I know it's been a while, but life gets busy and weeks are gone before you can say boo. T'is the season for having a ton of things to do. Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and thank you to the anonymous people who've been reviewing and asking me not to forget the story or stop writing. Believe it or not, it does keep the story on my mind and remind me that it's been too long since I've gotten a chapter out. That said, the next chapter won't be out until after the new year. Until then, enjoy this chapter and happy holidays!
"She hadn't seen the girl, Haley," Hotch said. "I won't need to talk to her again."
His wife didn't speak for the longest seconds he'd ever felt. When she did, she didn't have much to say. "Good."
"How's Jack?"
"Sleeping better since you left." She sighed. "I think he can feel the tension, Aaron. I think that's why he cries so much, and doesn't sleep."
"It will get better. I'll do better, Haley, I promise."
"You've made me promises before."
Hotch let his head hand, his eyes on the hotel room bedspread. "I know I've hurt you. I know I've disappointed you. I never wanted that, I…"
"You didn't think about me when you slept with her," she finished for him.
"No, I didn't think about you."
That was the problem. He'd fallen in lust with a beautiful, young prostitute, and hadn't thought about his wife for even a second before climbing into bed with Emily. He hadn't thought about Haley when it became more than just sex. The only time he'd actually thought about his wife, was when Emily made a comment about the future. Their future. That jolted him. He'd made it clear that they could never be more than what they were, because he loved his wife. Emily had been hurt and refused to see him again. Hotch had tried to talk to her, but she wouldn't budge. Then he'd tried to drown his misery in the arms of other escorts. He'd figured that one hooker was as good as another.
He was wrong. It wasn't the affair that excited him, or being with a younger, beautiful woman. It wasn't being with a woman that would do things in bed that Haley wouldn't, because really, Aaron Hotchner was a pretty traditional guy. It was Emily herself that excited something in him. It was Emily that he had wanted, not sex or ego stroking. Just Emily.
"It isn't just that you slept with her, Aaron. It's that you lied to me…for years!"
"When it was over, I…I realized what I'd done, and I just…I didn't want to hurt you. I thought I was protecting you from being hurt." And he had, until Haley found the business card from the escort service Emily had worked for while cleaning out his office.
When confronted, he'd confessed rather than continue lying.
She'd been pregnant by then, and he hadn't seen Emily or any other prostitute in almost a decade. The fog of that infatuation, that addiction, was lifted and he'd realized the damage he'd done to his marriage. Haley was the first thing in his mind, and he'd hated himself. He'd betrayed his wife, the love of his life.
"It was too late for that," she said.
"I know." He inhaled, the breath catching in his chest. "I love you, and I love Jack. We can fix this, Haley, we can make it work."
"I thought so, but then you got that call, and now you're in New York, and I can't stop picturing you with her." His eyes burned at the pain in her voice, the agony that he'd caused.
"I swear to you, I didn't so much as shake her hand."
When Haley spoke again, her voice was thick with tears. "I've wanted to ask you this a hundred times, but I've never gotten the courage. I was always afraid that you'd say yes, but now I need to know. If we're going to move on, I need to know, Aaron."
He held his breath while she breathed hers into the phone.
Finally she said, "Did you love her?"
He froze, his mind unprepared for that question. He'd wondered that for a long time, and when the answer had come to him several years ago, it had been a relief. "No."
"No?"
"No, Haley. It was lust, infatuation maybe, but not love." However, that didn't mean that he didn't care about her. He stared up at the ugly painting print above the bed. "I loved and love no one but you."
"When are you coming home?" She was crying.
"Soon, I hope." He opened his mouth to say more, but the beeping of call waiting sounded in his ear. "I have another call, it could be work, I need to get it. I will be home as soon as I can."
"Okay, call me when you're on your way back."
"Kiss Jack for me…I love you."
"You too." Then he hear a click and the cell phone automatically switched to the second caller.
"Hotcher," he said.
"Agent Hotchner, this is Detective Cooper. I took a seminar that you taught in New York. You told us to call if we ever had a case that we could use help on." With the man's accent, he'd have been surprised if the man had said he was from anywhere else.
"Yes, you have a case, Detective?"
"A bad one. Five girls dead so far. It's a priority for my Loo, but not the department. They hadn't given us much help, and I feel like we're chasing our tails."
Hotch frowned. "The victims, they're teenagers, runaways, prostitutes?"
If they'd been little girls, or regular high school kids, he'd have seen it in the news, and the NYPD would be all over the case.
"Yeah, throwaways. If I send you the case information, can you give me a profile?"
"I can do you one better. I'm actually in New York now. What's the address of your precinct? If I meet you now, I can have something ready by morning."
There was a sigh of relief on the other end. "Thank you, so much. We're downtown, in the Village." Hotch wrote down the address and cross streets for the precinct in the Greenwich Village, and called for a cab.
Haley was not going to be pleased, but at least this case didn't involve Emily Prentiss.
Emily was completely drained from her conversation with JJ. They'd continued their conversation after Emily had failed to think up anyone else in particular that hated her or Haven. They had talked for hours. JJ told Emily about her older sister, Gabby, who'd committed suicide when JJ was just a child. She talked about how betrayed she'd felt the first time her husband had hit her, and even worse, the first time he'd forced sex on her. With tears sliding down her cheeks, she'd spoken about the betrayal she felt when even her parents failed to believe that Brent hit her.
Emily had spoken about her daughter, about the agonizing joy of holding her for the first time. She talked for the first time about how scared she'd been taking her home, how terrified she'd been as their money slowly ran out, and how she'd cried through her first time prostituting herself. She'd almost gone back home that night, but the thought of losing Danni had pushed her back out onto the street, into the arms of men she'd never met. She spoke about the sting of her mother's name-calling and disowning. For the first time in her life, Emily admitted that she'd begged Elizabeth for help, down on her knees, tears streaming out her eyes, before she'd left Danni with her.
The Ambassador had been a temple of steel that night, not showing even an once of sympathy for her child. Emily had known at that moment, that she was no longer Elizabeth Prentiss's daughter. All she was to her mother was a whore.
All of that weighing her down, Emily didn't think when she walked into her bedroom. She sunk onto the empty bed, her elbows on her knees and head in her hands. She felt sore, like there was an actual physical ache in her body. All that pain dredged up, all that misery that she'd buried so deep until now. She couldn't hold it all, not while dealing with Danni being missing, and two of her girls being murdered. There was a heavy feeling on her shoulders and against her chest.
The door to the bathroom opened. "Oh hey, sorry."
Derek was standing there, nothing except a towel wrapped around his waist, and beads of water sliding down his chest. Emily should have looked away, but she didn't. She should have walked out of the room, but she didn't do that either.
He looked good, not too twitchy. He must have just worked out, he always seemed to feel better after working out.
"I can just change in the bathroom." He gestured behind himself with a thumb.
Emily shook her head. She rose from the bed, and she should have walked right out the door. Instead, she walked around to the other side of the bed.
Derek didn't move when she rested a hand against his chest. He didn't flinch when she cupped his bald head with her other hand and pulled him close. He didn't resist when she slid her lips over his. He was stiff at first, unsure what was going on probably, but it only took seconds for him to kiss her back.
In less than a minute, she was pressed tight against his damp body, and his towel was growing loose around his waist. He tightened his arms around her, and she brushed against him and felt him harden. She should have stopped it there.
She didn't.
Emily slipped off her top, and backed-up toward the bed. She shivered as his calloused fingers traced her skin, and his lips slid over the tops of her breasts. She pushed her groin against his, murmuring at the contact.
Derek's towel lost the battle and fell off, completely exposing him as she slid onto the bed. She stared only for seconds, before running a hand over his chest, his abs, and the area just above his groin.
Emily didn't think past her need when she unhooked her bra, as Derek worked off her pants. The only time she did pause to consider any consequences, was when she broke off a kiss, his naked body on top of hers, to gesture to the nightstand.
"Condoms, in the nightstand."
Derek didn't speak, just pulled open the drawer, and pulled free the box, tearing one free and setting the box on the stand. Emily did consider the other consequences as he put on the condom, but they were too far gone to stop now.
She tried to tell herself that it meant nothing when he made love to her, that he felt nothing. But she could feel it in both their bodies, and see it in his surprisingly gentle eyes. Emily could sense it in the way he touched her, and the way her body responded to his; that there was a connection between them. Something frighteningly deep.
No matter how much she didn't want there to be one, there was a connection. And when they finished, neither one of them moved or got dressed. Derek loosely spooned her, his arm lying lazily across her waist.
This was such a bad idea.