A/N: I did some research and found out that the Lanley Air Show is late April. So that's where I'm setting this story.
This one was tough. Even though there were lots of Hotch/Emily moments, they're mostly related to Karl Arnold. And lots of authors have explored Arnold-related issues so I didn't want to write more of the same thing. I only hope I've done the episode justice.
Please read and review.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Criminal Minds.
Emily danced around the kitchen as she cooked breakfast. They'd had a late night and Hotch had chosen to stay over. Emily figured it was a combination of Hotch being too tired to drive, and his not wanting to go back to an empty apartment. Either way, she was happy to have the company. And, though it was strange to wake up at half two to the sound of the guest toilet flushing, she felt an odd feeling at having another person in the house. Especially Hotch. She couldn't exactly name that feeling but it was something along the lines of "safety."
Granted, she was an FBI agent, a terrific marksman with a pistol, and more than capable in hand-to-hand combat. But there was something about knowing there was another person there. It made her feel cared for… in a strange way.
She'd woken up early, her usual waking hours making it tough to sleep in on the weekends. So in the hour or so since she'd woken up, Emily had gone for a run, showered, and picked up some fresh groceries in order to make breakfast for her guest. And, since French toast and fried bacon was his favourite breakfast, that's what she was making.
"I'm not trying to cause a big s-s-sensation." The tunes of The Who played through the dock in the kitchen, and Emily sang along, nodding her head to the beat. She spun around to pour the warmed maple syrup over the French toast when she looked up and grinned. She turned the volume down on the dock and held up the saucepan. "Morning," she said brightly. Hotch smiled and folded up the sleeves of his dress shirt. "Good morning," he replied.
Emily poured the syrup over the toast and strawberries and held up a plate for Hotch. "Best start to the day is a good breakfast," she said. Hotch chuckled and nodded. "Couldn't agree more," he said, taking the plate. Emily nodded and led him to the dining table. She poured them each a glass of juice and sat in her usual chair. Hotch sat in the seat next to her and smiled. "Smells delicious," he said quietly. Emily nodded and licked the syrup off her finger. "The trick is in the syrup. Mother's favourite chef taught me that one," she said.
They ate breakfast in comfortable silence, the sounds of Emily's mix the soundtrack to their morning. Hotch smiled when the sounds of John Lennon's voice filling the air. Emily looked over at him and smiled. "So have you got plans for today?" Hotch asked. Emily shrugged and shook her head. "I have to run a few errands. Pharmacy, weekly phone call to my mother, oh… and I have to find a gift for my cousin's wedding that's coming up," she said, rolling her eyes. Hotch chuckled, aware of Emily's strained relationship with her mother on all things concerning marriage. "The wedding's soon?" he asked. Emily shook her head and wrinkled her nose. "It's not for a couple of months. But if I leave it until the last minute, I'll have to give them a free oil change from the local Mobil," she joked. Hotch nodded.
Suddenly, Emily turned and gripped Hotch's forearm. "I just thought of something," she said, her eyes wide. Then she wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "What is it?" Hotch asked. Emily shook her head and played with the condensation on her glass. "Never mind. It was a stupid idea," she said, hoping Hotch would accept that and move on. However much to Emily's chagrin, Hotch wouldn't do that. "I'm sure it's not. Tell me Emily, please?" he begged. Emily looked over and rolled her eyes. "Fine, but you have to promise that you won't just laugh in my face," she said. Hotch nodded and smiled. "Of course I wouldn't," he said assuringly. Emily nodded and turned to face him.
"I have a "plus one" invite and thought you might like to accompany me," she said quickly, "But don't worry. It was a stupid idea." Hotch huffed and shook his head. "It's not a stupid idea. You need a date to your cousin's wedding. And I need to get out of my apartment before I go crazy," he reviewed. Emily looked up, surprised. "You'll come?" she asked. Hotch nodded and smiled. "That's what friends are for," he said quietly. Emily grinned and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she cried out. Hotch laughed and wrapped his arms around her waist. "It's fine Emily. Really. You'd be doing me a favour. I need to practice my dancing skills," he said into her hair. Emily pulled back and rolled her eyes. "I'm sure. Because you go out dancing so often," she teased. Hotch smiled and shrugged. "Maybe I do," he joked.
Hotch was walking down the hall from Emily's apartment, when his cell began to ring. He paused and pulled it out. "Hotchner," he answered. "Hey Hotch, it's JJ. We've got a case. Hampton, Virginia. Morgan says we need to leave as soon as possible," she explained. Hotch wrinkled his brow and turned back towards Emily's door. "Ok. Meeting at the office?" he asked. "In the foyer. We'll drive out together once everyone's here," she explained. Hotch confirmed the plan and said goodbye.
He knocked on Emily's door and wasn't surprised to see her opening it while she talked on the phone. She gave him a knowing nod and gestured for him to come inside.
"Ok. See you soon Jayje," Emily said, before hanging up her phone. "I'll just run upstairs and change," she said. She paused mid-way up the stairs. "Do you have your go-bag?" she asked. Hotch nodded and lifted it up. "You could get changed here. Save us driving back to your place," she suggested. Hotch nodded and tipped his head towards the downstairs bathroom. "I'll just change down here," he said. Emily nodded and continued up the stairs.
Five minutes later, they met in the hallway. Emily grabbed her ready bag from under the stairs, and her purse from the kitchen counter. "You ready?" Hotch asked, fixing his dark maroon tie. Emily nodded and pulled her purse up on her shoulder. "Let's go," she said, grabbing her keys from the hook near the door.
Emily looked over at Hotch. His knuckles were almost white as they gripped the steering wheel. "Should I be worried?" Emily asked. Hotch frowned and looked over at her. He shrugged his shoulders. "You've done your homework. You know the case," he replied quietly, never peeling his eyes off the road. Emily nodded, then turned back to the file in her lap.
They made it to the prison in record time. There really was no time to waste. Emily discarded her jacket on the rear seat of the SUV. Not only was it too hot for both layers, but Hotch suggested she try a more casual look. "We need him to open up to you. And everyone's always saying…" he was interrupted when Emily voiced his thoughts, "You look like FBI." Hotch smiled tightly and nodded. "Exactly."
He gestured for her to walk ahead of him as they made their way down the narrow path leading to the front entrance to the prison. "You need to prepare yourself," he said grimly as he opened the door for her. Emily wrinkled her brow in confusion. "Prepare myself? For what?" she asked. Hotch paused before walking in after her. "To get to this particular interview room, we need to pass the other inmates in his cell-block. Some of them are… well, let's just say it won't be pleasant." Emily frowned but nodded. She would definitely need a long, cold drink after this one. She rolled her shoulders back and stood up straight, holding her ID up for the guard that greeted them at the front desk.
Emily walked through the glass doors of the BAU. She saw the light on and knew she had guessed right. She tightened her grip on the small paper bag she was carrying and made her way up the stairs.
Hotch was deep in thought. He was, once again, going through the Foyet files that had seeped into his mind countless times in the past months. He looked up at the knock at the door and frowned.
"What are you doing here?" he asked. Emily shrugged and tipped her head towards him. "I should be asking you that question," she said quietly. Hotch frowned and laced his fingers together, leaning over the files. Emily saw the move for what it was… defensive… and rolled her eyes. She held up the small bag and smiled. "I'm assuming you haven't eaten," she said, more of a statement than a question. Hotch huffed. "Eating can wait until we find him," he mumbled. Emily shook her head and moved closer, placing the bag on the desk. "Eat Hotch. I'll take a look at the file and tell you what I see," she said, quiet but firm. Hotch paused for a moment, before agreeing with her suggestion. He folded the front of the file over and passed it to her, picking up the bag in one fluid motion.
While Hotch unwrapped and started on his burger, Emily made herself comfortable. She took off her jacket, slipped off her shoes, and spread the file out over the coffee table. Hotch looked on, watching her as her mind took in the pictures and notes in the case file. His thoughts were, if only for a moment, distracted from Foyet. He caught himself wondering what would've become of him if Emily hadn't been in his life. For starters, he wouldn't be eating at that moment. He probably would've worked through the night, without eating or taking a break. He sighed and shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment. None of that mattered at the moment. His only thoughts should be that of finding Foyet, bringing Jack home safely, and making sure that Hayley didn't completely cut off his contact to his son.
Emily looked over the case files and began making notes on the legal pad Hotch had handed her. There was so much information. And she was sure Hotch had looked over the same words and pictures a thousand times in the past months. At least he could let her take a look. Fresh eyes really were the only cure. And, though it was horrible looking at the photos of Hotch's mangled body after the attack, she knew she had to do this. She wouldn't let him go through this alone. If the past few months had taught her anything, it was that friends were rare in their line of work. And when you found one, you had to give 110%. So that's what she had to give to Hotch.
Emily had been working on the Foyet files for about two hours, when she looked up. She smiled sadly. Hotch had fallen asleep, his head resting on the back of his desk chair. She shook her head. The guy had been working this case for months, the only rest she could actually guarantee he'd had, was when he'd stayed at her place after a late night. She turned back to the case file. She'd work a little longer then grab a nap on the couch.
Emily opened the next file and read the first line. "No Deal 1488 201 1439." The numbers of Foyet's numerous homes. She groaned and rolled her neck. This was going to be a long night.