Disclaimer: If I owned Criminal Minds, I wouldn't even need to write this piece.
Wide careful brown orbs stare at some vacant point through the SUV's window, bearing nothing but an unsettling dimness among the almost painful expression of loss. Rossi often watches her, silently, trying to keep his somehow concerned eyes in the mad traffic. Her right soft hand caresses the nape of her sore neck, while the right elbow is placed near the glass. The older profiler can tell she's been restless and, also, that it's nothing about paperwork, the BAU or her increasing responsibilities. Even before the day he found her lying down and mumbling all alone at his long-term friend's old office's couch, Dave knew there was something wrong with Emily. Those clear words muttered that gloomy evening just attested his thesis.
"I wished you were here".
As a matter of fact, everyone did. But there was something more than that. When the brunette woman chose to take Morgan's office rather than her ex-supervisor's, he decided it was time for some serious conversation. Therefore, he caught her helpless at the end of the day with half bottle of single malt. It took her some glasses to spill it all. She did, though. Her red soaking eyes released all the pain that had been clenching her heart, whilst she sobbed and choked until Rossi considered calling the medics.
Between some apologies for dampening her older friend's expensive shirt, she took her time to mutter, "I can't do this without him".
He told her to call him or, perhaps, just jump on the first plane and show up at his door. She would never do it and her friend had no needs to use his profiling skills to be aware of that. Mainly because, for the first time in years, Prentiss allowed each one of her feelings emerge from her depths. There was loneliness, anger, a hint of weariness and unspeakable regret.
One month later and they're both stuck in traffic. David sees the same emotions of that night, despite now there's a tiny – and faltering – hope.
Through the last five days, they've been trying to solve a case in Boston. The first day, everything worked fine. The second, Emily managed to piss the whole team off. The third, she snapped at two cops and broke into the supposed-to-be unsub's partner's house without a warrant. Luckily, he was indeed the guy. Still, during the fourth day, she lost her mind with the, already stressed out, victim's family.
Everybody felt relieved when Rossi talked her into joining him today.
"You should ask him out when the case's over" he suggests, keeping his hands flat on the wheel "I know a bar or two and I've got his new phone number"
Emily gasps with the thought of his voice. She struggles to remember how she used to feel whenever his husky tone uttered her given name. Goosebumps all around her arms and chest, heat wave hitting her face, that old feeling building on the tip of her stomach… the raven-haired averts the course of her musings, shrugging slightly as an answer. He reminds her of her youth and it plasters a silly faint smile along her features. Although he mistreated her when they first met, she couldn't hate him for a single minute.
Well, maybe for a split of second, yes.
Yet, they'd laugh about that later. Somehow, his laughter, at this very moment, seems one of the most pleasant sounds she ever heard. Emily, you're acting like a teenager, her mind retorts, get a grip right away!
Thus, her usually strong body diminishes itself by the older profiler's side. Emily's not physically tired, that's for sure. She had something around four hours of continuous sleep last night and two Red Bull cans before she joined him. Albeit her gentle left hand touches her forehead as the right one falls weakly upon her dark jeans clad thighs, the experienced FBI agent can't suppress another set of images from popping up in her recurrent daydreams.
Rossi pulls the car into the parking lot, wearing a smug grin that she chooses to ignore as soon as her watchful eyes catch its sight. Her black leather boots land on the sidewalk whilst the new Chief tries to remember the name of the victim's family they're about to interview. New Chief, she sighs heavily, He'd never be proud of the mess you're making. Emily tries her best to ignore her enraged inner voice, availing the short walk between the SUV and the residential building's entrance. Otherwise, she'd probably need a long ride around the city before sharing a word or two with another person.
She is that sad and scared and lonely. Even though she's able to do something, it comes to be one of those moments when she simply freezes out. The raven-haired woman gets that odd feeling of being stuck in the middle of something she's not quite sure why she putted herself through, in the first place. Dave volunteered. He did. His words were clear and she snapped at him with such vigorous belief in her own abilities. How stupid. Maybe Rossi knew what was about to happen. Likely, after all, the stubborn has always been Emily.
The two agents stand inside the slow metal box, deafening silence filling the space around them. Emily folds her arms across her chest, tightening it ever so slightly in order to avoid further questioning. She appreciates her goateed friend's help and, honestly, she'd be damned if he wasn't there, but all the brown-eyed new Chief wishes – at least during the quick elevator ride – is another moment to herself. All the woeful thoughts bewilder her overwhelmed senses as the small shining screen keeps in mind their incoming duty. At some point, silver doors ding open, revealing a long empty hall, beige walls and dark brown doors.
"Oh, I forgot some files" the grey man performs his best sorry-don't-punch-me gesture "Go ahead, I'll be right back"
"Of course" you had to leave me alone, huh?
Notwithstanding her mood is as darkened as the purple skies embellishing Boston during its graceful nightfall, she can't forbid a nonchalant eye roll before the first steps towards door number 5. Her small period alone is enough to full load her inner spiral and, without warning, he erupts just like volcano amid it. This time, remembrances flip wildly, one after the other. Some soothing lines he verbalized whilst drunken evenings shortly after the Foyet fiasco, few kind touches he pondered a thousand times before allowing such movements and so many glances he often ravished or cherished her with.
Next thing, Emily's standing in front of the Randall's wooden door as her fingers' joints pat twice. She hears some muffled steps coming from inside the apartment, followed by a quick check to the peephole. A second check and Emily makes her move.
"Mr. Randall, it's Agent Prentiss with the Behavioral Analysis Unit" the silence remains, except there's a long inhale on the other side of the door "I'm here to talk about your daughter, Tess Randall"
The sharp sound of unlocking door loosens her tension for a split of second, though as soon as it swings open Emily is caught at a loss of words. This can't be happening.
"Emily?" she gapes, hardly concealing the emotions bursting everywhere and anywhere under her pale skin.
"Hotch…?" her brain works its best to elaborate "I…" she opens and closes her mouth like a goldfish, doe eyes smooth but distressed while they record every inch of his figure.
He has changed a bit since the last time she came stateside. He's slim, the bags under his eyes grew bigger and he seems… tired. Oh God, she bites her inner cheek when realization washes over.
He's her reflection.
The clear remembrance of her return after the Doyle fiasco tears her to pieces as she tries her best to avoid breaking down in front of him. Why? Because all that comes to her is how he's looking as hurt as he was back to those somber, cold days. Even though he's wearing his best stoic expression, his suit is neatly ironed and his cologne is still her favorite, Emily knows what's underneath his mask by the moment brown eyes gaze into browner eyes.
"What are doing here?" his tone is unexpectedly stern as the brunette agent blinks away any exposed feelings "Sorry… I'm just… surprised" he swallows thick, trying to recompose himself "Do you wanna come in?" she nods at a slow pace - almost nonexistent - whilst Hotch moves aside to allow his ex-subordinate some halting steps inside his very organized living room.
There're awkward silent minutes as he shuts the door behind him, a tidal wave of restrained feelings scattered all over their encounter and what the hell is she even doing here?
"It's good to see you" he utters bluntly.
Hotch feels his chest tighten with the sight of a sorrowful Emily Prentiss. He was gone when she came back and maybe it was just life telling him – again – that they were not meant to be. He assumed it, at least. After all, they have been around each other for years and he never had the guts to tell her how desperately he loves everything about her. Well, perhaps not her stubbornness, but he'd give a limb to find out.
By the moment he heard they picked Prentiss to fill his shoes, he couldn't forbid the feeling of being left behind. He understood, though, it was the job. He couldn't blame her or anyone else. Perhaps that's what they wanted from the beginning. In fact, all he could do was put his best efforts into moving on, keeping Jack safe and excelling at his new assignment.
So he did. So he's doing.
"Oh, I was pleased to hear that you're the new Unit Chief" he wears his best smile, raising eyebrows and slipping his hands inside his front pockets "Bet you're doing a good job"
There's not much ponderation or second guessing from Emily. There's just pain eating her like a hungry lion, drought gracing her throat and lips, trembling hands she averts with clenching fists, tears pooling in her eyes. Thus, the brunette holds herself as she puts down into words all her longing and her need.
"I can't do this without you… I…" her whisper is almost inward as she finally lifts her sight from staring at the carpeted floor "I need you"
Their eyes lock. It's enough. Hotch knows she means it.
His eyes smoothen as the rest of his body - partially in surprise, partially in relief - and the small space between them turns into the greatest path the raven-haired man could ever trail while he approaches her in small unhurried steps, feeling a quiver of anticipation. He's pretty sure his heart is pounding so strongly he might need medical assistance sooner or later.
She draws a deep breath, holding it on her throat whilst she watches him walking towards her. It happened a couple of times during her most beautiful dreams. The first time, when Cyrus beat her almost to death. The second, when Matthew died and all her remembrances hit her like a runaway train. The third, when Doyle came around. Also, other countless times when she was all alone after her 'death'. What about the days when London seemed the grimmest place ever?
Those dreams had terrific happy endings, where the world was nothing but kindness and comfort and all the good things one shall experience once in a lifetime.
Hotch stops right in front of her, their bodies close the enough they can hear each other's breaths. Still, he has no idea of what he should do next. These are the moments when he'd appreciate the old Dave and his gentle words. Kiss her, Aaron, or I'll be really glad to give you my gun so you can shoot yourself, his friend's impatient tone is nearly audible.
Prentiss feels his warmness, inviting her to curl up in bitter days like the last ones and it's not long before the tips of his left digits graze on her right knuckles. He calmly entwines their gun callused fingers. When their eyes meet again, there're a few quiet tears running down her face, which his right thumb tenderly wipes away.
"What took you so long?" his mutter sends thrills down her spine.
Hotch cups her cheek, leaning in painfully slow while they both take their time to enjoy the most of this moment. They've waited so damn long. His lips touch her parted ones, tasting this sweet piece of hers with such care. There's no specific flavor he can point out, no fruit or mint or vanilla.
Emily tastes like Emily.
Unique and addicting and he's pretty sure that's the best flavor he could ever ask for. They break the kiss, both let a genuine wide smile plaster on their faces as their foreheads remain in affectionate touch. Meanwhile, his right palm rests on the back of her neck, keeping her ever so close. His watery orbs fascinate her and there's a slight chuckle in astonishment echoing from that unusual plainly joyous expression. Thereby, she captures the remembrance of his most unstrained dimples and happy tears streaming down.
"Why did you choose today to cry and smile?" she giggles, kissing his tears away with the prettiest smile along her features "You could just keep that old frown of yours and I'd already be melted"
"I'm flattered" still laughing as he pulls her into a tight embrace.
His large hand strokes her straight dark brown hair, whilst they rest their heads on each other's shoulders. His nostrils capture her cinnamon fragrance, the same that Gideon suggested him as her first birthday gift after joining the BAU. You are such a stupid man, Aaron Hotchner, his mind mocks.
"What are we going to do now?" his sentence is muffled.
The new Chief nuzzles the crook of his neck, fluttering her eyes open. Among all the subjects racing through her mind, that's the one she is repressing for her damn life. There's a huge abyss between what she wants and what she must do. She must tell him how much they need him, persuade him into coming back and taking his right place. On the other hand, she wants to leave everything behind, write a happy-go-lucky transfer request and wake up every single day to his over caffeinated taste. Oh and, besides, there's the team and they need her too.
Perhaps, that's one of those moments when you have no idea what is about to happen. She loosens their embrace, perceiving his concerned gaze and his reluctance to let go of her. Emily runs her tongue on her bottom lip, chewing it right after.
"Ask me to stay and I will. I'm done waiting" although his eyes shine due her statement, they're rapidly uneasy again.
"I can't do that" he crosses his strong arms over his chest "It's your life and I want you to be happy, it doesn't matter how"
She swallows thick. It's not like she didn't see it coming. It's Aaron Hotchner, after all. The man who's able to give his youth to a job and, nevertheless, when he's forced to leave, all he's able to do is quietly accept and pull through. Also, the one that's standing in front of the woman who supposedly replaced him, yet all he can do is tell her he wants her to be happy.
In the end, Emily almost sprints, reaching the brown door in a hurry, which makes her practically trip over her own two feet. Hotch watches her every movement wearing his best what-the-hell-are-you-simply-going-away face.
"Where are you going?" he asks, bemused, as soon as Prentiss grabs the doorknob, causing the brunette to turn on her feet, bearing a playful smile.
"What? I need to get my clothes" she titters lightly through closed mouth, adding the smallest saucy hint to her last sentence before vanishing from his apartment "Unless you have another plan for the next… uh… rest of your life"
A/N: Please, if you can, take a few minutes to leave a review and tell me whether you like it (or not)! I'd love to hear from you.