Emily paced nervously around their bedroom. Her bedroom, she corrected. There was something so devastatingly lonely about that that she didn't like to think about. Sun was streaming in through the white curtains, but she felt cold. Emily was always cold, nowadays. She shook her hands, trying to rid them of the numbness that always seemed to settle there now, and distract herself from the strange sense of wrongness that came with no longer wearing her rings. Her left, fourth finger felt light, naked almost. She folded her arms, to stop herself from fidgeting. He would be here soon and she needed to calm herself, she needed to be collected when she opened the door. She needed to compartmentalise. Emily sat down on the bed, which sank comfortably under her weight. What she wouldn't give to climb back beneath those covers and sleep for a few days. Restless nights weren't a new thing to her, not by a long chalk. Sleepless, anxious ones were.

She wasn't scared. It wasn't that kind of anxiety. It was the kind that came with an extreme change. Since Aaron had moved out, everything was quieter, tidier, now that there was less stuff in the house. That was so unnerving. Having the bed to herself was a strange feeling, too. She didn't like it. In fact, she hated it so much that for the past few nights, she'd been allowing their six year old, Ava, to sleep in her bed. Ava missed her father so much, that sleeping on Aarons side of the bed, wrapped up in one of his shirts that he had left, which Emily hadn't washed yet, was comforting her. It was a secret she would always keep close to her heart, but having his smell so close was soothing for Emily, too. She could hear Ava banging around in her bedroom, packing a bag to take to her fathers, and, raking the hair back from her face and using the hairband around her wrist to tie it up, she made her way down the hall.

Ava's room was a mess. That was nothing new - Ava seemed to have completely avoided the neat gene that both of her parents had passed down, and she had a storage system all her own; a non-existent one. Emily wasn't as strict as Aaron, when it came to keeping things in order, but she liked things neat. Ava had no such issues. Her bedspread was awry, her teddy bears scattered around the room, along with all of her toys. There were clothes everywhere.

"Remind me never to let you pack your own bag again," Emily smiled, walking into the room and scooping the dark-haired little girl up into her arms, "At least, not until you know how to fold." She tugged a scrunched up dress out of the backpack Ava had filled. Filled was a loose term. The butterfly adorned bag was overflowing with frills and bows. Ava certianly hadn't inherited the girly gene from her mother; Emily had always insisted that it was Auntie Penelope rubbing off on her. Aaron was inclined to agree.

"I want to take toys to leave in daddy's." Ava told her mother, matter-of-factly, as Emily sat down on the bed, settling her daughter on her lap. She dug through the bag and found, buried underneith what turned out to be very few items of clothing, an array of toys. Barbies, a baby doll and bottle, stuffed animals and a few of pieces of her play make-up; a present from Auntie Pen, of course. The sight of her daughters little treasures all packed into a bag made Emily's stomach turn. They were some of her favourite toys, and she was going to take them to Aarons. Best not to look too much into that.

Emily nodded and gave the bag to Ava. "Put some more toys in there, sweetheart, I'll get you another bag."

She left Ava's room and headed to the closet at the end of the hallway, next to their stairs, in which she kept towels, suitcases, backpacks. Anything that didn't really fit in a bedroom or living room, she shoved in there. She opened the door and stopped. It was like looking into a mirror of the past, as she stared at her wedding photo. She had hidden it away in here when Aaron had first moved out. It had been too painful, and three weeks later, it still choked her up and would, she imagined, for the forseeable future. She grabbed one of Ava's little suitcases and closed the door. She was going to have to do something about that. But, what? She couldn't throw away ten years of memories simply because they were painful.

Fifteen minutes later, she was standing on the inside of her front door, waiting for the knock with bated breath. Ava had been staring out of the lounge window, waiting for her father and her big brother, Jack, to come and pick her up. She had squealed with excitement and raced upstairs to get her bags when she saw the car pull into the drive. Emily didn't know how ready she was for this encounter; she had taken a few weeks off work, hadn't had to see him since the day he had walked out. Their only communication had been over text, to organise him picking up their daughter. When she heard his knuckles rap against the door, she inhaled deeply, put a smile on her face and opened the door.

"Emily." He was smiling, too. She wondered if his smile was as fake as hers, and, if it was, did he know that hers wasn't real?

"Hey," She stepped back. It felt so wrong to have to grant him access to his own home. Only, it wasn't his home. Not anymore. Jack was just behind him. Technically, he still lived here, but he was living in his uni dorms at the minute, anyway, so their living arrangements didn't affect him. He hugged her and she smiled, hugging him back. There was something so comforting about the fact that she and Jack could still interact this way; she wasn't his mother and he had never called her 'mum', but that had never bothered her. She didn't need that title to know he loved her, and she loved him, and they were irreplacable parts of each others life.

"Hey, kid," She used her nickname for him, the one she had used since he was little. He was growing up, alright. Taller than his dad now, with the same dimples and a mop of unruly brown hair, he was a real looker, "Hows school?"

"It's good," He said, in the mans voice that she still wasn't completely used too. She still saw him as the little blonde boy who had cheered for his father, waving a banner, at the F.B.I triathalon, "The physical side of it is a bitch, but-"

"Language." Aaron said. Emily felt her lips tug into a smirk. There would forever be something amusing about Hotch telling off his adult son for swearing. "Where's Ava?" He asked her.

"Oh, she's just grabbing her stuff."

As if on cue, they heard the pitter-patter of the little girls feet on the landing and she came into view at the top of the wide staircase.

"Daddy!" She squealed with excitement, and Hotch crouched down as she came bolting down the stairs.

"Don't run down the stairs, it's dangerous!" Emily's chastisation fell on deaf ears as Ava launched herself from the third step, into her fathers waiting arms. She looked so tiny as he lifted her up and she wrapped her arms and legs around him, like she wasn't ever going to let go. Emily's heart twinged, yet again, and she saw how much this was affecting her daughter. Jack was smiling at her, holding her outstretched hand as she hugged Aaron. She had hold of one of his fingers and Emily thought that was an almost accurate depiction of their relationship. She had them all wrapped around her tiny little finger, but none more so than her big brother. And, maybe, Uncle Derek.

"You ready, princess?" Ava nodded, not releasing her father from the chokehold he had her in until Emily insisted she hug her goodbye.

Emily closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of her daughters shampoo when she hugged. It wasn't unusual for them to be apart, nor with their job, but there was something unsettling about having Ava leave her, instead of it being the other way around. She kissed her daughters cheek and Ava demanded a piggy back from Jack.

He laughed. "Come on, then, monkey." He bent down and let her crawl onto his back, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. If it was uncomfortable, he didn't comment on it. He just kissed Emily's cheek, glanced between her and his dad and then ducked out of the front door to carry Ava to the car. There was a beat of silence, and Emily instantly knew she had to fill it. They couldn't be silent and alone together. All that would hang in the silence would be sadness and tragedy, and that was just too painful.

"Every time I see him, I'm startled by how tall he's gotten." She laughed, falsley, looking at the door where their children had just exited. Aaron was quiet and she knew he was looking at her. The smile faded from her lips and she swallowed, composing herself, before she looked at him.

His face was set in that impenetrable stare she was so familiar with, but she hadn't seen it directed at her for a long time. No, that was a lie. She had seen it directed at her, for the first time in a long time, three weeks ago when she had told him it wasn't working anymore. It made her want to squirm and shrink away, but she didn't.

"Don't look at me like that." She told him.

"Like what?"

"Like I'm still that girl who walked into your office fourteen years ago, all smiles and energy. Like you don't trust or like me."

"How should I look at you, Emily? Like you're my soon-to-be ex-wife? I don't know how to look at that person." His reasoning shot right through her heart, but she didn't let that show on her face. She gave him a small, sad smile, instead.

"How about you look at me like I'm your subordinate collegue, since thats what I am?"

"You'll never be just a collegue to me, Emily." He stepped forward and, before she could protest, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. She closed her eyes at the contact, overwhelmed by the emotion of the situation and overpowered by the simple closeness of him. Her hands came up and curled into the lapels of his jacket, holding him close to her, loving the warmth and smell of him. She released her hold on him as soon as he drew his lips away. When she opened her eyes, it was to the sound of the front door closing shut behind him.