A/N

Okay, I don't even know if anyone who was reading this is still with me anymore. I don't even know how long it's been. But I just completely lost inspiration for this story, not to mention I was busy with school and crap. But now I'm back and I'm gonna give this another go. Hope you like it enough to stay. ;P

-Amora

P.S. Who else is pissed about JJ?

'There is nothing on this job that you don't see, nothing that won't affect you, that won't make you question everything you thought you knew. You try not to let it get to you, but in the end you realize you had no real protection against it.'

"There is no refuge from confession but suicide; and suicide is confession."

Daniel Webster

"Some thing's wrong," Hotch said to Rossi as he watched Emily pour herself a cup of coffee. Rossi looked up and followed his gaze.

"She'll be fine," he said casually, returning his gaze to the files before him. He felt Hotch's raptor gaze turned on him and ignored it. The man should know better than to think that that look could have any affect on him.

Hotch removed his gaze from Rossi, returning it to Emily. She seemed okay. But it was easy to seem okay. Actually being okay was an entirely different matter. And he knew she wasn't okay. He could see it in her eyes, see the absolute emptiness in them. She wasn't the same person anymore. She used to be optimistic, determined. Now it seemed as if everything had finally gotten to her and she had just given up.

He knew if he didn't do something to help her soon, it was going to be too late.

2:37 A.M.

2:38 A.M.

2:39 A.M.

2:40 A.M.

Emily sighed and rolled over, tired of watching every minute that she couldn't sleep tick by. She was met with the sight of her gun resting on the other night stand. Every time lightning struck, the light would break through a gap in the curtains and glance off the weapon. If she timed it so it fired the same time as a clap of thunder, no one would hear it. They wouldn't know until the morning, when she never came out of her room.

She watched her hand reach out and her fingers close around the cool metal of the glock. There was a knock at her door and she released the gun as if it had burned her. In a momentary panic she though that maybe one of her team members had known what she was about to do.

Whoever was there knocked again. She kicked her blanket off and threw her legs over the side of the bed. She stood up too quickly and was hit with a bout of vertigo. Her vision went dark for a moment and she had to catch herself on the wall to keep her legs from giving out. Seconds later it passed and she was able to keep herself upright to answer the door. She put her eye to the peephole to find a distorted-looking Hotch standing on the other side of her door. What he wanted with her at almost three in the morning, she couldn't imagine. She would have thought it was case-related if she hadn't seen he was in a t-shirt and flannel pajama pants.

Thoroughly confused, she opened the door.

"What are you doing, Hotch?" she asked, a little bit flustered. She had never seen him in anything other than crisp suits and several times a hospital gown.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

She was too interested in what was going on to refuse, so she stepped aside and let him enter the dark room. He turned on her bedside lamp as she closed and locked the door. He turned and looked at her without saying anything, completely putting her at a loss of what was going on. She didn't like it when he looked at her like that. It made her feel like he could see right through her. She began to feel nervous.

"Is there something you need?" she asked, glancing at her gun. She felt guilty, like he would see it and know what she wanted to do with it.

"I'm worried about you," he said.

"And you felt the need to tell me this at three in the morning?" she asked incredulously.

"I couldn't sleep," he told her. "And I didn't think you were able to sleep either."

It gave her the creeps that he would know that.

"Am I right?" he asked.

She shrugged, not willing to admit he was.

"I need to know that you're not going to do anything...reckless," he said, his gaze becoming more intense, which she hadn't thought was possible.

"I don't know what you mean," she lied.

"Don't lie to me, Emily," he said. Her stomach always squirmed when he used her first name.

"I'm not," she lied again. She tried to walk past him, but he grabbed her arm and turned her to face him once more.

He didn't say anything, he just stared at her. Everything around her dissolved as they simply looked at one another. She didn't see him come closer, but suddenly she felt his hand pressed against her back, pushing her closer to him, and his lips were on hers. She stopped breathing.

Just as quickly as he was pressed up against her, he had moved away.

"Just don't only think about yourself," he said and left her room.

She could only stare after him.

"Emily. Are you listening to me?" Garcia's concerned voice asked over the phone.

"What? Yeah, of course," Emily said, watching Hotch talk to the sheriff.

"No you're not."

"What?"

"So, sex with you last night was really great, Em, how about we do it again some time?" Garcia asked.

"Yeah, sure," Emily said.

"Emily, what did I just say?" Garcia demanded.

"What?"

Garcia made a noise of annoyance. Emily definitely wasn't hearing a word she said.

"I'm going to call Morgan," she said and hung up.

Emily still held the phone to her ear. Hotch glanced up from the paper the sheriff was showing him to look at her. She quickly spun her chair around and finally realized she wasn't on the phone with Garcia anymore. She hung up and got to her feet. She needed some air and better coffee than the station provided. She thought she remembered seeing a coffee shop around the corner.

UnSub's POV

He liked hanging around the coffee shop because it was close to the police station and many of the officer's frequented it. Lately they stupidly discussed their current case while they bought coffee and pastries. He looked up as the door opened and a woman entered. She was the same one he had seen at the last house, the one who had left. She one of the FBI agents. Seeing her up close ignited a familiar feeling.

Rage, passion, lust.

He knew. He had to have her. Like the other woman. He wanted her screams. He Wanted her pain. He wanted her blood.

Had to have her.

A/N

There you are, my lovelies. Not as long as the last chapter, but better than no chapter! :D

Love from, Amora