet move towards her.

"Hey."

Hotch absorbs in her appearance (beautiful). Emily drinks up his form (dashing).

"Hey."

And into his arms she leaps.

69. Timeless

She wishes she can keep time in her pocket.

70. Reality

It takes her a minute to pull her mouth off his. (He tastes of black coffee.) It takes her another two minutes to unwrap her arms from around him. (He feels warm and strong.) And it takes her another four minutes before she asks. (He really is here.)

"How long do we have?"

(Emily doesn't bother to hide the water building in her eyes. She doesn't suppress the smile forming on face. She's not that kind of girl. She never has been. But she is right now because it's just really good to be able to see him, feel and be with him.)

And Hotch offers her a faint upward coil of his thin lips and she deems it's a mixture of sadness and happiness and exhaustion. He's leaving tomorrow. (It's barely a day and just a night she realizes.) No one knows he's here. He's here on impulse. He quite simply just wants (needs) to see her (far too long it has been). Three years he reminds her against her lips. And she knows this because she has not forgotten. But she doesn't tell him that. Instead she nods and clings onto the lapels of his jacket (and her tears) before she gives him another kiss (tender and sweet).

"Then let's make the most of it."

71. Sights

Emily brings him sightseeing like a complete tourist. She is his tour guide for the cloudy afternoon. (He pays her with the gentle presses of his mouth to hers.) Hands together (she holds on firmly) and fingers intertwine (he never parts from her) with (carefree) grins and laughs (because for the time they're anonymous and together in the streets).

Big Ben. Hyde Park. Buckingham Palace. Abbey Road. London Eye.

There are people here and there and everywhere at the famous attractions. They're like walls and there's no escape. She wonders aloud with a beam when they're weaving through the crowds how he can take it all in an afternoon because there's just too much.

And Hotch thinks it's easy (as pie).

Because despite everything new he sees and everything different he experiences, he's mostly looking at her.

72. Greed

She wants to take him out to town for dinner. He gently declines. She tells him he can choose any restaurant to his liking and it will be her treat (even if he will not allow it because he's old fashioned in this case). He shakes his head this time with the faint grin on his face as her arms slither around him. It's not because he doesn't want to try the delicious food London has to offer. He's just a little tired. It's a given from the flight, from the time difference, from the sightseeing and the hour of souvenir shopping because he buys a little something for Jack.

Emily stares at him for a moment longer thinking he will change his mind (he will not) before placing a soft peck on his warm cheek, "Okay…"

However though, what she doesn't know and what he doesn't say because she's already turning away as he listens to her suggestions (Chinese or Indian because those are her go-to's whenever necessary) for dinner and watches her retreating back (into the kitchen for the menus) is that amongst the reasons he gives her (not one of them a lie), he fails to mention (the most important) one.

He's a little (or a lot) selfish.

It's not just the flight. It's greater than the time difference. It's beyond the sightseeing and the hour of souvenir shopping.

For tonight while he has her, Hotch simply doesn't want to share her with the rest of the city.

73. Dance

Between the sounds of the city outside her windows and the ticks and tocks of the clock hanging on the cream colored walls, he holds out his hand. And she looks up at him in surprise and amusement. He's smiling and she swears under the dim lights his eyes, ever so intense, has the faintest sparks that makes her a little weak in the knees. His hand she grasps without questions. The lead he takes again. The first time six years ago Emily recalls. Their fingers (and heart) intertwine. The second time three years before Hotch doesn't forget. A touch she feels against the small of her back. She smiles knowingly. In an instant, their footsteps are light while their bodies sway in union.

This is theirs.

74. Confession

"I like (love) dancing with you."

75. Constant

In the glow of the night he and she rediscover what it means to be together. They trace and taste and memorize the contours, the curves and the ridges of their marred and scarred bodies. And when they meet (over and over again) his arms curls around her tiny waist as his name is exhaled breathlessly from her swollen lips.

They are not surprised (at all).

Nothing has changed.

76. Sky

Emily straddles him. His hands grasp her delicate hips. She grins underneath the dim illumination of the bedside lamp. His eyes lock with her. She slowly slides down. His mind slowly stops running. She grinds against him once and twice before he loses count.

He sees stars.

77. Her

She can inquire what had possessed him to come. She can question him why just talking on the phone. She can ask him why he can't stay a little longer with her across the ocean. She can ask him a lot of things, about his choices and decisions but then he's pushing into her with want (need) and she thinks she might know all the answers.

78. Sea

Hotch studies the shape of her mouth as she catches her breath. Her long raven tresses splay across the pillow. He memorizes the way her long lashes flutter. Her sheets are damp and a tangled mess at the end of her bed. He watches the sight of her ample chest rise and fall. Her legs remain hook around his torso. He remembers how wonderful it feels to be with her, in her.

He is lost.

79. You

"So what's your favorite thing about London?"

(Three hours later and it is well after midnight they're in (her) bed. Legs are tangled as Emily lays on him. Hotch thinks he can stay just like this tonight (forever). Flesh to flesh she rests chin rest on top of her clasped hands. She can't remember when her bed has felt this warm and cozy. His fingertips ghost up and down her spine underneath the thick comforter.)

Emily takes a guess to her own question with a charming and sugary laugh and says it's Abbey Road because she hasn't forgotten his love for the Beatles. But silent for moments Hotch is, simply staring at her as she awaits her answer. Pink swollen lips slightly part. The flush of her cheeks contrast her porcelain skin and onyx eyes. The warmth and stickiness of their bodies mold together.

She is beautiful. She is his.

He is the lucky one.

So he brushes the falling strands of hair away from her face and answers her (with truth and honesty) because everything about seeing her and feeling her and holding her is real and short lived (for now).

"You."

80. Parallels

Hotch still wants to conquer the world (in the good way, in his own way). But then he sees her. He feels her. He does with her what no one can ever do with her. And he realizes. He's certain without a single doubt.

Every little thing in this world, it's all her.

81. Quiet

She keeps it a secret that one of her greatest comfort is just listening to him breathe.

82. Natural

Emily boils water in the kettle and debates on breakfast for him (she wants to surprise him). Asleep and tired he is while she's up and tired when it's thirteen minutes after seven. She blames the light raindrops against the window for waking her even in reality she knows raindrops are not the cause. (It's him and them and everything in her head and heart because he's leaving soon.) So cooking (even if a little) she knows how to do. Eggs and toast and some fresh raspberries and honeydew she decides on because she doesn't have much in her refrigerator. Tea leaves she spoons into two mugs. She doesn't have any coffee and hopes he's okay with it because she knows he enjoys the black liquid without the sugar and cream in the mornings.

It takes nearly twenty minutes (when she's cracking the eggs) before there are quiet footsteps behind her. Hotch doesn't hesitate and she isn't shocked when he kisses her and whispers to her good morning. (The tea he spots and she learns tea is fine; anything is fine really when he realizes she's making breakfast.) And she isn't shocked (again) when he refuses to return to bed or to sit and relax. She informs him he's the guest and she's the hostess. She smiles and calls him stubborn. His head he shakes as Emily (reluctantly) hands him the fork to scramble the eggs.

For seventeen minutes then as the city slowly wakes up to the rain that falls a little more and Sergio wanders around their bare feet, side by side they stand in her kitchen making breakfast.

Something and everything is nice and peaceful and normal but all Emily wants to do is cry.

83. Silent

He (still) will not ask her even if the question hangs between them. (Another year he doesn't want.)

He (still) will not make her. (But it will be though, just for a little while longer.)

He just (always) wants her to be happy. (Until then though, Hotch will savor her and this of enjoying breakfast as if he's not leaving in nine hours.)

84. Confusion

In his arms she feels safe. In his arms Emily thinks (knows) she can call home.

(It's supposed to be London though.)

85. Mirror

She steps out of the shower. Water droplets drip from her body and reacts to the immediate chill. Her appearance she catches in the mirror. Emily does this too often even though she knows she shouldn't because it's not healthy for her mind. She can't delve on the past she cannot ever fix, will not ever change. But she stares (in disgust and in shame) what her naked body looks like until he's next to her (she almost forgets his presence in her bathroom, in her home). Naked he is too. Dripping wet as well, Hotch is looking at what she's looking.

Eleven (visible) reminders will stay on them (forever).

"We make quite a pair, don't we?"

Her hand he finds. Their eyes connect through the mirror. A soft coil of his mouth he gives.

"One of a kind."

86. Company

Underneath the ugliness and flawed flesh there are the tiniest fragments of beauty because it lets her feel and him know that they're never truly alone.

87. Undeniable

His mouth trails along the damp skin of her chest. He drops the kisses and nips every few seconds. Emily chuckles lowly. The fire is starting in her again.

"You still want me, huh?"

Hotch knows she's joking, pulling his leg because her pink mouth is in that beautiful and tantalizing beam that is permanent in his mind. But still, her heart is palpitating underneath her chest and the sparkle from her eyes he doesn't miss at all. She thinks (knows) he does and he thinks (knows) she does. Yet it will not stop him because he likes (loves) hearing it too. In a swift motion he shifts up. Their eyes connect. He leans in with his gaze burning into her. His mouth is a mere centimeter from hers. His breath tickles her skin (and heart).

"Always."

88. Countdown

Eight hours.

He finally gets a tour of her place.

Six hours.

Last night repeats once and twice.

Four hours.

He just wants to hold her.

Two hours.

Just one more time she begs and screams.

Time's up.

It's too soon.

89. Surrender

Emily drives him to the airport.

(Not a word is spoken throughout the ride. Even after she parks the car, even after he takes her hand in his like the most natural thing in the world and even after they walk through the airport doors and thousands of people bustle around on the late afternoon as they look for which way to go. They don't speak and either of them are really surprise.)

For a while then it's a game (just like their first time parting at the airport years ago) of looking and wandering to anywhere and everywhere possible because she (and he) doesn't want to let go (yet). But they do, they have to (for now) because all the looking and wandering ticks time away. There's thirty seven minutes until his flight boards. Clearance he still must go through and the lines are long (as always).

So it's her turn this time to tell him, "Be careful, okay?"

And it's his turn to reply, "You, too…"

The kiss is short but passionate (always) until she turns her mouth away because he's holding her closer (and tighter) and breathing is becoming difficult. He doesn't want to let got (just yet). But the pain in her heart is intensifying. So she puts in her best efforts to blink away the tears and compartmentalizes and put everything she is feeling and fighting into boxes. Eventually (reluctantly) a nod Hotch offers. A wave she gives. Into the sea of travelers he is lost in.

Emily doesn't (can't) bother to watch his flight disappear from the screen.

She just surrenders and cries in her car instead.

90. Trapped

When he's sitting on the plane and attempts (and fails) to sleep a bit because it will be a long day, Hotch thinks he might just smell of her. It's her and her soap of blossoms and magnolias because a shower they shared (again) before his bag had been packed and out the door (hand in hand) they had left. A deep inhale he takes. The soft smile (unconsciously) forms on his face. That sweet scent of hers surrounds him. A slow exhale he releases. His chest tightens and aches.

She's inescapable.

91. Observations

He arrives home when the sun begins to appear from the horizon. His go bag he repacks, his clothes he changes but a shower he forgoes (just a little longer he wants her dancing along his skin). His son he surprises (with his appearance and his gifts) before he drops him off at school. Once he makes it to the office, they have a case in Evansville. Wheels are up in thirty. An additional four hours in the air he will be. And when their reviewing the victimology on the jet, Hotch knows he smells of her and her soap of blossoms and magnolias because Reid comments on it.

He smells different. He even looks different.

Three more pair of (curious) eyes turns to him.

A glare he fails to give. Annoyance he doesn't show. Embarrassment he doesn't feel.

He just tells them to focus and misses her just a bit more.

92. Escape

That night (and the dozens of nights afterwards), when Emily climbs into her bed it feel a little emptier and a lot colder. She's up and out and makes her way into the kitchen. She recalls them making breakfast. Into the living room she walks. She thinks she makes out their figures dancing. She washes her face in the bathroom. She sees his reflection behind her.

Her bed she returns to. Up at the ceiling she stares. Her sheets smell of him.

He's everywhere.

93. Pain

The phone rings.

It's not the apprehension he feels anymore.

His voice she hears.

It's not the awkwardness she feels anymore.

Her words he absorbs.

The ache (in his heart, in her body) seems to be far worse.

94. Decisions

It is clear what her choices are and what her choice will be.

A lot of people will be upset. But she (and he) will be happy.

95. Amazement

Sometimes the worse thing (and the last thing) Hotch wants to do after a (bad) case is to go home. He knows he sounds absurd (maybe sad, a little alone and a lot lonely). But for him it's the truth because it feels too quiet and too dark (even with the lights on). So he goes to work.

He rather be alone in his office than be alone at home.

It is no different tonight (or this morning because it's one now) as he rides the elevator up to the sixth floor. Five days of searching for the missing little boy in Denver, his mind and body are exhausted. The ding of the elevator sounds. Out he steps and the glass doors of the dimly lit bullpen he pushes. To the break room he goes to. His mug he tugs from the shelf. Water he boils. The cupboard he opens. Despite what he feels, the curl of his lips occurs. Garcia takes care of the teas here like he does at home, lined and neat with their colors clear and visible. The labels he reads and the silver caddy he lifts and then he's scooping a bit of Three Wishes (the blend of green tea and jasmine blossoms laced with guava and mint).

(Asleep she surely is and six days since they've truly spoken. He will call her later when he knows she is up. He wishes and needs to hear voice instead of the machine.)

The water boils and he fills his mug almost to the rim because he will be staying here for a bit. The familiar path to his office he takes. Up the stairs he goes. After a slight push to his door he steps in. The mug he places down. His suitcase he drops. Then it registers. The dim shine that is behind him.

He never leaves the lights on.

Hotch freezes for a moment. His spine straightens. He bites the inside of his bottom lip. Gradually his feet move. He wants to reach for his glock. He turns. The dozen of questions on the tip of his tongue disappear. (He will question later.) The surprise he fails to mask. And the love he feels for her, has for her seems to have sky rocketed to the moon and beyond.

She is here.

96. Always

This (familiar) sight of her sitting there doesn't take more than fifteen seconds before he is brought back to over a decade ago. Returning from St. Louis, finding her sitting and waiting and begging for the chance he in the end gave her because it wasn't a whirl. And as that moment and everything between them filters through his spinning mind, Hotch thinks (knows) something and everything happens for a reason. It has gotten to this very moment.

The soft grin plays across his face. His eyes lock with hers.

"Please tell me you haven't been there for the last four days."

And Emily can't help it but laugh a little and feel the flutters of her heart because she recalls it so clearly. (She cannot ever forget.) Yet that's all she can do, laugh. Her words are lost. She's forgotten how to speak. The image of him turns cloudy. He will ask just like how she had too at the airport. The lump in her throat suddenly forms as he and she remain motionless in their places. Tick, tick, tick, the silence is deafening and agonizing.

"How long can you stay?"

There it is. Hotch hears the cracks and the shakiness in his question because he cannot stop that hurt surfacing in him. It hurts not having her here because he misses her. He's clutching his hands at his side. Yet having her here (now) hurts too because that only means they will separate once more.

But she smiles and Hotch thinks it's of happiness and excitement and fear.

"For as long as you want me…"

Her voice is trembling. He finally notices the glisten in her gaze. Her heart beats wildly. His heart lodges in his throat. She knows this answer. His mouth turns dry. It will never change. He bears the twists in his chest. But he will say it just for her.

"That would be always."

There is the finality in his response. It is the truth, his truth. And she is certain.

She is his. He is hers.

"Then… always."

97. Forever

Time passes. He and she have become a bit different. But it doesn't change. It never will change.

98. Indestructible

Hotch doesn't remember when she moved because in front of him she stands. In her shoes, she's almost at eye level with him. Her arms slither around him. There are the smooth and comforting circles at the small of his back. Her presence she wants (needs) him to feel because she knows him and he's doesn't want her to have any regrets. He wants her to be happy. His hands rise. Her face he cups. A press and two her mouth puckers into his palm.

"You will be walking away from a lot…" That is a fact.

Emily nods. She knows this. His heart she feels. But she also knows something else. It thumps louder and louder and she thinks (knows) the rhythm. And what she knows (and it's the most important) is that she's walking into something else. She's starting something new.

And it will be with him.

"The job makes you happy."

It does. It did because she knows at the end of the day, it's just that. A job that can be replaced because she knows she has the skills to be a leader. She has knowledge to do what she wants. She has the recommendations longer than his and her phone bill combined. She will find something better.

Emily shakes her head in his hold. She wonders if he feels her heart too, pounding and ready to explode (for him).

"But you… you make me happier…" And that is a bigger (undeniable) fact.

Her life in London she has lived. Gently she seizes his mouth in hers. He tastes of the past (it's inescapable), the present (their turning point) and the future (it's bright and inevitable). But she doesn't and can't see herself there anymore. Here she sees herself. She wants him. She needs him. Slowly she pulls away from him. Her forehead rests against his. Her eyes open. He breathes in deep, blossoms and magnolias attacking his senses. She's smiling and so is he because he doesn't want to wake up. The glisten that has been building in her vision quietly trickle down. His thumb tenderly swipes them away as her hands travel up gripping his.

"Yeah?"

There's still a lot of sorting to do they will have to do.

"Yeah."

There are going to be (many) changes he and she are sure of.

"So take me home."

But it will have to wait. They will all have to wait because for now her wish is his command and hand in hand he takes her home.

99. Divine

At night when they're in his bed and Emily's sure Hotch's sound asleep, she stays awake. Just to watch him, memorize him and to enjoy and relish that beautiful sound of hearing him breathe. She deems it more beautiful than hearing it over the phone. The memories (of him and them) flood her head without abandonment for another time. She remembers when she had shown up asking for a place to put her things. A rocky start it had been with loyalties put to the test and ultimately proven for the simplest reason that she was a pawn in a game when all she just wanted to belong. Then New York, Colorado, Foyet, Doyle and London, the list is too long. A line they had treaded and crossed once and twice that they finally jump over because his arms curl around her strongly while their naked legs weave into a pattern. They are good. Nearer she leans into him. Her hand touches his warm flesh above his heart. They are alive. After so many scars, too many obstacles and all that denial and those struggles; this is real.

"Thank you."

And they slip out before she realizes. But she doesn't regret it. (A mental note she writes to herself because she wants to tell him when he's awake too. It will be louder and she will look into his eyes when she does.) Closer she moves against him. (Safe and protected she will always be.) Her eyelids slowly drop. (It is right.) Her head she buries underneath his chin. But just as sleep begins overtaking her body, his embrace intensifies. His lips graze her forehead. His heartbeat increases. And Emily thinks he might have heard her all along because she hears it too.

"Thank you."

Clear like crystals.

She belongs here.

100. Begin

After all these years Emily stops wondering about and stops wanting the old her. She knows it's a life she doesn't want back anymore. She doesn't need to cling on the old her anymore because she's getting this. What he and she have been through, what they have been through together leads to this. She's living this. Her head she turns. She's more than good. Her gaze shifts. She's better than happy. Under the sun his face she looks up at. His smile is intense and dashing and for (only) her. She's simply excited.

She has him.

Everything will to be okay. It will be above okay. It will be beautiful and exceptional. Hotch will make certain of this because out of everyone in this world and the many connections, he sees (only) her. He feels (only) her. Ten years (too many) it has taken them. Ten years times infinity he sees them together. Her hand he takes. A smile (brilliant and stunning) she returns his way. Palms connect. She holds on tight. Fingers intertwine. He's not letting go.

Out into the new world they walk.

It's only the beginning.