A/N: Second in the "Departure" series. Completely independent of "Departure: One for Each Word." This is assuming 6x15 ("Today, I Do") didn't happen. This starts where the end of 6x14 ("Sense Memory") left off, with Emily leaving her apartment.
Emily felt like she hadn't taken a single damned breath since she'd left her apartment. She sat in her car now, almost gasping for air, as if that would be an appropriate apology to her brain for starving it of oxygen. Everything swam around her for a moment. Her cat, Sergio, meowed at her, either to let her know he was there for her, or to let her know he was hungry or needed some other sort of baser need met.
"Sorry, buddy," she whispered, putting him down into the passenger seat. A moan escaped her chest as she closed her eyes and leaned into her seat. "What am I doing?" she asked herself aloud. As if she were any safer in her car in a dark alley than in her apartment. She was definitely in more danger here, she realized. She started up her car and pulled out onto the main road. keeping an eye on her mirror to make sure she wasn't being followed. She couldn't even control her suddenly trembling fingers enough to operate her phone, so she used a single button to activate its voice dial.
"Call…Aaron Hotchner," she said shakily.
"Name not recognized," the soft feminine voice from her phone told her.
She growled. "Call Aaron Hotchner," she said with much more clarity.
"Calling Aaron Hotchner," the voice replied politely, if automated voices could be polite.
"Hotchner," he answered on the second ring.
"Hotch, it's—" Emily's words got lost somewhere and she had absolutely no idea where to start looking for them, not until she heard his voice again.
"It's late. What's going on? Is everything all right?"
"No…No, it's not. Listen, can you meet me somewhere?"
"I'm…in my pajamas," Hotch said tentatively. "Why don't you stop over here?"
"I can't come to your place. Meet me at Doyle's or Dale's or whatever the hell that place is called. Wait, you have Jack. Shit," she hissed.
"No, I don't. I didn't pick him up from Jessica's—we got back too late tonight."
"Okay, good. Listen, I'm on my way to the bar. Delete all contact information for your family from your phone."
"What—why?" Hotch's voice echoed. Emily guessed she was on speaker phone while Hotch changed clothes.
"Because you're putting yourself in danger by meeting up with me." For only half a moment, it hit Emily that she hadn't even thought of this. That other half a moment she spent coming to the quick conclusion that Hotch would have met her under any circumstances if she'd asked him to. Even if it meant his death.
"Emily, what the hell is going on?"
Ever since she had found out Ian Doyle was on the loose, off the grid and, ultimately, after her, Emily had been calm and collected. She had taken the necessary precautions to protect herself, because she was terrified, but she'd held it together completely. But hearing Hotch concerned about her made tears of not fear, but guilt and anger, well up under her eyes. I shouldn't be involving him, she told herself. I should just disappear.
"Just…meet me. Come armed just in case."
"What the—"
"Hotch, be honest with me. Are you apprehensive at all about putting yourself in danger?"
"Only because of Jack," Hotch said frankly. "But I don't—."
Jack's round little face appeared in front of Emily's mind's eye and she shook her head violently as she hopped on the freeway.
"No. Then don't come. Never mind."
"Too late. I'm on my way out to the car," Hotch said. Emily could hear his footsteps as he jogged.
"Hotch, wait, no. I shouldn't have called," Emily said with deep regret.
"Yes, you should have. We'll both be fine. I'll see you in ten minutes."
"Okay." Emily regretted not adding a "thank you" once she hung up, but what Hotch was about to do for her—possibly put his life on the line—deserved far more than a thank you. She didn't know how she could ever repay him.
She beat Hotch to the pub where they had shared a beer or two upon arriving home from a case several months ago. Seven minutes had gone by in the car with her heart pounding in her head as she watched behind her, pretty sure no one was trailing her, but terrified all the same. Once she was tucked away into the back corner of the dark pub, holding a beer she knew she wouldn't drink, she felt slightly calmer. Protected. Three members of a biker gang sat around a table a few feet away. Sure, heft was no protection against a bullet, but the presence of the three oversized men was oddly reassuring anyway. At minute number ten, Hotch rushed through the front door as promised, in blue jeans and a brown leather jacket. He immediately spotted Emily's ghostly pale face.
"Hey, buddy," the bartender shouted somewhat nervously. "No guns, what the hell you doin'? Want me to call the cops? Get the hell outta here."
Hotch reached deftly into the chest pocket of his jacket and pulled out his credentials, which he flashed at the bartender without even looking at him. His eyes were pasted onto Emily, whose gaze alternated between Hotch and the appeased bartender. He hardly even looked. Anyone can walk around with fake creds and a gun, can't they? She wondered.
"Hey," she said quietly when Hatch sat across from her in the booth. The three bikers took turns staring not so subtly.
"What's going on?" Hotch asked, almost out of breath. What, did he run here? Emily marveled.
Emily, feeling the eyes of their onlookers, scooted in toward the wall and Hotch followed suit. "I'm in danger, Hotch."
"That much I surmised. Details. Now."
Emily shook her head firmly. "I can't tell you anything. It's not safe for you to know."
Hotch was furious, not because Emily wouldn't divulge any information, but because he knew she was right. He would give anything to be able to help her, to know enough to protect her, but he knew why she couldn't tell him and knew no way around it. Her stubbornness definitely wouldn't fail her this time. It rarely did.
"Then what can I do?"
Emily pushed her unwanted beer toward Hotch and dragged both her hands down her face. "I shouldn't have called you. It was selfish," she mumbled into her palms, eying Hotch with more remorse than he'd ever known a human being could feel, even himself.
"I would have been upset had you not called. Listen to me." Hotch cast a sideways glance at no one in particular and took both of Emily's hands in his. "What's going on?" he asked, shaking their bundle of hands with each word, as if to rustle her out of a light sleep.
"I'm pretty sure somebody's after me. Someone from an undercover job I was on before I came to the BAU. Promise me that you won't go digging for more."
"I'll make no such promise. You know better than to ask that."
"You didn't argue with me when I said I couldn't give you any details."
"True, but once I can get the team on this, we can find things out, do things the right way, find out who this is, covertly, keep each other from harm."
"Don't," Emily grumbled, snatching her hands away as some sort of punishment.
"Then tell me something I can do," Hotch said, with no intention whatsoever of following Emily's orders.
Emily rolled her watery eyes and decided she wanted that beer after all. She took a sip while she thought. "Tell me we're friends."
Hotch's already wrinkled-with-years-of-worry forehead creased even more deeply, his hazel eyes all but disappearing under his downturned brow. "Of course we're friends. Why would you think any differently?"
Emily shrugged, passing the green bottle from one hand to the other. "I've just felt over the past few months that we've, I don't know, grown apart. I thought we were a good team but you send me off with Morgan all the time now, and I love him like family, but—" Emily found herself laughing and didn't try to suppress it. "—I really can't take much more of him."
Hotch's tight demeanor softened considerably. "These aren't things we should be talking about right now," he said. "Aren't there more important things, like how we're going to keep you safe?"
"There's no we in that, Aaron. And don't look at me like that. You have a first name. If you can call me Emily then I can call you Aaron. Anyway, this is my problem, and mine to deal with. I just needed to make sure that I didn't say or do something to hurt or anger you, or push you away. I've been worrying about that, and I think I could clear my head a bit if you assure me that nothing like that happened." Who the hell was she kidding? She had no such reason for wanting to see him. She literally just wanted to see him. Look at him, hear his voice one last time before she went on her way.
Hotch swallowed and sighed, shouldering off his jacket to reveal the dress shirt he'd worn that day, unbuttoned. "You didn't push me away." That was as far as he could go right now. Matters of life and death trumped matters of the heart, but even telling Emily that much would distract her, would have her guessing.
"Then why the distance, why the avoiding me?"
"Don't think of it as avoiding you. I just…I trust Morgan with you. Not to imply that you can't take care of yourself, but I'm living, breathing proof that you never know what might happen. Two heads are better than one."
"You don't trust yourself to keep me safe?" Emily asked, one eyebrow cocked.
"You're in danger, and you want to talk about this?" Hotch asked incredulously.
"For all I know, this might be the last time I see you—"
"You're not going anywhere," Hotch's voice rumbled across the table just loudly enough for Emily to pick up.
"I have to, Hotch. This isn't a situation where I can stay with you guys. We can't work this like we did Foyet. This is even more dangerous."
"Do you know who it is that's after you? What they want?"
"I know exactly who it is and all I know about what he wants is that…" Emily drew in a quivering breath and stared at Hotch apologetically before finishing. "…He wants me dead. In a very bad way."
"How is this more difficult than Foyet if you know who this is and he's at least on the move? Am I assuming correctly?"
"He's on the move, yes. But he's off the grid, just like Foyet. And he's worse than Foyet because he has connections. Foyet operated alone. This man most certainly won't be on a solo mission. Maybe overtly it'll seem that way but he'll have the help of many. I'm already telling you too much." She covered her mouth hastily.
"No, you know what? At first it sounded reasonable for you to keep things a secret, but the more you tell me, the more ridiculous that prospect sounds. I can help you if you just let me."
"You have helped me. You set my mind at ease. I was worried I'd scared you off, and you're saying I didn't, right?"
A/N: Part 2 coming soon! Please leave a review if you have just a spare moment.
