Author's Note: The series is almost coming to a close! Just one more story; white. Can you guess what it will be about? A wedding, maybe? (: Well anyway, black turned out to be somewhat shorter than the others, but hopefully you like it just as much. Maybe, just maybe, this is Emily's reason for leaving the BAU (Paget's reason for leaving Criminal Minds). Of course, I know that it's not, but it's how I'll always picture it, at least. I just want to give my readers a huge thank you for your support and patience. It really means a lot! But you know what also means a lot? Reviews... (:

Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one. Except for Avery.

"I hate these damn blackouts," Emily murmured as she and Hotch walked up to their unsub's house.

"So do I. Flynn is pretty optimistic," Hotch said. "Murdering during a series of rolling blackouts…" He trailed away and looked at his wife. "You ready?"

"It's now or never," she responded. Knocking on the door, she yelled, "Billy Flynn, FBI! Open up!"

Hotch tried the doorknob. It was unlocked and the door swung open, revealing the unsub's pitch black home. The two glanced at each other, both pulling out their guns and flashlights.

Walking into the living room, Hotch said quietly, "Since there are two floors, we're going to have to split up. I'll take upstairs, you stay down here."

"Alright." As her eyes continued to adjust to the darkness, she confidently went from room to room, shining the bright beam of light and looking for any sign of movement. Clearing the final downstairs room, she sighed. Nothing. She carefully bound up the stairs in search of her partner.

"Aaron?" she called out.

"Over here, Emily," came his voice.

She turned to face him. "Hey. So downstairs is clear, and –" She gasped. "Aaron, watch out!"

He spun around just in time to register the sound of a gunshot.

Emily screamed as his body hit the wooden floor.

~.~.~

Aaron Hotchner woke to the sound of screaming coming from beside him. Quickly turning on the bedside lamp and flooding the bedroom with light, he saw Emily thrashing about, an expression of pure anguish etched on her perfect features. He grabbed her shoulders to hold her still. "Emily. Emily! Emily!"

Her eyes flew open and she gasped, breathing heavily. She looked up at him in shock and disbelief. "You…you're still alive. But how…?"

He smoothed her hair away from her face. "Of course I'm alive," he said softly. His heart wrenched as he saw her break into tears. "Sweetheart, it was just a nightmare."

"I know. It just seemed so real," she said between sobs.

"But it's not," he whispered soothingly. Pulling her shaking body into his arms, he held her, her head lying against his chest. He reached down and grasped her hand in his, guiding it to his heart. "You feel that?" he asked, referring to his steady heartbeat. "I'm very much alive, and I'm not going anywhere." He smiled reassuringly.

"I know, it's just…" She paused as he gently wiped her tears away. "I've been having nightmares for a really long time, so I've gotten somewhat used to them. But this one…I could just feel it, you know? Everything about it was so real. Especially the sounds…" She winced as the sound of the fatal shot echoed in her ears.

He nodded, stroking her hair in an attempt to calm her down. "How long have you been having nightmares?" he asked, recounting what she had previously said.

"A year and a half, maybe. Since…since Foyet," she admitted.

"I figured." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "Do you want to tell me what this one was about?"

She shook her head, burying her face deeper into his chest and breathing in his masculine scent. Almost like cedar and the faintest amount of cinnamon. "Not really."

"It would help, Emily."

She let out a shaky breath. "It was about our case in Los Angeles."

"The one with the rolling blackouts?" he supplied.

"Yeah. We went to Flynn's house, but he wasn't there. There were two floors, and…" Her voice broke.

"We split up," he guessed, already picturing what happened next.

"You went upstairs and I stayed down. He wasn't there, so I went to offer you some backup. But, when I found you, I saw him right behind you, aiming a gun straight at your head. You turned around and…he shot you." Fresh tears flowed down her cheeks as she continued. "Seeing you die…it was just too much, Aaron."

"I'm so sorry, Emily," he whispered.

"It's not your fault."

"I know, but I wish you never had to experience that," he said softly.

She nodded, not saying anything. She closed her eyes as she felt him bury his face in her hair. Gently, he pulled her down for a kiss, his lips offering silent reassurance that he wouldn't be leaving any time soon. She sighed and opened her eyes, her gaze meeting his.

"You know what bothered me most about it?"

"Tell me."

"The fact that it could happen."

"Don't say that, sweetheart. It won't."

"How can you be so sure?" she asked. "Of course, I don't want it to happen, but just think about it. What would happen to Jack and Avery? What would happen to them if we were gone?"

There was a long pause. "What are you saying?"

"What if one of us stayed home more often?" she suggested.

"I would. For our children."

"You're going to transfer out of the Bureau?" he asked, momentarily stunned. "But…where would you go?"

"I could work in counter-terrorism with Jordan."

"Jordan…?"

"Todd."

"Right." He thought it over. "I…I don't know what to say. You love working at the BAU."

"I do."

"You're an integral part of the team, and everyone would miss you. But I can't deny that I agree with you. At counter-terrorism, you would have a nine to five work day, and I know both Jack and Avery would benefit from having their mother at home more often."

"Plus, it's in the same building, so we could still have lunch together." She smiled.

He grinned back. Looking down at his wife, who was still lying in his arms, he asked, regaining his seriousness, "Are you sure about this, Emily?"

"Yeah. I really love my job, but I love our children even more. And I think that they deserve to have their parents as a part of their lives."

"I couldn't have said it better myself." Turning off the lamp, he asked, "Why don't we talk more about this tomorrow? Right now, just try and get some sleep."

She yawned. "Okay. Thank you, Aaron. For everything."

He smiled lovingly. "Any time, my love."

She couldn't help but smile at the endearment. Burrowing into the cool, cotton sheets, she sighed contentedly. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Em. Sweet dreams."

Closing her eyes, she listened to her husband's breathing slow down as he went deeper and deeper into sleep. As her eyes grew heavy, she reminded herself that although nightmares could paralyze you with their dark, black themes, and their frightening and seemingly real images, the truth was that none of it was real.

And to her, the truth was the only thing that mattered.