Author's Note: Emily breaks the news to her parents and the team. Thank you so much for reading!
...Also, I kind of slacked off in replying to reviewers of the last chapter, and I feel really bad so I just want to give a shoutout to the ever so awesome Hailey9989, sarweber22, Daisyangel, HGRHfan35, starryeyes12, and HPforever-after. You guys are absolutely amazing and never fail to make me feel so blessed. I can't thank you enough.
Disclaimer in Chapter One!
Concentrating solely on the feel of Hotch rubbing soothing patterns on her back, Emily reached for her phone and dialed the number from memory.
It rang.
And rang.
And rang.
Just when Emily was sure it would go to voicemail, the person on the other line picked up. "Hello?"
She swallowed thickly. "Hi, Mom."
"Emily!" She could picture the Ambassador's usually cold face lighting up; in surprise or actual delight, she wouldn't know. "How are you, dear?"
"I'm f –" She stopped, closed her eyes, collected herself. "Well, um…not too good," she eventually answered.
"Not too good?" Emily could hear her mother frowning. "What do you mean? Is something wrong?"
Choosing to ignore the onslaught of questions for now, she said instead, "Is Dad with you?"
"He is. Do you need me to get him?"
Emily nodded, despite the fact that no one but Hotch could see her. "Please."
From some place miles away, she heard the bustling that came with getting up from a seat, opening doors, echoing footsteps against polished wood floors. "Richard, it's Emily," she heard Elizabeth Prentiss say, her voice a tad bit muffled, maybe even…worried.
Richard Prentiss took the phone. "Hi, darling," he greeted affectionately.
At the smooth sound of his deep baritone, Emily felt like crying. "Hi, Daddy," she managed.
"Darling, are you okay? Your mother said something is wrong…"
She bit her bottom lip, worrying it away between pearly white teeth. "Can you put the phone on speaker so Mom can hear?"
"Of course." He, too, was now frowning. "But Emily…"
"There's something I need to tell you."
The sound of a glass slipping from a hand and shattering against the unyielding floor filled her ears as she broke the news.
Hotch held Emily as her knees buckled and her body sagged against his.
And the tears fell once more.
~.~.~
They were steps away from the glass doors leading to the bullpen when Emily froze.
"Em?"
"This is wrong." The words fell from her lips in a self-deprecating whisper.
Hotch took her hand, rubbed his thumb along her knuckles. "Wrong? What do you mean, honey?" he asked softly.
"It's been a month since I last visited. How do I show up, a month later, just to tell them that…that I have cancer?" That I'm dying?
Slowly but surely, he felt himself breaking impossibly more. Strength, Aaron. Strength. She needs it and you need her. He gently cupped her cheek. "They can help. They're your friends."
Emily sighed. "I know." That just makes it even more wrong. That just makes it hurt even more.
Without any more ruining thoughts, she pushed open the etched glass doors behind which had been her home.
Immediately, five faces glanced upward from plain grey desks at the visitors.
"Emily!"
Two stood.
The other three remained seated in a pleasantly stunned silence.
Of the two, Jennifer Jareau approached first and enveloped Emily in a bone-crushing, yet ultimately sweet embrace. "My God, it's been forever! Where have you been?"
Emily couldn't suppress the smile that danced along her lips, and she didn't want to; it just felt too right. "Holed up at home, for the most part. And work, of course." And multiple doctors' offices. By now, the rest of the profilers were arranged in an arc around her. "How are you? All of you?"
This time, Morgan answered. "We're about as good as we can possibly be in the BAU." Then he stretched his arms wide. "Is JJ the only one who gets a hug?"
"Not at all."
Next it was Garcia, then Reid, then Rossi. Finally, it was the technical analyst who spoke the question on all of their minds.
"So, what brings you here on this fine, fun, sunny day, Em?"
Fine?
Fun?
There was a pause. A long, bruising pause.
Hotch's hand found the small of Emily's back. "She has something to tell you all," he informed, sensing his wife's reluctance, her obvious discomfort.
Her fear.
"If we could move this to the conference room…?"
Emily nodded her agreement to Hotch's previous order, so they did just that.
Once everyone was sitting, she cleared her throat and set her eyes onto a point past them all, over their shoulders. To look them in the eyes and tell them required a different kind of strength; one she didn't have, no matter how many times Hotch said she did.
"What Aaron said is correct," she eventually divulged. "I do have something to tell you. It…it's just…" Emily started over as Hotch gave her knee a comforting squeeze under the table. "I should have told you all earlier, but I didn't know how I would because…because it's something so…big."
"Oh my God," Garcia said. "You're pregnant again, aren't you?"
Turning her gaze to the beaming blonde, Emily couldn't help but let out a brief laugh. "Oh, Pen…I wish that was it. I really do."
Garcia flushed slightly. "I'm sorry for interrupting, Em. The prospect was just too much to withhold."
"I understand."
"Please, continue." It was Rossi who spoke this time. Beside him, Reid looked at her intently, and for some odd reason, Emily felt as if he already knew the content of the next words to pass her lips.
"I have…well, I…" She coughed to disguise a voice crack. "I have breast cancer."
Their resulting individual reactions were so different, but oh so frightening similar.
The pen that had been wedged between Rossi's fingers clattered to the table. JJ gasped, a hand coming up to cover her mouth. Garcia shook her head slowly, her eyes wide. "No…"
Emily just nodded.
"Y– you…" Morgan opened his mouth to say more, but couldn't. His hands gripped the edge of the table instead, his knuckles a painful white.
Reid met her gaze, and again she felt as if he could see right through her. Like he could read not only her mind, but her soul, too.
Even Hotch shut his eyes tightly, just as he had done that very day when Doctor Haynes had entered the room, his arms full of patient files and x-rays, including one that showed a four millimeter in diameter, malignant tumor on the underside of her left breast…
That was the mental image that passed through her mind right before she quietly rose from her chair and slinked out of the suffocating room.
~.~.~
"What stage?"
Reid.
Oh, Reid.
Lifting her head from her hands, Emily glanced up at him from her seat at her old desk. His eyes were dark, concerned. "Two." She pulled her legs up onto her seat, folded them, and wrapped her arms around them, the action reminiscent of something a child would do when scared. "Invasive ductile carcinoma, stage two-B."
For a brief second, the look Reid held in his eyes regained a semblance of hope. "That's a ninety-eight –"
" – ninety-eight percent survival rate." Emily picked at her fingernails idly. "I know." Then she sighed. "I know more statistical facts, too. I know that breast cancer is the most commonly diagnosed cancer among women. I know that one in every eight women in the United States has some form of breast cancer. I know that about seventy to eighty percent of women diagnosed with breast cancer have no family history of it." Like me. "I know that every three minutes, someone else is diagnosed. But…" She shook her head. "But statistics are just numbers, Spencer. Numbers don't dictate our individual lives. They don't…control our health. Breast cancer is the leading cause of death for women ages thirty-five to seventy, no matter what race or origin. You're telling me that all the women who die of breast cancer fall into that two percent?"
For once in his life, Spencer Reid was speechless.
It was then that the others joined them. "Princess," Emily heard someone say tenderly. Morgan. "Princess," he said again.
They looked at each other, former partners who had seen the other through the darkest, most difficult times.
"Come here."
They hugged. And hugged, and hugged…and hugged until their arms were burning.
"I want you to look at me, Emily." She did. "You have six people, right here, who would do anything for you. If you need anything, you just let us know."
"Anything at all," Rossi nodded. He placed a friendly hand on her shoulder.
Sweeping her gaze over her friends, her family, Emily felt her heart swelling. "Thank you," she managed.
JJ left a light kiss on her cheek. "It's what we're here for."
~.~.~
"Paid leave or full retirement?"
Hotch looked up from the newspaper he was reading. "Sorry?"
"I talked to my boss today," Emily explained, the palms of her hands resting flat against the cool wood of their dining table. Avery and Jack were in their rooms, fast asleep. Some TV show was on in the adjoining living room, but frankly, no one was watching it; they just needed the background noise. "He offered me one of two things," Emily continued. "Paid leave until all my chemotherapy and radiation treatments are over – so, that's what, four months? – or full retirement." She sighed. "And I don't know which one to pick."
It was a while before Hotch answered. "Full retirement."
"Why?" she retorted suddenly, quivering slightly. "Isn't that a bit like saying I won't live long enough after the treatments are over? Like I'm just caving in?"
"No, honey." He tried for a smile. "It's not at all like that."
"Then why?"
Fully setting the newspaper down, Hotch reached across the table to take her hands in his. "Think of it this way; after you're finished with the radiation and your chemo, after you're completely better," he emphasized, "you wouldn't have to worry about getting up early and rushing to work. You could sleep in, relax, maybe even go back to school and get your doctorate degree." He kissed their intertwined hands. "But most importantly, you'd be around Jack and Avery more often."
"So, in other words, you're saying you want me to be a stay-at-home mom." Emily tried for a serious expression, but the tiny smile hinting at the corners of her lips gave her away.
"And a soccer mom, too. Would you look at that?" Hotch teased.
Unable to suppress it, her smile blossomed. "Then everything's settled. Full retirement it is."
Author's Note: I sincerely hope you've enjoyed this story thus far. Also, please leave me a review or two - a little bit of kindess and critique goes a really long way! Have a wonderful Labor Day weekend.
