A/N: Just an idea for a story to throw out here. I was always interested in the reactions of the team when they find out Prentiss wasn't actually dead. I guess I'll have to wait for season seven - man, it's killing me! PS: There are no pairings and Ashley Seaver will be a main character in this story, as will Emily Prentiss.

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.

Warning(s): Grammar errors, typos, OOC (If not in this chapter, it might happen in later chapters. I apologize in advanced) and cursing.

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Between the Lies and Trust

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Summary:

He was their leader, their protector. They had to understand why he lied to them. They had to understand it was to ensure her safety. But when word that Emily Prentiss is actually alive reaches them, the team is threatened to fall apart.

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Preface

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"You knew! You fucking knew, didn't you? And you never told us. You didn't even try to hint on it. What the hell, man?"

He saw it coming. He knew what would happen minutes before it actually happened. But he just stood there. He stood there and took it – he deserved it, he had thought dryly. He didn't flinch, he didn't back down. He didn't run.

He just fucking stood there and took the blows – took it like a man.

"Why would you leave us in the dark? After what happened with Gideon, didn't you even consider us?"

He wasn't sure what hurt more.

Was it the accusations or the physical blows to his face? He wasn't too sure anymore. He only knew one thing at that point. He was strong. He was stronger than this. He didn't break down crying for no reason. He didn't just let things get to him. He was strong – wasn't that what a leader was?

(So what the hell was he doing out in the rain if not "letting things get to him" – wasn't this the same?)

"We were always there for you. We were always getting your back. We trusted you with everything we had, Aaron. Why didn't you trust us?"

But it had never been about trust – it was about protecting. He was protecting them, protecting her. He was keeping them safe. He was doing his job. He was doing the fucking right thing.

It was never an issue about trust.

Because he trusted them completely. He trusted them with his life.

"I thought you were better than this! I thought you were the greatest boss in the world – like a hero!"

That, however, did make him flinch.

One tiny comment about "hero" and he lost it – not entirely, but enough that it showed on his face and once the team (his team) saw, they backed off. He wasn't sure if it was intentional or they realized they had taken a step too far but they let him excuse himself from the room.

And now, here he stood, out in the dimly lit parking lot with rain pouring down on him, caught up in his thoughts and letting everything finally catch up to him.

In other words, "letting it get to him".

He knew he shouldn't. But it was such bad timing.

Of all the moments for something like this to happen – for something like this to let loose like some evil force, why did it have to happen when they were on a case?

It was a bad case too – one that needed their full attention, their full focus. One that needed every cooperation and trust and leadership. One that needed a full team of clear heads – clear heads of profilers.

So of course, he had every right (even if a part of him thought this was absurd) to "let this get to him".

He never usually made a big deal over things but he knew this case would end badly.

Distracted minds and a leader that did not have the trust needed to lead a team was never a good sign. In fact, it was a big indicator that things would only turn ugly in the end.

"It went pretty bad tonight, didn't it?"

That voice.

He felt himself go rigid. He didn't have to turn around to see who it was – he already knew. It was the only person that didn't hurl accusations at his face or even show him hostility. No, he was pretty sure (certain) that she just sat there the entire time, watching them from the sidelines (and cheering for no one – not even him).

He wasn't entirely sure if it was because she was still too intimidated by him to have joined in on the favorite game of the evening: profile Aaron Hotchner. Or maybe it was because she was new and inexperienced and was terrified at the aspect of analyzing him completely wrong.

David Rossi certainly did not make matters any better when he tried (persistently) to get her to join, to make even one little comment.

Ashley Seaver moved to stand beside him.

He briefly glanced at her before letting his eyes dart elsewhere. He had a pretty good idea of why she bothered to follow him. Nevertheless, he let her speak.

"You know it's not too late to try and fix things – make them right again. I don't know the team too well but I think they're of the forgiving type."

She had been hesitant – he picked up on that immediately. Still, he allowed himself a smile for a split second. "They are."

"Then why don't you patch things up with them?" He knew she was frowning at this point, confused.

"It's not that simple." He let out a small sigh.

Seaver's frown deepened. Her voice went quiet, thoughtful. "We're on a case, sir."

"I know. But it's not that simple," he repeated. He tried to elaborate a little more. "They'll need time – more time than we have."

There was a long pause.

Seaver chewed her lip. She wasn't sure when she was going to cross the line. "You never let anything stop you before," she said at last.

Hotch was quiet for a while.

Seaver wondered if she went too far. She was beginning to think it was a bad idea (was she always this full of bad ideas?) coming here. She was about to back up and go back inside. But finally, he looked at her.

His intense stare kept her locked in place.

"You know," he started quietly, "I wondered about you for sometime tonight. You were quiet – interestingly quiet. And that got me thinking. While the rest of my team had been throwing my words back at me, twisting them into making me look like a monster – which I can't say I blame them for – you said nothing. You didn't get involved, didn't choose a side. You stuck to one corner of the room, on the complete opposite of everyone else and only watched."

He seemed to loom over her as he talked.

Seaver couldn't pull her eyes away from him – it was as if he had performed some kind of magic over her.

"And you know, two things then occurred to me," he continued just as quietly – his voice only slightly above a whisper, "The first hit me with almost the same force as Morgan's punch had." He smiled briefly (to Seaver it was more like a shark's grin – vicious, sharp). "You might be the key. You might be what we need – new, fresh, not completely taken in by her death. No. Don't say anything just yet. Let me finish. You're new to this team, Seaver. You may not be as naïve as some may think but you're not as close to this family as the rest of us are. You weren't as affected by her death. So therefore, you have a clear mind. That's why you sat there and watched. You felt as if you were an outsider watching a family feud (and maybe you were, was added silently).

"And so to you, this was merely a choice on my part in order to protect said family. If you did express your opinion, it'd be along a similar line to this, wouldn't it?"

Seaver stared at him, bewildered.

She wasn't sure what she was supposed to say to do (although a part of her could only think: Is he really trying to profile me?).

She didn't have to say anything.

He wasn't done yet – not by a long shot. "The second thought occurred to me almost immediately after the first. Perhaps you really were just naive. You're new to the BAU; you're new to this team. You're new to me. You were scared of what I might have done if you got involved. You figured everyone had their breaking point, perhaps this was mine and you didn't want to be the one person that made me lose it. You didn't want to lose this job. And you didn't want to face the horrors of breaking up a good team – you couldn't have that on your conscious (and maybe you did love this team like a family). So you sat and figured it would be best to watch it play itself out."

She could hear the sourness tinged in his voice – it was only slight but she knew an accusation when she heard one. Still, she wasn't sure what to say – what he wanted her to say. She bit her lip.

"You're right. I am new." She looked at him as evenly as she could. "But I'm not naïve, sir. You made a choice. I respect that – maybe I am a little confused and a little hurt but I also realize it was a choice to make and I respect it." Then she paused. Seaver looked down. "I was thinking the whole time. I was wondering about you – why you did it, why the others couldn't see it. It made me realize something of my own." She briefly met his gaze again.

The intensity in his eyes burned more. "Tell me then."

"I realize that you're strong," she stated softly. "You're strong just as any leader should be. You keep your head up. You don't let things get to you – not normally, sir."

Hotch nodded. "You're right. But you can see it now, can't you?"

"See what, sir?"

"It's not going to be easy. The team is a family. Trust takes time to build – it'll take more time to gain it back." He finally turned away. "And we're on a case. If the team cannot trust its leader, how can they trust each other?"

Seaver frowned. She looked thoughtful for a moment. "They'll trust you, sir. You're strong. You'll make it work."

He shook his head. "It might require more time than we have. And it'll take more than just me to make it work - if it works. So let me ask you now." He turned back to her. His gaze burned with a kind of passion Seaver never saw in anyone else before. "Do you trust me, Seaver?"

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