A/N: This is a sequel to my story More than a dance, but you don't necessarily have to read that story first to understand what happens here. Somehow, I couldn't get the idea out of my head what would happen next with Emily in London and Hotch still at the BAU. Will have a couple of chapters but not too many (I guess). Angst-ridden.

Disclaimer: Not mine. This is just for fun.

Wednesday

It is an ordinary morning in London – cloudy as if it will start to rain any moment. People are heading to work, chatting about last night, sipping at their coffee to go. At this time of day, the Interpol office is like any other office as long as there is no emergency.

Emily hears her colleagues coming in. The door to her office is open as it usually is. She likes to work closely with her team, doesn't want to be an unapproachable superior. Of course, it is all still new. Six weeks ago she was part of another team. It feels like an entirely different life, and it was.

Nothing here reminds her of her time at the BAU, and this is exactly what she was looking for. She just didn't expect it to happen so quickly, hoped she would have time to say goodbye properly to her former team, to Hotch.

Hotch...

She remembers how she told him about the job offer, about her need to leave and start over anew. He understood, but at the same time, and most likely caused by her impending farewell, the subtle tension between them pushed its way to the surface. Therefore, they made kind of a deal. She would fly to London, talk to Clyde about the job offer and then come back and talk it through with Hotch. Implying that she would make no decision unless she talked to him. Save that she didn't come back.

The uncomfortable memories and her remorse set her into motion. Emily walks over to the window, but it's a displacement activity. She isn't really looking outside but only reliving what happened.

She was supposed to meet Clyde in London to discuss the details of the job offer. But there was an emergency, and the job she was applying for was already vacant. They were in need of support, and Emily told herself that it was like a probation; a good opportunity to test the water. She didn't expect to like it that much. It felt like the perfect new job, the perfect new life. Simply, the right thing to do. If an international emergency wasn't impossible to fake, she would almost suspect that Clyde orchestrated it all to make her stay. When she eventually signed her contract of employment, it was merely a formality.

Of course, she has to go back to Washington once again to handle all sorts of things. As it is, though, she called a friend who packed some clothes and personal stuff and sent it to her for now. Another friend of a friend needed an apartment and rented hers. Thus, it is up to her whether she wants to go through the trouble of shipping her furniture overseas or just buy new furnishings. It is astounding how easy it is to leave her previous life behind.

Except for the team and Hotch. She didn't promise him not to take the new job unless she talked to him; at least, she didn't use that exact word. But they had a deal and she broke it. So, what she said or didn't say is a quibble, and her remorse is appropriate although she still tries to justify her decision, tries to erase the only shadow that interferes with her new life.

The team doesn't really need her. They like her, of course, probably even love her, but they functioned just as well without her when she was gone, recovering from her life-threatening injuries. And Hotch has his own life. He is not only the unit chief of the BAU. He also has a son and has even started dating again. Yes, he implied during their discussion about her wish to start over that he might not date any longer if she stayed and didn't move to London. Yet, he didn't say that. She only read it between the lines. So, when it became clear that London was what she wanted, what she had been looking for, was she supposed to let her chance pass by based on nothing but implications and assumptions? She could have talked to Hotch first, anyway. It wouldn't have done any harm. She didn't, though, and now, it is too late. The die is cast, but the remorse is always there. How can something that feels so right, feel so wrong at the same time?

Emily imagines that she will meet the team in a couple of weeks and make up for her hasty departure, that they will laugh and have fun together. Somehow, she can't imagine Hotch in this picture.

When she told him over the phone that she took the job, he was silent, much too silent, and she couldn't tell whether he was angry or disappointed, didn't even know what she preferred. None of it, honestly. They had talked on the phone several times during her probation, and he probably had seen it coming. Yet, it didn't seem to make it any easier.

"I thought you wanted to come back first so that we could talk about everything," he said, and there it was. An implication. They had to talk about everything. Or was she reading between the lines again? Assuming, and perhaps, assuming wrongly?

The ink on her contract wasn't even dry, and already, she was doubting her actions. She didn't want to do that, though, wanted to start anew without scruples and therefore suppressed all her doubts. This was her new life. It was supposed to feel good.

"I know," she replied, aware that it sounded a bit meekly. She was talking to her former unit chief, after all. "I didn't plan it. It just felt like the right thing to do."

He didn't comment on her explanation, and their call ended soon. Afterwards their contact was less frequent. Due to the fact that they hadn't actually been friends before she left, Emily knew it was only a question of time when they would lose sight of each other.

Or, at least, she thought so until last weekend when he called her and told her that he would like to meet her. On Monday. In London. He was in a hurry, didn't even give her the opportunity to ask whether this was merely a friendly visit because work brought him overseas or whether this was personal (and the very thought of it made her heart rate speed up ridiculously).

She doesn't usually stare out of the window at the beginning of every day, lost in thoughts. Her remorse is much more pronounced today because she actually met Hotch. Two days ago. And then again yesterday. It made her realize what could have been. Still, she is here, and he is in his hotel room, packing. He will fly back to Washington this evening.

Emily's fingers touch the window pane that is cold and soothing. She could call Hotch and ask him to stay – if only one or two more days (and nights...), but she doesn't move.

From up here, the people on the pavement are a miniature version of themselves. Nonetheless, she recognizes a little girl with a dog on a leash and a man, obviously the father, who is laughing and joking around with the child. Despite her inner distress, Emily smiles. Of course, life is complicated for everybody sometimes, but it feels good to imagine that this man and his family have no problems at all.

The phone on her desk rings, and she turns around to pick it up. It takes her five steps to reach her desk. On the display, she sees Clyde's name.

"Hey, Clyde," she answers the call.

"Emily," his voice is urgent, almost desperate, "you've got to..."

The explosion is deafening.

This is close, much too close, flashes through Emily's mind when it all happens at once. The window pane shatters into a thousand pieces; the exterior wall of the building comes down. She remembers standing upright when she answered the call, but now she is lying on the floor surrounded by dust and debris. She wants to move, but something is pushing her down, making it hard to breathe. There is screaming outside the building and inside; sirens are wailing.

Emily tries to think rationally. She should check her injuries, but there is no rush; she doesn't feel any pain. From where she is lying, she can see a patch of a blue sky. The clouds that were there only moments ago have vanished. In spite of what just happened, nature apparently decided that this will be a wonderful day. A perfect day for a family getaway. The random notion makes her wonder whether the father and his daughter she saw on the pavement earlier were already out of the danger zone when the explosion took place.

I have to call someone, she reasons and realizes with a sudden clarity that she is beside herself, probably has a head injury because now she also realizes that her vision gets blurry. Her fingers feel the phone she is still holding in her hand. Clyde... She was talking to Clyde. It takes more effort than it should to lift her arm, but when she tries to look at the display, she can't make anything out, her vision too blurry. Yet, Emily somehow manages to press the dial-back key. Nothing happens though. The line is dead.

Five steps from the window to her desk.

Five steps that most likely saved her life.

It must have been a car bomb outside of the building. If she had still stood at the window, she would be dead.

As it is, she is alive. For now.

Hotch is in his hotel room, packing, when he hears the explosion. His hotel is not far from her office, and immediately, he is worried.

He turns on the TV, grabs his cell phone and dials the number of Emily's office. Nothing. Not even a dialing tone. The attempt to reach her cell phone is also unsuccessful. His call goes to voicemail. If this is an emergency, and somehow, his instinct tells him that it is, the network will be down soon. At any rate, his cell phone number is on an international list for prerogative calls so that, even if a network is down, he is among the few people whose calls will still get through. Emily's cell phone number is on the same list. Therefore, he should be able to reach her, and maybe, she is simply busy right now. Hotch is so concerned, though, that he dials Clyde's number next.

"Aaron," the Brit answers sharply. Although they are not friends, they respect each other and are on a first-name basis these days. "I don't have time to talk to you," Clyde adds matter-of-factly, confirming hereby that something happened, something bad.

"I understand. I just need to know that Emily is alright. I couldn't reach her," Hotch states equally unemotionally even though he feels anything but. The whole situation of the last two days has left him highly unsettled and tense. He came here to resolve whatever it is between him and Emily, but things took an unexpected turn, and now, the whole situation is more muddled than before. An emergency on top of it all, moreover one that involves Emily, won't make things easier. However, if this is an emergency, he understands completely that Clyde has to prioritize and be short-spoken. Therefore, as soon as he tells him that Emily is fine, he will hang up and let them do their jobs, help out if he can.

But when Clyde doesn't answer right away, Hotch is getting an uneasy feeling. Just when he is about to press the other man to tell him what the hell is going on, Clyde continues to speak.

"I was on my way to meet Emily in her office," he says hesitatingly. "We received a serious threat about a car bomb, and I called her to inform her beforehand just when the explosion took place." He is a professional, but his voice shows the normal signs of someone under high emotional stress. "She was in her office, Aaron, and the building is... It's gone."

Hotch is listening to Clyde's words just as the first breaking news flash on the TV. Not missing a beat, he grabs his jacket and runs out of the room. Emily's office is only a few blocks away. He won't get there by car, anyway. The city will be in a lockdown. But he has to get there, has to find her. Hotch can't even begin to imagine what it would be like to lose her – especially not after what he said to her last night.

A cliffhanger, I know, and I have to admit that I have no idea as yet what Hotch said to Emily, but I will figure it out writing the next chapter.

In the meantime, reviews are very appreciated.

Thank you.