"We do not live an equal life, but one of contrasts and patchwork; now a little joy, then a sorrow, now a sin, then a generous or brave action"

Ralph Waldo Emerson

There were moments that Lisa O'Reilly Hotchner had to stop and remind herself that this truly was her life. In the space of four months, she'd gone from being painfully single to being married with a built in part-time family.

After their surprise Vegas wedding, Hotch had simply moved into her condo. He wasn't thrilled with the apartment he'd moved into after he and Hayley put the house on the market and leaving it for Lisa's comfortable home was no hardship. They'd turned her spare bedroom, which she'd used as an office/extra storage space into a room for Jack and quietly began to hunt for a larger place to live.

Thanks to the very talented Realtor that Derek Morgan referred, they quickly found a house they both liked in Annandale. It was closer to Arlington and therefore, closer to Jack. Within the space of a week, they'd put in a bid on the house, had the bid accepted, and settlement was scheduled for the first week of October.

It all happened so fast, but she wasn't complaining. Hell, things hadn't stopped moving long enough to have time to complain. And now, wasn't any different. She was packing to spend a week in Manhattan, giving a series of lectures with parents from the NCMEC over the course of the week. It had been planned since January, but she'd nearly forgotten about it with everything that had gone on in the past couple of months.

She spent most of the weekend, going over lecture notes, preparing her power point presentations, and deciding what to wear. As she went through her closet, choosing her clothing, Hotch walked into the room.

"I wondered where you'd gotten off to," she said, looking over her shoulder, to find him sitting on the bed.

"Checking my email," he explained, untying his sneakers and slipping them off. "What time is your flight tomorrow?"

"8:30," she said, slipping a suit into her garment bag.

"Want a ride to the airport?" he offered.

There was something in the tone of his voice that caused her to turn around. She smiled at him, then walked over and sat on his lap, slipping her arms around his neck.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," he smiled at her, tucking a lock dark red hair behind her ear. "What makes you think something's wrong?"

"This is the first time you've offered to drive me to the airport," she said.

"This is the first time my wife is going away," he countered, with a smile.

She grinned, "That still sounds so strange sometimes, doesn't it, the whole husband and wife thing?"

He laughed, "When I stop to think about it, yes, it does. But I'm starting to get used to it."

"I am, too," she agreed, kissing him. "And, I thank you for offering to take me to the airport, but, if you do, you'll be late to work and have to fight traffic. You'll be all grumpy when you get into work and I'm not going to inflict that on your team."

"I'm going to be all grumpy while you're gone anyway," he returned, nuzzling her neck.

"I'll be home Friday night," she said, leaning her head to the side to give him better access.

"And maybe I'll let you out of the house by Monday," he said, his voice muffled by her neck.

In human life there is constant change of fortune; and it is unreasonable to expect an exemption from the common fate. Life itself decays, and all things are daily changing.Plutarch
46-120 AD, Greek Essayist, Biographer

She'd often heard it said that things change in the blink of an eye. Life was funny that way. Just when you thought everything was the way it should be, something came along and pulled the rug out from under you. Tonight was one of those nights.

That day's lecture at NYU was over early, so she stopped by the Federal Building to see some friends from her Academy days and hopefully catch up with the group from the BAU. Most of them had already left and as she sat talking to some friends she hadn't seen in years, Hotch called to tell her he was taking Kate Joyner home and that he'd meet her at the hotel.

Shortly after he called, they heard the explosion. Despite the fact that most of the building's occupants were trained Federal Agents, chaos ruled. She jumped in to help during the evacuation.

Once the details of the explosion started to come to light, the night's events became real to her, too real. As the night went on, Lisa felt the stares of her fellow agents. She wasn't sure if they were looking at her out of concern for her husband or if they were waiting to see her crumble under the stress and worry. She refused to show them anything and plastered on her game face.

She'd spent the night working at the Critical Incident Command Center that had been set up on Hudson Street. Monitoring the action, keeping track of the members of the BAU, worrying about Hotch, and all the while, maintaining that same cool, calm, professional façade.

Until her cell phone rang, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin. She didn't recognize the local number but answered it anyway. It was a unit clerk from St. Barclay's Hospital. The clerk, who's name Lisa promptly forgot was calling her as she was listed at Aaron Hotchner's next of kin.

Forcing down the nausea that was threatening to erupt, Lisa asked the nurse if he was okay. The clerk then informed her that he had left without being properly discharged and they did not get his insurance information. After giving the nurse a few choice words and telling her to bill it to the freaking terrorists, she hung up and quickly regrouped back into professional mode.

Feeling many curious stares, she looked right back at them, as if daring them to say anything. Most of them quickly averted their eyes, a couple nodded their encouragement, and JJ squeezed her hand and gave her a look of reassurance.

When it was over, she left the command center, catching a cab to St. Barclay's hospital, where Hotch and Kate Joyner had been taken. The last intel she'd heard had Kate in surgery. She knew that Hotch wouldn't leave the hospital until he knew she'd be okay. Having the cab drop her off at the emergency entrance , she walked through the nearly empty ER and approached the desk.

An older woman in a pair of mint green scrubs looked up at her and with a weary smile said, "Can I help you?"

Showing her badge, Lisa said, "I'm Supervisory Special Agent Lisa Hotchner. Two of my colleagues were brought in here tonight. I'm hoping to see them."

"Sure thing, Agent Hotchner," the woman replied, looking at the computer screen, "What are their names?"

"Kate Joyner and Aaron Hotchner," she said, watching as the woman's brows raised at the second name. This much she had gotten used to since their marriage. "He's my husband," Lisa clarified.

The woman nodded, "Agent Hotchner signed himself out," she said, then, "And I'm sorry, but Agent Joyner didn't make it."

Lisa closed her eyes for a moment, saying a silent prayer for Kate's soul. She opened her eyes and looked at the woman, "Thank you."

"Can you describe Agent Hotchner?" the woman asked, raising Lisa's curiosity.

"Yes," she began, "6'2", short dark hair…"

"He's still here." She nodded down the hallway. "Try Trauma Room 2."

"Thank you," Lisa said, walking down the hallway. She stopped at the closed door and looked through the window. The woman at the desk was right. He was there. She studied him, knowing he wasn't aware of her presence as he said his silent good byes to Kate. She wasn't sure if it was the scratches and cuts on his face or the sad look of defeat in his eyes, but she found it hard not to run into the room.

Instead, she stepped back, allowing him privacy, leaning against the wall waiting for him to come out.

XXXXX

As Aaron Hotchner looked at the still form of Kate Joyner, it struck him odd that her eyes were open. Didn't they shut the eyes of people who'd died? He'd always thought they did, but instead, they'd simply pulled the paper sheet up over her face. He did the same, noticing, as he did, that her hand had fallen out from under the sheet. Without thinking, he took her hand. Finding it cold surprised him on some level and he quickly tucked it back under the sheet.

He closed his eyes, willing himself not to give into the emotions that were bubbling beneath his normally sedate surface. His head was throbbing, the pressure in his ears was increasing and he wanted nothing more than to return to the hotel and fall asleep in Lisa's arms.

He knew she must be freaking out by this point. She'd told him she'd be at the Federal Building for a bit tonight and he assumed that was where she was when everything happened. He'd called her on his way out to tell her he was going to take Kate home and then he would meet her at the hotel. It seemed like years ago that they'd had that conversation. Looking at this watch, he realized that only four hours had elapsed since then.

He turned and walked to the door, feeling a sting in his leg where they removed shrapnel. That would be sore in the morning, he decided, remembering the pain killers they'd given him when he returned to the ER. They were in his pocket, but he wouldn't take them.

He pulled the door open and walked into the hallway to find Lisa, leaning against the wall, a smile on her face. She didn't say a word, just held her arms open. He took the width of the hallway in two long strides pulling her to him, feeling her arms wrapping around him, holding him tight.

She pulled back, studying his face for a long moment, before she leaned forward and kissed him softly. He responded to her kiss, deepening it, prolonging it, then pulled back.

"Hotch, I…" she began, but he shook his head. He didn't want words right now. He didn't want to talk, didn't want to listen, he just wanted to be as far away from St Barclay's as possible.

"Later," he said. "I just want to get out of here."

XXXXX

They returned to the hotel in silence. After getting undressed and slipping into bed. Lisa switched off the light and they lay, side by side, in the darkness.

She wanted to say so much, but no words would come. She wanted to roll over and hold him, but she wasn't sure how badly he'd been hurt. She wasn't sure about anything, until he reached over and took her hand in his.

She took this as her queue and quietly spoke. "I'm sorry," she began. "About Kate."

He was silent, so she kept speaking.

"Your injuries…"

"Acoustic trauma to my right ear," he reported.

"And the limp?"

"They pulled some metal out of my leg," he continued, his voice a monotone.

She opened her mouth to say something but her breath caught in her throat. Tears fell from her eyes and she tried to blink them back, not wanting to cry, not wanting to upset him further.

"Lisa," he quietly said, pulling her close to him, "Don't cry…"

She couldn't stop the freely flowing tears, "I…"

"Sh…" he soothed, stroking her hair. "I'm okay…"

She shook her head, "You're not…you're hurt, your upset, you lost a friend…you're about as far from okay as you can be."

Taking her face in his hands he studied it in the dim light coming from the window. "I'm okay now." He gave her a smile. "I'm with you."

This made her cry harder and she cursed herself for her response. "Damn it, Aaron Hotchner!" she spat, beating her fist onto his chest. "You were almost fucking killed tonight. I've just gotten used to being married to you and I am not going to be your widow. There is no way that's going to happen. Do you understand that?"

"I understand," he quietly said.

"I can't even fathom what you went through tonight," she allowed, "But I know you, you probably went through it all with that perfect calm of yours."

He laughed, although it sounded more like a snort, then said, "And inside? I was shitting a brick."

Lisa smiled, "I know."

Closing his eyes, he leaned his forehead against hers, "It was surreal. One minute we were walking to the car, the next minute I was clear across the street. It took me a few seconds to figure out what happened and then I saw Kate."

"Was she conscious?"

"She couldn't feel her legs, an artery had been severed," he drew a deep, ragged breath. "I knew, Lisa."

'You knew what?" she gently prompted.

"I knew she wouldn't make it," he admitted, "But I couldn't let her see it. She knew…she told me, but I kept telling her she was going to be okay."

"You did your best."

"And then I fell for the terrorist's ruse and drove that fucking ambulance right into the hospital," he spat, laying back on the pillows. "I was so anxious to get out of there…"

She knew he was tired and in pain, but she was not going to allow him to take on the responsibility for the entire event. Sitting up, she leaned over him.

"Do not do this," she quietly said, causing him to open his eyes and look at her. "This is not your fault. None of it is. Do you understand that you could be the one laying in the morgue? Do you understand that another 15 seconds either way and you would have been?"

"But I wasn't," he returned, anger welling in his voice. "I wasn't. And I focused so much on getting Kate out of there that I didn't notice the terrorists all around me…"

"And how would you?" she said, her own ire rising. "Did they wear t shirts that said "Kiss me, I'm a terrorist?" No they didn't. Did they look like militant religious fanatics? No, they didn't do that either. They looked like normal, ordinary people."

"Who shouldn't have been there," was his final shot.

"You shouldn't have been there," she concluded, laying back down. "If you want to lie here and blame yourself, you go right ahead. I'm sorry that this happened to you, Aaron. I'm sorry that you lost a friend. But God damnit, I don't want to hear you claim responsibility for this."

XXXXX

She was right, of course. He knew it. It was his way to internalize and take it all on. He couldn't have known about the bomb, he couldn't have known about the EMT. But Sam? That one, he should have known.

Despite the growing pain in his ear and the dull ringing that threatened his very sanity, he turned towards her, pulling her close. Her body resisted at first, anger still coursing through her.

"Lisa," he quietly said, testing the waters. He didn't need to lay next to her in anger, he need to lay with her. He needed to touch her, hold her, feel her, anything to remind himself that he was okay.

He felt her body relax against him, the soft shaking of her shoulders telling him the tears had started again. He took her face in his hands and kissed her softly. "Don't cry…please."

"I'm trying to stop," she softly said, "God, you know this isn't me."

"Isn't it? Do you live through this everyday?" he tried.

"Not anymore than you do," was her reply.

The ringing in his ears grew louder, but he wasn't about to give into it. Not yet anyway.

"You're in pain," she said. "You need to take…"

"No," he flatly said.

"Just one, just to sleep," she tried.

"I don't need drugs," he said, kissing her, "I just need you."

"But…" she began.

He silenced her with a kiss, followed by another, and another, until she gave up the protest and wrapped herself around him. Despite the soreness in his muscles and the pain in his head, he made love to her fiercely, forcing all thoughts of tonight from his mind, if only for a few moments. He took comfort in the familiarity of her body. The sound of her soft moans and whispered words reminded him that this was what was real, this was his constant and that everything that happened was an anomaly, and soon to become a bad memory.

They reached their climax almost simultaneously remaining joined while their bodies calmed. When he was able to move again, he slowly and painfully rolled onto his back, pulling her with him, so that her head rested on his chest.

Kissing the top of her head he softly said, "I love you."

"I love you, too," she replied, draping her arm across him. "Try to get some sleep, okay?"

'I will," he lied, knowing that sleep would not come tonight.