It's busy being single! This is a short update and a second prologue. I wanted to explore a different side of Hotch here – there has to be more than handsome broodiness...

Thanks to HotchityHotchHotch for the chats and tweets! And her amazing fics which got me through a bad patch on Saturday!

Thank you to ilovefanfiction and Aphrodite96 for their reviews too!

Tread Softly

Prologue 2

"You have to risk going too far to discover just how far you can really go." – T.S. Eliot

Berlin, July 2011

The melee of people had grown significantly since he had arrived at the airport. A few had left the premises, living close enough to return once the crisis was over, but he, of course, was stranded. It didn't matter that he was a member of the FBI, not here in Berlin, not when he was trying to keep a low profile. Not when he wasn't even using his own identity.

It was safer. Doyle, for all they knew, was having each member of the team tracked. They being him and JJ and a couple of high ranking authorities who Hotch would rather not consider right now, stuck in the middle of Berlin's Tegel airport with the humidity levels set at a hundred percent and enough irate would-be passengers to start a riot. If he wasn't in so much of a hurry he would pass the time by profiling them, but his patience stores had reach critical and if he didn't manage to find a spot where he could get reception on his piece of shit cell phone then he would be liable to take one of the planes himself and attempt to fly it to St Petersburg.

He leant against an information board and checked the bars on the disposable phone. Finally, there was a chance of sending Prentiss a text, to let her know he was delayed, that she had not been forgotten. His thumb hung over the keys. Indecision. He had no idea what to say, knowing that she wasn't happy to have him coming to see her any way. She wasn't waiting for him like a pining lover, or even like a friend. From what he had heard, read in her emails, she was fairly content, enjoying her sojourn abroad even if its cause still hung above her head like a sword of Damocles. He typed slowly, cursing the auto correct. Plane delayed. Will contact you on arrival to rearrange meeting. He didn't reread it before pressing send, not wanting to hear the impersonal tone in his head.

A small child dashed in front of him as he began to walk, reprimanded in German by a woman who might have been her mother. For a moment his heart twinged as he thought of Jack, leaving him again with Jessica. She didn't mind, but that didn't mean Hotch didn't. A small bubble of resentment bubbled in his stomach as he recalled the reason he was away from his son. A reason that could have been curtailed if Emily Prentiss had confided in him in the first place. Or not even him, anyone of them on the team. Then they could have gotten to Doyle first and she wouldn't be hiding in Europe, and he wouldn't be stuck in an airport in Berlin.

The screen announcing flight departures altered, drawing an immediate crowd. Hotch felt his stomach thud as he saw the new departure time of his flight. Twelve hours delayed. He closed his eyes as if sending a message up to the gods of travel, wondering if their sick sense of humour was enjoying itself.

"Excuse me."

He looked around for the voice, his momentary lapse into self pity broken. "Can I help you?"

There was a smile showing perfectly straight white teeth. Red lips. Dark hair. Ghost white skin. "Do you know if there's a passenger lounge? I'm sorry to bother you but..."

He nodded without smiling. "It's chaos. I would assume there is, although I'm not sure where. I'll need it myself."

"How long?" she said, tossing her hair behind her. She had blue eyes; unusual for someone with hair so dark.

"Twelve hours. You?"

"Thirteen, but it'll be longer. Where are you heading?" There was a hint of an accent; Eastern European, Slovakian maybe.

"St Petersburg," he said. "You?"

"Dubrovnik. Business meeting. Can I buy you a drink – pass some time?" She smiled again, warmth in her eyes beaming at him. Hotch became aware of his phone and that he hadn't received a message back from Prentiss.

He nodded. "Let me buy you one. It looks as if the lounges are over there." He gestured to the other side from where they were stood, a mass of people congregating, their expressions all the same. They ploughed their way through the crowd, the bar already busy.

"What will you have?" he asked.

"Brandy," she said. "Neat with ice."

He nodded, catching the bartender's eye. "Where are you from?" he asked his companion.

"Prague," she said. "My name's Eliska by the way."

Hotch's attention was taken away by the bartender. He ordered for them both, whisky for him, even though it was far too early for it. "I'm Graham." He held out a hand, her small one lost in his as they shook.

"Nice to meet you, Graham," Eliska said. "Are you travelling to St Pete's for business or pleasure?"

"Business," Hotch said. "A meeting unfortunately. You?" He knew what she was doing. He'd been the subject of it before. Passing time. Anonymously.

"Same," she said, picking up the brandy that was now on the bar. "Shall we sit? There's a table over there that's just become vacant."

"Sure," he said, handing over a ten euro note and getting very little change. He followed her to where she was sat, still smiling. The knot that had been tightening in his stomach eased and he pushed thoughts of Emily Prentiss to the back of his mind, trying to focus on the present, on the next twelve hours in the airport, rather than on the days he was missing with Jack and the volume of paperwork he would have to catch up on when he returned.

"So, Graham," Eliska said as he sat down, sipping his whisky. "Are you single?" The irrelevant question. His answer was unimportant because no one besides him and her would ever know. Her name would be as real as his, although for an entirely different reason.

Hotch maintained his usual poker face, putting down the glass. "At present," he said. It didn't matter what he said. He was in a different country to everyone he cared about, he had a different name and right now he needed a release. Something - anything - to take away the stress of the past few months. She didn't seem to be anything to do with Doyle or anyone else on the Interpol watch list and she was clearly interest in a forty something year old with no apparent baggage. And with no tomorrow, either. Just twelve hours.

"Aren't you going to ask me if I am?" she said.

He shook his head. "No. There's no need."

She nodded, studying the bottom of her glass before knocking back the rest of its contents. "Because it is unimportant to you?"

"Because I wouldn't know if you'd lied." That was untrue of course, he would have probably been able to tell if she had, but it didn't matter. They were in no man's land. In peace time.

"True. And I don't know if you're lying either. Tell me something about yourself," she said, sitting back, the skirt of her suit riding up her thighs as she stretched languidly.

He noticed her legs, slender and long, encased in sheer black tights or stockings. "There really is nothing to know. Would you like another drink?"

She nodded, handing him her glass. He gave her a brief smile, heading back to the bar. Eleven and a half hours left before his flight. Eleven and a half hours left in which he could be someone else entirely, if he dared.

...

A/N: Thank you for the reviews for the previous chapter. I'll update soon hopefully! Maybe tomorrow.