Author's Note: I actually never intended to write a sequel to "In The End," but on request I decided, why not? Besides, I think deep inside, I really wanted Hotch to apologize, and I love writing emotional scenes, so...here you are. This story can be a stand-alone; you don't have to read "In The End" to understand "The Truth"...but do it anyway. ;) Hope you enjoy! (Reviews would be fantastic...hint hint.)

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. I think I'll just go wallow in my sorrows...if you need me, I'll be sulking in the corner.

It had been three days since the night that Hotch had left Emily. He felt horrible. He couldn't bear to even look at her. He had screwed up royally, he knew that much. Not a single word had been spoken between the two of them, and Hotch was beginning to realize that maybe what he had done hadn't been the smartest choice. He missed her smile, her sweet laugh, her presence in his life, and he wanted nothing more than to walk up to her, pull her into his arms and kiss her.

But she would probably slap him.

He had somehow naïvely convinced himself that leaving Emily would be a good solution to dissolve the tension between them.

Who am I kidding? Hotch asked himself as he looked out his window and into the bullpen, his gaze coming to rest on Emily. As if she could feel his eyes on her, Emily looked up and toward his office. A brief second passed before he noticed that Emily was looking back at him, and he couldn't help but look away in shame.

Cowardly. That was the best description of him and his actions. He didn't have the strength to tell her the truth. So he ran, just like a coward would have done.

He looked up as he heard a knock on his office door. It was Emily, standing in the doorway with a large pile of paperwork in her arms.

"Oh. Prentiss. Come in." He internally slapped himself for his default use of her last name. A look of anger and annoyance briefly shot across her features. She walked into his office, set down all the files on the middle of his desk and stepped back.

"Here are all the case files you wanted. Now, unless there's anything else you need, sir," she said in an almost sarcastic tone as she saw Hotch wince at the title, "I'm going to go home."

He nodded and said, "Go ahead. And thanks for the files." Emily turned to walk away, but was stopped by Hotch's voice.

"Emily…I'm sorry," he said weakly.

She glanced back and stared at him for a while before responding, "Yeah. So am I." Then she left his office, leaving him alone and staring at her retreating figure.

~.~.~

Hotch had a plan. He was going to tell Emily everything, and he was going to apologize. Properly apologize, that is.

On the way to her house, Hotch stopped by a local florist and got her flowers. Rose pink, peach, and canary yellow tulips, which just happened to be her favorites. He had previously been tuning out the quiet music coming from the radio because of everything on his mind, but as he neared Emily's condo he turned it louder, absorbing the lyrics.

Lying next to you
Wishing I could disappear
Let you fall asleep
And vanish out into thin air

It's the elephant in the room
And we pretend that we don't see it
It's the avalanche that looms above our heads
And we don't believe it

I still keep your photographs
I remember how we used to laugh
I can keep on losing sleep
If you're okay with being torn in half

Stop ignoring that our hearts are mourning
And let the rain come in
Stop pretending that it's not ending
And let the end begin...

Trying to be perfect
Trying not to let you down
Honesty is honestly
The hardest thing for me right now
While the floors underneath our feet
Are crumbling, the walls we built together tumbling
I still stand here holding up the roof
'Cause it's easier than telling the truth

It's easier than telling the truth

The irony.

He pulled into her driveway, barely catching the name of the song, as the radio announcer said, "That was 'The Truth', by Kris Allen, featuring Pat Monahan."

The truth, Aaron thought. He sighed. I have to tell her. She deserves so much more than my lies.

He knocked on the door of her condo, flowers in hand, and took stock of his condition.

He was nervous as hell.

The door swung open slowly, revealing Emily on the other side, leaning against the doorframe.

"Emily," he said, his eyes meeting hers and coming to a heart breaking conclusion. She had been crying.

She sighed in frustration. "What do you want, Hotch?"

He handed her the bouquet of tulips, which she took gingerly, bringing them near her face and breathing in their ambrosial scent. "Sunset tulips," she said quietly. Hotch's and her nickname of the flowers impulsively rolled off her tongue before she could think, and triggered old memories. "My favorite."

"Your favorite," he murmured at the same time. "I would never forget," he thought bitterly. He thought back to a few months ago when they had been standing in front of Emily's bedroom window, just staring at the sunset and its beautiful colors. He had handed her a bouquet of the tulips and she had laughed, saying that both the flowers and the sky looked alike. From then on, the tulips were officially called "sunset tulips" by the two of them. It was a small nickname, but it was something that only they shared.

They stood there for a few seconds, although it felt like hours. Hotch could tell that an identical memory was playing behind Emily's eyes. Finally she relented, saying, "Come in."

She held the door open for him, cautiously bringing him into her heart once more.