A/N: I don't really watch CM anymore; haven't since Emily left, except for one episode. So I have absolutely no idea what's going on, besides JJ is going to get kidnapped or something. Whatever.

I am 100% ignoring that. This is my fantasy of how Emily returns to the show (for good, not just for one episode). I hope you enjoy!

"Daddy?" Hotch heard from a few feet below. He looked away from his phone and down at his son, Jack.

"What's up, kiddo?"

The eight-year-old boldly took his father's phone out of his hand. "You're not listening!"

Hotch forced a smile. "Sorry. Finish telling me about your day. How did that math test go?"

As Jack yammered on about multiplication, Hotch's mind drifted back to what had distracted him in the first place.

"Hey, Hotch, it's me…Emily. You're hard to get a hold of these days. Anyway, I'm…I'm coming back," she'd said in the voicemail. "Moving back, that is. In two weeks. On the fifth, to be specific. I guess I just…thought I'd let you know. Uh…Talk to you later."

For about a year and a half she had been out of his life almost completely, save for a casual email here or there. She had allowed him to recover. Ironically, it was he who had driven her away. Partly, anyway. The incident with Doyle had of course unsettled her. But Hotch's situation had made it impossible for Emily to find solid ground again in a world that required his support. Her return from Paris had been almost as traumatic as the near-death experience that had sent her there.

"Daddy! It's Beth!"

Hotch popped back into alertness again and held out his hand. After Jack had given Beth a detailed description of what number Hotch had been going in the bathroom when she'd called one time, Hotch had forbidden him from answering the phone when anyone of importance was calling.

"Hey," Hotch answered with another fake smile. The prospect of talking to his long-distance girlfriend did little to excite him. And that had little to do with the voicemail he'd just heard. He and Beth had said their "I love you"s, had made some plans for the future, but it had all felt very stale for months now.

"How was your day?" Beth asked.

"Not too bad…"

Two Weeks Later

The team awaited Emily's arrival at her little homecoming gathering at a favorite pub. Her flight had arrived several hours ago, but no one had seen her yet. "Act naturally, everyone, let's not freak her out," Garcia insisted.

"How could we freak her out by being excited to see her?" Morgan challenged. "Is something goin' on? Is she okay?"

"It's just a big change, and she wasn't sure about coming back in the first place," Garcia snipped.

"Why not?" Reid asked.

"Hey, guys!" Emily said at the door, waving, before Reid could get an answer. A hill of snow had gathered on each of her shoulders, contrasting the long black pea coat that left a sliver of her legs showing.

Hotch watched Garcia more than he watched Emily. He'd taught himself, ever since Emily had gotten back from Paris, to train his eyes on other people or things. Because ever since the day he'd learned he would have to play along with her staged death, he'd had to pretend she didn't exist.

It wasn't easy, though. When Emily hugged a nearly bursting Garcia first, Hotch caught a glimpse of Emily's soft hair—he could still feel the way it slipped like silk between his fingertips. And suddenly his eyes forgot their objective and stayed glued on what they wanted most. Their target was beaming, her smile spreading clean across her face as each of her old friends greeted her. Hotch waited until last, forcing himself not to take an extra second to hold her. This would be a foolish way to get caught.

"Hey," she said to Hotch with less fervor than she had the others. The excitement was put on pause as a few of their friends went to the bar, racing to buy Emily her first drink back in the States. The rest went off elsewhere, leaving Hotch and Emily alone.

"Hey." Hotch shoved his hands in his pants pockets.

"How's…How's Jack?" Emily asked carefully.

Still asks about you once in a blue moon, Hotch thought to himself.

"He's good."

Emily smiled again. Even though the smile was strained, it didn't fail to completely derail Hotch's mind.

"I heard you already have a job in the Bureau again," Hotch said, maintaining eye contact and hoping Emily didn't catch on to what his eyes really saw.

Her lips closing in on his. Her thick eyelashes revealing glazed-over eyes as she pulled away.

"Yeah," she said, clearing her throat as she shouldered off her coat. "Got the Europe thing out of my system and really started missing it here. I decided to try my hands at the D.C. Field Office, see if I can handle being in one place for more than a few weeks."

"Good luck with that," Hotch said with a wry grin. "Unit Chief, I hear."

Emily nodded modestly and reached out her hands for the bright purple cocktail Garcia brought her.

"I got you an extra beer in case you don't want to look like a kid who just ate a popsicle," JJ said, mocking Garcia's drink choice.

"You guys are gonna get me sick," Emily said, giggling as Morgan brought over a bottle of wine and a few glasses. Rossi, Reid, and Blake were trying their hands at the dartboard, letting Emily breathe a little.

"I would be honored if you threw up in my toilet," Garcia said grandly, kissing Emily on the forehead and leaving a lipstick print. "By the way, you're totally shacking up with me until you find your own place."

"I have a hotel already, and I actually can't wait to go soak in the Jacuzzi," Emily said apologetically. "I've been stiff all day from the flight."

"Well, once you're feeling better, my door is open," Garcia insisted. "I'll save you some money."

"Like she needs to save money," JJ scoffed. "Let me guess, Miss Moneybags, staying at the Ritz?"

Emily wiggled her eyebrows. "Maybe."

While Hotch stayed seated and for the most part silent, everyone else fussed over their long lost friend, asking where she was looking to live, wondering about her new job and how many minions she had, with Garcia keeping things uncomfortable by guessing what kinds of accents Emily's European lovers had.

Hotch didn't know what kind of night he'd expected. Did he expect Emily to come crawling back to him? Did he expect to let her? To cheat on his girlfriend?

He hadn't so much as touched Emily since before she'd disappeared to Boston three years ago. Had it really been three years since Doyle had effectively ended what had never had a chance to begin in the first place? Yes, he decided after some quick math. Almost.

Emily was soon dishing out hugs and kisses as her former colleagues made their way home one by one. Why Hotch didn't leave the first chance he got, he wasn't sure. Thanks to his lack of forethought, he found himself the only one left at the bar with Emily.

"How many glasses of scotch is that?" Emily asked.

Hotch shrugged. He never counted anymore.

Emily huffed. "Okay, then. So…how's Beth?"

Hotch licked the corner of his lips, tasting more scotch and the salt from a light sweat. "She's okay."

"Still living in New York?"

"Yup."

"How often do you guys see each other?"

"We shoot for about once a month. One of us tries to take a long weekend."

"So once every three months you actually see each other," Emily surmised.

"Sounds about right."

Neither said anything for a while, both equally uncomfortable at realizing what they were really talking about. Hotch's relationship with Beth had been the nail in the coffin for his prospects with Emily. Neither had ever said it outright, but only because it needn't be said.

Emily yawned. "Ugh, what a long day. I think I'm gonna head back to the hotel."

"Take a cab," Hotch said, noting the assortment of glasses and bottles around them.

"How do you think I got here?" she teased. "Hey. Can I ask you something?" She felt a new buzz taking over now that the obligatory chitchat about Beth was out of the way. Maybe it was that purple cocktail, or maybe it was the fact that Hotch was someone else's anyway and probably always would be. She couldn't possibly make things worse.

"Shoot."

"Did I…say something?"

Hotch looked up at her for the first time in a while, he realized. "What makes you say that?"

"You're acting colder than I remember. Not cold, I guess, just…aloof is a better word. I mean, we haven't seen each other since I left for London in the first place. I missed you guys. All of you. That includes you, you know."

"I know. I missed you, too."

"Then you could act like you're happy to see me," Emily said. Her inhibitions were loosened just enough for her to speak her mind, but she still articulated every word quite well.

"Of course I'm happy to see you." For the first time, Hotch's smile was completely natural. The banter woke him from his funk, at least for a moment. "Sorry if I put a damper on things. I'm just…"

"Tired, I know. Listen, you should get home to Jack. I'll get a cab for you, too."

"Jack's at a slumber party. I was going to stick around and have one more drink."

"Well, you didn't mention you were a free agent tonight. In that case, let's stop at the liquor store and party it up at my hotel room. Stop paying fifteen bucks a glass."

"I thought you weren't budget-conscious?"

Emily rolled her eyes. "I'm not staying at the Ritz, Hotch. I mean, I'm not staying at an airport motel or anything, but I'm not as loaded as you think I am. Living in London is expensive."

"So is living in D.C."

"I'll probably live in the suburbs," Emily said with a shrug.

"You really liked those row houses, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but I'm kind of over living in the city. For now, anyway. I'd like a big yard—a garden, patio furniture, you know. Room for a dog, maybe."

"Jack and I moved back into a house, you know."

"Really? I bet he loves that."

"And I love mowing the lawn again," Hotch said, raising his glass before emptying it.

"Come on," Emily said before Hotch could order another drink. "Let's hit up a liquor store and really catch up."

This had bad idea written all over it. Despite his slight inebriation, Hotch still had his wits about him enough to realize that he was buzzed, had a girlfriend he merely liked, and was about to go get the rest of the way drunk with the woman he loved. If Emily were sober, she would've left the bar with everyone else, would have avoided alone time with Hotch at all costs. And she never would have suggested that the two of them drink together in a hotel room.

As wary as he was of the entire situation, Hotch's every sense seemed heightened only in good ways. As he exited the building with Emily, her hair flowed behind her and he looked freely with no one there to spot him. Her hair had gotten long. So long. And it had a gentle wave to it. He'd expected Emily to come back with a short, blunt cut—something more suited to the office. But then he remembered something she'd said to him on one of their dates.

Their first one.

Three Years Ago

"I like the curls," Hotch said nervously as they sat down in a dark corner of a pricy Thai restaurant. It wasn't his favorite cuisine, but he was aiming to impress Emily by appearing a bit more cultured than he really was. "Your hair, I mean."

"I know what you mean," Emily said, flashing him a miraculously confident grin. "And thank you. I'm thinking of cutting it even shorter, though."

"Don't," Hotch said without a single thought. "I mean…it looks nice when it's really long. It looks nice any way you wear it, but—"

"Hotch, relax. I'm not fishing for compliments on my hair and I'm also not going to ask you if this dress makes me look fat. Just be yourself. Chill out."

Hotch held his arms up slightly at his sides, showcasing himself. "This…is me. I haven't been on a date in I don't even know how long. I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing."

At this point in time, he had no idea that Emily's ex-lover was scheming his escape from prison to find the woman who had ruined his life. Right now, all Hotch knew was first date jitters. But it wasn't all bad. Somehow, through some stammering, he'd managed to ask her to dinner a few nights ago after work. And she hadn't turned him down.

Emily's lips curved upward as she looked down at her menu, bouncing her crossed leg under the table. The name Ian Doyle wasn't one that crossed her mind every day anymore. She was truly enjoying herself with Hotch while Doyle was halfway around the world, cooking up ways to torture her as she'd tortured him. Blissful ignorance.

"How much are you enjoying this?" Hotch asked.

"The atmosphere? I love it. It was a very nice choice," she replied offhandedly.

"I meant—"

"Watching you squirm? Of course I know what you meant, Hotch. I always know what you mean. And for the record, watching you squirm makes me the happiest I've ever been."

A/N: Confused? Good! You know how I love flashbacks…you'll learn more as the story goes on!