Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.

Epilogue.

The flurries of snow that cascaded from a gray sky seemed fitting for the day. A bit of the white precipitation had already created a light blanket on the ground, and though Hotch acted as if he didn't mind, some had soaked through the fabric of his slacks, and chilled him.

Six months. Half a year already, though not much had changed in the world of the living. The dreams were still there, though less frequent. But the polished headstone stood in front of him, a glaring reminder.

He'd been there for nearly an hour, sitting in silence as the snow piled up around him, his body numb from the cold, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was small and warm, and for a quick moment, he wondered, irrationally, if it were Emily. But no, it was JJ, he discovered as he craned his neck to peer up to where she stood behind him. He was surprised it wasn't Rossi; if anyone would've come here to grieve with him, he thought it'd be his old friend. But the blonde agent was certainly a nice surprise.

"I thought I'd find you here," she said, with a sad grin as she took crouched down next to him. He simply nodded, and after a few moments of silence, she added, "I'm glad we have the day off."

"Yeah," he said simply, not in much of a garrulous mood.

"How've you been doing, Hotch?" They'd all noticed that his mood had lightened, if just the slightest, in the past couple of months. It seemed that the talk with the psychologist, Nancy Lewis, had done him well. And Strauss had decided, with some hesitancy, to allow him to remain in his position as Unit Chief.

"I've been…alright," he replied, honestly. "Every day, I wish she was here." He paused. "But every day, the pain lessens a bit."

She squeezed his shoulder warmly, nodding her head. "That's how it's supposed to be. We can't forget her, but we shouldn't let her death take over our lives." She stood, shoving her hands into the warmth of her wool coat. He knew that she wouldn't stay long; she'd just wanted to check up, and he appreciated the kind gesture. "And Hotch," she said, as she took a step backward, "don't lose yourself in grief." As a second thought, she added, "Emily wouldn't want that."

He grinned at that, letting his head fall forward, his chin resting on his chest. He could just make out Emily's name carved into the gravestone through his vision, blurred by tears. "No. She wouldn't want that at all."

"When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight." -Kahlil Gibran

Author's Note: Short, sweet, and to the point, huh? Thanks to everyone who's been following this story, reading, reviewing, etc. I appreciate it more than you could ever imagine.