I'm late for work. I know that. My radio alarm clock keeps playing early morning tunes and Thursday morning jokes like all is happy in the world. Like there isn't terrorists or serial killers or rapists. Just early morning jokes and hot steaming cups of coffee and kids playing and all so bright and cheery. I want to punch my alarm clock. But that involves effort and strength and I don't have the energy for either. Jack comes running in, bare-foot but dressed in school clothes. He climbs on my bed and then rocks the bed back and forth, making me seasick.

"Jack, cut it out." I grumble.

Jack frowns, but then smiles right away. "Daaaddy," he hits my arm. "Get uppp. You have to work."

I rub my face very hard with my palms. Yesterday was Emily's funeral. It was dreadful. I had to go to a close friend and colleague's funeral. I wanted to sleep right through it. Sleep really is a blessing, one we take for granted all too often. Matter of fact, I'd like to sleep now.

Jack rocks the bed again. "Dad!" he yells.

"Jack!" I say furiously, very annoyed. "I'm trying to sleep!"

I can see my yelling discourages him for a second, but just as quickly, he smiles and rocks it again. I shoot out of bed, throwing the comforters off of me angrily and picking Jack up, hard, carrying him into the living room. I place him rather roughly on the sofa.

"I'm not in the mood," I say sternly. "I'm trying to sleep."

Jack stays quiet this time. He just sits there, like he can't believe I just said that. I feel bad, but I also don't have the energy to care for very long. I sigh and rub my forehead, which is now throbbing. "Jack," I say softer this time. "I just need to sleep, is all. You get that, right?"

He nods but I can see that he doesn't. Kids don't get that stuff. All they see is rainbows and clouds and stuffed toys and crap like that. I stroke his back. "Hey, don't be mad at me," I say softly. I nudge him. He just keeps his eyes looking downward.

"I'm not mad at you." he mumbles. "Your mad at me."

I sigh. I'm too tired to react to this. "Jack, I'm not mad at you. It's just that..."

"You miss your friend?" he tries.

He reminds me of her, and for some reason it angers me. "No. Well, yes, but what I need is sleep."

I hear a honking outside and Jack jumps to his feet, grabbing his tiny sneakers. He doesn't bother hugging me goodbye. He just runs outside. I follow him up until I reach the porch. I wave to him, but he doesn't look back. He's definitely mad at me. And why shouldn't he be?

I crawl back into bed, cursing myself the whole way there, and envelope myself in comforters like if I bury myself deep enough, I can disappear entirely. It doesn't seem like that bad of an idea. My headache is pretty severe.

I close my eyes and fall right back into sleep. Ah, sleep. It really is a blessing. Until...what the hell is this? I find myself in the BAU. Standing amongst a group of workers whom are carrying files. I look down in fits of panic, expecting to see my flannel pajama bottoms and old gray t-shirt. But when I look down, I see my suit and tie and black leather loafers. I grip my tie, and I can't feel it. I look at my hands in terror. What the hell is this?

I notice people strolling around me, but they don't look concerned. Once I spot Morgan, I run over to him.

"Morgan!" I nearly scream. Morgan stops and looks at me like I've sprouted triplets... from my face.

"Whoa, whoa, Hotch, calm down," his eyes look part-concerned, part-surprised I'm making an ass out of myself. "What's wrong?"

"When did I get here?"

He gives me the funniest look and then glances at his watch on his wrist. "At, like, eight A.M. I don't know, after you watched Jack go on the bus. Why? What happened?"

I shake my head. "I don't remember getting here."

Morgan grips my shoulder. "Hotch, what's going on with you, man?"

I look at him. Why isn't he mentioning Emily? I really expected an, Is this because of Emily? speech. But no. Nothing. I feel myself glaring at him.

"You look fine." I say.

There's that look again. He lets go of my shoulder. "Why wouldn't I?" he sounds cocky.

"Because of last night. I figured you'd all be depressed."

Morgan looks at me even stranger. "About...?"

"Emily's funeral!"

Morgan's eyes widen and he grips my shoulders with both hands now, this time rough and harsh. "Man, what the hell are you talking about? Prentiss is NOT dead!" he sounds very angry about this.

"Whoa, of course Prentiss isn't dead." JJ adds, suddenly appearing into the conversation. Reid follows behind her.

"Did you just say Prentiss is dead?" Reid says, nonchalantly.

I step back. My head is spinning. I clutch it, afraid it might fall off and decapitate myself. "Yeah, you guys were there."

JJ looks at Morgan and Reid, her eyebrows and eyes shaped funny, like her concern and confusion is written all over her face. "Where for what? When?"

The questions and confusion are piling up on me like heavy textbooks and I need to sit down. Right now. The funny thing is, though I'm so confused it's painful, I don't actually feel anything physical or anything to remind me I'm even alive. I attempt to pinch my arm, but I still feel nothing.

I grasp for a chair to sit on. Eventually I pull one out from under someone's desk and fall into it.

"Hotch, are you okay?" Reid asks.

I close my eyes and barely shake my head. "You guys have got to be kidding me."

JJ looks scared to ask. "About what?"

"About Emily. About her..." I look at everyone's eyes long and hard, and I can see that they really, really do not remember her death, let alone her funeral.

"About her...? Her what, Hotch? Her funeral? Man, what are you talking about?" I can tell Morgan's becoming very upset with me. Reid looks like he's trying to figure out if he should call that hospital his mom is attending. JJ looks scared, like I'm suddenly going to pull out a knife and start butchering them.

Soon I hear the elevator click. I don't bother looking. But soon I hear her voice. "Hey guys." she announces cheerfully. I jump up so fast the chair goes flying. Emily backs away then laughs.

"Hotch, whoa, be careful," she touches my arm. At first I feel a chill, but it's only imaginary. "You okay there?"

JJ walks off, leaving me and everyone else to my insanity problem. "Your, your," I can barely make out the words. "Your here."

She nods very slowly, like I don't get it. "Yep," she smiles and wiggles her Dunkin' Donuts coffee cup. "I made a pit stop but I'm here regardless. Just a little bit late." She smiles apologetically at me like she expects me to give her a long speech about tardiness. Yeah, right.

My head is twirling with thoughts, I could actually picture it spinning in circles like on The Exorcist. I cup my head in my hands, my eyes blinking rapidly at her image. She looks beautiful, by the way. Her hair is super-dark, practically jet black, as always and is straight, the length stopping at about directly under her breasts. Her eyes are lined with little but black make-up and she's dressed typically like Emily Prentiss; her famous black boots that she often uses to kick down doors when Morgan's not around to do it. I reach out to touch her, and though I can't actually feel her arm or anything at all, I can see I'm touching her without my hand going through her or anything like that.

I can feel Morgan's eyes staring at me like they're burning holes into my face. "Hotch...what are you doing?" I understand Morgan's deeply concerned, but all I can think is, why isn't he freaking out?

"Can you guys see her?" I ask hysterically. I don't know why I even ask that; they obviously don't remember Emily dying. Then it hits me. I'm surprised it's taken this long, honestly. I'm dreaming. God, Aaron. I actually want to laugh at my stupidity. But the relief I feel bubbling up inside is replaced with such bewildering sadness when I see her look so sad and concerned, as she puts her small hand on my shoulder. I almost inch away like I'm going to catch a disease from a dead person touching me, but I don't mean it that way. I'm just so shocked to see her, really.

Reid's eyes widen and his face turns slightly paler. "Hotch..." he looks at Morgan then at Emily, and I can tell he's beginning to panic.

"I'm gonna get Rossi." Reid declares before stalking off. Morgan waits a second then decides to follow him, shaking his head at me like he's ashamed. I can barely speak, meanwhile. I feel like I should be suffocating. This dream looks so real. I think about taking two steps, and so I do. I take two steps forward just as easily as if it were real life. I've never controlled dreams like this before. It's surreal.

Emily stares at me, just gawking awkwardly. "Hotch..." she swings her hair over her shoulders and sighs, then touches my arm again. "What is going on with you?"

I can't explain. I can't look at her, either. "This is so weird." I mutter out.

She doesn't hear me. "What?" she asks.

I shake my head at her. Then once I glance at her, I can't stop staring. I want to touch her but I'm scared to. I'm scared she'll disappear into thin air, or slowly drift away. I'm afraid I'll break the curse. I'm just scared. Wouldn't you be?

Just as Reid said, Morgan and Reid returned, Rossi in tow. Rossi looked almost as concerned as them, or so I think. I can't really tell with Rossi sometimes. He's not very expressive facial-expression-wise.

"What's up with him?" Rossi asks coolly, like I'm not entirely losing my mind over here.

Emily shakes her head and raises her arms like she really has no clue. Of course she doesn't. I continue staring at her, for what seems like forever. She eventually notices my constant staring and then shoots me a look that tells me I'd better cut it out or I'm getting those shiny boots she uses to kick down doors in an unpleasant place.

"What?" she asks, folding her arms almost defensively.

I shake my head and look down at my shoes. I put my hands on my hips and tell myself, It's just a dream. I have to remind myself of this, because it really feels like I could lose myself here. I wonder if I could actually walk out of here, get in my car and fly to Tokyo if I wanted to.

"Hotch," Rossi says, grabbing my attention. I look at him. "Everyone's worried about you. What's up?"

I catch JJ's eye across the room. She won't look at me. I wouldn't either. They all think I've lost it. First I'm babbling about Emily being dead, then getting all wacky the second she steps in and then well, everything else I've done or said or not said, for that matter.

"Hotch, weren't you going on about something about Prentiss earlier?" Morgan says. I feel Emily look at me, like she really wants to know. I don't want to say. Since this is a dream, this is possibly my last chance of seeing Emily. Why ruin it with my whole going crazy issue? That could wait.

I look up at him, my face as serious as always and shake my head. "No. I don't recall that."

Reid pipes up from the back. "Uh, yeah," he looks scared to speak up, like I'm going to take away his badge. "You said something about..." he glances at Emily, who's now staring him down curiously, and then shuts up.

"About Prentiss being," Morgan squints his eyes at me. "Being, what was it, Hotch?" he keeps pressing it. I want to punch him in the face. I shoot him a death glare that everyone can see but Emily, who's standing behind me.

Reid backs off, Rossi stares at me oddly and Morgan raises his hands and walks away in defeat.

"Okay, what the hell?" Emily finally blurts out once everyone exits. I sigh. I stare at her even longer.

"Stop doing that." she says snappishly. "Seriously, what is everyone on today?" she mutters under her breath before shaking her head and walking off like nothing happened. Does she not feel what I'm feeling? Or, what I would be feeling if this weren't a dream and it was real life?

Then I wake up. I find my hands are shaking and I wasn't even aware of it. Maybe your really semi-awake during dreams. But still. This dream was entirely different than other dreams. Some dreams you remember, some dreams you never really forget; I've had those before. But this is a whole new thing. In dreams, you just sit back and watch yourself or people you love either screw up, die, or do something totally random, or maybe even do something you wish would happen in real life. But the point is, your just watching. But this dream, no, you don't watch. You control. Like I'm sucked into a video game.

I ponder all of this as I walk downstairs and pour myself a cold glass of water. My hands are still shaking from seeing her. I miss her so much. I try not to think about it.

I try not to think about seeing her again. I close my eyes and stand in front of the bathroom mirror, every light in the house shut off but the bathroom one. I'm afraid to open my eyes. I'm afraid I'll see her behind me in the mirror. Dead. Maybe she won't look like Emily. She'll look like deceased Emily. I'm scared to open my eyes, truly. I inhale and exhale, tying to calm my nerves, and then in one quick motion, swing them open. No one is there. I catch my breath. I really convinced myself she would be. I'd probably die from panic. I don't sleep for the rest of the night. How could I? Besides, it's already four A.M.

I drag my tired and exhausted butt to work several hours later. By then, it's like I'm experiencing a horrible sugar crash. Maybe I put too much sugar in my oatmeal. I thought it'd keep me awake. It didn't help one bit. I'm having one of those super-tired moments where your body actually feels kind of numb and you start slurring your words and your eyes are constantly falling closed and you have big eye-bags underneath your eyes. Just like that.

I got dressed so fast this morning, I think my tie isn't tied right. It feels funny and looks crooked. The funny part is, I don't care. Perfectionist me does not care one bit. Jeez, Emily. See what your death did to me? I approach Morgan, and am at first, struck with this idea to hide from him, afraid he'll have people surround me and put me into a mental institution. Then I remember it was only a dream, and then I stop searching for a hiding place.

"Hotch!" he calls over to me, friendly. I breathe a sigh of relief. Everything is back to normal. "Your late." he taps his wrist watch twice and gives me a cocky grin.

I nod. "Yeah, I am." I admit.

His eyebrows furrow. I can tell I'm taking the fun right out of him teasing me. I don't mean it. He can continue, if he pleases. "You okay?"

"I've been asked that a lot lately." I sulk.

"Because you look awful." he says.

"Thanks."

"No, really, you do," he frowns at me and eyes me suspiciously, like I've got a very odd substance splattered on my face and he's trying to guess what it is.

"I believed you the first time."

He opens his mouth to say something else, but can tell I'm in no joking mood (am I in one any other day?) and decides against it. Once I realize he's done saying whatever it is he feels the need to say, I drag my feet up the stairs, which feels like fifteen steps longer than I remember, and I slam my office door and fall into my chair like it's a big fluffy cloud and I've just landed in Heaven. It's what it feels like to me. Heaven.