Author's Note: I'm back! My muse returned over a week ago but I've just been writing and everything I've been writing has been really lengthy so I this is the first thing I've actually finished up.

So this is the very, very end of Girl. It makes me sad. I mean yes, the Girl'verse goes on and on in so many incarnations, but this is the main story, this is the nucleus, the proteins that make all the rest possible. And this is it. Special thanks to The Best Beta Ever (she has a sash) Miss Arcadya for reviewing this for me. I needed her thumbs up as to whether this would be a "worthy" conclusion. And per her suggestion, I'm putting in two definitions here in the A/N:

"I.C.E." = In Case of Emergency

Chemise = it's like a sleeveless slinky nightgown. And the one Emily mentions does exist and you can get it in like 6 different prints.

I borrowed the title of this chapter from the season finale of Bones. Though I didn't much care for what they did in the ep, it was a really good summary for the concluding chapter here.

If you read the Hours, the basic outline for the latter portion of this chapter is a cannibalized revamp of the OPENING chapter of the other story. The only place to end it was to start at the beginning. That's why I liked the title so much, it works both ways, not only for their relationship continuing on, but also for the way the two stories came full circle.

As to this though, there's also lots of new stuff in here, and I didn't end up writing them Christmas tree decorating, but we are opening with them on Saturday night just as Hotch is putting Jack to bed.

UPDATED NOTE 6/15: THEY FIRED AJ COOK AND THEY'RE REDUCING PAGET'S ROLE. HERE'S THE PETITION TO KEEP THEM. PLEASE PASS THE WORD!

http:/ www . petitiononline. com/ cmwomen/

Mid December: Saturday/Sunday

The Beginning in the End

Emily settled back in the corner of the sofa with her whiskey and Coke. Though it seemed a bit of a travesty to mix good whiskey with a caramelized soft drink, she definitely needed the alcohol right now. Hotch was putting Jack to bed, and just after he'd brought him upstairs for story time (Emily tried to give them a little alone time occasionally) she'd started getting a stabbing pain in her temple.

It was one of the worst headaches she'd had so far. Not the "worst pain she could ever imagine having in her life," which she knew meant that she was having a stroke or an aneurysm, it definitely wasn't THAT bad. But as far as these headaches she'd been having this month, it was definitely taking the top honors.

Given the increase in dizzy spells this week . . . another one this morning . . . the intensity of the headache had really scared the hell out of her. But she figured . . . as with the rest of her symptoms . . . that it was simply a transitory condition and would pass soon enough. So she'd washed down three Tylenol with the whiskey and Coke in the hopes of dulling her senses more quickly.

Yes, the bottle of pills did specifically say NOT to do that, but she didn't really give a shit. Really, all she wanted was to not be biting her lip and wincing in pain when Hotch came back downstairs. If he knew that she was having another bad headache that would not only ruin their night, but also put his radar up.

And she was doing everything in her power to keep him from getting suspicious that anything was wrong.

Last night she'd gone upstairs to take a hot bath . . . she'd been sore from her fall . . . and Hotch had walked into the bathroom when she was undressing. For them that was now totally normal behavior. Even though they hadn't actually had intercourse yet, they certainly had been quite intimate, so she didn't even blink an eye at him seeing her nude body for the fifth or sixth time that week.

But of course she hadn't seen herself in the mirror yet, she hadn't seen the bruises from her fall.

If she had she . . . well, she wasn't sure what she would have done. It's not like she would have been able to hide the marks from Hotch for more than a few hours. As soon as they went to bed he would have noticed them.

Still though, she wished she'd seen them first, that she'd been able to tell him herself that they were pretty bad.

Because when he'd walked in she was just unhooking her bra and he'd actually stopped mid-sentence as he stared at her. For a second she'd thought it was just her breasts that had distracted him . . . though he'd spent hours that week exploring different parts of her body, they did seem to be his favorite new toy . . . but then he'd walked up to her, his fingers not moving to her chest as expected, but instead to gently brush over her arms before he stooped down and did the same to her bare legs.

The bruising was restricted just to her limbs . . . again Reid had broken her fall . . . but still, the marks were terrible. Big and ugly and purple, which is of course to be expected when you slam human flesh into concrete.

And as he'd stared at those marks he'd murmured as much to himself as to her, "oh sweetheart, what did you do?"

Seeing how worried he was, it had taken everything in her not to just blurt it all out to him then. But she'd held her tongue and she'd let him fuss and fix her bath and rub her sore muscles because that's what he needed to do. And since then he'd been hovering over her, waiting on her hand and foot. It was so sweet.

But it was also breaking her heart.

Because this was how he was reacting to her getting a couple of black and blues. And that just kept making her picture his reaction to her telling him why she'd fallen onto the tarmac. Between that fall, and this horrible headache she had tonight, she was finally starting to accept that it was extremely unlikely that this was all just going to go away with a little course of antibiotics.

Something was very wrong.

So one way or another . . . her eyes started to burn . . . she was going to have to have a serious conversation with him when she got back from the doctor on Monday.

And he was going to be so upset.

God . . . she took another sip of her drink as her eyes continued to water . . . maybe she should just tell him now. Get it over with.

For a second it seemed like a really good idea, but then she remembered again the reason that she had decided to wait . . . tomorrow was their date. And if she told him tonight that was going to totally screw up their special day.

A tear ran down her cheek . . . she just didn't know what to do.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/

On his way back downstairs, Hotch stopped at the landing for a moment to admire their Christmas tree. The angel on the top, his ornaments from his old life mixed in with Emily's ornaments from around the world. His eyes crinkled slightly . . . it really was a damn fine tree if he did say so himself.

His gaze shifted from the tree to see Emily on the couch illuminated in the multi-colored glow of the lights. His smile began to fade when he saw her wipe her hand across her face.

She was crying.

As always when he saw her upset, he felt a little ache in his chest. So he started quietly down the stairs, hoping not to catch her attention. A few steps from the bottom he stopped as he watched her sniffling as she took a drink of her soda.

"Sweetheart," he said softly, "what's wrong?"

He saw her attempt to cover her tears as she turned to him, "what?" she sniffled again as she put her glass on the table, "oh, nothing," she tried to brighten her voice, "I'm fine."

Crap . . . she wiped her hand across her face . . . since when was he so quiet on the stairs?

Hotch stared at her for a moment before he shook his head and went over to sit down next to her. Then he put his arm around her shoulders, but rather than curling up next to him like she usually did, she remained closed in on herself.

Okay . . . he reached over and picked up her hand . . . if she wasn't coming to him . . . he began massaging her fingers . . . he'd coax her over.

As he'd hoped, after a minute she shifted and leaned her head on his shoulder. When he looked down he saw the tears on her face were now a steady stream that she was trying to wipe away with the other hand.

His heart ached as he leaned over to kiss the top of her head. Then he murmured, "didn't you have a good day sweetheart?"

He just didn't understand where this was coming from. He thought they'd had a really good day. That morning he and Jack had made breakfast, then the three of them made a quick trip to the grocery store for dinner supplies before heading over to Pentagon City so that Emily could find a Christmas present for JJ's baby. They didn't stay in the mall more than an hour so it wasn't that stressful. Afterwards they'd come home, decorated the tree and then Hotch had made her favorite Italian meal for dinner. And before he'd gone upstairs with Jack she'd seemed absolutely fine.

And now she clearly wasn't.

"I did," Emily nodded vehemently against Hotch's side, "I had a wonderful day, really. I swear."

God . . . she scrubbed her hand over her face . . . stupid tears. They were going to screw everything up!

When his gaze shifted down and caught hers, Emily tried to give him a smile . . . but she knew it fell flat, so she let it go to answer the question that he hadn't asked yet.

"I think I'm just overtired, and you know the um," her voice was thick, "the case and everything is just catching up with me."

Though it obviously wasn't the exact truth, there was no doubt that the upsetting nature of the case . . . and the fact that she'd missed a night's sleep because of it . . . was indeed contributing to her lack of emotional control right now. And of course this was the worst possible time to lose control.

Hotch stared at her for a moment as he tried to gauge whether or not that was the whole problem.

It wasn't.

So he asked her softly, "you're sure that there's nothing else bothering you?" he tucked her hair back behind her ear as he whispered, "you know that you can tell me anything. All of your secrets are safe with me Emily."

"I know," she rubbed her hand along his thigh as she tried to stop crying, "but," she cleared her throat, her eyes falling away from his as she wiped her face again, "there's nothing to tell."

All right, that statement was further from the truth than the last one . . . but it still wasn't quite a lie either.

Right now she just had vague symptoms and panic driven fears, nothing concrete to tell him. But on Monday there would be test results and a doctor's opinion. That was something real, that was something tangible that they could deal with together.

That was something to tell.

In the meantime though, it would be cruel to put him through the same mental torture that she was experiencing. Letting his brain run the same gauntlet of worst case scenarios that hers was.

But . . . she sniffled again . . . if she didn't get it together in a minute then she was going to ruin the rest of the weekend anyway. Because even if he didn't know about her symptoms, if Hotch thought that she was keeping something serious from him, then he was going to start worrying.

So she took a deep breath, wiped her face with her shirt sleeve and pushed her melancholy down deep. When she was sure that she had everything locked up in the box again, she shifted over and straddled Hotch's lap.

His hands came to rest on her hips, and as she looked down at him she saw the twinge of worry in his brow . . . he definitely knew that she wasn't telling him everything.

Trying to deflect additional questions, Emily leaned down, pressing her lips to his before she pulled back and whispered, "I decided which pajamas are coming out of the drawer tonight," she started kissing her way along his jaw as she murmured against his skin, "my Hello Kitty chemise."

Her cute, sexy Hello Kitty nightgown was something fun and happy to help lighten the mood right now. All she needed to do was get his mind off the crying and onto sex. If she could do that then she could buy time to get them to tomorrow. And tomorrow they'd be busy all day with Jack . . . and hopefully all night with each other . . . so it was unlikely that she'd have any free time to think. No thinking meant no wallowing. And without time for wallowing there wouldn't be any more unexpected . . . extremely unwelcome . . . crying jags. That's all that mattered.

That her tears were kept locked up tight.

Though Hotch knew that Emily was trying to distract him from asking anymore questions, he couldn't deny that she was doing it quite effectively. As she started nibbling on his ear his arms tightened around her as he murmured back, "you know I love your Hello Kitty pajamas sweetheart, but I have no idea what a chemise is."

Emily chuckled softly against his skin . . . see, now if she told him what she knew then they wouldn't be doing this right now. They'd be pulling on shoes and he'd be carrying a sleeping Jack out to the jeep and they'd be going to the hospital.

And she didn't want that to happen. So she wrapped her arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly for a second before she pulled back to give him a little . . . still slightly watery . . . grin, "you have to come upstairs with me and I'll show you."

A faint smile touched Hotch's lips as he leaned up to kiss her, but as soon as he looked into Emily's eyes the smile fell away again. After all the time they had spent together, he knew her moods as well as his own, and it was obvious that something was bothering her beyond just the case.

"Sweetheart," he whispered as his finger ran down the curve of her cheek, "please tell why you're so sad."

If she'd just tell him what was wrong then maybe she'd feel better. Hell he'd feel better too! Knowing that she was upset about something and not being able to help her was really bothering him.

Emily's eyes started to water again and for a moment she just stared into his eyes . . . he didn't even pretend there was a question there. He just knew.

Still though . . . she gave him another watery smile as she leaned her forehead against his . . . she'd already made her decision for tonight.

His psychic powers changed nothing.

Though the time for clever wordplay was definitely over, she needed to be completely honest. So she whispered back, "it's nothing that can't wait until next week."

That one was the God's honest truth. But seeing Hotch about to open his mouth again, Emily pressed her lips to his before she murmured against them, "I promise Aaron, it can wait until next week. Now please," she wrapped her arms around his neck and moved to whisper in his ear.

"Take me to bed."

For a moment Hotch stared over her shoulder, watching the sparkles of the colored lights bouncing off the garland on the tree as he tried to decide what to do.

Finally he realized that he needed to let it go. If she didn't want to talk about it right now then it wasn't right to upset her by pushing it. If she said it could wait then he'd just have to trust that it wasn't that serious. That maybe it was because she was overtired that it seemed like she was more upset about this other thing than she really was. Regardless, whatever was going on he knew that she'd tell him when she was ready.

She always did.

So he pulled her into his arms and stood up. As her legs locked around his waist and her arms around his neck, he whispered back.

"Okay," he started towards the stairs, "let's go to bed."

/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Emily woke up to the sound of a ringing phone. But before she'd even opened her eyes she heard Hotch mumbling sleepily beside her.

"What's up Haley?"

Haley?

Emily squinted over Hotch's bare chest to the alarm clock on his other side . . . it wasn't even seven o'clock. And they still had Jack so what could his ex possibly be calling about this early on a Sunday morning?

A second later she had her answer.

"Did you check the pilot light?" Hotch yawned as his hand ran absentmindedly up and down Emily's silk covered back. A phone call from Haley wasn't how he'd planned on waking up this morning. He'd figured either Jack would come pounding on the door, or . . . if his son slept in for a bit . . . maybe he could have a little more fun with the gorgeous woman wrapped around his side.

But he'd been awoken by the ringing phone because the furnace was out at Haley's house and she was having a complete breakdown.

"I checked it Aaron," Haley bit her lip as she nervously paced back and forth in the kitchen, "it's lit and the oil man was here two weeks ago so there's no reason why it shouldn't be WORKING!" Noting the touch of hysteria creeping into her tone, Haley took a breath to calm down before she asked hesitantly, "I'm really sorry to bother you with this Aaron, but could you please come over and take a look at it?"

Though she hated having to call him, Haley didn't know what else to do. They were in the midst of a frigid weather front coming down from Siberia . . . the weather report said it was ten below with the wind chill . . . and the furnace had gone out sometime over night.

Perhaps even earlier . . . she'd gone to bed around ten . . . all she knew was that she'd woken up just after six because she was freezing to death. The house was actually so cold that she was afraid the pipes were going to freeze and it was now barely 6:45 on a Sunday morning so there was no way in hell that she was going to be able to track down a repair man at this hour. Her father was two states away, and with the exception of a few go nowhere set up dates, Jack was presently the only other "man" in her life. So that pretty much left Haley with just an ex-husband to call for help.

Dialing his number wasn't exactly her proudest moment, but she couldn't think of what else to do. The house was intolerably cold and if even one pipe burst she was going to be completely screwed.

At his ex-wife's surprising request, Hotch bit his lip as his gaze shifted down to Emily. "Uh, sure," he said to one woman as he stared at the other, "I'll be there within the hour."

After Haley's "thank you so much Aaron!" Hotch said "no problem," and hung up the phone. Then he wrinkled his nose at Emily, hoping that she wouldn't be upset.

"I'm sorry sweetheart, but the furnace is out and God knows if she could even get a repairman on a Sunday," he sighed, "and I can't very well drop my son off at a house with no heat in it."

Though if it was just Haley he supposed he'd probably still go help her anyway. It was an emergency. Well, sort of. It was an 'everyday person emergency,' not a 'his line of work emergency.'

Either way she needed help.

Emily's eyes crinkled slightly as she used his chest to push herself up.

"No," she kissed him, "no you can't drop the little man off in an igloo." She cuddled into his side again as she sighed, "so you have to leave in like a half hour?"

No use being grumpy about him having to go, that would be ridiculous. Also she understood that he still had a relationship with Haley so it was understandable . . . Jack or no Jack . . . if Hotch could help out his ex-wife with a problem like this, he would.

Relieved that she wasn't upset he was leaving . . . he was worried that she'd think he was setting a bad tone for their big day . . . he kissed the top of her head.

"Yeah, you know it'll take close to a half hour to get to her place," he yawned again, "and Jack will be up any minute anyway so I'll just make him some breakfast, get him dressed and go."

Suddenly realizing that she'd missed something important, Emily pouted as she pushed herself up to look down at Hotch again, "you're taking Jack with you now?"

That totally sucked! Her headache was gone and she'd expected to have both Hotch and Jack until the afternoon and then Hotch for the rest of the day. She understood why Hotch had to go, but she'd still expected to be able to keep Jack with her.

"I'm sorry sweetheart," Hotch said apologetically as he touched her cheek, "I'd love to leave him with you but Haley's going to think it's strange if I don't bring our son with me."

It's not like Emily was on the custody agreement, or that Haley even knew that the two of them were a couple now. If he decided to just randomly leave their son with his "friend" rather than keeping him with his two parents, well, Hotch could only imagine the look on Haley's face there.

Something akin to him announcing he was from the planet Zoltar.

Of course the whole purpose of this early morning trip was to keep Jack out of a freezing cold house, so Hotch figured if he couldn't get the furnace going right away then he would just send his son and his ex off to Starbucks while he tried to track down a repairman. Worst case he'd call Rossi.

With his bank roll Hotch was sure that Dave had people on speed dial that would show up 24/7.

All of this made logical sense in his head, but Hotch could see that the previously sanguine Emily was now quite unhappy with this turn of events. And remembering her sadness of last night . . . and trying to ward off a return of that melancholy on their big day . . . he tugged her down into a kiss before rolling her beneath him. And while he was still keeping her occupied with the kissing, his left hand started a southern migration, sliding the Hello Kitty whatever it was, up around her waist.

Fortunately they never did track down her underwear again after last night's activities, so it was only a couple of minutes before Emily started to pant against his mouth

Which was the exact moment that Hotch heard a knock on the bedroom door.

"Daddy, Miss Emily," came Jack's sleepy voice, "I'm hungry."

Hotch stifled his groan . . . how was it that little children always had perfect timing for these things? But knowing that he couldn't very well ignore his son until they were done, Hotch reluctantly broke off the kissing . . . though he continued with his other activities . . . as he called over his shoulder.

"Be right there buddy! You go brush your teeth and I'll see you downstairs in two minutes!"

Given Emily's breathing pattern Hotch was pretty sure that he could wrap this up in that amount of time. And as he captured her mouth in another searing kiss . . . this time to cover her moans . . . all he could think was how much he was looking forward to getting this trip to Haley's over with so that he and Emily could have their talk that afternoon.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Emily turned as she heard Hotch hurrying down the stairs.

"Hey," she smiled at him over her shoulder before she turned back to put the cover on his travel mug, "I made your coffee."

He'd tried to tell her that she should go back to sleep, but after Hotch's very special good morning/apology for leaving present, Emily was wide awake and figured she should make herself useful while he took his shower. So she'd fed Jack and started the coffee.

She smiled as Hotch's clean, soapy smell filled her senses just as she felt him wrap his arms around her from behind.

"Thank you sweetheart," he whispered in her ear, "that was very nice of you."

With her being sweet and domestic . . . Hotch kissed her neck . . . it made it hard to remember why it was so imperative that he go help his ex-wife with her furnace problems.

"Daddy! I can't find Mr. Bobo!" Jack yelled from the top of the stairs.

Oh that's right . . . Hotch smiled against Emily's neck . . . he was going to help his ex because he didn't want his son living like an Eskimo. Not that there was anything wrong with Eskimo life, but Jack really didn't have the clothes for it.

Emily turned around in Hotch's arms, pressing her hands flat against his chest as she looked up at him.

"Mr. Bobo has already been collected and is safely secured for transport in the bottom of Jack's backpack."

One time Jack had left Hotch's apartment sans Mr. Bobo. Hotch had packed him . . . but unbeknownst to his father . . . Jack then UNpacked him again. They'd dropped Jack off at Haley's and then went back to Emily's place.

Two hours later Haley called Hotch's cell to say that Jack was in tears and did his father have any idea where Mr. Bobo could have gone. So from that night on, Emily was constantly on Mr. Bobo alert. She always packed the teddy bear up before Jack left and she always checked his bag as Hotch and Jack walked out the door.

There would not be another tear shed over Mr. Bobo on Emily's watch.

Hotch smiled at her as he directed his words up to his son, "Miss Emily already packed up Mr. Bobo buddy! You can come on down and we'll go see mommy!"

As Jack raced down the stairs, his fingers smacking against the metal bars . . . Emily and Hotch had both drilled into him the importance of holding onto the railing, but he liked the clanging sound better . . . Hotch leaned down to press a quick kiss to Emily's lips before they were in visual range of his son.

After he and Emily spoke this afternoon then Hotch would be able to tell Haley about the shift in their relationship. And THEN he could tell Jack . . . in a Jack friendly fashion . . . that they'd be spending even more time at Miss Emily's house. So by next weekend, all of those dominoes will have fallen and Hotch felt that his world . . . at least in regards to his personal life . . . should be in proper in alignment for the first time in years.

In the meantime though . . . he turned, slipping his arm around Emily's waist as Jack bounded off the last riser . . . still no kissing on the lips in front of the little guy.

"READY DADDY!" Said little guy yelled as he ran up to them.

Hotch's lips twitched, "me too buddy. Now say goodbye to Miss Emily and we'll get going."

"Bye bye Miss Emily," Jack said as he squeezed Emily's leg.

But that wasn't good enough for Emily . . . not having a whole day cut short . . . so she reached down and picked him up, squeezing his little body tightly to her chest as she whispered back, "bye bye baby. You be a good boy today while daddy helps mommy."

"I will," he nodded sagely as he looked over to his father, "daddy said I can't help though cuz it's dang'rous."

"Right bud," Hotch ruffled Jack's hair, "no helping today, but next week when we come to Miss Emily's you can help me make dinner, okay?"

Jack loved to "help." It didn't matter the task, he just liked to be included. Hotch was pretty sure that if he told his son he was going out to clean up dog crap off the sidewalk Jack would ask if he could hold the bag.

Hearing the cooking plans for next weekend, Emily grinned as she looked between her two favorite guys, "maybe we can make pizza on Saturday. That would be fun."

Anything with the two of them would be fun, but picturing Jack trying to spin dough was an image that she couldn't resist.

A moment after she started thinking about her plans for next weekend . . . for the future . . . Emily felt a terrible stab of fear about her doctor's appointment. She didn't know what was going to happen there, what he was going to say.

A few scenarios had been running through her head, and they were all really bad.

Emily's breath caught for a second as a couple of them slammed back into the forefront of her brain, but she covered that from Hotch by placing a quick kiss on Jack's cheek. And that touch . . . his soft little boy cheek touching her lips . . . it was enough to push the fear back again.

His innocence and sweetness always pushed away the dark.

"Yeah," Hotch smiled at Emily and Jack, continuing to talk as he walked over to get the jackets from the closet, "I think we could scrounge up a recipe for pizza," his eyebrow quirked up in amusement as he pulled his parka on, "and really, with the amount of pizza you consume in a month Emily it might be more cost effective if we started making our own."

Emily shot Hotch a look as she directed her remarks to the little boy in her arms.

"Your daddy thinks he's a funny man Jack."

"Daddy's not funny Miss Emily," Jack responded with a stage whisper in her ear, "daddy's serious."

"That's right Miss Emily," Hotch responded formally as he came over to help his son on with his jacket, "I'm serious."

His boy always had his back.

At that ridiculous statement . . . well, ridiculous off duty, the man had resorted to tickle torture on many occasions over the past few months . . . Emily stared at Hotch straight faced as he stared back.

Finally her lips began to twitch and he smirked, "you couldn't have thought you were going to win that contest?" He asked rhetorically as he started to pull Jack's sleeve on.

"No," she answered on a chuckle as she put Jack down so Hotch could fix his other sleeve, "no I didn't really think that I would."

Hotch gave her a little smile as he zipped Jack's coat up. Then he stood, pulling his son up on his hip as he leaned over to kiss Emily's cheek.

"If all goes well I'll be back in a couple hours. If all doesn't go well, I'll back by two." He squeezed her fingers, "I promise, no later than that."

Their reservations were at four and there was no way in hell that he was going to let Haley's house issues screw up his big date with Emily. It wasn't even 7:30 in the morning yet so he had plenty of time to check out the furnace and help Haley get situated. Absolute worst case, if the furnace was unfixably broken, he'd spring for a nice hotel for Jack and Haley to stay in overnight so that he could get out of her place without looking like the world's worst father.

Bottom line . . . Hotch took Jack's backpack from Emily's hand . . . there was no way in hell that the long overdue conversation wasn't happening today on time and on location just as he'd promised Emily it would.

Emily followed Hotch and Jack to the door, leaning over to give them each one more kiss goodbye before they left.

The last thing she saw as the door fell shut was Hotch mouthing, 'see you soon.'

And then they were gone.

She flipped the deadbolt and turned around to look at her now empty apartment.

The silence was deafening.

Okay . . . she took a breath as she started back down to the kitchen . . . well now she just had to find some way to keep herself busy until Hotch got back. Something to keep her brain active so she wouldn't have time to think about her appointment tomorrow.

Maybe . . . she huffed out a puff of air as she poured her coffee . . . she'd clean the house.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/

It was just after twelve and Hotch was standing in Haley's basement waiting for the repairman (Dave's repairman) to finish up when he felt his phone begin to buzz in his pocket.

He pulled it out, his eyes crinkling as he looked down to see 'Prentiss' flashing on the screen. He answered the call with a small smile as he turned away from the other man in front of him.

"Hey sweetheart," he said softly as he walked across the dank space, "I think we're just about done here so I should be home in about an hour."

For a moment Hotch heard only silence before a strange voice came back through the line.

"Sir, my name is Jackson Shaye and I'm calling from the GWU emergency room. Am I speaking to a Special Agent Aaron Hotchner with the FBI? And do you know an Emily Prentiss?"

Hotch had frozen as soon as he'd heard the other voice, and it took him a second to respond before he whispered back, "yes, this is Aaron Hotchner, and Emily's my girlfriend," his free hand curled into a fist as he continued tensely, "is she was okay?"

Then he immediately berated himself for the stupid question.

'Of course she's not okay you idiot! If she was then she would be calling you herself!'

Getting a call like this was his worst nightmare. And the panic was clawing its way up, threatening to break his careful control. So he doubled over, taking slow, deep breaths as he dug his fingernails into his palm and waited for the answer to his question.

"Well sir," the man cleared his throat, "unfortunately I don't have much information. But I can tell you that Ms. Prentiss is alive but beyond that all I know is that she was brought here by ambulance with a head injury. She was unconscious when they brought her in but," he paused before continuing apologetically, "I'm not sure of her status now. I'm sorry but we've had an unusually busy morning here and things are a little hectic. All I have here are her admitting papers." He cleared his throat, "but sir, as your number was found in Ms. Prentiss' phone as her ICE contact, I hoping that you could please come to the hospital?"

Fighting down the bile trying to rise up, Hotch spun around, "of course," he started racing up Haley's basement steps, "right, I'm on my way."

Christ, he should have already been in the jeep by now!

Right before he dropped the call, Hotch added one more thing, "if she wakes up please tell her that I'll be right there." Then he jammed the phone back into his pocket as he slammed through the cellar door into Haley's front hall.

Some part of him realized that he'd just left the repairman alone in the basement, but no part of him gave a shit about that at the moment. As he ran through the living room and out the front door, his panic was nearly overwhelming him as every possible head injury scenario went through his mind.

Did she fall in the shower? Was she in a car accident? Did one of their UNSUBS follow her home? Did he break into her apartment and sneak up behind her with a rope in his hand before he . . .

Hotch slammed the door shut on that thought as he yanked his keys from his pocket. If he allowed himself to picture her being assaulted by one of the monsters in their files then there was no way he was going to get to the hospital with a shred of his sanity left.

So he tried to put all of those thoughts on pause as he focused solely on putting the key in the lock and then again into the ignition. Given that his hands were shaking so badly that he could barely line up the small piece of metal with the hole in front of him, Hotch knew that he really needed to calm the fuck down before he attempted to drive anywhere.

It would do Emily no good if he got into an accident on the way to the hospital.

He took two deep breaths and then dug down deep to put on his game face. Staying calm and collected when he was chasing serial killers was a piece of cake. Trying to do the same thing when he was scared to death over the well being of someone that he loved, that was not so easy.

Once he was sure he had pulled his shit together, Hotch turned the key, switched gears and peeled out of the driveway leaving rubber in his wake.

Just because he'd pulled himself back from the brink didn't mean that he didn't break every speed limit in Fairfax County trying to get into the city. At the first red light he was forced to stop at he did remember to send Haley a text message that Emily had an accident and he'd had to go to the hospital so the repairman was alone in the house. At the second red light Hotch saw his phone flashing and he opened it to find a message back from his ex.

'Hope Emily's okay. Call me later . . . I'll say a prayer.'

His eyes started to sting as he read the words but he shook that off. He needed to focus on his driving . . . and of course his own prayers.

All the way into the District he just kept promising God that he would spend the rest of his days working to be a better man if He would just give him this one break. If He would just let her be okay.

Though it was slightly foolish even to his own mind, Hotch thought perhaps because it was Sunday God might actually be more inclined to listen to his prayers than he would be otherwise. Either way as he pulled into the first empty spot he saw within jogging distance of the hospital, Hotch sent up one more quick prayer before he jumped out of the jeep.

Because now that he was actually there, the panic started to take over again. All of the things he wouldn't let himself think about while he was driving came roaring back once more.

He sprinted across the street to the sounds of horns blasting . . . please God let her be okay.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/

As Hotch skidded up to the admitting desk, the forward momentum of his sneakers made an uneasy alliance with the freshly waxed hospital floors.

Slightly out of breath from his sprint from the end of the block, he leaned on the counter as he rasped impatiently to the admitting clerk.

"Emily Prentiss? Where is she?"

He was not in the mood for any bureaucratic bullshit so he shot the woman the hardest, 'don't fuck with me' look he had. But rather than simply answering his question, the clerk . . . "Donna" he could see by her name tag . . . just smiled politely as she took in his flustered appearance.

"Your name please, sir?"

Hotch's jaw twitched as he fumbled for his ID, simultaneous with his effort so to conjure up a little patience for the woman in front of him.

As expected, he didn't have any luck in the patience department, so despite his best efforts he ended up snapping back his response.

"Aaron Hotchner," he flashed his badge in her face, "FBI. Now where," his jaw clenched again, "is Emily Prentiss?"

Though most people cowered at that tone, Hotch immediately realized that it wasn't helping him at all with Donna. The brusqueness of his approach only got him a pair of pursed lips and a raised eyebrow in response.

Donna in her neatly pressed purple scrubs . . . and he now noticed . . . slightly excessive facial hair, clearly wasn't impressed with his tone, or his badge. And for some reason that bushy overgrown eyebrow raised incredulously at his conduct, is what snapped his panic back from the brink.

He was a profiler. He assessed people's behavior for a living and he was now going on round three of a simple inquiry with a woman whose sole job was to provide the answers to said simple inquiry.

Good behavioral read Aaron . . . he thought with disgust . . . the woman's just doing her job and isn't looking for attitude from you just because you're in the midst of a personal crisis. She works in a hospital. Three quarters of the people she MEETS are in the midst of a personal crisis! Now just calm down and get your shit together.

Twenty seconds passed during Hotch's internal dressing down, but it was enough time to get his head on straight. Before opening his mouth again he took a breath and began anew with deliberate calm.

"My name is Aaron Hotchner," he said slowly, "I received a call that Emily Prentiss was brought here this morning. She's my girlfriend and I'm her emergency contact. As you can see from my identification," Hotch flipped his badge again, "I work at the FBI. We both do actually, now would you please tell me where she is? The only information I have is that she was brought into the E.R. with a head injury of some kind."

All he wanted to know was where to find Emily, and if this woman didn't answer his question in the next thirty seconds, he honest to God didn't know what he was going to do.

The attending E.R. physician James Sullivan was walking up to drop off a chart at the desk when he heard the man at the counter identify himself and who he was looking for. And as he finished and the admitting clerk began to dictate chapter and verse on the forms that would need to be filled out while she attempted to determine the status of his "lady friend," the doctor saw the man start to turn red so he took the opportunity to interrupt.

"Excuse me," he tapped his hand on the other man's shoulder, "Mr. Hotchner?" When the man turned, Sullivan continued by identifying himself.

"I'm Dr. Sullivan. I admitted Ms. Prentiss," he gestured away from the desk, "why don't we step over here and talk?"

Now that he had a human being to talk to, Hotch's blood pressure started to drop.

Thank Christ . . . he thought as he fell into step next to the doctor . . . he was ready to throw Donna across the lobby!

As the two men moved to a more secluded section of the room, Hotch had to fight the urge to slam the doctor against the wall to get the answers he needed.

As it was, while they walked he shot his questions at the other man like they were coming from an M16.

"Where is she? What's wrong with her? Has she woken up yet? Can I see her?"

Sullivan's steps faltered as it took him just a moment to realize this fervid man at his side was quite attached to the doctor's new patient. And with this realization Sullivan put his hand on Hotch's forearm as he stopped him from walking.

They were far enough from the desk.

"Sir," he began in the soothing tone he used for distraught loved ones, "she's fine. She fell down the stairs," at Hotchner's wince he tipped his head, "yes, and she did lose consciousness for a brief period before she arrived here but she has woken up, she knows her name and she's completely lucid. Though she's pretty banged up, there are no broken bones and there don't appear to be any internal injuries. So aside from some soreness, some nasty bruises, and a possible scar from the stitches we had to put in her scalp, she shouldn't have any lasting physical trauma from this episode. She was actually very lucky that one of the other tenants found her so quickly. As you may know, scalp wounds bleed quite profusely and Ms. Prentiss took a nasty cut on one of the stairs. She most likely passed out more due to blood loss than the blow to the skull."

As Hotch's eyes started to burn at the mental image of Emily tumbling down the stairs like a rag doll, Dr. Sullivan seemed to take pity on him.

"But," he said kindly, "I'm sure that you want see for yourself that she's all right," he pointed, "we're still running some additional tests so we haven't moved her upstairs yet. Go to the end of this hall, take a right, first left and she's in room three way down the end. Given her earlier bleeding and the possibility of concussion, we'll be keeping her until morning at least. Discharge will depend on what her tests say regarding the underlying cause of her fall."

Though Hotch had started to calm slightly when he'd heard Emily's prognosis, that cold pit in his stomach froze over again at the doctor's last words.

Underlying cause of her fall.

Suddenly Hotch flashed on her falling onto the tarmac on Friday and then her sitting and crying in the dark last night. That bile started rising up again . . . what the hell was wrong with her!

"Excuse me, doctor," he said slowly, "what exactly do you think the underlying cause is for her fall today? Because, this is the second time this week she's fallen down a flight of stairs," his gaze locked on the other man's as he said quietly, "and my girlfriend is a bit klutzy at times but she's never done that before, and now she's done it twice in one week."

Feeling a pang of empathy for the confusion and growing alarm he could read in the man's eyes, Sullivan responded kindly, "we're not quite sure yet. But perhaps it would be best for you to speak to Ms. Prentiss directly on that matter."

Though he was listed as her emergency contact, it was clear that Ms. Prentiss had not informed her boyfriend of all her symptoms to date. And that did seem to be something that would be best coming from her.

At the doctor's words, Hotch stared at him for a moment longer before he broke eye contact.

His gaze dropped to the ground . . . clearly the doctor knew more than he was saying. What other symptoms had he missed? And why in God's name had she been keeping this from him? Why wouldn't she have told him if something was wrong?

'Only she can tell you that Aaron,' the little voice in his head reminded him quietly. And that's when Hotch realized that he was wasting time in the lobby when Emily was down the hall.

Down the hall, hurt . . . probably scared to death . . . and definitely all alone. So after a quick nod and a thank you to the doctor, Hotch took off at a run.

It took less than two minutes for him to find Emily's room, but it was two minutes sinking into an abyss as his brain ran through possible scenarios of what "underlying cause" could mean. He knew that if it was just something minor then she definitely would have mentioned it by now.

Inconsequential malaise was breezed over in casual conversation, only serious maladies were hidden away. So it was definitely something serious. His eyes stung . . . it definitely had to be something serious.

Shit. How was this happening to them now? Now when everything else was coming together so perfectly? Was this punishment of some kind? Were they just not allowed to be happy?

Hotch was so intent on his mental torture that he almost ran past her door, but then the shiny brass of the number caught his eye and he stopped, turning abruptly. In the process he nearly tripped a man in the hall who barked an obscenity at him that barely permeated Hotch's consciousness.

He barged into the small exam room without so much as a knock, set to demand that Emily explain what was going on so that he could stop this horrible whirl of thoughts in his brain that he was sure were about to make him physically sick.

But then he froze just inside the door. His gaze caught on the slight figure of his girl curled up under a single white sheet.

It wasn't just that she was sleeping, but she was also nearly ethereal. Her wound was wrapped in gauze that actually appeared to be a healthier shade of white than her current skin tone. The visible bruises on her body . . . the new ones . . . were already coloring to violet, and as he took in the tableau before him, Hotch's eyes began to burn.

She looked small and fragile . . . she looked sick. His heart cracked simultaneously with the audible click of the closing latch on the hospital room door.

He couldn't lose her.

His appearance in the room had disrupted the flow of stale air in the dimly lit space. And as a result, he saw that Emily began to stir almost immediately after the door shut. As her lashes fluttered open, her eyes instantly made contact with his across the small room.

Emily licked her lips before croaking out a surprised, "Aaron?"

It took a moment, but as the implications of his presence here being that he'd been called out without her knowledge, Emily's voice got stronger.

"Oh honey," she winced as she pushed herself up slightly in bed, "they called you? I'm sorry," she bit her lip, "I didn't want you to find out from a stranger what had happened. I was going to call you myself so you wouldn't worry when you got back to the apartment and I wasn't there. But I guess I fell back to sleep."

Hotch just looked at her as she apologized to him. And he wondered how he had ever let it come to the point that she would think that his feelings would be paramount here. That he wouldn't want to be called immediately if she was hurt or . . . sick.

And with that last grieved thought, he felt the tears welling up.

"Emily," his voice was raspy as he cut her off, "you've fallen down the stairs twice this week. Please tell me why that happened."

As Emily took in the panic in Hotch's eyes she realized that he already knew that there was more going on here.

God damn it . . . she felt a wave of guilt and remorse . . . she should have told him last night. This was exactly what she'd been trying to prevent, him going crazy worrying the way she had been.

Now he gets called to the hospital . . . God knows what they told him on the phone . . . and she's wrapped up like Lon Chaney when he gets there. Great Em . . . her eyes started to sting . . . just fucking great job!

Saying that he was clearly upset right now was an understatement, so in an effort to soften the additional blows that were about to come she offered him a weak smile as she put her hand out.

"Honey, come sit with me. We need to talk."

He stared at her for a moment longer . . . they needed to talk. Nothing good had ever come after that phrase.

After he took a breath to brace himself, Hotch crossed the small room and sat down on the edge of her hospital bed. For a moment neither of them said anything, and then his hand unclenched from the fist in his lap and he moved it over to take her fingers.

Whatever was going on she obviously needed his support. He couldn't shut down just because that was the easiest way for him to deal. That was his old life, not his new one.

Once his hand was curled around hers, Emily took a deep breath and then began reluctantly telling Hotch about the symptoms she'd been having for the past month. Seeing his jaw twitch, she again apologized, her voice tainted with guilt as she explained that she hadn't meant to keep all of this from him for so long. That she hadn't realized herself that there was anything really wrong until after he'd gotten sick with the stomach bug. And then she'd convinced herself it was probably nothing major and she hadn't wanted him to worry needlessly. That it wasn't until the last few days when her symptoms started to appear more frequently that she'd started to accept that it was quite possibly something . . . serious.

Her voice caught on the last word and Hotch's fingers tightened around her own. But still he said nothing so she cleared her throat and continued.

"After you left this morning I wanted to keep busy so I wouldn't start thinking again like I did last night," she reached out and touched his cheek, "I know I should have told you why I was crying but I didn't want to ruin the weekend." Seeing him about to open his mouth she put her finger to his lips, "I know, it was stupid but I just figured it was only one more day. I was seeing the doctor Monday and then I was going to tell you what he said. So I couldn't think of any good reason to upset you when we still wouldn't have known what was wrong for another day."

She could tell from the set of his jaw that he didn't agree with her reasoning, and of course now if she could do it over she'd do it differently. But there was nothing to done about that so she moved back to the reason she was in the hospital today.

"So anyway," she took a breath, "you left and I took a shower and then started cleaning the house. And then," she took a breath, "I got another headache and then another dizzy spill. And I know I should have just gone and laid down, but I was," she bit her lip, "I was getting really scared and I knew that if I stopped what I was doing and just stared up at the ceiling I'd have a complete panic attack. So I decided to do the laundry."

"Aaron," she squeezed his fingers, "you need to understand that the fall, it wasn't really the, whatever, that caused it. It was entirely my own stupidity. I knew that I was dizzy," she explained, "and I knew that I should have just gone and rested. But I needed to keep busy so I went back into the bedroom, looking for something else to clean," she rolled her eyes, "I decided to wash the bed ruffle."

The bed ruffle . . . she thought . . . she was now lying in a hospital because of the freaking BED ruffle! God, it was so humiliating! And why didn't she take the elevator down to the laundry room? Of course because excess energy can be burned off running down the stairs.

As she thought about it Emily saw that she was really lucky that she hadn't broken her neck today.

Realizing that she'd been quiet for a few seconds, Emily continued aloud, "I was almost to the 6th floor landing when the world started to spin slightly to the left, and, well," trying to offset the tension, she gave him a nervous smile, "unfortunately so did my body because I then careened into the concrete wall," she sighed, "I guess I fell five or six steps but it happened so fast the next thing I knew I was at the bottom of the stairwell," her gaze narrowed slightly as she thought back, "nothing seemed to be broken. I lifted my head slightly out of the . . . at that point . . . small, yet unfortunately expanding, puddle of blood," she rolled her eyes, "damn head wounds. So anyway, I opened my eyes, I believe I muttered 'shit,' tried to push myself up and apparently passed out. I woke up in the E.R."

But," she looked up at him earnestly, "honey, if I'd realized they'd called you while I was out I would have had them call you back immediately to tell you I was going to be okay. I never meant for you to worry about me," her voice got husky, "that's why I didn't tell you any of this before. I was sure it was nothing, untreated sinus problem maybe, and I didn't want to make you worry about something that was going to get fixed up with some antibiotics."

Hopefully he would understand why she hadn't anything, because with everything else going on she really couldn't bear it if he was angry with her.

Realizing that she had nothing else to say, Emily tightened her grasp on his fingers as she looked up at him.

They'd maintained eye contact throughout her recitation, and it was unbroken even after she was finished. He hadn't said a word then, and he wasn't saying a word now.

The silence began filling the small room.

As she worriedly chewed on her bottom lip, Emily peered over at him. And she wanted to ask him what he was thinking, if he was angry with her for not telling him the truth earlier. But it wasn't right to push him, all of this was news to him . . . terrible news . . . and he needed time to process what she had said.

She would just have to wait.

And as she tried to wait patiently, Emily was pulled back into her own thoughts at the full realization of the repercussions of her tumble down the stairs. God, sometimes she was just so stupid.

She rubbed her hand across her face as she mumbled to herself about bed ruffles being the bane of her existence. After those words slipped out, Emily saw a sad smile pass over Hotch's lips. Then he shook his head slowly from side to side.

The head shake was the most movement Emily had seen from him since he'd sat down and it was enough to make her trail off her self flagellation.

He was ready to talk.

Hotch leaned closer, pressing a kiss to her lips before pulling back and asking the only thing that mattered to him in that moment.

"When will we know what's causing your symptoms?"

That swirl of thoughts and emotions that was overwhelming him when he'd first walked in the room was all gone. All that was left was that one question. Because once they had the answer to that one, then they could start to plan for the next thing.

What did they need to do to make her well again?

"Um," Emily cleared her throat, her gaze dropping down to their joined fingers, "I don't know. The doctor won't speculate right now. They did just a simple X-ray when I arrived to make sure that I didn't have a hairline fracture on my skull. And uh," her voice started to catch and she cleared it again, "after I told them about the other symptoms, and the fall the other day, they took blood for tests and the doctor scheduled me for an MRI. That's going to be sometime later today. He was rather evasive when I asked him flat out what he thought was happening. He said that after they had the results of the blood work they'd review them in conjunction with the other images and then he'd tell me what they found."

Emily was trying to be strong, to speak professionally and sound detached, but in actuality that cold pit of fear was sitting in her stomach like a lead ball.

She was absolutely terrified. Because the word that nobody would say was tumor.

And as her gaze came up to meet Hotch's again, she knew that was the word in his mind too. That's when her eyes started to water and she took a breath.

"Aaron," her voice broke, "I don't want to be sick!"

Why was this happening to her? Didn't God know that she had plans? That she'd finally found her guy? Her tears spilled over . . . they were supposed to live happily ever after!

Hearing the terror in her voice as the tears started to slide down her face, Hotch's heart ached.

"Oh sweetheart," he whispered sadly as he stroked his fingers down her cheek, "please don't cry."

He too was absolutely terrified, but he knew that he had to put aside his own fears to be strong for her. And he also knew that it was time now to have their other conversation.

It wasn't the location he'd planned for it, but that wasn't important right now. So he leaned forward and pressed another kiss to her lips before toeing his sneakers off.

Then . . . being mindful of her awful bruising and the tube running out of her hand . . . Hotch moved up to lie down in bed next to her. It was a little bit of a squeeze, but holding her would make her feel better.

It would make them both feel better.

As Hotch pulled her into his arms, Emily sniffled as she tried to stop crying. For a moment he didn't say anything, but then she heard him clear his throat.

"Today," he started softly, "I was going to take you out to dinner at your favorite restaurant, and I was going to do that because you deserved to have a perfect day," he kissed her cheek, "because you're my perfect girl."

Hearing her muffled sob, Hotch gently rubbed his hand across her stomach.

"Today," he continued whispering in her ear, "I was going to tell you so many things. Things I should have told you months ago but I was too afraid. Afraid that I was such a mess that if I said anything that I change would everything, and then somehow I would ruin this wonderful new life that we'd started building together," he winced, "but I was being a coward. And at first I thought I was just wasting time, but I wasn't." Feeling his voice about to catch, he cleared his throat, "because I wouldn't trade one minute with you. None of it was wasted time. You make me so happy Emily," he kissed her cheek, "you saved me and I wouldn't have survived this past year without you. You pulled me out of the dark. After Haley left I didn't think that I'd fall in love again. But then you and I started to spend time together, first a little, and then a lot. And the more time I spent with you, the more that depression and sense of loss were pushed aside," his eyes started to burn, "and then they were forgotten completely, because then I did fall in love again. I fell in love with my best friend."

Tears again streaming down her face, Emily turned to look at him. And when she whispered a husky, "me too," Hotch kissed her. Then he pulled back slightly to rest his forehead against hers, being careful to avoid the bandage on the other side.

"Okay," he gave her a little smile as he gently brushed the tears from her skin, "now we're official. We've talked. I love you," his lip quirked up, "you love me, and we're going to be happy and build a life together, agreed?"

"Agreed," she whispered back with a watery smile.

"Good," Hotch shot her a faint dimple before he sobered, taking a breath to steady his voice.

"Now as to whether or not you're . . ." he swallowed, "sick." His eyes immediately started to sting and he blinked quickly to keep the tears back, "we'll just pray that it is something as benign as what you'd thought originally. But whatever the doctors say is wrong we'll deal with it together," he gently cupped her jaw as his voice got husky again, "no more secrets, no trying to shield the other from worrying about things. All cards on the table, all the time, agreed?"

God, please let him get through this conversation without crying.

"Agreed," Emily whispered again before her voice cracked, "and honey I'm so sorry that I . . ."

But he cut off her apology with a kiss. When he pulled back he said softly, "it's okay sweetheart," he gave her a sad smile, "if our positions were reversed I probably would have done the same thing you did, kept it from you so you wouldn't worry. But," he sighed as he rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand, "we can't think like that anymore. If we want this to work we have to remember that we're an us. We have to support each other. And that means we need to tell each other when we're upset about something, big problem or small, it doesn't matter."

As he thought about the location where they were having this heart to heart, suddenly his eyes started to fill.

"And as to this particular problem," the tears began to pool and he blinked again, "whether it's big or small," his voice started to choke up as he squeezed her fingers, "I officially declare that no matter what it is, we're going to get you fixed up and in the end you're going to be just fine," he gave her a watery smile, "agreed?"

That was the only outcome. Even if she was sick, even if it was . . . he felt another stab of pain hit his already aching heart . . . a brain tumor. She would get better.

She HAD to get better. Because he could no longer envision living his life without her in it.

Eyes still wet, Emily stared at him for a moment before another tear ran down her face. Then she took a breath and nodded, "agreed."

"Okay then," he gave her a sad smile, "well," he sighed, "this wasn't exactly the date I had planned but I'll make it up to you later. When you're feeling better I'll do it right."

Emily reached up to touch his cheek. "You already did it right," she whispered.

All she needed was him, the rest of it was just gravy.

His eyes crinkled as he kissed her fingers, "okay then, next time we'll do it somewhere that doesn't have chunks of peaches floating in green jello as the main course on their menu."

Emily chuckled softly as she sniffed, turning to cuddle into his side, "okay, that sounds like a plan."

Even as she felt Hotch's arms around her, Emily couldn't stop the tears that started to trickle onto the soft fleece of his jacket. This was all she'd ever wanted, someone good and kind and strong who would love her for her. And now that she had him . . . and Jack . . . despite the promises she'd just made, she was so scared that it would all be taken away from her.

She felt Hotch press his lips to her temple again right before he whispered.

"Everything's going to be okay sweetheart. Just don't think about it right now. Think about the life we're going to build, all of the holidays that are coming that we'll be spending together," he lightly ran his fingers down her arm as he continued softly, "I was saving this as a surprise but," his voice lightened, "I have Jack for Christmas Eve."

As Emily listened to him whisper in her ear about Jack and Christmas cookies and Santa Claus, Emily's heart began to fill with love. It slowly pushed aside all of her worries and fears.

And when he paused and asked with what she knew was a false cheer, "so Santa's going to come to our house. Doesn't that sound good sweetheart?" for a moment, Emily just listened to the steady thump of his heart. And then a slow smile spread across her face as she whispered back.

"That sounds perfect."

His words . . . all of his concrete plans for the future . . . had reminded her in that no matter what the tests said, no matter how bad it was, there was still time. Time for them to make plans, time for them to live their lives.

And that was time that she didn't want to waste, or bide . . . but fill.

Though she was tired and sore and wanted to rest, Emily pushed herself up slightly to look at Hotch.

"I love you," she whispered.

Hotch stared at her for a moment before he winked.

"Ditto."

Her lips twitched as she settled back into his side. As she felt him kiss her cheek she closed her eyes and sighed. And when the nurse came in a few hours later to wake her up for her MRI, Emily knew two things. She'd dreamed happy dreams.

And Hotch still hadn't left her too small bed.

So when he stood up, turning back to try to give her a reassuring smile, she beat him to the punch by giving him one of her own. Then she tugged him down to press a kiss to his lips before she whispered.

"Everything's going to be okay."

Hotch took a breath and nodded as he helped her into the wheelchair, "right," he said brightly, "everything's going to be okay."

The words sounded sincere but he couldn't make eye contact with her. Fortunately he didn't have to say anything else because the orderly moved up and started to wheel her out. But then Hotch saw Emily turn to look at him over her shoulder.

"I'll be right back," she said softly as she gave him a little smile. And right before the door fell shut she blew him a kiss over her shoulder.

Hotch stared at the closed door for a moment before he took a breath and murmured to himself.

"Everything's going to be okay."

This time he believed it.

A/N 2: That's the very end of Girl, hopefully it didn't disappoint. Clearly there was some pressure here to not let the ending suck wind :) so I was trying to pull in all of the elements of the story overall that I think made it what it was. The banter, the cuddling, the sweetness, the soul mate stuff, the family and the Jack, and bring that to the end. And bring it to a positive end though there is bad stuff happening.

The Hours will pick up with them a few days later after she gets her diagnosis. Even if you discovered this story recently it's been clear through the Author Notes that Emily's diagnosis is cancer. However, I do PROMISE that she lives! And it's not a weepy story either. There's of course "angst" in places but it's still the H/P you know you and love here, just facing new challenges in their life together. I have a draft of the opening done so that will hopefully be finalized and I'll begin putting that story up over the next couple weeks.

Before that though I'll be putting up the flashback to Dave's 4th of July BBQ. That story came to me just around Memorial Day, (it broke my writer's block) and it's epically long so it'll take a little time to proof. By next weekend though. Other stories I'm close to finalizing are Gingerbread and Making Spirits Bright. My muse has been busy, which is why I haven't posted even though I'm writing again in all my snippets of free time. I'm just writing prolifically all over the place!

And yes, I do promise that Fracture will be back soon. I know there's much interest and fortunately I'm starting to get that itch for it again, but given how close to done all this Girl stuff was/is, I wanted to get all these items lined up before I jumped into that other world again.

*BIG PROMPTS ANNOUNCEMENT*

Kavi and I have put up a very cool (in our opinion :)) bonus in both our TV Title and Story Title Forums. We tossed out a ton of prompts to get summer "fantasy" episodes going to tide people over until the real ones comes back in the fall. Like the AU bonus there's also a related thread to put up story requests. Check out bonus #15 in TV Title to see all the specifics.

I also put up Father's Day prompts in TV Title and sometime this week Kavi will be posting our regular prompts in both forums. We also have special bonuses planned for next month that will be going up right at the first of the month.

Lastly, I know this world struck a nerve with a lot of people, and I've given that some thought because almost 200 people have this as a favorite story. That's a lot :) And I think maybe it's the idea that no matter how much baggage you have or what demons you carry, that you can still find your special somebody that will accept you as you are. That was what I wanted to kind of be the underlying theme here, you don't have to settle, you just have to be patient. So if you took that from this great, if you just enjoyed the story on face value, that's great too :) I'm just glad so many people have enjoyed it.

And I wanted to thank everyone for all of their support and the lovely reviews and words of encouragement over the past 16 months that this has been going up. Can you believe it's been that long? Me either :) But I know some of you have been with me from the beginning so special thanks for sticking around. And again, as always, thanks to Arcadya for encouraging me to put up the original Hours story. One point two million words later and we're putting it up again :)

Have a good week everyone!