A Place to Call Home
Summary: She was gone, moved to London, and with her went everything they had. New job, new life, but something was missing. For him it was her. For her it was him. They want it back. She wants to find home again.
This is a one shot based off a prompt given to me by my 200th reviewer. (Hope this is what you were looking for). Thank you everyone who is reading and enjoying Untold Truths. This is for all your continual support of my writing endeavors. Enjoy.
Imagine this happening at the end of Season 8.
I own nothing but the words I write.
It was too early for him. He was used to the random, late hour wake up calls. That was the way the job worked. Serial killers weren't exactly considerate of other's time. But he was in early that day, his day off, because Strauss wanted him there.
"There's a growing stack of case files that need to be attended to Aaron." She said in her nagging voice, even more grating than normal because it was too early to be dealing with her.
Of course there were case files. There were always case files. But their last case didn't exactly go smoothly and there was a boatload of paperwork that needed to be done to "explain" their actions. They needed to justify their work. Sometimes they didn't end well. Why didn't people realize that? They shouldn't have to justify anything when they did nothing wrong. The point was that Strauss had everyone called in that Saturday morning even though they didn't get in until late the previous night. He just happened to get there an hour earlier to try and get a head start. The more he got done, the earlier everyone got to go home. But it was only seven in the morning, which wasn't too bad, but he didn't get to bed until three.
God, was he exhausted. He had to be, because, as he was walking through the empty bullpen he swore he saw the shadow of a ghost. His mind was playing tricks on him. There was no way. He shook the thoughts away and fixed his wrinkled tie as he made his way into his office. There was no way. No, he was just seeing things; things he wanted to see. But that wasn't an option. She wasn't an option.
He hated to admit it, but Strauss was right. A few days away and a not so happy ending led to a lot of excess paperwork. His inbox was stacked a mile high with things that needed to be signed off on, looked over, or filled out. It was going to be a long day that he didn't have the patience for.
Huffing, one hand rubbing his temples to ward off the oncoming headache, he sat down and began thumbing through all the work. It was just one file after another that he had to go through. That was not how he wanted to spend his weekend. He had enough of that during the week. Consults went in one pile. Write ups went in another. Everything had its place. And while he was organizing, he saw it. There, sitting lonely by the inbox, was a plain white envelope, naked except the black scrawl that was obstructed by the plastic bin.
Pushing the rest of the work aside, careful not to disrupt the piles, he pulled the envelope from its spot. The writing was clear. In a cursive, so neat and perfect, was written one word; his name. Aaron. That was it. The writing, though familiar, had a sense of distance to it. It both stirred feelings of connection and unfamiliarity, like the writer he once knew had changed.
Flipping it over, he saw the seal; closed with a blood red kiss at the point of the flap. Those lips he knew. He'd know them anywhere, even just the impression. He kissed those lips. He memorized every luscious millimeter of her flesh. Every wrinkle, every freckle, and every dimple was painted in his mind. Her perfection was there for his mind's eye forever, whenever. And he used that to his advantage for the last year. But why were her lips there on his desk? How'd that impression get on that envelope?
More than that, how'd it get on his desk? There was no address or postage. Obviously, it was hand delivered. But what could that mean? How when she was 3,000 miles away? He couldn't take it anymore. The anticipation, the curiousness that sprung from not knowing what contents resided in there was too much. Reaching for the letter opener, he gently tore at the material until the stationary could be seen.
A letter… It was a letter. That wasn't unexpected. They did tend to come in envelopes, he reminded himself. But that one felt different. It felt special. It smelled like her, a scent so individual, so her. Wafting in the aroma of vanilla and sandalwood, he unfolded the paper and read. He thought about skipping ahead. He thought about jumping straight to the closing salutations, but he couldn't. He wouldn't. If they were her words, he needed to start from the beginning.
Dear Aaron,
It has been one year to the day that I saw you last. One year to the day that we were last together. One year to the day we last spoke those three little words. "I love you…" And I truly did. I know you did too. We could deny it, we could hide it from everyone else, but it was there. The love was there.
I miss the way your smile lit up your face and those dimples made me melt. I miss the way you made me laugh by simply being you. The way your slightest of touches made every inch of my body tingle. The way your voice sounded when you first woke up or when you whispered in my ear how much you love me before we went to bed at night. There are so many things I miss about our time together. I'm hoping you miss them too. Like our date nights. I miss date night where we'd plan something special and end up with take out and a bed or we'd go to a restaurant and someone from the team would be there and, like teenagers, we'd sneak out to avoid being caught by 'mom and dad'. We had a lot of good times. I remember them all. I miss them all. I want them back.
Remember that one time you tried to surprise me at my house? I thought you were an intruder or another ghost from my past back for revenge. I had my gun out and the safety off. I would have killed you. But then I saw what you did to my living room. You turned it into something from a high class Parisian restaurant; a table for two, dim lights hanging from the wall, a lit candelabra as the centerpiece. It was perfect. It was romantic. You even hired a private chef. No one ever did anything for me like that before. You surprised me more and more every day, and just when I thought I couldn't love you anymore, you proved me wrong. And I spent all night showing you just how much I appreciated that. It never felt so right to be wrong.
I savor every moment of our goodbye. The way you told me you'd miss me, the way your hand ran through my hair, the feel of your lips against mine, the feel of our bodies as one… It's all engrained in my memory. A bittersweet goodbye it was, especially since you weren't what I was running from.
I miss you. I miss you so much and I miss us…
I even miss the things I never knew I liked. I miss your calloused feet scratching me and kicking me as we slept. I miss your burnt eggs and weak coffee in the morning. I even miss your bad morning breath. Is it pathetic that I even miss our stupid fights or your snoring that kept me awake? Though, there was that one time I'd never want to relive. You know the one. We were on a case and I was the unsub's type. All we wanted to do was put me in front of the media, see if we got any bites, and we did, but it was how we got there that caused the problem. You said no, we said yes. So we went around you. We did it anyway and you did not like that. You put on your chief face though. You put it on and dulled out your angry words to the team about going over your head and how Strauss was going to have you out, but those didn't compare to the ones you had for me later. I hated every minute you were angry with me, but I understood it. You loved me; you didn't want to see me hurt. But that was the job. There was always that chance. But I understood it. I feared anything happening to you too. I still do. I'm still scared I'll get a call from someone on the team to inform me that you were hurt, or worse. I couldn't bear that, even now.
I used to love our secret rendezvous. No one knew. No one needed to. It was just us; pure and simple. Us and Jack… We didn't need anyone else. The team didn't need to know. That would just complicate us and we were complicated enough. They'd judge. We'd put them at risk, in an awkward position, because it was against the rules. We couldn't ask them to break them. They would, but we couldn't ask. Plus, the sneaking around was exciting. It forced us to be creative. It kept us alive. And, while I wished nothing more than to include our friends in our happiness, selfishly, I liked having you all to myself.
I hated walking away from you, from us and Jack. We were becoming a family, but I felt stuck. I felt out of place. Not with you. I was secure with you. You and Jack were the only things that kept me grounded. But I was losing myself, struggling to find my place again after Doyle. I felt like a sinking ship, drowning a little more each day. It was like, no matter what I tried, my roots just wouldn't stem anywhere. And I tried. I tried because I love you so much and I wanted us to work. I wanted us to be that forever we planned on. But I couldn't take you down with me.
And I had to leave before we went any further. I found the ring; that beautiful ring you had hidden in your drawer. It was more than I ever dreamed it would be. And if I let you ask, I would've said yes. I would've looked into your eyes and felt what I'm feeling right now, and I would've said yes. JJ, Reid, Rossi, Morgan, and Penelope, they'd all be happy for us. They'd be upset we kept it from them for as long as we did, upset they never caught on, but we'd all share in the joy, except if I said yes, you'd sink with me. The only perfect thing in my life, the only untouched thing, would be ruined. We would've been ruined. I couldn't have that.
So I took off. I accepted Clyde's offer and moved myself to London. And I wished, and I hoped, that the distance would force me to forget you and move on, but it only made me crave you more. I didn't think it was possible, but I felt more out of place there. In a city I love, I felt like a stranger.
I had no home, but I hadn't had one to call my own in a while. I had no friends and no family. And I didn't have you. I broke your heart and you broke mine. I wanted you to ask me to stay. I wanted you to fight for me and convince me I needed to stay. When you didn't, I knew I had to go. Maybe that ring wasn't for me after all or maybe you were just being the supportive man I knew you to be and sacrificing your own happiness for me to find mine.
But it has been a year now. It has been a year and I miss you more now than I did then. I would love nothing more than to be in your arms right now. To have you tell me how much you missed me. To know you wanted me back. To know I was as irreplaceable to you as you are to me…
I love you Aaron… always have… always will…
Yours,
Emily
It couldn't be real. The letter had to be a fake. But how would anyone know. No one knew. They were too skilled for that. Fool Dave, fool them all. Was he dreaming? Did he fall asleep at his desk and dream she was back? Was the letter real? He thought he was losing it. Were the forms morphing into letters? Was there really a letter from her in his hands? What was going on? He felt a little lost, just sat there going over the letter in great detail, looking for nuances that belonged only to her, looking for some explanation.
Then a knock, a timid knock, sounded at the door. He didn't have time for that. He needed to figure things out. He needed to figure out why, after so much time, it was all coming back.
"Come in." He said, still engrossed in the words before him.
Silently, the visitor came into the room. Quietly closing the door behind them, a soft click of a lock echoed through the office finally pulling Hotch's attention. "I'm sorry, am I late?" She joked nervously.
"Em… Emily?" He stuttered, unable to speak clearly as he delved in her beauty. She looked even better than she did the last time.
"I… uh… I saw my replacement's desk. Alex Blake? I heard of her. Skilled. Pretty."
"Not my type." He said, still wondering if it was all a figment of his imagination.
"No?" It was so easy for them to fall right back into their flowing repertoire; like no time had passed at all.
"No."
"Then what's your type?"
"Dark hair, dark eyes…"
"Sounds like her to me." She interrupted.
"You didn't let me finish."
"Then, by all means, please finish."
"Unreadable, unquestionably beautiful, but ignorant to the fact…"
"Aaron…" Her cheeks flushed a pale rose.
"Someone willing to fight for others more than herself; selfless. Someone who is undeniably smart and not afraid to be the nerd she is. Someone who reads Vonnegut time and again." He quieted a moment as he looked her over; contemplating if he wanted to wake up from this dream, wondering if the opportunity to get her back was really right in front of him. "Someone like you."
"Aaron…" That seemed to be all she could say. What else was there? And for a solid minute, all they did was stare, searching into the other's eyes until finally, Emily broke the hold. "I see you got my letter."
"Some letter."
"Good or bad?"
"Both." She looked defeated, but he was quick to remedy that. "Good because now I know you've been feeling the same way I have. Bad because it took a year to admit."
"I'm sorry." She whispered, still keeping her distance; almost clinging to the wall by the door.
"What are you doing here?" He asked as he stood and made his way closer. He was careful to approach, and kept a safe distance between them. If it wasn't real, he didn't want to know.
"I may have accepted a job here."
"Here in the FBI?"
She shook her head. "In DC."
"Permanent?"
"As permanent as any job is."
"Does that mean you're here to stay?" He asked hopefully, a new light in his eyes.
"For as long as you'll have me."
"Forever then?"
"Forever…"
"Where are you staying?"
"I'm at a hotel for now. I have time before I start work to find a nice place."
"Come home with me." He said abruptly. "Come home to me and Jack." It was almost like he was pleading. She sent his son cards and letters and pictures through Jessica, but nothing for him, but she was there. She was before him, and he missed her. He couldn't waste any time.
She was taken aback. She wasn't expecting that at all. Did she want it? No doubt, but she didn't think it'd be that easy. She was just there to ask for a second chance, not to be handed one. But it felt right. It felt like nothing changed between them. And as he reached for her, as he placed her hand in his and pulled her close, she knew her answer. "There's no other place I'd rather call home."
"I can't lose you again." He whispered into her ear as he held her in a death grip. He wouldn't let her go again.
"You won't, because I've finally found home. I am home." She looked into his eyes again. "Here with you is where I've always belonged."
"I love you and I missed you. You are as irreplaceable to me as I am to you. And Emily Prentiss, I am not letting you go again."
And they sealed the deal with a kiss. A simple kiss that made their worlds whole again; perfect as it was. The fireworks ignited and they were Aaron and Emily once more.
They both found a place to call home in each other. What more could they ask for?