Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.
AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, it really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to my amazing beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!
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-Dancing On Rooftops-
(The Color In Anything/ Third Meeting)
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It takes exactly three minutes and forty-five seconds before Mrs. Palmer, the woman from across the street, spots her on the roof.
With a satisfied smile on her black painted lips Emily watches as the woman hurries back into her house, leaving the front door wide open in her haste.
It won't take long now.
Turning her head towards the sky, Emily starts searching for stars on the darkening horizon.
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Twelve minutes and thirty seven seconds later there's the unmistakable noise of her bedroom door being forced open, and Emily has to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
Another seven seconds later and her mother's head of security, Aaron Hotchner, is looking up at her from her open bedroom window.
"What on earth do you think you're doing?"
"Enjoying the view," Emily slurs innocently, giving the best drunk impression she can muster.
He frowns. "Are you drunk?"
"What do you think?" Emily chuckles, spinning the almost empty vodka bottle in her hands. She hears him groan.
"Why don't you come back down?" he asks, and Emily cocks her head.
"Why don't you come up here?" she taunts, slurring her words just a little bit more before she allows the bottle to slip from between her fingers.
They both watch it shatter into a thousand pieces when it hits the concrete on the driveway below.
That could have been me.
"Don't move!" he calls up to her, all frantic now, and Emily almost feels sorry.
"Are you scared?" she asks, trying to hide her amusement.
In truth there's no reason to be scared. She'd started climbing out of her bedroom window as a seven year old, and even wasted she knows exactly where to put her hands and feet and how to keep her balance. Something Aaron Hotchner obviously doesn't know yet. Just like Emily predicted.
No one bothered to tell him anything.
In one swift motion and with her arms outstretched she gets up, swaying just a little but enough to make his eyes grow wide in horror.
"For fuck's sake, what are you doing?" He looks bloody frightened now, the color drained from his face, and Emily can't help but chuckle.
He starts to curse something unintelligible under his breath, shrugging off his suit jacket.
"Don't do anything stupid, Emily! I'm coming up now!"
Emily.
It's the mere sound of her forename that momentarily startles her, and she watches in surprise as Aaron slips out from her window and pulls himself up onto the roof.
She didn't actually expect him to come and get her himself.
No one ever had.
She blinks in surprise as she settles back down on the shingles, watching in silence as he climbs up towards her. When he finally reaches her, she feels sick and her hands are wet with sweat. It was one thing to risk her own life, but a whole different one to risk someone else's.
"You're lucky I'm not afraid of heights," Aaron murmurs, casting a careful glance towards the ground before he sits down next to her.
"So what's your story?" she fake slurs, even though she's not in the mood to play anymore.
He raises his brows. "My story?"
"You're too young to be married," Emily announces, making sure to miss a few vowels to keep up her drunken act. "Did you knock her up?"
The look on his face is priceless.
"No," he states. His voice strained. "I didn't knock her up."
"Then why are you married already? How can you be sure there's not someone else waiting for you out there? How can you be sure she's the right one?"
"I just know."
Emily frowns, his answer not making any sense to her. But then, what the fuck does she know about love?
"How long have you two been together?" she asks, not sure why she even bothers.
"Since high school."
It's the seriousness in his voice that keeps her from laughing. For a while she says nothing, her eyes finally meeting his, when she asks: "What's her name?"
He hesitates, but only for a moment.
"Haley," he answers quietly. "Her name's Haley."
He loves her, Emily thinks, brushing a strand of dark hair out of her face. Maybe not all marriages are fucked up.
"If you see Peter," she says, reaching for the ring in the pocket of her shorts. "Do me a favor and give him that."
"Is that his wedding band?"
Emily nods, handing it over. "By now his wife will have noticed it's missing."
"Why do you-" Aaron starts and stops, and Emily avoids looking at his face, afraid of what she might find.
"How old are you again?" he asks suddenly, alarm evident in his voice, and Emily bites her tongue.
Married men in their forties were a safe bet, predictable, easy to play and even easier to blackmail. The simple fact that they got her age all wrong just because she went to Yale was a great benefit, but not her fault.
Peter Grant wasn't the first married guy she fucked with just to fuck over later and he surely wouldn't be the last one, but she's never felt so dirty before.
"When you give it back to him," she says, all calm and composed even though she's feeling anything but, "make it clear you know that he left it on my nightstand. I overheard him talking to your supervisor earlier today and I think you're going to need some leverage pretty soon. This will be more than enough."
"Why are you telling me this?" He sounds stunned, but also worried and maybe a little bit disgusted. Emily can't blame him.
She gives a slight shrug, finally looking back to meet his gaze. "I'm still trying to figure that out myself."
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They climb back into her bedroom three minutes and twenty-one seconds later, Aaron helping her down the windowsill even though there's no need to.
"You're not drunk are you?" he asks, his hand lingering on hers just a little longer than necessary.
Emily shakes her head, offering him a smug smile. "I never said I was."
He chuckles, reaching for his suit jacket on the floor and pointing at the broken lock on her door. "I'll make sure that gets fixed first thing tomorrow morning."
Emily nods, watches him on his way out. He stops in the doorframe, his dark eyes finding hers once more. Even though his eyes are just as dark as her own, his hold a light.
"Just for the record," he states, "if you ever want to talk to me again, you don't have to climb on a roof to make me listen."
"She must be really happy," Emily says before she can stop herself.
"Who?" Aaron asks, studying her curiously.
"Your wife," Emily answers. "Haley."
And for the first time in her life Emily wishes she knew what it felt like to be loved.
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Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.
