Okay, massive a/n, so apologies in advance. I am a completely unoriginal author it seems as I have borrowed ideas from both raffinit and SSAEmilyHotchner. These ladies have been gracious enough to put up with my idea borrowing. Nooshin, this chapter is for you. And raffinit, this whole ENTIRE fic is for you. I love you both!

I was looking at some songs for Nooshin and came across 'Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered' sung by Linda Ronstadt. I LOVE this song, had it on while I wrote, so if you want to get into the mood I was in, switch it on (it's on Youtube) when Emily starts singing. Also, SSAEmilyHotchner has written a similar fic about Emily singing. I'd like to make clear that I borrowed her idea, so she is the original creator. I had not yet read her fic when I wrote this chapter, so any similarities (except for Emily singing on stage) is entirely by chance.

My plotline will be a little similar to raffinit's 'Morphine' but I will be focusing on the time before the baby's born (sorry for the spoiler, although most of you have guessed anyway), and apparently my muse is not in the mood for angst, at least not quite yet. In any case, if you haven't read Morphine, PLEASE go read it, it is fantastic and I for one, am addictied. As an aside, I was toying with the idea of calling my fic 'Heroin' as an homage, but thought that was a probably bit much LOL

Thanks to all those who reviewed the first chapter, glad you enjoyed it. I do not own any of these characters, nor the lyrics to the song.

Ok, that's it, I think. Sorry for the spiel but I had to acknowledge my sources. Oh, and this chapter contains the F word, just a warning. Now ON with the show!


"Hey Joe," greeted Emily as she slid onto the worn padded stool at the bar.

"Emily! Long time no see." Joe, the grey haired, pot-bellied bartender with the big smile and the even bigger heart came over and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Emily had been coming to Harry's Bar on Summers Avenue ever since she had first been assigned to the DC office eight years ago. She dropped in most weeks unless she was out of town. As a result, Joe knew her better than most of her friends, and definitely better than her own mother. "How's Lena and the kids?"

Joe chuckled. "You always ask that. And you always know what my answer is. Good and bad."

She laughed. "Oh, I've missed you Joe."

"Work been busy?"

"You could say that." Her smile faltered at the mention of work and Joe noticed immediately.

"What's up, buttercup? You can tell Uncle Joe."

"Nothing." At his raised eyebrows, she said again, "Really, it's nothing."

"It's a quiet night, so let me get you your usual and we can talk." He started to move off but Emily stopped him.

"You know what Joe? It's late and I'm pretty tired. Instead of the Greyhound, just give me a lemon lime bitters."

"Gina, lemon lime bitters for Emily please!" Joe called out. "All right, spit it out."

Emily shook her head. "Joe, really, it's nothing, I'm just tired." She really didn't want to talk about it.

Joe picked up a glass and started to dry it. "Emily, sweetheart, you may be an FBI profiler, but I've been a bartender for more than 40 years. I've seen every trick in the book. Don't even bother trying to pull the wool over my eyes."

"I should have known you'd see through me, Joe. Why did I even come here?" Apparently she had gone soft in the head.

"I think you need to talk about it, so your subconscious led you here. What is it? Boy trouble?"

She chuckled. "I haven't dated boys in a long, long time, Joe."

"Man trouble then." He looked shrewdly at her. "Ah, is it someone you've been seeing?"

"No." She smiled her thanks at Gina who had just dropped her drink off. "I haven't seen anyone for a while, either."

Joe raised his eyebrows. "So it's either a one-night stand or someone you've known for a while but not romantically."

Good God. He scared her sometimes with his insight. "Hey, we're always looking for talented agents. Wanna join the BAU?"

Joe laughed, his belly shaking. "Yeah, sure. I'm come do the fitness test tomorrow. So what is it? Stranger? Best friend? Work colleague? Boss?"

At his last word, she choked on her drink. Shit. Wow, she might as well have tattooed 'I had super hot sex with Aaron Hotchner' on her forehead. It'd have been quicker. Luckily none of the team had ever been here so Joe didn't know who Hotch was. Correction, he knew the name from Emily, but not the person.

"Whoa there, sweetheart. You okay?" He handed her a couple of napkins. When she nodded, he continued with his questions. "So what happened? You slept with your boss?"

"Joe, can we please not talk about it? Really, I just want to forget what happened." Ha, there was a higher chance of Joe turning into a prima ballerina than her forgetting the steamiest sexual encounter she had ever experienced in her entire life. And she was not exactly an inexperienced young girl. But she knew that it wasn't the sex that she wanted to forget. It was what happened afterwards. God, she was seriously the biggest freaking idiot in the world. Possibly the galaxy. There was a reason why anti-fraternisation rules exist. So that stupid, unthinking, irrational, sex-starved idiots like her didn't fall for their grim-faced, incredibly intelligent, rational bosses.

Especially the ones with the super talented penises. You were in deep, deep shit if you fell for a boss with one of those. Because those penises had magical vanishing powers. As in if you ever saw one you'd lose every skerrick of common sense and any logical thoughts you might have had once upon a time. Emily groaned, dropping her head into her hands. She really had no one to blame but herself for the fact that it currently hurt like she had been stabbed in the heart every time she looked at Hotch. Which at the moment was every two minutes. She always thought she had sado-masochistic tendencies. That was now no longer a hypothesis but a confirmed fact. Even knowing that she'd be hurt, she still wasn't able to resist sneaking a peek at him every now and again like a moon-eyed calf. Hotch of course was his usual stoic, imperturbable self. Acting like that night never happened. She hated that his compartmentalisation skills were better than hers. She hated him. Period.

"Emily." Joe's voice was close. "Emily." More insistent now.

She sighed and dropped her hands, looking at her friend. "I know, I know. I was stupid and reckless. Who knew, right?"

Joe's bushy grey eyebrows drew together. "When you say reckless you don't mean you-went-without-protection reckless, right?"

"Oh my God, Joe! I love you, but I am not discussing birth control with you." She paused. "But just for your information, I am not that stupid." If it had been anyone else, she would've insisted on a condom. But she was on the pill, and it was Hotch. Everyone knew he hadn't had sex since dinosaurs walked the earth. Even longer than her last intimate encounter. And that was saying something.

Okay, who was she kidding? The thought of protection never even crossed her mind. She was amazed she even remembered her name after seeing the all-magical penis. She had always wondered if Hotch was an overachiever in the bedroom. Now that she knew, she wished to hell that she didn't. It was like knowing that in the drawer next to your bed was the most awesome, studded, rotating, bunny-ears-included-as-an-attachment vibrator, but you weren't allowed to use it. Or touch it. Or even give it suggestive looks. Because that will get you sent off to a sexual harassment seminar before you could say 'Throw me on your desk and fuck me like there's no tomorrow, Hotch'. It was damn frustrating.

"All right, all right, you're a big girl and you can take care of yourself. Even if you're not the sharpest tool in the relationship shed. I know what will make you feel better, though." Joe beamed at her.

"The only thing that will make me feel better is a triple chocolate brownie with choc-chip ice cream and a pound of whipped cream piled on top."

"I don't have that. But I have the next best thing. Why don't you get up and sing a song."

"Oh no. No way." Emily shook her head vigorously. "I have not sung in years. No, Joe." She looked at her friend apprehensively when he walked to the end of the counter and came around to her side.

"Come on, Em, you know you used to love it when you sang here." He took her hand in his and tugged gently.

"That was just a phase. I was taking singing lessons and wanted to work on my projection." She tried to pull her hand away but Joe held fast.

"Well, you projected enough to triple my patrons on those Thursday nights you were singing. Come on, it'll make you feel better. I just know it."

"Joe, don't make me give you a back flip." She should have sounded threatening. She just sounded defeated. Like she had lost her mojo. Another casualty of the magical penis.

"You so want to sing. Come on, Al's at the piano tonight. He knows all the oldies."

Emily sighed and reluctantly let Joe pull her up to the dimly lit stage. To be honest she didn't really mind. It had been a while and there were only five people in the bar at 11.20 on a Wednesday night. That included the drunk guy snoring in the corner.

"Hey Al." She gave Al, the African-American man of indeterminate age a high five.

"You singin' tonight Miss Prentiss?" Al's white teeth flashed at her. No matter how many times she asked him to call her Emily, he never did. She eventually gave up.

"Apparently." She gave Joe a half-hearted evil eye.

"You have a lovely voice, Miss P, you should sing more. No babies to sing lullabies to?"

She smiled, shaking her head. "No babies, Al, and before you ask, no man to sing love songs to either."

"It'll happen, Miss P, it'll happen," replied Al sagely. "What'll it be tonight?"

She told him her choice; it was one of her favourites, and it seemed particularly appropriate tonight. She then took the microphone from a beaming Joe and stepped up on the stage. Joe switched on the row of lights at the base of the stage and she blinked a little at the sudden brightness. The lights made it impossible for her to see most of the bar patrons; which had been rather helpful previously when she had had to quell her stage fright. She raised the mic to her lips. "Hi everyone, I'm Emily. I used to sing here once a week a year or so ago and since I was here getting a drink, Joe asked if I could sing a little something. So here goes. Al?"

She tapped her foot lightly at the introductory notes, then started to sing, glad that the first couple of verses were not particularly straining.

He's a fool and don't I know it
But a fool can have his charms
I'm in love and don't I show it
Like a babe in arms

Love's the same old sad sensation
Lately I've not slept a wink
Since this half-pint imitation
Put me on the blink


Hotch stepped into the bar, having just eaten at a diner a block away. He had been on his way back to the SUV when he had been intrigued by the dulcet tones of a feminine voice that seemed oddly familiar, and made an impulsive decision to check out the unassuming looking establishment. His eyes were immediately drawn to the brightly lit small stage at the front of the bar. They widened when he saw who it was that was weaving a spell with her seductive voice. Emily stood there, serenading the patrons of the bar in the emerald green wrap-around dress she had worn to work. The dress that he had fantasised at least twenty times today that he could remove by just pulling on the knot at the side of her hip. As he watched the beautiful woman sing, he started to listen to the actual words.

I'm wild again
Beguiled again
A simpering whimpering child again
Bewitched bothered and bewildered am I

Couldn't sleep and wouldn't sleep
When love came and told me I shouldn't sleep
Bewitched bothered and bewildered am I

Although he knew that it wasn't possible that she had seen him, he still jolted when her gaze moved about the room and appeared to lock on him. Her voice was husky and low, so beguiling that he felt that every word and note that came out of her mouth was meant for him. That he was the only person she was singing to.

Lost my heart but what of it
He is cold I agree
He can laugh but I love it
Although the laugh's on me

I'll sing to him each spring to him
And long for the day when I'll cling to him
Bewitched bothered and bewildered am I

He swallowed hard when he heard these words. The emotion that he could hear in her voice was unmistakeable. Was she really bewitched, bothered and bewildered? He wanted her to be, so badly did he want her to want him. Because he had been unable to get her out of his mind since that fateful night. He had tried working himself into an exhaustion, physically and mentally. He had teamed her with every member of their team except himself, sent her on numerous training courses at the academy so she wouldn't be a constant reminder of their encounter. But no matter what he did, she was still there in his mind, teasing and taunting him of the reminder of what he had had. What he will never have again. For the first time in his life, she had caused him to curse his sense of responsibility, his work ethic, his very integrity.

He was honest enough with himself to admit that there was also fear. He had had a failed relationship. He couldn't afford to have another. He had Jack to think of. And the fallout of a break up with a work colleague didn't bear thinking about. So he had done the logical thing. The rational thing. Granted, it would have been more effective if he had done it thirty minutes earlier, but still, it was the right thing to do. Wasn't it?

Men are not a new sensation
I've done pretty well I think
But this half-pint imitation
Put me on the blink

I've sinned a lot
I'm mean a lot
But now I'm like sweet seventeen a lot
Bewitched bothered and bewildered am I

As Emily's voice wrapped around him like the most expensive silk, he closed his eyes, pretending for a moment that it was really him that she was singing to. That he was the subject of the song. And when she finished, he slipped out quietly before she could see him. He really wasn't sure if he would have been able to hide the fact that she had completely bewitched him with her song, indeed, with her very self.

He was an intelligent man. He had presented complex legal arguments before a bench of Supreme Court judges. He was a capable man, an accomplished federal agent. He had written the manual on hostage negotiations and captured some of the most infamous serial killers. But he didn't know how to deal with Emily. The subordinate with whom he had shared the most intense sexual experience of his life. When it came to matters of the heart, it seemed he was completely clueless. Reid probably had more romantic savvy than he did. Maybe he could ask Reid for some book recommendations. Because Hotch had no idea what to do about this conflict between logic and feeling.

Not one single fucking idea.


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