Walking into the church, Aaron Hotchner felt completely out of place. He peeked over the other guests to try and find that all familiar brunette head of the woman he'd been best friends with for years, but the FBI agent was hard to find in the mass of mourners.

She had called him just a few days before after he'd blown up her phone for not showing up to work, never giving him a heads up about her absence, and she'd begged him over to her house. Getting to her condo, Hotch had found his friend crippled on her couch, her face buried into one of her expensive couch pillows and staining it with her tears and mascara tracks.

Matthew had died.

They had found him months before overdosing on cocaine, and their team had quickly rushed him to the hospital. The boy Emily had known that time in Italy was almost all gone, but after a month in the hospital and time in rehab, she was starting to see him again. They had rekindled their relationship - one Hotch felt himself grow completely jealous of with how close he saw they were - and only a half a year later he was found dead. A car accident had been his demise, and his death Emily's.

Emily had clung to him from the moment she lost her friend, her heart broken. Matthew had finally gotten his life together and now he lost it. The brunette made sure it was her job to put together the funeral, the dead man's parents finally letting her back into their lives after their son had gotten back on his feet. They had fallen back in love with the girl they'd known in Italy and they let her do all she felt liable to do once their son was gone.

And Hotch had just stood by, the past few days going by the way the months had after his divorce and eventually his ex's murder. It was as if the minutes were weeks themselves, stretching out to prolong Emily's torturous pain, and Hotch could do nothing but try and be there for her.

Finally finding the brunette woman in the back of the church, the Unit Chief politely maneuvered his way through those trying to find a spot to stand until the priest escorted them all out to the cemetery, and he held up his hand to get her attention. "Emily?"

Emily's lashes batted to try and fight her tears when she caught sight of her friend. "Hey," she croaked, quickly using the back of her hand to wipe underneath her nose. "Thank you for coming."

He held himself back until the younger woman made the first move, and as she stepped toward him he held out his arms, wrapping them around her slender figure. "Great turnout."

She nodded into his jacket as her wrists linked behind his back.

"Are Matthew's parents here? I wanted to give them my condolences but I didn't know who they were."

"I can introduce you on the way to the graveyard," she whispered, pulling back to wipe away the tears piling up underneath her eyes.

Hotch watched his friend try her best to hold back the rest of her tears that wanted to spill over, and he found his hands coming up to cup her cheeks. His eyes met hers when she looked up to him, her sadness the only thing he could see, and his thumbs brushed away her tears. It felt weird, the older man having to comfort the strong female agent when their relationship had been the reversal for years. She was his protector when he couldn't be hers.

Slowly shaking her head, Emily shook off the offending hands and looked down to her own. "The priest should be back any minute," she nodded, mostly to herself.

"Can I get you anything?"

The FBI agent was quick to send a glare to the older man. "I've had more than enough drinks to get through today, thank you."

Hotch paused, not wanting the woman he had known for years to curl into her shell any more than she already had that day, but shortly decided on shaking his head. "I meant water," he nodded, gesturing toward the entrance of the church. "There's a dispenser out near the front door."

"Oh." Rolling her lips inward, the brunette brushed her hands against the material of her dress. "No, I'm ok. Thank you."

"So how many drinks?"

Emily huffed, letting the older man lead her away from the wall she'd been attached to, watching the mourners welcome one another in the church as they waited, and over toward the front door, moving their way through the rest of those around them. "Enough," she croaked, clearing her throat afterward to stop herself from sounding, how she put it, pathetic. "I was up all night," she hadn't been able to sleep for the past couple of days, "and it just kind of happened. But from the drinking and the amount of crying I've been doing, I'm surprised I'm able to stand upright."

As if on cue, the older man's hand found his way to Emily's back, and he felt her stiffen up.

"I don't know about this," she whispered. They stopped at the front doors of the church and looked out to the rainy day, Emily's hands wringing before her. It was supposed to be a mournful day as it was, but the look of the graveyard full of mist and tearful skies made the agent that much more upsetting. "Can we even bury him in the rain?"

"You can," her friend answered from behind, feeling out of place whenever one of the mourners looked to him, "psychically, of course. But the day could always be pushed back if the family wanted it."

Emily felt her chin trembling as she watched the priest observe the yard workers lowering her friend's coffin just enough so it wouldn't tumble off it's supports. She didn't think she'd be able to understand he was truly gone. Matthew had been in her life for decades, and now he was gone? Just like that?

"Emily Prentiss?"

Turning her head, the FBI agent gave a quick sniffle and a run of her fingers under her eyes to try and present herself as put together. "Yes?"

The bald man gave her a sad smile. "A pleasure to meet you," he nodded, holding his hand out for hers. "Matthew had told me all about you."

Emily tried her best not to frown as she let the unfamiliar man shake her hand. "I apologize, who are you?"

"Thomas Braden, agent."

Hotch watched as his friend's jaw almost dropped to the marble floors they stood on before she took the man into her arms for a strong hug. It was as if the agent had immediately held a connection with him, and watching how Emily hugged him with her strong arms, he could almost feel himself growing jealous.

"Aaron," she interrupted his thoughts, trying to give him a smile as she pulled away from the bald man who was adjusting his glasses. "Aaron, this was Matthew's boyfriend Thomas. Thomas, this is my friend Aaron. He came to pay his respects."

Hotch stepped forward and immediately shook the younger man's hand. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

Thomas gave an appreciative nod of the head. "Thank you for coming." Turning his attention back to the woman trying to do her best to keep it together, the editor clasped his hands together. "Matthew's parents asked me if you'd like to read the eulogy you wrote at the reception due to the weather."

The brunette quickly nodded her head. "Of course." As long as she got to say her final goodbye, it didn't matter.

"And I have some news for you."

Emily felt herself frowning as she watched her friend's boyfriend dig into his suit jacket and take out an envelope. "Were we supposed to give each other gifts?" she joked, a watery laugh escaping her as she took the envelope in her hands.

The thirty-five year old man gave a chuckle. "Being the executor of Matthew's will, he insured that I give this to you."

"Can I ask what it is?"

Thomas made an awkward glance at the quiet man at Emily's side before shaking his head. "It isn't my place to discuss it," he said carefully, noticing Emily's brows furrowing as he started to back away. "There is a number there to contact once you've made a decision." Looking to Matthew's parents who were speaking to the priest finally back inside the church, the editor gave a wave of the hand. "I'll see you out there."

Hotch watched with a careful eye as the new face moved his way back through the crowd. "What is it?" he asked, moving to look over Emily's shoulder. Knowing he couldn't read the words from that distance without his glasses, his closeness to his friend being just a comfort.

Hearing a gasp from the younger woman, the Unit Chief's first reaction was to grasp her by her arm, feeling her stumble back into him. "Emily?"

Her head shook, a hand over her mouth as she read the words over time and time again.

"Emily can you hear me?"

Emily's eyes stung as she handed the paper off to her friend, her chest tightening as she tried to keep her balance, her head spinning. "I can't breathe," she hiccupped, falling into the wall beside her. "I can't breathe."

Hotch immediately fell to her side, his fingers finding Emily's quickest pulse point. "I need a medic!"