Missing

I.

"I missed you."

She throws it to him unexpectedly, but his reflexes are sharp and he snatches her declaration from the air surrounding them before it has the chance to disappear, and for a moment he is stunned into nothingness, just him, and her, and those words that he can't even be sure she had said, but then he looks at her and he sees the trail they left in the air around her as she tossed them to him, and he knows that they did. She, too, seems surprised by them, but he can't be sure if she's surprised that they had tumbled from her so unexpectedly in the darkened elevator in the wee hours of a Thursday morning or surprised that they had dared to exist at all. A moment later, a teasing smile has replaced the uncertainty that had settled so briefly on her face, and she adds "I was stuck refereeing for Morgan and Reid the whole time you were gone, and you know how they can get. Really, sir, if you're going to make a habit of this, we're going to need to renegotiate my hazard pay."

It's half a joke, and half something else, and the look he sends her tells her that he has stripped her joke down to its bare bones and seen it for what it really was, and in that moment, she knows that he knows.

And his eyes are soft, so soft she loses herself in them, and for a split second she can't remember a time before right now, here, in this dingy elevator with a burned out lightbulb and a coffee stain on the industrial carpet, but then he turns away and she sees the clench of his jaw and the look he sends her when he meets her eyes again means that they both aren't ready to talk about it.

She nods to herself, bids him goodnight, and leaves him in the elevator.

He hangs his head as she brushes past him, knowing that she had just given him a chance and he had turned her away, but knowing too that taking that chance was not an option for them now.

Still, he holds the elevator where it is until he sees her drive away.

II.

"I missed you."

The familiar words fall clumsy and bloody from her split-up, bit-up lips, and she speaks them so quietly, as though they are a secret meant to be kept from even the universe itself, a secret like the bruises that are blossoming like flowers, writing the story of the past few days on the alabaster of her skin.

He leans close, then, and she can smell his aftershave even though she knows, as surely as she knows her own name, that he has not left his self-appointed sentry post since this whole ordeal had begun, God, was it only Wednesday?

Atlas himself couldn't bear the weight that is currently settled on Aaron Hotchner's shoulders.

And she wants to reach out to him, wants to brush those three days' worth of dirt from his rumpled and wrinkled dress shirt, his suit jacket long ago forgotten, wants to soothe the wrinkles from his forehead and calm the storm raging in his eyes.

Their gazes lock and the intensity in his robs her of her breath and he's going to say something, really he is, but then Morgan comes bursting in through the door and he is immediately reminded of where they are (nowhere good) and he loses himself once more to the sea of self-blame that has been his home since she was taken from them.

She reaches out to him then, drawing him closer to her, closer, closer, until not even air can move between them, and her good Catholic mother would have a lot to say about that (but she's not here right now), and he smells so good, and she wants to thank him for his impeccable timing, for his perfect aim, for keeping her heart drumming for one more day, but she sinks unconscious before she can, and suddenly his arms are heavy with the weight of her, and he is both overjoyed and not, because finally, finally, he has her, but she is still not safe, and so he pushes away the weight of the words he still has not said and screams instead for a medic.

III.

"I missed you."

It comes out in a wet gasp, coughed up like the water flooding her lungs because panic is the venomous snake that has bitten her, and she can feel the poison in her veins, can feel the cold terror spreading throughout her body, infecting her muscles, her skin and bones, and she is falling into that dark abyss, its mouth wide open and ready to swallow her whole, but then he places his hands on her, clasping her wrists, pulling her to the side until she is facing him, and suddenly all of the panic drains out of her and a weak smile crosses her face.

And he's there, and he's telling her to breathe and reminding himself that he needs to do the same, and both of them are dripping seawater onto the dock, and they'll need to get up soon, get up and into some dry clothes and go back to work because there is still a killer to catch, but for now they're breathing, and slowly her shoulders stop shaking like electric wires in a thunderstorm, and his pulse returns to a rate that is compatible with sustained life, and she allows herself one quick embrace, pulling him to her and nestling into his chest, selfishly stealing what little warmth he has to offer, but he can't bring himself to push her away.

Absently, she wonders if he feels her tired, thankful smile on his neck.

Absently, he wonders if she knows that the three words he can't say are what's making his arms tremble as they are wrapped around her.

IV.

"I missed you."

A breathless laugh escapes her, turning into a breathy moan as he tattoos his whispered words into the hollow of her throat, his teeth and tongue alternately nipping and soothing her skin, and she is going to have to wear a turtleneck to work tomorrow to hide the marks he is leaving, but still she doesn't tell him to stop.

"I was only gone for two days."

He pauses in his actions, raising his head until his eyes lock onto hers, the intensity trapped in his dark pools enough to steal her breath away, if she hadn't already lost it all.

"I missed you anyway."

His head dips back down, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her neck before continuing his journey southward, meticulously mapping every inch of her skin and committing it to memory, and by now she doesn't need to hear the words to know his heart's truth, she can feel the honesty in his fingertips as they trace patterns on her stomach.

Her breath catches in her throat and her mind blanks as, finally, he reaches his destination. The cocky grin that stretches across his face takes ten years off of him, and she reaches for him then, her need to touch him nearly palpable in the darkened room, so he meets her halfway and takes her hand in his own, pressing a kiss to her wrist before letting her arm fall back onto the mattress.

He runs his fingernails down her sides and she shivers, and his voice is raspy and raw with lust and something else, and over and again he's telling her, "I missed you", as though he's afraid she'll disappear if he doesn't say the words enough times, and she would've laughed at the thought but her brain is currently otherwise occupied, and suddenly her muscles are rigid and then she is melting into the sheets and his embrace. He moves until her bare body is covered by his own, and he captures her stare once more, leaning down to kiss her swollen lips. A soft smile settles on her face, and he matches it with one of his own as her hand traces the planes of his jaw, and finally, finally, he can free those three words from where they'd been trapped inside of him, he can, so he does, and for a split-second of silence he is worried, but then she is tugging him even closer to her and she returns his whisper into the night.

"I love you, too."