CHAPTER 2

(Hotch's POV)

Hotch worked steadily at his desk, filling out paperwork. Elle had left a few months before, and rather than give more assignments to the rest of the team, he had been doing extra. He had interviewed almost a dozen people to fill Elle's place, but none of them fit in well with the team. Some were arrogant, others were incompetent, and still others seemed a little too interested in psychopaths to make a career of hunting them down.

Hotch sighed.

Things were noticeably tense with Haley. Every time Hotch came home at four in the morning only to leave again an hour later for yet another case, Haley seemed to drift farther away. At the dinner table, they had less and less to talk about.

Someone knocked at his door, interrupting his thoughts. "Come in," he said.

"Agent Hotchner?" Hotch looked up to see a beautiful woman: shiny, dark hair; large dark eyes; smooth, ivory skin.

Hotch found himself unusually at a loss for words. Recovering quickly, Hotch shook hands with her as she introduced herself as Emily Prentiss. He found himself so captivated by her smile that he released her hand a second too late.

They made awkward small talk. He realized that he had done security work for her mother, an ambassador. He asked how her parents were doing. Finally, the chat died down, and with disorganized thoughts floating around his head, Hotch finally asked what he could do for her.

Looking confused, Emily said hesitantly that she needed to know where to put her stuff; Hotch could feel his face change from welcoming to closed-off. Strauss.

His boss Erin Strauss was both controlling and ultra-paranoid. She had repeatedly suggested her hand-picked candidates for the open job; as Hotch had quickly rejected all of them, she had apparently taken matters into her own hands. Hotch felt a twinge of regret as he told Emily that he had not approved a transfer and left the room despite her confused protests.

Hotch confirmed his suspicions by asking Gideon about the transfer; he listened to Gideon's nonplussed response as he walked to the conference room. Hotch snuck a glance behind him before shutting the door; Emily was standing there, staring after him, with her box of belongings at her feet. Hotch felt guilty for shutting her hopes down completely, but he knew Strauss well enough to know that she would exploit any weakness of his to spy on his business.

However, all throughout the meeting, Hotch's thoughts kept straying back to a certain dark-haired woman.

Four long days later, Hotch walked through the dark bullpen, exhausted from the grueling case. Haley had called him on the plane and chewed him out again for leaving so suddenly; she had had to cancel plans with a friend because no one could watch Jack. Hotch just sat there and listened, biting his tongue at Haley's petty concerns. He understood her anger, he really did, but how could she yell at him for trying to save the lives of other people? Hotch didn't consider himself to be a selfless person, but it wasn't like his travel was a fun vacation; he had to go look at mutilated bodies of children, hear serial killers tell him all of their twisted desires, had to hear again and again, "We've got another body." Every time he heard those words, he felt like the police were bitterly glancing at him, thinking, "This is your fault. You didn't save her. You killed this child."

He was surprised to see Emily stand up when he walked in his office. "Please tell me you haven't been there for the last four days," he said wearily.

She began talking fast, barely letting him get in a word edgewise, trying to explain what she'd profiled about an open case. Hotch was impressed by her astute observations but kept his face impassive; he didn't want to have to constantly worry about Strauss's mole.

She finally finished making her case, saying, "I belong on this team." They stared at each other. Although there was pleading in her doe-like eyes, Hotch also saw a glimmer of hard determination that he had not expected.

As their eyes stayed locked, he suddenly remembered her soft her hand was in his during their handshake. Mentally kicking himself for losing his professionalism, he finally succumbed to her pleas.

"We brief new cases at nine."

"You won't be sorry," she vowed.

Hotch knew that already.