'Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame.' Song of Solomon 8:6
'Please don't go.'
She stared into the fireplace, entranced by the coals, flickering to life as she prodded them.
It seemed like she was always crying for him. Tears had been shed all over the world for this guy.
Washington, when he had been stabbed; Paris, when she was alone; London, after they had gotten together; Canada, when an Interpol case had led them stateside; Afghanistan when they had to say goodbye after a special case, yet, there simply were not enough in this moment.
She was a mess. A disheveled reflection of her usual self. Was she actually begging the man she loved to stay, when she knew he had to go? She wore a black baby tee, with black slacks, the perfect colour for mourning. When she got dressed that morning, she wasn't aware of the depressing news that would greet her. When Hotch had opened the door, with a non-committal hug and forlorn expression, she knew instantly that her subconscious had selected her attire.
'I have to do this Emily...for us, for Jack.'
She jabbed at the coals even harder at his comment. A nauseating wave of jealousy arose in her throat and she had to fight the cruel feeling from taking over. With her hair pulled back in a ponytail, he had a clear view of the different expressions darting across her features. His self-assured, raven haired beauty, looked frail, worried, fearful. He wanted to hold her, yet he was aware she would process the situation better in solitude. He settled into the settee a short distance from her, observing her with admiration.
It pained him to see her in this mode. The confession of witness protection led to an earthquake of thoughts, creating havoc and not consolation. He worried where Mr. Scratch was even as he looked at her with love. Leaving Emily at this time in his life when he needed to love and be loved was unfathomable but putting her in the same danger as when he had lost Haley loomed as even greater a concern to him. Adding to his deliberations was the fact that Jack deserved a normal life, away from the constant pang of unknown assailants and cases of agony and misery.
With these thoughts in mind, he knew there was no going back. He, Jack and Emily were trapped in the never ending cycle of 'what could have been'. Time, promotions, work, different countries and once again, past enemies had intervened and separation became a necessity for survival. Her next words cut into his train of thought.
'It's simply too soon. I just got back. I started planning how we would tell the team.'
She was more talking to herself than to him. Her self-talk was a coping mechanism that made him love her even more. He knew he had to help her through this but she had to know how much it was crippling him as well.
'Emily, please don't make this decision harder than it already is.' They now stood facing each other, dueling hands, as Hotch tried in vain to hold her close. He was dressed in khaki slacks and a chocolate brown polo shirt. They were presents from Emily, as she thought the colours complemented his brown eyes. She willed herself not to look into those soulful eyes in this moment. One look would convince her of the logic he was speaking.
'I need you, Hotch. There's no pretending on that anymore. I don't know if I'll be able to do this job, not knowing where you are, not being able to talk to you.' Her voice caught in her throat at her final confession. A love like theirs was suffocating as death or strengthening for life. She looked up at him feeling like their current impasse was slowly becoming the sting of death.
There were no more words. She was right. They had been through so much and had finally decided that the time for her return and their togetherness had come. Her composure was unravelling and as he felt the tears trickling down his cheek he accepted that he was too.
The decisions that had to be made were destroying them and they simply lacked the skills in the department of love to know how to deal with this situation.
"How many times have we talked someone else into witness protection? All this FBI training and yet, we're unprepared for our own reality." He lamented, as he bent his forehead to hers.
Separation because of job locations had been difficult enough. The thought of never speaking or seeing each other was overwhelming. He threaded his fingers through her hair, pulling it free from its bonds. Lifting her head to look into his eyes, she knew they had reached the conclusion of the matter.
'Emily, you have to stay with the team. Lead them. Guide them. Help them find him and then we can be together. Until then...'
He trailed off and she felt like the judge's gavel had fallen directly on her heart. It was the needed dosage of truth that reminded her of the bigger issue. The tears still came but she was finally able to let him hold her. The flame of fire behind them was the soft glow of warmth and comfort they needed. He started stroking her bare arms out of habit though, entranced by the feel of her tender skin.
'I have something for you. Well, some things.' He said with a slight smile.
She knew it wouldn't be jewelry or something that would reveal their love and so with peaked interest she looked around the room.
Her eyes landed on a box, specially postmarked, partially hidden by the bay window blinds. Hotch smiled at her recognition of the item.
Taking her hand, he led her to the box and using the nearby scissors, stripped away the tape. He left her to pull apart the covers and couldn't hide the beam of a smile that graced his lips.
Her eyes were greeted with lingerie in a myriad of colours. As she pulled out each item, she realised they were all bras. A lifetime supply of bras. She burst out laughing at the realisation.
When they both stopped laughing, she let him hold her hands to explain.
'I can't give you a ring to seal you to me in marriage right now. A bra seemed like the closest thing to set me as a seal on your heart.' He gingerly placed his hand over her left breast, knowing the tattoo Doyle had given her was there, wanting to replace the mental scar with memories of love.
'Every time you put one on, every time you get dressed, you can think of my love and how much I will miss this. Miss us. Miss you.'
He pulled her into another embrace, placing his chin on the top of her head as she snuggled into his neck.
A slow smile formed on her lips as she thought of the practicality of his gesture. Behavioural analysis would deem this possessive, naturally spoiling her interactions with any other man, but as he held her tightly, she knew any future relationships could and would not compare. Hotch was her forever love, the one you dream about in movies.
'I will love you forever Hotch. Forever and a time.'
'I love you even more Emily. Forever and eternity.'
It was their way of expressing the depth of their love. He bent his head to kiss her and it cemented their conviction that this could not be the end for them. They knew they had to find a way to be together, forever.