INTERIM TWO

(Ok, this will be a case fic and a team fic…and of course…an H/p fic…I am just not sure what the case will be...

Because this tells of how Hotch's feelings—of basically lust, of course—it is a bit darker in nature. Enjoy.)

EMILYHOTCHEMILYHOTCH

It had never been just the two of them on the jet before. Thankfully, the flight to Chicago was relatively short. If it had been one of those ungodly long flights, she'd have gone crazy. The Milwaukie commercial flight had been almost completely silent. Tense. She'd braced herself for a repeat of that.

"I saw Dave. Spoke to him." Hotch told her, from his window seat. "He's awake and lucid. The doctor says he's looking good."

"Wonderful. I wanted to stop by, but I had to go home and take care of Kurt."

"Kurt?"

"The cat Morgan gave me. I usually have a neighbor check in on him, but she's on vacation in Europe this week." Emily said, inexplicably nervous.



"Dave's brother asked about you." Hotch said, watching her closely for a reaction.

But Emily had long ago learned not to show reactions, of any kind. Especially to this man. "Did he? I thought he was heading home this afternoon."

"Left about six, I think." Hotch said, he pulled something from his bag. "He wanted me to give you this."

Emily smiled, seeing the rare book she'd mentioned to Steven at lunch. Where had he found a copy so quickly? She accepted the book from Hotch and opened the cover, surprised when a note fell out and landed at her feet. "Oh."

Hotch bent down and retrieved it, wanting nothing more than to tear it into pieces. But he didn't, and his face showed no reaction whatsoever as he handed it to her. He opened the file he'd brought with him, but continued to watch her face over the top of it, as she read the other man's letter.

Emily smiled as she read the words Steven had penned. Emily, I was wandering around this afternoon, waiting for that brother of mine to awaken and I happened upon a little bookstore. Imagine my surprise when I found this—I thought you'd enjoy it, and if you'd like, maybe after you've re-read it—we could discuss it? I'm interested in a woman's perspective! I had a really good time today, and though I have to say the circumstances under which we met were horrible, I am glad we did. Take care until we meet again, Steven.

What a sweet man.

HOTCHEMILYHOTCHEMILYHOTCHEMILY

Hotch watched her stealthily, not missing the smile that touched her lips, or the blush that stained her cheeks. What had the damned professor written to get such a response from her?

Did just giving her a book elicit a softness in her that he wasn't used to seeing?

He watched as she idly flipped through the pages, listened as she laughed in surprised delight when a small flower, some sort of lily by the looks of it, fell from where it had been pressed between the pages. Saw her read the second letter, excitedly, smiling almost dreamily.

Now what had the guy written?

He couldn't recall ever feeling this way with Hayley. They'd met and it had been almost an instant attraction. He'd not even had to work that hard for her. Never had to worry about other men looking too hard. Hayley had been awkward, a little plain. Theirs had been a simple, sweet relationship that only the young can form.

He had a feeling Emily Prentiss was going to be a whole different ball game. It set him on edge, tightened his muscles…got him excited.

Aaron Hotchner had never had to go hunting before.

At least not for a woman.

EMILYHOTCHEMILYHOTCHEMILYHOTCH

The lily thrilled Emily. She'd told him lilies were her favorite over lunch. And he'd found one. He'd remembered, and went to that much trouble—for her. His method of delivery was unique as well.

And for a man supposedly out of practice—Steven had guaranteed she'd think of him that night. Had any man ever done something so simple, or so sweet? For her—Miss self-sufficient, practical, organized, and nerdy Emily Prentiss?

She didn't think so.

She almost forgot Hotch was even on the plane with her, she got so caught up in the book. And the notes. She'd read them both several times. The second one burned into her memory. Emily, I couldn't resist giving a lovely lady her favorite flower. Think of me, Steven.

As JJ would say—wow. Another smile touched her lips as she rifled the pages one last time, as the plane began making its descent. Then she put it away in her bag, tucking it securely in the bottom. She'd replaced the lily exactly where she'd found it. She closed the zipper on the bag and sat back up.

It was time to be SSA Emily Prentiss again, not the Emily who loved lilies and old books.

EMILYHOTCHEMILYHOTCHEMILYHOTCH

JJ had booked them a suite. Hotch knew it was because of safety—and protocol. They couldn't share a room, but it was safer for both of them—especially Emily, if they were in a suite than regular, off the hall rooms.

It meant they'd be sharing a bathroom.

He offered to let her have the first turn, but she declined. Said she wanted to call JJ and let her know they'd arrived. When he came out to the suite's foyer, he heard her discussing that damned professor—again.

He was getting tired of Dr. Steven Rossi, professor of whatever.

The profiler in him knew exactly what his problem was—he wanted her attention on him.

She told JJ good night and severed the connection. She carried her ready bag past him and into her half of the suite. It wasn't a few moments but he heard the sound of the tub filling. And he realized why she'd wanted last go at the bathroom.

She was taking a bath instead of a shower. Filling that deep well up with warm water, probably using some of those bath bead things women liked. Was going to be in there soaking, naked and warm, twenty-five feet away from him. His body tightened reflexively.

Naked, and probably thinking of that damned professor. Dammit.

She'd barely even acknowledged him since they'd gotten on the plane. Hadn't really spoken except in a professional capacity. Shared nothing with him. Treated him with cool, aloof professionalism.

The same way he'd treated her since day one.

Dammit. This was going to be harder than he thought.

EMILYHOTCHEMILYHOTCHEMILYHOTCHEMILYHOTCH

Hotch lay in his bed for several hours after he heard Emily drain the tub and leave the bathroom. Lay there thinking, wondering, scheming. And if he admitted it to himself—fantasizing.

It had been nearly ten months since he'd so much as looked at Hayley with sexual desire. Ten months since he'd even thought about sex with more than a passing urge.

Knowing Emily had been on just the other side of that wall, naked and wet, was killing him. Killing him long after she'd gone to bed.

He sighed, rolling off the regulation hotel mattress, making his way to the restroom. As soon as he opened the door he realized he should have just held it—if he wanted to get any sleep. The bathroom smelled like her. Warm vanilla, tart strawberries. Woman. Emily.

Dammit. He definitely wouldn't be getting to sleep anytime soon, now. He hurried up, got out of that bathroom as quickly as he could. His mind kept picturing just what she would have looked like, all that fragrant scented bath water lapping around her.

He knew she'd be fit, trim. Strong. Probably be soft as silk, smooth. Curved in all the right places. Not angular like Hayley. Sitting in that tub, water all around her, she'd turn when he opened the door.

Smile at him the way she'd smiled over that damned lily. Say his name, laugh softly. Sweetly. As he handed her the flower that came with the room service tray.

He'd walk closer to the tub, sink down on the edge. Trail his fingers through the water, close to her chest. She'd have pinned up her dark curls, a few escaping to tease her neck, caress her shoulders, and he'd trickle some water over her exposed neck. She'd lean her head back, and he'd move around her, move behind her. Drop to his knees beside the tub. She'd look up at him, and he'd lean down, brush a kiss across those lips. Touch those shoulders, before moving lower. Beneath the water.

Before pulling her from that tub and carrying her in to his bed. Put her down in the very center of it. Wet, soft, hungry for him—she wouldn't object. Wouldn't object to anything he did to her. And he'd do it all to her.

He'd say to hell with the custodial interview, and he'd keep her in his bed the whole time. Until it was time to meet the jet to fly back to Washington.

They'd order strawberries for him, and chocolate for her. She loved chocolate, he'd heard her tell Reid. So he'd get her chocolate. And they'd stay right where they were.

Getting to know each other. In the most elemental of ways.

He sank down on his mattress, noting how cold and empty it seemed, knowing that he wouldn't be sleeping much at all this trip. Knowing that every time he closed his eyes, he'd see her smiling at him. Waiting for him. Wanting him.

And not that damned lily-giving professor brother of Dave's.

HOTCHEMILYHOTCHEMILYHOTCHEMILYHOTCHEMILY

Emily was inexplicably nervous going into the penitentiary. It was more than the fact that this was her first custodial—with or without Hotch—it was in the way he'd been looking at her all morning.

At breakfast, neither had spoken much. She'd eaten her blueberry bagel, while he'd had steak and eggs. What they did discuss revolved entirely around Adam Preatt, the murderer of eighteen women.

Emily couldn't recall ever spending such an awkward breakfast with a man. Even one she hadn't slept with.

The car ride from the hotel hadn't been any better. They'd discussed the case, him getting her more familiar with the man they'd be seeing, for the entire drive.

Emily had interviewed killers before, so she wasn't too worried about that. But something was up with Hotch, and as a profiler, it freaked her to her toes that she couldn't lay her finger on exactly what it was.

She'd never understood the man beside, and she was beginning to doubt she ever would.

The warden of the prison was a little nonplussed to see Emily. And he was frank about saying so. "We've an open floor plan here. She'll be seen by almost every inmate."

"It's not my first time in a prison." She told him, hand resting on her badge, to remind him that she was a federal agent.

"You'll definitely cause a disturbance. A big one." He turned to Hotch, frowning. "Are you sure she should be in there, with him?''

"SSA Prentiss is an accomplished interrogator, Warden. The interrogation room is secure, correct?" Hotch asked, as last week's incident with Chester Hardwick flashed through his mind. "I want someone on the other side of the glass at all times. Just as a precaution."

"I'll be there, myself." The warden reassured him. "And someone will be directly outside the room, as well."

"Then everything should be fine. It's nine-forty now, can you give SSA Prentiss and I twenty minutes then lead Preatt in?" Hotch subtly ordered.

"Yes, sir. If you'll follow me, I'll take you to the interrogation room right now." The warden wasn't sure he wanted to be doing this. It was one thing for female attorneys to come to the prison—most of the ones he'd seen were old and haggard, or female jail officers in their bulky, unattractive uniforms. It was quite another for a woman like this to walk down the middle of his jail. This block held four hundred eighty six animals, most mid to maximum security—and each and every one would be staring at this pretty dark eyed woman.

He'd seen riots break out over far less provocation.

Hotch and the warden walked on either side of Emily, two other guards accompanying them. She was partially blocked from sight, but it didn't matter.

No one had expected it to.

Woof whistles, catcalls. Worse. All of it filled the air, as they passed ever so briefly on the block floor, headed toward the bank of rooms to the far right.

In Hotch's opinion, Emily handled it just right. She neither acknowledged the calls, nor cringed. Just walked with a purpose that he had to admire.

Anyone looking at her would never guess that she even knew she was currently fueling the fantasies of well over four hundred incarcerated men.

And one supervisory special agent.

He'd been remembering his dreams about her all morning.

Hotch had to admire the way she could handle just about anything that came her way. He'd never have to shield her from the bad things, like terrorists attacking malls, the way he had Hayley. Emily was a strong woman who did her part to protect the more vulnerable.

All without showing any vulnerability of her own.

But Hotch knew better—he'd seen that vulnerability. Had held her while she'd wept. While she'd been dependent on him for just that little while. For a little while, he had been the center of her world.

He wanted to be there again. Wanted to feel her pressed against him, leaning into him, relying on him.

Then he wanted her beneath him, taking him. Trusting him. Vulnerable to him. Vulnerable enough that he could just take and take and take.

Then do it again.

(ok…I know…a dark Hotch? But I do know where I am going with this…so bare with me…also this is a CASE fic and not just a CUSTODIAL/SHippY Fic….the case will come in the next chapter…thanks…and please, I am begging for reviews…:P)