WHEN THE HURT BEGINS

by SimplyTully

Follow-up of "The Many Ways I've Tried". As promised, Elle comes back to Washington DC for one night, but she does not know how to deal with Jack. Family/Romance/Angst, Elle/Hotch, rated M.

WHEN THE HURT BEGINS

(Intro for : Follow-up of "The Many Ways I've Tried". As promised, Elle comes back to Washington DC for one night, but she does not know how to deal with Jack. Family/Romance/Angst, Elle/Hotch, rated M.)

When Aaron Hotchner opened his door, Elle stuck a USB pen drive under his nose.

"This is my report on terrorism and personality disorder," she declared. "I've had time to finish it while my plane was held up for three hours at JFK because of a fake bomb alarm. I'm tired of people being scared all over the world."

Hotch took the proffered pen drive, gingerly. "Do you ever say hi like a normal person, Greenaway?"

Elle exhaled deeply, putting down her camouflage duffel bag. This time she was in civvies, with jeans and a red T-shirt. Her uniform was packed.

Compared to the last time, Hotch had dressed up a bit, with a long-sleeved blue shirt and black chinos.

"Okay," she said, lifting her hands. "Rant over." She took in his face and eyes, happy to see him in person rather than on a computer screen. "In other news, my mom asked who's the dark handsome guy I've been Skypeing with," she added.

Hotch smiled. All the lines on his face fell back into their rightful place, making him not only handsome but young and carefree.

"What did you tell her?"

"The truth. You're my former boss and we're working on a report together."

"Your mother is a really beautiful lady."

"She's Cuban. All Cubans are extraordinarily attractive. Well, most of them."

Hotch had not stopped gazing at her. "I missed you, Elle," he said softly.

"It's just been a week," she began, then was suddenly too tired for teasing. "I missed you too."

Hotch held out his arms and hugged her. They looked at each other again, smiling, up close. It was natural for Elle to wrap her hands around his neck and tilt her head back, welcoming his mouth on hers, his taste, his passion. She had not had enough time to desire him.

They looked at each other, then their eyes widened simultaneously and shifted towards the apartment.

A boy was standing at the back of the living room. He was almost as tall as Elle, blond, fine-boned, frowny.

"Dad?!"

"Hey, buddy," Hotch said, tentatively. "This is Elle. The lady I've been chatting with."

Jack replied to the understatement of the century with a deeper frown. "The soldier?"

Elle doubted Hotch had described her job in such stark terms. But Jack was a bright boy.

She stepped into the apartment, leaving her luggage with Hotch.

"Hey, Jack. You won't know me, I've last seen you when you were a baby." She left out platitudes such as how much have you grown blah blah blah. She knew Jack would not buy it.

"Hi, Elle," he said, holding out his hand solemnly. They shook, then the boy disappeared into the kitchen.

Hotch was behind her with her duffel bag. "Don't worry about him," he said, but he sounded tense.

"He's jealous," Elle surmised sadly.

"I don't know," Hotch mused. He put down Elle's bag in his bedroom and turned towards her. "For a couple of years there was Beth." He stared at the floor, then he looked at her, openly. "We both loved her, and she loved us. Then she choose her job over us." He lifted his eyebrows without amusement. "Ironic, isn't it?"

Elle took his arm. "No. Just very sad."

The boy was in that growing stage when a mother figure was critical. Elle could not blame Hotch for dating. All of a sudden, though, she felt inadequate. She was not strictly "dating" Hotch, and she had known he was a single father.

She could have thought about it before falling into his arms a week earlier.

She pressed his arm, and he smiled and bent to give her a small peck on the lips.

"Let's have supper," he said, leading her out of the room with a gentle hand on her waist.

They gathered around the kitchen table. Elle and Jack sat in front of each other, while Hotch took a covered pan from the sideboard.

"Jack and I made dinner," he said. "We both love meatloaf, I love gravy and Jack loves corn. So we put it all together."

Elle stared at Hotch. "Did you actually make meatloaf?"

He put down the pan in the middle of the table and uncovered it with a flourish. "Oh yeah. If by 'make' you mean 'put into the microwave'."

Elle laughed. The smell was great. Hotch took his place at the end of the table and started cutting the meatloaf.

Jack kept his eyes on the tabletop. When Hotch filled his plate, he started playing around with the corn and gravy.

Elle took a bite. Microwave or not, she was famished and it tasted great. She beamed at Jack. "Looks like you both did a great job."

"Thanks." Jack half-heartedly ate a tiny bit of his supper. Neat as his father, he cleaned his mouth with the napkin, drank some water, then finally looked at her, wide-eyed. He bit his lower lip.

"Do you risk your life in Afghanistan?" he asked.

Out of the corner of her eye, Elle could say Hotch was as stunned as she was.

"I'm very well protected," she said, and knew at once it was the wrong answer. Haley, Jack's mother, Hotch's wife, had been well protected too, and she had been killed by the Reaper.

"Are you going to die?" Jack pressed on.

"Absolutely not. I don't work in the field."

This was a white lie. She did not work in the field - usually.

Hotch knew it. He glanced at Elle, then back at Jack, trying for a light tone. "Come on, buddy. Don't be so grim."

"Death is grim," Jack stated. He had never looked so much like his father.

Hotch and Elle stared at each other, appalled. One single flash of telepathy.

The Reaper.

"Now stop that, Jack," Hotch said in a firmer voice. "Elle is here to enjoy a quiet evening."

"Okay," the boy said in a small voice. "Can I go play with Uncle Dave's gift?"

"First clean up your plate."

Elle cleared her throat. "I met a kid like you in Afghanistan, Jack," she said. "He didn't have a TV or a phone. I gave him a ball and we played a bit with his friends. We even drew a playing field in the sand."

"Really?" Jack asked, interested despite himself. "You played soccer?"

"Yeah. We had fun. That's what I do over there, you know. I try to make sure boys and girls like you have a normal life."

"Cool," Jack replied, and summarily finished his supper. "Can I go, now, Daddy?"

Hotch sighed. "Brush your teeth first," he said, resigned.

Jack darted from the room. He peeked back at once. "Help you clear the table?..."

"We haven't finished yet, buddy. Go play. I'll come and put you to bed."

Jack disappeared with obvious relief.

Elle looked after him, avoiding Hotch's gaze.

"He's too bright for his age," Hotch said.

She lowered her eyes, then looked at him. "Understandable."

"He still…" Hotch pressed his lips together, then exhaled. "You don't have to worry about him, Elle. I'll talk to him."

Elle looked down on her plate. Only later she realized she was frowning just as Jack had.

After dinner, sitting on Hotch's bed, Elle rummaged into her bag for her beauty case and her slippers.

What was she doing there at the Langham, really?

She could have found a way not to keep her promise to come back to Washington. Yes, the sex had been awesome, and even the emotional connection still made her heart beat warmer at the thought. But she had not counted on putting up with two Hotchners instead of one.

Hotch came into the room and sat beside her. "I'm sorry, Elle. He's not usually like this. I shouldn't have told him about your job. But he asked."

"Has he gone to bed?"

"No. Too early. He's in the living room, practicing to be the next Paul McCartney with The Beatles Rock Band." Hotch lifted his eyes to the ceiling. "At least he has the consideration to use headphones. Not when he sings, though."

Elle grimaced. "Is he that bad?"

"Actually he's quite good. But I guess it's just a phase." Hotch smiled. "In a few months he'll want to be an astronaut."

She touched his face, delighted to see him less worried. "The first McCartney impersonator on Mars."

They looked for a long time at each other, then kissed, and soon their arms were around each other, hands looking for naked skin on their back.

Elle gathered herself. "Aaron," she said, pressing her hands against his chest. "What if he hears us?"

Hotch ran a hand into his hair. "When Beth spent the night he was very discreet. I must have managed to explain I need personal time now and then."

Elle laughed. "Don't tell me you've given him The Talk!"

Hotch grinned self-consciously. "The closest I've come to it was when I tried to explain why he must not watch Game of Thrones until he's older. At least twenty-five."

"Yeah, that's not exactly for ten-year-olds."

"It just gets worse. I was shocked myself."

"Did you actually watch it?!"

"All five seasons." Hotch looked proud of himself. "The best is the third. Though I was devastated when Catelyn…"

"No spoilers!" Elle placed a hand on his mouth. "I'm stuck at season two!"

Hotch playfully grabbed her hand and kissed her fingers. Elle shivered and scuttled closer to him.

"We could pretend we're brother and sister," she whispered suggestively.

"Kinky," Hotch replied, tangling his hands into her ponytail and drawing her close for a kiss.

"Aaron… close the door."

"Right." Reluctantly, Hotch got up from the bed and complied.

"One other thing. Could we… keep our clothes on?"

"Even kinkier."

"What if Jack calls you?"

"Elle… really, it's all right."

She smiled archly. "You know what would be kinky? If you had your suit and tie on."

Hotch lifted his eyebrows. "I aim to please, but I'm not getting changed for you, Greenaway."

Elle laughed, draping her arms around his neck. "I'll survive, sir." She sank back into the bed, dragging him with her.

"Aaron?"

Sigh.

"Yes."

"Could you turn off the light?..."

In the darkness, they embraced like teenagers making out in some parents' home. She grabbed his hips with her thighs and they lay there, moving softly, kissing deeply.

"Just for a few moments," he breathed.

"I need you so much, Aaron…"

Her jeans and panties had to go. Hotch kissed her navel, touching it with his tongue, slowly working downward. It was heaven. After a while, though, it was torture for both. She caressed him gently through his trousers as he fumbled with his belt.

He shivered. "I want you, Elle."

Sex is a strange thing. You can want it madly, lie in the arms of the most attractive person you know as he cradles the back of your head with one hand, the other hand up inside your shirt as far as it will go, and whispers your name in your ear, and still you think about his son in the next room and the neighbour upstairs and how you can't scream as you like to do, and what if he calls you Beth by mistake (he didn't), and is this not one gigantic blunder?

Despite her desire, Elle realized she was too tense to go anywhere.

Hotch seemed completely lost in her, too much to notice, so she revelled in her tenderness and his pleasure, with some oh yes and oh Aaron and strategically placed moans.

At last Hotch lay beside Elle, a drop of his sweat still drying on her upper lip. He encircled her waist, tenderly. "This didn't go so well, did it?"

So he had noticed. "I guess I'm just tired, Aaron."

"I'll make it up to you." He let her go and she felt him get up in the darkness. He did not turn on the light until he had composed himself again.

"I'll put Jack to bed."

"Okay," Elle replied, groping for her panties.

She had bought a black lace nightie at Macy's, on the spur of the moment. She could still remember her mother's face, half amused, half worried, totally skeptical that she would need it in Afghanistan. She took a quick shower in Hotch's bathroom, put it on, and slipped under the covers, waiting for him.

The rest of the night went much better. The black lace nightie was not so useless after all.

The sun was not up yet. The light in Hotch's kitchen was on. Wearing her uniform, Elle was dipping a croissant into her cappuccino. She bit into it and noticed the way Hotch was looking at her, one cheek on his hand, black eyebrows up to his hairline.

She leaned forward and kissed him.

Rough bristles. Hotch's beard? No. He pulled back, laughing.

"Whoops. Sorry. Crumbs." Elle touched his lips to brush them away.

Hotch shivered and took her hand. He was never so attractive to her as when he lost his steely self-control. "Don't do that, or nobody's going to catch a plane today."

"If only," she said, unthinkingly.

"Having second thoughts?" Hotch asked, noncommittally. He was not trying to sway her one way or another, no matter how tight his hand held hers.

Elle wondered. She shut her eyes, trying to answer truthfully, then opened them. "Aaron… A week ago I hated you."

He pressed her fingers. "I never hated you, Elle," he said, barely above a whisper.

His words struck her to the bottom of her heart. She leaned in again for a kiss. No crumbs this time. Hotch was unshaven, his beard dark against his fair skin; she had to ask him sometimes whether he had Black Irish blood…

"Elle."

Flashback to the previous evening. They parted, staring at each other, then turned towards the door. Jack stood there in his blue pajamas.

Hotch half-rose from his chair. "What are you doing here, buddy? It's too early for you."

"I have to ask her something."

Hotch looked at his son, mouth tight. He got up. "I'll leave you two alone, then."

"No, Dad, you can stay."

Elle could bet Hotch wanted to be a million miles away. Instead he walked to the window and crossed his arms. The first ray of sunlight struck his sharp profile. His black hair stood up absurdly from his forehead, making him look younger than ever.

Jack walked to the small table but did not sit down. He looked at Elle with the same expression of his father.

"Do you love my Dad?"

Elle searched frantically for a neutral answer…

No. Enough with lies and hidden truths. She owed the utmost honesty to both Hotchners, even though she knew the truth would hurt all of them, sooner or later.

"Yes," she replied. "Very much."

Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Hotch hunch his shoulders, then drop them, his lips parting in a silent exhalation.

Jack took in her words. "Okay," he said quietly, his eyes drooping.

"Go back to bed, buddy," Hotch said, walking towards him and draping an arm across his shoulders to steer him towards his room.

Elle got up and took her duffel bag, smiling sadly.

(music)

Feels so cold

Though the sun is shining softly

That is when the hurt begins

'Cause you realize she's gone

And never coming back again

Never mind your foolish pride

You carry on

Just carry on

They were once again outside the door at the Langham. Hotch pushed a door stopper in the entrance with his foot.

"So," he said.

"So," said Elle.

She was not protected by lies anymore. She would take it all, the hope and the hurt, all of it.

And I'll hold you tight

And turn you 'round

Inside my arms of love

And I'll protect you

And I'll guide you

Day by day

Until you find your way

"I have ten months to go," Elle said, grabbing her duffel bag.

"I could pull some strings," Hotch admitted. "Get you transferred to our counter-terrorism unit. Your report makes you an asset for FBI."

"You haven't even read it."

"I trust you."

Oh

I am strong enough to hold you up

I'm a woman, I can feel the pain

I can build a wall around your love

Oh

I am strong enough to hold you up

I'm a woman, I can feel the pain

I can build a wall around your love

"Still… ten months to go."

"I could see to it that you get an honourable discharge."

"Could you?"

"With what Section Chief Mateo Cruz owes me? Yes."

Can't go on (can't go on)

Seems like blue has turned to grey

And now there's a cloudy sky

Rain is falling from the window pane

And then you start to cry (cry)

Don't you know I'm by your side?

You're not alone

You are not alone

"Okay," Elle said, feeling like she had jumped a forty-feet gorge.

"I can't guarantee it, though."

"Okay," she repeated, smiling.

'Cause I'll hold you tight

And turn you around

Inside my arms of love

And I'll protect you

And I'll guide you

Day by day

Until you find your way

Hotch gifted her with his unique smile. "Shall we try?"

"Yes," Elle said, throwing her arms around his neck. "Oh, yes."

They kissed once again, this time with nobody popping up to see them. Except for the upstairs neighbour, who clunked down the steps in his suit, staring at them. She barely noticed him.

Oh

I am strong enough to hold you up

I'm a woman, I can feel the pain

I can build a wall around your love

Oh, oh (oh)

I am strong enough to hold you up

I'm a woman, I can feel the pain (I can feel the pain)

I can build a wall around your love

She pecked Hotch on the lips once again, then she turned and started down the stairs, dragging her military bag. She had a plane to catch.

Oh, yeah yeah yeah

Oh, I feel the pain

Let me build a wall around your love

You know I feel the pain

Let me build a wall around your love

I feel the pain…

THE END

Credits: Dee Dee Bridgewater, "Wall of Love" (1989)