Hmm, so this is just me imagining things. With Prentiss gone, I need me some love! First fic, I may have been one of those anonymous people who reviews stories but I decided to try. Seriously I just realized how hard it is to write a fic.

I don't own Criminal Minds or any of the characters if I do, everyone should have had sex with everyone already! (Just kidding!)

Mistakes are mine so apologies in advance! Let me know if it's worth continuing!

Reid was the first one to spot the couple entering the restaurant. He and the team were out the night enjoying themselves after a week of working non-stop on a case in Texas. They had decided to eat in an Italian bistro of which Rossi happily recommended and graciously treated the team. Everyone was present.

Everyone except Emily.

It had been four months since the wedding, the night they all have the reasons to celebrate yet also a night of loneliness. It was a day of triumph for the BAU. Their family was saved and to add to that, a marriage had sealed the happiness for the two persons who loved each other.

Then there had been the dancing. As the dinner was gratuitously been consumed, Rossi had pointed towards the center of the lawn to present a small dance floor had been set up complete with the band to play for the night.

And so, Will held JJ hands and led her to their first dance as husband and wife. Everyone looked on until Rossi stood up to dance with to no one's surprise Erin Strauss. At that Strauss had blushed. Garcia knowingly smirked and looked at Reid. At that couples on their table also stood up to follow. Morgan with comforting smile had taken Penelope. It was then evident that Reid and Emily were the ones left on the table.

So Emily cheerfully teased him. "Hey Reid, guess we better paired up huh."

"Don't worry Emily," he played back, "I'm a good dancer."

"I bet you are. I'm not surprised if you had also read on that."

"Hey!" he protested. He is actually good at dancing!

"Just kidding Reid" she answered, "why don't you go ahead, I'll just fixed my top."

"Don't be long" he moved to the floor.

They had danced playfully. Emily suggesting that they're both young and that Rossi's too formal dancing is for the old. Loud enough to hear, Rossi chuckled. Soon, Rossi moved to switch partner with him. Emily had danced with everyone at that night. Reid had known something was off with Emily that day. He watched as she whispered something to Rossi and he saw shock and sadness etched the man's eyes. Then Rossi had whispered back and hugged Emily.

Hotch had then proceeded to steal Emily's arm from Rossi's mumbling along the lines that the song is about to be finished and he had yet to dance with Emily. Emily had laughed. Lastly, Morgan and Emily danced. As the song ended, the two had stayed for another dance. Reid was confused but he had seen the same sadness in Morgan's face. He dance with Emily for the duration of the song until Emily complained loudly about her shoes killing her. With that Morgan swept her legs to carry her.

"Morgan!" Emily blushing cried, "put me down!" She demanded.

The others watched in amusement as Emily squirmed, her complaints unheard as Morgan carried her to the table and settled her down.

Emily to say was embarrassed, her face beet red.

"Now come on Princess! You said your feet hurt, is that anyway to treat me after I carried your ass back here?" By then everyone on the table was laughing in amusement.

Still glaring Emily punched him in the arm, "I can walk you jerk!" Her eyes gleeful. Just like that any sign of sadness in Morgan was gone.

Hotch noticed his silence. "Reid, what is it?" Reid was pulled from his thoughts. Hotch followed his line of sight and stilled.

By then, the rest of the people in the table had also looked on to the same direction. As if sensing the stares, the couple turned to their way. It was Ambassador Prentiss, accompanied by a man in his late sixties wearing a tux. The man was tall and lean. His hair was short and straight, black, speckled with gray. It was the sharp features, his jaw and nose and the deepset of brown eyes that screams of Emily's father.

"Do you think they know?" Reid turned to Hotch for an answer. His query was on Emily's departure from the Bureau. The team had met the Ambassador before and they know what sort of relationship the mother and daughter had. Although Emily had told them that after her death, she had finally contacted her mother.

Before Hotch had to answer, the team watched in surprise as the Ambassador turned back to talk to the maƮtre saying a few words. They watched the exchange while Emily's father continues to glance at their table. His expression almost apologetic. Seconds later, they watched as the couple exited the restaurant, the strides almost in a hurry.

"What the hell?" Morgan spat. To say they were shocked was an understatement. Was the Ambassador angry?

Everyone was silent. "Maybe they have an emergency?" Garcia chimed in the effort to diffuse the tension.

"Garcia," Morgan chastised "have you seen the Ambassador's face? It looks like she cannot wait to get the hell out of here!" Now Morgan was fuming. He really wanted to ask about Emily. It had been two months ago that he had heard from her. And tonight could have been his chance. But what the hell was the Ambassador thinking running off like that!

"Enough!" Hotch barked. Like everyone, his appetite was now gone. "Let's finish off. We have work tomorrow." He cannot wait to get out. He has things now more important to think.

"Hotch?"

Hotch looked up to see Reid in his doorway looking extremely uncomfortable. "Reid I know everyone wants to know and I can tell you, I've called her parents already and they have yet to return my call." He spoke before Reid asked again. The boy had been constantly nagging him for the past days. He can't really blame him.

"I'll let you know as soon as I heard from them." The team was worried. After their dinner, they had met at the office to talk. Something was indeed not right. The last contact of Emily had been two months ago.

Hotch had been jealous. Everyone from the team had been in constant communication with Emily except for him. Because you're an idiot. His mind screams.

Where are you?

The other person who could give him the answer was also missing. He was getting agitated. It had been already four days. He contacted her phone but the monotous tone of the words subscriber cannot be reached was starting to irritate him. He had called Clyde Easter but he was informed that the man was out of the country and was currently on assignment and would not be back for a week. He had then left a message to return his call as soon as possible. It had been a week and he had yet to hear from him.

He was feeling restless that he could not even sleep. Beth had noticed it but he brushed her aside. This is none of her concern. Keep telling yourself that. He was so absorbed on his thoughts that he did not noticed Reid slipping out of the door.

Before long, his mind had wondered back to that night. "I'm having a bad day." Her painful admittance was evident on her teary eyes, her throat constricting from her attempt to stop the tears from falling. And Hotch knows it, she may be the queen of compartmentalization but he had known her long enough to see and discern her emotions just like he had told her that night on JJ's wedding. That's your tell.

He was grateful that she had opened to him. Emily was the person in the team he had come to really trust. She had been there for him, never really told him anything but she had always reminded him that he is not alone. That's what she'd told him when his family had been taken from him, when Jack his sweet boy was hurt, bullied. He is not alone, she constantly reminds him. Not long she became her friend, late nights with scotch spent in his office, sometimes with Dave.

He did not know when but he had started to see Emily as a woman, a beautiful woman. He began to notice the way she bit her lower lip in thought, the way she walked, the way she tucked her bangs to the side. He had fallen in love with Emily Prentiss. His subordinate. Then he had decided that she can't know. She's worked hard to reach what she is now. He cannot be the reason to destroy that. So he contented himself to loving her from afar. No matter how painful that is.

Then Doyle happened. With each truth resurfacing, he became more in love with the woman whose secrets overthrow his. From the first moment he knew there is a larger reason she had to what she did. He was right. All of it for a little boy. And his admiration and love for Emily only grew. Then she died. His doing. Like he told Morgan, he is to blame and he would not have it any other way. Then she came back, broken, ashamed. And so he stood back again. She doesn't need his mess. She's not ready and so was he.

But as he looked across to the woman admitting her feelings, only one thing ran to his mind. Just for tonight.

And so he took her to dinner. Conversation between them was easy. She inquired about Jack because she knows talking about his son makes him smile.

They shared a bottle of wine and at about half bottle empty, she took his hands and with her pleading eyes pointed towards the dance floor. One dance she told him. He could have admitted that there is no need for her to plead. He had always wanted to dance with her, feel his arms around her. And so together they danced slowly.

Later he drove her back to her apartment.

"Would you like to come up?" she queried. He can see how she wants company and not ready to be alone so he followed her inside.

"Coffee, tea or beer?"

"Coffee's alright." He watched her as she prepared the drink. "Are you okay?"

She smiled, "Yeah, I'll be fine." Then with a smirk added, "If I'd known that a late night date with you is a cure for my pitiful problems, I would have dragged you along time ago."

"Wow," he answered back, "so tonight constitutes as a date?"

She blushed, "it's a date." And he remembers their banter.

Do you want to talk about it?

Absolutely. But not now.

First thing tomorrow?

It's a date.

The lound ringing of his phone startled him. Picking the offending piece, he answered.

"Hotchner."

The British accent was unmistakeable. "Agent Hotchner, your call sounded urgent. What can I do for you?" It was Clyde Easter. Thank God. Time for answers.

"Yes. Thank you. I'm sorry to inconvenience you," he apologized, "but my team has been worried. Emily has not been answering any of our calls. Do you happen to have contact with her?"

"Agent Hotchner, the last time I talked to Emily, she turned down my offer."