Second Wind

SUMMARY: After being in hiding for about a year, Emily is once more recruited by the CIA to finish what she started with Ian Doyle, but she will only accept under one condition: that SSA Hotchner is also allowed to join the task force.

CATEGORY: Hotch/Prentiss Romance/AU/Action

RATING: M for some violence and (non-explicit) sexual themes

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Here it is! The sequel to my story 'The Best Kept Secrets.' This one's had me obsessed for weeks, so I have to say I'm both sad and relieved to see it done. But all good things come to an end, and that means I can now start thinking about other things, like, you know, enjoying summer ;-) Anyways, I hope this second installment was worth the wait!

As a side note, you probably all know this by now, but PB is back for season 7! Hooray! Now that I've written this I'm curious to see how they're going to bring her back… Without further ado, here's my take on it, with a H/P twist!

TIMELINE: Set about three months after "The Best Kept Secrets", but since this is AU, the season 6 finale never happened, so no budget cut, no JJ coming back to the team (though she does make an appearance or two eventually). Everything up to episode 6x20 'Hanley Waters' is fair game in terms of spoilers, though.

DISCLAIMER: Criminal Minds and its characters are the property of CBS, this story is for entertainment only – no infringement intended I promise.

1. Prologue

He was being followed.

He didn't know why, he didn't know by whom, but Hotch knew how to pay attention to details, and he knew this as sure as his son's birthday. The man tailing him was extremely good at blending in the crowd, at looking extraordinarily ordinary, but his skill wasn't a match for Hotch's trained eye. He never forgot a face, and over the last couple of days, he'd seen his quite a few times now; at the grocery store, waiting and sitting in a blue sedan a block or so down his street, hanging around the park where Hotch took Jack on the weekends. Hotch didn't believe in coincidences, and this wasn't the kind of meeting that happened between neighbors who lived in the same neighborhood. This was deliberate and in Hotch's opinion, had already lasted for too long. It was time to put a stop to this.

As he walked briskly towards his house now, he could feel the man's presence not too far behind him. Careful not to let the man know he was aware of his presence, Hotch took sudden a turn into the alley next to his building, then taking advantage of the few seconds where the man would lose sight of him around the corner, he quickly hid behind the fire escape, pulled out his gun and waited.

The man had apparently taken the bait as seconds later he appeared around the corner, looking around carefully, pivoting on his feet. He hadn't drawn any kind of weapon, which was surprising. When the man turned with his back to him, Hotch jumped out of his hiding place and grabbed a fistful of the man's jacket collar, jerking him forward while pushing his gun into the back of his neck.

"Whoa- What the hell man?" the man said as he tried to turn around to face Hotch, but Hotch tightened his grip.

"You've been following me. Why?" he asked in a low but unwavering voice, close to the man's ear.

"Wha- Look, I don't know what you're talking about dude, I-"

Losing his patience, Hotch shoved the man against the brick wall and held him there, his gun still against his neck. "I'm going to ask again, why are you following me?"

The man suddenly exhaled a long sigh, relaxing his shoulders and raising his hands in a peaceful gesture. "I have a message for you," he said, his voice now devoid of any confusion or fear. "She said you were good, but I needed to make sure you were the real thing."

Even though the man's demeanor had totally shifted, Hotch didn't release him from his grip. "Enough with the cloak and dagger, what are you talking about? What message?"

"In my jacket pocket. There's a note for you."

Hotch narrowed his eyes. "You give it to me, slowly."

Complying, the man slowly lowered one of his hands and dug two fingers inside his pocket, and fished out a small piece of paper that looked like a photograph. He slowly raised it, and Hotch grabbed it from him with his free hand.

It was a photograph, and it showed the façade of a small Vietnamese grocery store not too far from his house. Flipping it over, something was scribbled on the back, and he couldn't help his heart from skipping a beat when he recognized the handwriting.

Euripides once wrote: "To persevere, trusting in what
hopes he has, is courage in a man. The coward despairs."
I'm done acting the coward.
Hope the offer still stands.

Hotch returned his attention to the man who was standing - patiently unmoving - in his grasp. "Who gave this to you?" he asked.

The man smirked. "If you don't know, then my apologies, mister, I don't have the right guy and I'll be on my way," he said in a flippant tone, and Hotch had the distinct impression that he was mocking him. His fancy way of saying 'stupid question.'

Hotch released him at last and took a step back as the man straightened up and turned around the face him. "CIA?" It was more a statement than a question.

The man's smirk widened. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said as he walked past Hotch with a sloppy salute, leaving him alone in the alley.

"Right," Hotch mumbled to himself as he watched him leave, making sure that he was truly on his way. But he knew that a trained CIA agent could have easily disarmed him – or even killed him – if that had been the plan. So he could only assume that he had nothing to fear from this man, especially now that he knew who had sent him.

His eyes fell on the photo between his fingers again and a small smile escaped his lips as he reread the last two lines.

I'm done acting the coward. Hope the offer still stands.

This could only mean that she was done with the hiding and the running. She was ready to come back.

Hope the offer still stands.

"Always," he whispered absentmindedly, his brow furrowing as he flipped it over and once more looked at the photograph. Was this small store going to be their meeting place then? How was he supposed to know when to go there? But then he realized that it didn't matter. She used to be CIA after all.

He wouldn't find her; Emily Prentiss would find him.

End Prologue

A/N: the story is complete, it's kind of long, so I'll be updating quickly over the next few days. As always, thanks for reading, I hope you'll like it!