Author's Note: I literally wrote this in two hours, no more. I was driving home when all of a sudden, this story idea hit. I could chalk it up to my excitement for season seven (only eight more days!), but I think the real reason lies in my obsession for Emily's evolving plotline. All summer, I've been on edge, just waiting for a sign, any sign on what to expect. And since we got pretty much nothing to work with...I let my imagination run away, and this little gem was the result. Just something to keep in mind while reading: in the world this story is written in, Hotch does not know that Emily is actually alive. Only JJ knows the truth.
...But anyway, I sincerely hope you enjoy reading it, and please remember to leave me a review or two; not only do they make me smile, but your constant feedback and critique never fails to improve my writing. Thank you in advance! :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.

"Don't leave."

Down-casting his eyes as Emily's small hand closed around his wrist, Hotch frowned. "You lied to me, Emily."

"Aaron, please." Her voice came out in a hushed whisper that tore at his heart. "You know I never wanted to hurt you."

"Didn't you?" he returned.

"Look at me."

He didn't.

"Look at me."

Sighing, he brought his gaze to where she was lying, a cool, almost silky sheet the only thing covering her body. Unashamedly, he selfishly ran his eyes along her every curve, the beautiful expanse of creamy skin at her hip, the generous swells of her rosy breasts, brown, almost black hair meandering over her shoulder and spilling over her chest in a very vixen-like fashion. God, he had missed her. Nearly every night, he had wept for her; wept for his missed chance at telling her goodbye, wept for everything they could have had together, everything they could have been together. And then, she had shown up on his doorstep…

He shut his eyes in pain. "I hate you."

"Then what was this?" Her voice was filled with sudden anger as she motioned between them, their naked bodies lying mere inches - but seemingly miles apart - from each other. "One last piece of ass for the road?" she choked out, face contorted in grim disgust.

Again, he answered her with silence.

"No, Aaron…you don't hate me." Please…tell me you don't. Then, to herself more than anyone else, Emily said, "I so naively thought that you would accept me back, and just minutes ago…I thought you were." At once, she was transported back to their previous coupling, mere minutes before. She could still feel his hands on her, tangling in her hair, situating on her hips, pushing her thighs apart, slowly, tenderly…

A shudder ran down her spine.

Long denied anger rose up in Hotch. "How could you think I would just let you waltz back into my life? I buried you, Emily. Or Lauren, or whoever the hell you are," he said with contempt. "I mourned for you. It took me two and a half months to finally realize that you were gone. You broke me." A sob slipped past her lips, but still, he continued. "Don't you get it? I thought you were dead! I had to look my five year old son in the eyes and tell him that his Emmy was gone, just like Haley. For days - no, weeks - he didn't speak. Didn't smile. Didn't laugh." He shook his head furiously. "And everything reminded me of you. I swear, late at night, I could smell your perfume on my pillow. And my dreams? Every damn night, I would dream that you were right there in front of me, but each time I'd reach for you, you disappeared. And then, the scene would change and I would see you, lying on that basement floor…and…and…" he didn't realize he was crying until a warm tear made its somber descent down his cheek, "you would call out for me. There was nothing I could do to help. And now…right as I begin to piece my life back together…you come back."

"I'm so sorry," she breathed.

"Yeah," he scoffed. "So am I."

Finally, Emily snapped. "You know what, Aaron? I am sorry that I hurt you, even though I only meant to keep you safe. I am sorry that you had to tell Jack everything. I am sorry for everything, whether you choose to believe it or not. You want to know exactly how sorry I am? Well, I sure hope you do, because I'm going to tell you, either way." She took a heaving breath to steady herself and brusquely wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Every night, I wouldn't be able to go to sleep, because for all I know, Ian could have been lurking in the shadows of the shady hotel rooms I stayed at. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't rest, I couldn't even blink. The stress was overwhelming. The headaches even more so. Every single fucking day, I didn't know if I would see another sunrise. I didn't know if I would ever get the chance to come back home, to laugh with friends, to…" her voice broke, "to tell you that I loved you. And yes, even though you're being an inconsiderate bastard right now, I do love you. I always have, and I always will. That's the one part of me, Emily Prentiss, that will never change. So, don't you even dare insinuate that you had it worse than I did. To everyone I cared about, I was dead. I was gone. Do you know what that does to someone? Knowing that everyone else thinks you're nonexistent? It changes you into someone you don't want to be."

"You're sorry for everything?" Hotch asked, his tone a bit softer, but still frighteningly distrustful.

"Yes." There was a pause. A quiet sigh. "No. I'm not sorry for that part of my past. Yes, I am sorry for how Operation Valhalla had to be played out, but I'm not sorry for the decisions I made. I protected a young, innocent boy from his monster of a father. I put a terrorist into jail, then killed him with my bare hands in a struggle of life and death." The completely monotone and emotionless way she said that last sentence made Hotch uncomfortable, but he said nothing as she continued on. "And if I had a chance to go back seven years and redo anything and everything, I wouldn't change a thing."

A bruising silence filled the dimly lit bedroom. Neither Hotch nor Emily spoke. Neither moved. For a moment, it seemed that neither was even breathing.

Until Hotch.

Oh, Hotch.

A single, heartbroken sentence broke the silence.

"I just missed you so much."

Tentatively, she brought a hand to his stubbly cheek. "I did, too. Did you know? You were the only thing that got me through that hell I lived in for three months. You made it worth the suffering, knowing that I'd see you again." She wet her lips with her tongue, looking at him sadly in the process.

Returning her sad gaze, Hotch voiced the question that had been on his mind ever since Reid had made the connection between her and Lauren Reynolds. "You…Doyle…did you…?" He cleared his throat. "Did you love him?"

Her pearly white teeth worried away at her bottom lip. "I…a part of me did. Lauren did. Lauren fell in love with Ian and his son, while Emily was pushed away in the background, only brought forward in matters of clear conscience. But…I'm still me," she said, trying for a smile. "Nothing has changed."

"How do I know? How do I know that…that Emily is the woman I fell for, not Lauren?" His eyes held a profoundly tortured expression.

"Because Lauren isn't real," she whispered simply. "Lauren was a creation for the purposes of JTF-12, a nobody. A…a tool. But Emily…she…I…" she choked out a sob, "Emily is an Ambassador's daughter. Emily made some stupid decisions when she was a teenager, and ended up having to get an abortion. Emily went to Yale, got accepted into the Academy soon after…and then was placed in the Behavioral Analysis Unit without her Unit Chief's authorization. Emily is in love," she said tenderly, "with a serious, passionate, amazing man named Aaron Hotchner. And…and she's pregnant with his child."

Hotch felt his heart stop.

Did she just say…

"Did you just -"

Emily nodded. "I'm pregnant, Aaron."

At her confirmation, he let the tears fall. "Oh my God. Emily."

A trembling "yeah" was all she could muster, a breath caught in the back of her throat as Hotch immediately pulled her against his chest and held her as close as possible.

"Oh my God." He brought his lips to her closed eyelids, the action so intimate that it made more tears develop. "I am so sorry, sweetheart. I am so sorry…"

She quieted him with a gentle brush of her lips over his. "Don't be. You had every right to be mad."

He said nothing, just shook his head. And then…

…he smiled.

"Wow," he said breathlessly. "A baby. We're really having a baby?"

"We really are," Emily said, beaming. Slowly, her grin faded, however. "Of course, I'm not asking you to do this if you don't want –"

Settling his lips over hers, he glided his tongue along her cupid's bow until she relaxed into his embrace. "Trust me, sweetheart. I want this, very much so. I…I always have," he admitted almost sheepishly.

"And trust me, Aaron," she said in return, leaning her forehead against his and smiling contently as his breath fanned out against her cheek. "This…" she guided his roughened palm to her belly, where the smallest of bumps had already formed, "is the best thing that has ever happened to me. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Ever. Thank you."

"Mm-mm," he declined, his lips moving to her ear and tickling the shell. "Thank you."

She peered at him through impossibly long lashes. "So…are we okay? For now, at least; until you need or want me to explain anything."

"We're okay," he assured. "Much better than okay," he amended, gliding downwards until he could bury his face into the crook of her neck.

"You're sure?" An uncharacteristic giggle fell from her lips as he peppered several tiny kisses all along her collarbone.

"Positive," Hotch murmured against her skin, before locking gazes with her in the moonlit room. "Welcome home, Emily Prentiss. Welcome home."

THE END.

Author's Note: Again, thank you so much for reading! Every second you spend reading and reviewing my stories is a second spent in making me the happiest woman in the world. I sincerely appreciate it; your time, your kind words, everything. :)

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