APOCALYPSE FOUR
Curtis Judalet said:
Love is as much of an object as an obsession, everybody wants it, everybody seeks it, but few ever achieve it, those who do will cherish it, be lost in it, and among all, never . . . never forget it.
Emily awoke completely disconcerted. She was draped over her supervisor in a way that was nowhere near professional, with nothing separating them but the thin cotton of their night clothes. And his warm hand was under the back of her tank top, making lazy circles on her skin, ghosting ever so close to the sides of her breasts where they lay crushed against him. Her knee was cocked over his thigh, his other hand wrapped tightly around it, keeping her firmly in place. Her head rested on his firm chest, pressed against his beating heart.
It had been a long time since Emily had woken held this close to a man—she didn't count North Dakota, and while she definitely admitted it felt good—the entire idea that it was Hotch she was draped over freaked her to her toes.
His hand trailed lazily down her spine, and she arched slightly—until the exploring fingers dipped beneath the elastic on her sweats.
Whoa. That was so not happening. She thought as she stiffened. She started to pull away, dragging her knee off his hip—feeling the change in his body. Oh, shit!
His hand tightened, pulling her knee back to where it was, then higher. So that it was closer to his groin. Closer to him. His other hand splayed over her right where it was, at the top of her ass. He moaned, a near silent sound that traveled no further than her ears. "Shh, Em. Don't move. Please. It's ok."
Oh, shit! She thought again—realizing he wasn't cuddling her because he was used to having a warm body beside him. Realized he wasn't dreaming about his ex- wife as he stroked her, as his fingers tightened even lower on her ass, but that he knew it was her in bed with him. Knew it was her he was touching. Knew because he was awake, had been awake long before she was. Because he'd been the one to climb into bed with her.
This wasn't like that night in the barn. She'd woken the next morning snuggled against his side, yes, but his hands had stayed decorously to himself. There were none of these soft caresses beneath her shirt—or the rhythmic clenching of his hip muscles as he pulled her ever more closer, as he tightened his grip on her thigh, massaging the firm muscle.
She had to get out of his arms before something really happened, something they'd both regret, something that could ruin both their careers. Emily Prentiss had never had an office romance—or even a fling—in her entire life—and she doubted Hotchner had either.
She wasn't sure she wanted to have one now—no matter how good his hands felt, hot against the sensitive skin on her sides, close but not touching the soft swells of her breasts as he stroked her.
She had to get out of his arms before it was too late. Or someone else in the room woke and noticed just what was going on between her and her supervisor. How on earth would she explain this to JJ or Pen? Or even Derek?
She took the hand clenching around her knee and pulled it free, moving it firmly back to lay on the other side of him. It wasn't even a full second before the hand resting on the swell of her ass moved, bumping her up, bringing her more fully onto his chest. The hand she'd just freed returned, this time settling on her waist mere inches from his other. He shifted, half on to his side, and tightened his arms. Soon she was lying directly against him—chest to chest, thigh to thigh. So close she could feel every change that had taken place in his body.
"Hotch?" Her voice trembled, her nerves clear and apparent for him. But he didn't care, all that he could think about was the last three weeks of longing, of dreaming of her in that very position. And he'd woken and found her right where he'd wanted her.
His thinking wasn't clouded, his judgment wasn't impaired—Aaron Hotchner always woke immediately clear headed, so he knew exactly what he was doing as he pulled her closer, nudged one knee between hers to press against her body. His lips trailed over her forehead, brushing a kiss against the tangled dark strands there. "Shh, Em. Go back to sleep."
He never touched her anywhere but her back, the top swelling of her ass, the tender skin of her sides—never anywhere else. But he never stopped touching her there, either.
"Hotch!" Her whisper was a broken hiss, breathy and soft, the touch of it brushing against his neck. He shivered, and she felt the movement throughout his body, where it was pressed against hers. "I really shouldn't be here like this."
"It's all right—there's no way you'd be comfortable with JJ and Garcia." Hotch knew exactly what she was upset about, knew it was a dangerous game they were suddenly playing. Knew all the ramifications of what he wanted to do to her, with her. "You're fine right here. Nobody'll say anything."
"But…" Emily trailed off as he placed a finger against her lips. "Sir! We really should not be lying here, like this!"
"We're not hurting anything." Hotch said in an emphatic whisper. "And nobody would have to know if we did. It's no one's business."
"I would know." Emily said, squirming slightly—until he moaned, low in his throat.
"If you don't want us to do anything, you might just want to stop moving, Emily." Hotch growled.
Emily froze, just what he meant ever clear in her mind. Her dark eyes looked into his, glowing in the small lamplight. He'd obviously left it burning, and she knew he'd done it for Morgan—who'd told her of his secret fear of the dark after the last Portland case they'd had.
It had been a long time since a man had looked at her that way. And until the last three weeks, she'd never expected to see quite that look in her supervisor's eyes. His body was hard against hers, stronger than it looked when he was clad in those characterless suits he favored. He was equally as toned as Morgan, and she could feel every one of those muscles pressed against her, tight and ready.
And she knew exactly what they were ready for.
"Just go back to sleep. We've only a few hours until we have to get up." Hotch ordered, tucking her head under his chin. "Nothing will happen, you know you can trust me."
"Hotch, I've learned recently that I don't know you at all." She said, into his neck. He waited a moment, not moving, except to breathe, until her body relaxed, releasing the tension that had held her so taut. Until he felt her pressed so softly closer. "This surprises me. Worries me."
"I know." Hotch said, unconsciously burying his face in the tangled curls above her head. "Surprises me, as well. Go to sleep. We can talk when the case is finished."
PRENTISSHOTCHPRENTISSHOTCHPRENTISSHOTCH
Derek and JJ stared down at the sleeping couple, speculatively.
"I'll admit I wondered, but to see it like this—I never would have thought." The blonde whispered. "Quick."
"Quicker than I thought he'd be capable of, especially after Hayley." Derek admitted, staring down at his boss and his best friend. "Do you think we should wake them?"
"No need." Hotch said, making both jump. He hadn't even opened his eyes. "I'm awake. Let her sleep a bit longer."
"The, uh, restroom's free," JJ told him, watching as his arms tightened around Emily—before he rolled on his back carefully. Emily protested softly, until he re-tucked the blanket around her, to block out the chill of the air conditioning. She rolled completely on her stomach, one fist shooting up and out before her arm wrapped fully around his pillow. Soon the only sign of her was a few curls visible above the blanket.
Hotch moved carefully to the edge of the pullout, not wanting to tip the precarious mattress and wake her up. Not wanting JJ to see what the physical ramifications were to waking up in the morning with Emily draped over him. With his hand spread over the warm flesh of her back.
He hurriedly used the restroom, washed up, changed, and completed his toiletry. When he emerged, Spencer was waiting impatiently for his turn. Fifteen minutes later the boy was ready. Hotch, Derek, and Reid left the hotel room, after giving JJ instructions to meet them back at the diner they'd visited last night, in an hour.
JJ woke Garcia up first, and the blonde tech whistled her way to the restroom. JJ smiled, the older blonde always woke happy, just happy to have another bright day with her friends, no matter what they day may bring, it was another day with the people she cared about.
While Garcia was in the shower, JJ contemplated just what she was going to say to her dark haired friend. She shook Emily awake and sank down onto the bed. "Girl. You've got a lot of explaining to do."
"Uh." Emily said, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Waking up was not something she did easily. "What are you talking about?"
"You're in Hotch's bed—again." JJ reminded her. "When I woke up you were curled around him like Morgan does a cinnamon roll. And his hands weren't exactly in proper, Hotch-like positions this time. In fact, whenever I wake up with Will's hands in similar positions…well, let's just say—I'll show you the ultrasound if you need reminding. What's up?"
"God and only Hotch knows." Emily said, as Garcia strolled out of the restroom. "I don't have a clue what game the man is playing at. Or whether I have an equal position on the board."
"Chickadee, what on earth did I miss? Is our Wonder Woman finally going to shag Superman?" Garcia squealed, and dropped onto the pullout bed. "Yummy. So how did you end up sleeping in his bed?"
"I sat down while he was in the shower. Just long enough to towel dry my hair, without waking you two up…and I must have drifted off." Emily admitted. "I would have thought he'd have woken me up to move, but the next time I opened my eyes, I was, well…he was…"
"OOOOH. Go on." Garcia ordered, as JJ's eyes widened.
"Let's just say I thought he was dreaming of his wife—ex-wife, at first. Then he said my name. And I realized he wasn't asleep." Emily admitted, not normally so free with her private life.
But she needed a second—and third—opinion on what was happening with Hotch.
"What did he do? What did you do?" JJ asked, both excited and apprehensive at what she thought Emily was implying.
"He didn't do anything inappropriate. Well, too inappropriate, anyway." Emily admitted, thinking of the way his hands had felt against her skin. "But he wouldn't let me switch beds."
"How hard did you insist?" JJ asked, wryly. As Garcia asked, excited, "Did he kiss you?"
"He held me pretty tight. But I didn't exactly fight him off. I wasn't thinking all that clearly." Emily hedged. "He didn't kiss me, Garcia. At least, well…not really."
"OOOOH. But his lips did touch you somewhere, right?" The analyst asked, slyly. "Come on, Em. This is so exciting! Just like a movie!"
"A Lifetime movie," Emily said, dryly. "Idiot woman develops feelings for her unavailable boss."
"I thought it was his feelings that would make the movie." Garcia crowed. "So we're talking about your feelings, are we?"
"No. I don't know how I feel about all this." Emily admitted. "I can't say I've ever been in this situation before."
"I doubt Hotch has, either." JJ said, thinking of the man's fifteen plus year marriage.
"Well, he certainly seems to know what's going on a whole let better than I do." Emily said, standing and retreating to the bathroom. She ruthlessly pushed thoughts of Aaron Hotchner to the back of her mind, put him in his own, neat little compartment with a label that shouted Warning: Danger Ahead! over the top of it.
Cold Aaron Hotchner was hotter than dynamite, and she'd better decide whether she wanted to be a part of that explosion or not.
HOTCHPRENTISSHOTCHPRENTISSHOTCHPRENTISS
Breakfast was more of an ordeal than Emily ever thought it could be. She dropped JJ and Garcia off at the door before parking the SUV, and making her way slowly into the café. She moved to open the door, but a rugged hand reached around her and opened it for her. A man, handsome in an outdoorsy way, smiled down at her. "Allow me, ma'am."
"Thanks," She smiled softly as her eyes searched the diner and its patrons for the team. They occupied the same booth they had last night. The man at the door faded from her mind as her dark eyes met an equally dark gaze.
What the hell was she supposed to do now?
The man in question stood, allowing her to slide over the seat next to Garcia. As he settled back in the booth, she felt his heat scorching her through the thin cotton of her charcoal fatigues.
Suddenly, she wasn't all that hungry. Her stomach was tied tighter than the most experienced sailor's knot, every moment of their early morning encounter replaying in her mind. Her eyes met his, momentarily, and she knew he was remembering the same thing. His knee deliberately nudged her leg, and it took all her strength not to pull hers away.
Their meals arrived and she unthinkingly passed half her eggs to Hotch, and half her toast to Garcia, before eating.
She couldn't remember anything that was said later, but she remembered exactly how he smelled. Warm, enticing, and so damned different than what she'd ever expected.
HOTCHPRENTISSHOTCHPRENTISSHOTCHPRENTISS
Detective Allen had been right, Emily thought for the twelfth time since Hotch had had her drive JJ and Garcia back to the station to continue working on victimology.
She knew he was giving her some space. She was thankful for that. What she wasn't thankful for was lecherous assholes who had apparently waited until the male half of the FBI team was gone to pounce on the female half.
Even when Garcia had threatened to fry one guy's home computer they hadn't backed away. Even when JJ had vomited on one idiot's shoes they didn't back down.
Even when Emily's knee got dangerously close to creating a new soprano they didn't back off.
Women in law enforcement—was their reasoning—meant the BAU girls were fair game.
So, needless to say, when Hotch, Morgan, and Reid returned with Detectives Allen and Kinsey less than a minute later, it was more than apparent that something was going on besides victimology.
JJ's cheeks were red. And it wasn't from the heat, was Hotch's first thought upon entering the precinct. Garcia stood frozen, her eyes widened comically behind her polka dot framed glasses.
But it was the vicious red marks on Emily's arm that immediately drew Hotch—and Morgan's—gaze.
"Girl, what happened to your arm?" Morgan demanded, one hand moving to grasp her arm just under the offending marks. He'd seen enough grab marks to recognize them. Five crescents were also dug into the soft skin. Who the hell would have grabbed her that hard in the midst of a police station?
Hotch moved closer to her other side, one hand coming to rest on her shoulder, pulling her slightly in his direction. Morgan saw the look in his eyes and stepped back. He decided quickly that it was best to let Hotch handle this.
Whatever this was.
"What happened?" Hotch asked, flatly, one thumb running over the marks soothingly.
"A little misunderstanding." Emily said, trying hard not to let him see how she was shaking inside.
"About what?" His voice was a low growl, angry, even through its coldness. "Who, Emily?"
The threat behind it snapped Garcia's head in his direction, and had Detectives Allen and Kinsey stepping toward Emily almost protectively. But the threat wasn't directed at her. JJ, Reid, and Morgan just watched, never having seen Hotch quite that angry so quickly. Everyone was tense, watching the little drama between the two most contained members of the team.
The two who never let their emotions show for the whole world to see. Until today.
"About what we wanted to do with our free time while here in California." Emily said, a naturally placating quality having entered her voice once she realized how angry Hotch really was. "Don't worry, we took care of it."
"What happened? Where's Palmers?" Hotch asked, his voice holding a deadly tone.
"He's, uh, probably cleaning the vomit off his boots." Garcia said, almost stuttering. "He kind of spun JJ around too quick."
"Why'd he have his hands on you, anyway?" Morgan asked.
"He simply turned her to face him and she showed him her appreciation." Emily said, "It was nothing serious, just a bit of morning—all day—sickness, that's all. Reid, why don't you take JJ outside where she can get some fresh air?"
The younger doctor was grateful for something to do, some way to escape the strange tableau of the BAU team standing surrounded by the entire precinct, unmoving. He placed a hand on JJ's back and guided her out of the crowd and into the clean air.
"Garcia!" Hotch suddenly barked, and everyone in the room started. This was one dangerous man, coldly so. "I want to know exactly what happened."
"Give me two minutes, sir, and I can bring up the security feed of every little detail. You can see for yourself."
"Do it."
APOCALYPSE FIVE
Garcia was so tuned in to the undercurrents flowing around the small station that her fingers stumbled on the keys. It actually took he four minutes to hack into the rural station's security system. She found the segment immediately preceding the altercation and brought it up on the screen for Hotch and Morgan, as well as detectives Kinsey and Allen, to see.
The camera showed JJ approaching the old style water fountain with her ever present sports bottle, and filling it with water. An officer that Hotch didn't recognize approached the pretty blonde from behind. He asked her a question and she shook her head and moved to walk away.
He blocked her path, keeping her trapped between him and the back wall of the room. They watched as she tried to go around, but the officer on screen moved to block her path again.
This went on for several moments until JJ tried to simply barrel through the man. He grabbed her and laughed. Several of the officers at nearby desks laughed, too. JJ's hand went to her waist, where she'd have had her holster, if she still carried. She didn't, but it was a clear indication of the threat she perceived—at least to Hotch and Morgan.
Garcia entered the screen, obviously intent on the nearby restroom. She stopped short, seeing her friend. All her dormant protective instincts flared, and she stepped between JJ and the offending officer. He'd laughed when she threatened him. He nudged the older blonde aside and crowded the younger woman.
It was apparent he thought his actions were all in good fun.
Emily came out of the back room to check on her friends' progress and immediately sized up the situation.
She'd done what she always did when it came to the people she cared about. She stepped between the young officer and her friends.
Hotch watched as, on the screen, Chief Palmers stepped into the middle of the altercation. Instead of ordering his men back to work, he laughed, looking at first JJ, then Garcia, before turning to run his eyes over Emily suggestively. He said something.
Hotch watched as her spine stiffened, and she turned into the Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss he'd seen terrify a suspect in an interrogation.
Chief Palmers didn't back down. He'd stepped closer.
Emily turned and said something over her shoulder, obviously to JJ and Garcia. The two blondes started around Emily, JJ turning to say something at the last minute to the older woman.
Chief Palmers must have taken exception to having her back to him because he grabbed her shoulder and turned her to face him rapidly.
Too rapidly. The team watched as the JJ on camera bent over double and emptied the contents of her stomach. It landed on Chief Palmers shoe. He jerked forward, headed straight for JJ, who was still bent over.
Emily moved, shoving her way between the police chief and her vulnerable colleague. She stared Chief Palmers down, while Garcia moved, quickly leading JJ off to the rest room.
Emily and Chief Palmers exchanged words, the woman not backing down an inch. Chief Palmers moved suddenly, his left hand jerking up to wrap around the smooth skin of her right arm. He jerked her close, and Hotch watched as she subconsciously arched her back, trying to get away from him.
The man growled something into her face, leaned in ever closer until there was less than an inch between their bodies, and Hotch watched the blur that was her knee as it made contact with his inner thigh. Emily said something else, and he released her as suddenly as he'd grabbed her, so suddenly she would have fallen had she not caught herself on a desk. Emily looked at him contemptuously, before stalking off after JJ and Garcia.
Two minutes later the three women exited the restroom. JJ and Garcia stopped at the water fountain and refilled JJ's bottle, while Emily stood guard.
Hotch could see all the officers in the bullpen staring at his agents, some hostile, some not. Emily was obviously on her guard. Someone called something and she turned in that direction, anger flashing on her face. JJ's face went immediately stunned, then embarrassed. Garcia actually moved to covered her eyes, then froze, looking to the far left of the room.
Hotch saw himself, Morgan, Reid, and the two case detectives enter the field of view. Saw Morgan reach Emily first, saw Hotch pull her toward him.
Saw the way her body unconsciously relaxed, leaned closer to him, then tensed again as he'd spoken. Saw the way every occupant of the room was focused on their little drama.
Then the screen went blank.
Hotch looked at the blank screen and back to his team, actually at a loss for words. What he wanted to say wasn't the least bit appropriate. What he wanted to do wasn't the least bit legal, was entirely primal, an entirely primitive response to watching Emily being threatened.
He would have to regain control of himself, especially if he wanted to successfully lead this team. He couldn't let his feelings for her interfere with his job. The case had to come first. Then he'd deal with whatever was developing between him and Emily.
"Garcia, I want you to get JJ and head back to the hotel. Send Reid in to me. You'll work from there for the rest of the day. See to it that JJ rests. Morgan, you, Reid, Prentiss, and I will be having a sit down with Chief Palmers. Detectives Kinsey, Allen, in an hour I want you to have all of second and third shift officers here. We'll be giving the preliminary profiles."
"Yes, sir." Allen said, actually shocked at what he'd seen.
"And Detective, after this case is finished we'll be talking to the mayor and the city council about Chief Palmers' actions. Be prepared for some fallout." Hotch added. He moved to stand behind Emily, one hand still wrapped around her arm. His hand rose slightly, moved to gently sooth the red marks.
"I understand." From the expression on his face, Detective Allen fully agreed with Hotch's decision.
It was at least twenty minutes before the man in question returned to the bullpen. Hotch, Reid, Morgan, and Emily were waiting for him. Emily stood firmly between Hotch and Morgan, not dependent on their protection, but on their support. She had a lot to say to that son of a bitch. If she got the chance.
Hotch was even angrier after he'd forced her to tell him what the last comment was that had elicited such a reaction from her, JJ, and Garcia. She'd told him a watered down version—how the officer—unnamed and unseen on the screen—had wanted to know which one of the team had fathered JJ's baby and when would it be Emily's turn. And if they'd obviously given it to their teammates why not give it to him? A few other remarks about dark eyed women being fiery in bed.
Emily refused to identify the officer who'd made the comment. Said she'd wait until Hotch had calmed down considerably before they addressed the issue. It wasn't important, she'd told him, but solving twelve murders was.
He'd backed down reluctantly, feeling Morgan's intense gaze on his face. The other man was watching and cataloging the exchanges between the two agents and was extremely surprised at how intensely the relationship was developing.
He never would have thought Hotch and Emily would change toward each other so quickly. It had been less than a damned month since he'd noticed Hotch watching the younger woman. A month and they were acting more in tuned with each other than any other couple he'd ever seen. More in tuned then Hotch had ever been with High and Mighty Hayley Hotchner.
Maybe only another profiler could fully understand a man like Hotch?
Chief Palmers snarled wordlessly at the group of Feds arranged around his door. "What do you want?"
"Chief Palmers, I'd like you to step into your office, please." Hotch began coldly. "We've something to discuss with you before we give the profiles."
"I'm not so sure I want to discuss anything with you."
"I'm afraid you don't have a choice. Since you refuse to have this discussion in private, we will have it right here. I have undeniable proof that you both verbally and physically assaulted two of my agents, and allowed the same to happen to a third. I can—and will—bring this before a judge—a federal judge, as these are federal agents. Add in that you are impeding the course of my investigation, and it will make a reelection excruciatingly difficult." Hotch told him, his voice never losing that terrible chill.
"I never did a damned thing to your agents. How dare you come into my stationhouse and threaten me?" The man's face turned a livid color of purple as he stepped forward. "I didn't ask you here, didn't need your help! And if you'd learn to control your team better, nothing would have happened. I didn't assault anybody."
"Show him your arm, Emily." Hotch whipped out, moving slightly to allow her room to move forward. Once again, every eye was on them as the drama unfolded. The station house was getting much more crowded, the second and third shifts arriving, including a good half dozen female officers. They all stood around watching the Feds verbally flatten their boss.
The dark haired woman held out her arm and the newly forming bruises were visible. They were obviously finger marks, and the new arrivals wondered just what had happened to cause such tension.
It wasn't long until the story was circulated through the troops gathered. Most of second and third shift were not-so-secretly thrilled at seeing Nasty old Palmers getting an official dressing down. And the guy giving the talking was a frighteningly cold piece of work.
"She got in my way!" Palmers snarled.
"She protected another agent, a woman who is experiencing severe morning sickness due to her pregnancy. How much of a threat was Special Agent Jareau to you? I've seen the tape, Scott." Hotch said, his voice heating rapidly as he moved in verbally for the kill. "Unarmed, pregnant, sick, weighing 110 pounds—in the middle of the bullpen? You went for her with intent to do her physical harm! Supervisory Special Agent Prentiss did what she was trained to do—protected her subordinates, her teammates. You committed a federal crime, Palmers. Tell me right now why I shouldn't arrest you and haul your ass in front of a judge?"
"Nothing was said that they should have found objectionable. If they can't take working in this field, maybe they should get out of it. She assaulted me."
"They're the best at what they do." Hotch said, "And this is my team. Mine. You do not ever threaten any member of my team again. In any shape or form. Do you understand me?"
Palmers' breath was heavy, his chest heaving. He stared at Hotch then looked at Emily, standing just behind her supervisor, dark eyes trained on Palmers. He stepped forward, got right in Hotch's face, shoved him, and growled. "Keep your little dark-eyed whore out of my precinct, you cold bastard. Or I'll show you—and her—threats like you've never seen before! I guarantee she'll like it better than anything you'll ever give her—a fiery little bitch like that! I bet she's hotter than dynamite in the sack!"
Reid's eyes widened, and he jumped instinctively out of Hotch's way. He'd seen that look in Hotch's eyes before, when they'd been trapped in a room with a serial killer for thirteen minutes. A serial killer intent on killing them to prolong his own life. But this—this was so much worse. He couldn't believe that idiot sheriff had dared to call Emily that, to her face, and her supervisor's, to say what he'd said.
"Hotch!" Emily yelled, grabbing for his arm, moving closer.
Morgan moved, too. Moved to pull the son of a bitch Palmers out of the way before Hotch could retaliate. He turned back in time to help Emily stop Hotch from charging at the man. "Hotch, man. We got a case to solve. Now's not the time. We'll deal with him once we're done. I'll haul his ass in myself. Or you can do it. Hell, well let Emily and JJ cuff him, just for shits and giggles."
"You'll not doing anything in my precinct." Palmers yelled, hearing Derek's words. "Not a one of you!"
"The instant he touched Emily, JJ, and when he shoved you, Hotch, it moved into a federal jurisdiction." Reid said quickly, as every eye in the station swung his way. "Technically, we don't need his permission to do a damned thing. I vote we lock him in the holding cell. We can hold him for seventy two hours on each count. Three counts of physical assault, one account of verbal on Agent Prentiss…so four charges. Surely, we'll be done with the case by then."
"Do it." Hotch ordered, looking at Kinsey and Allen. They'd moved to flank the FBI agents when the confrontation had started. Allen had helped Morgan restrain Hotchner, long enough for the SSA team leader to regain control of one of the most coldly phenomenal tempers he'd ever seen.
And he'd thought Aaron Hotchner was a cold, hard ass.
The man had been fine; angry but in control, until the moment Palmers had called SSA Prentiss a 'dark-eyed bitch-whore.' Hotchner had snapped. Cold and fire mingling in his eyes, a dark rage that Allen had a hard time understanding.
Allen and Kinsey moved to snap the cuffs on Palmers, Kinsey enjoying it much more than Allen—which was saying something. She leaned over her Chief and spoke loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, as she clicked the cuffs. "Is this tight enough for you, Scottie? What was it you threatened to do to me with my own cuffs last month? Hmm? Well, who's the tied up little whore, now?"
As her words sunk in a wild cheer ran through the second and third shifts, proving just how despised the man really was.
Another officer stepped forward, a pretty black woman with striking eyes, who relieved him of his gun belt and badge. His weapon was still in his office. "Hey Scottie, boy, how does it feel to be on your knees in front of us bitches, now?"
Five more women—the entire female portion of the force—moved to the forefront, calling various taunts—all with the ring of sexual threats or comments they'd most likely heard from the man in the past—and escorted him down to the holding tank. Not a single male officer moved to interfere. Most didn't want to, and none dared.
Scott Palmers had apparently been a bit more of a bastard than the BAU had realized. Than Allen or the rest of his colleagues on the night shifts had realized.
"Wow." Was the first words out of Emily's mouth. "I really didn't see that coming."
"Me, either." Reid admitted.
Hotch turned toward his team, saw Morgan's hand resting reassuringly on Emily's back, saw Reid rubbing her shoulder, awkwardly. Saw Emily looking toward him warily. Watched her take a few steps toward him, stopping just short of touching him. Watched as she turned her head, checking to see who was watching, and her dark ponytail swung with her movements. "You, ok?"
"Fine. You?" He'd shut down again, becoming the calm and collected Aaron Hotchner he always was. The way he'd always been.
But as she looked closer, she saw the tiniest light of remorse, the tiniest bit of fear. Her breath caught in her throat as she wrapped one hand around his, feeling the recently healed scar from where he'd pulled Rossi from the fire. She wanted to reassure him, to show him that he wasn't alone.
What on earth could Aaron Hotchner possibly be afraid of?
Hotch looked down at her. She was tall, and with her boots she was only half a head shorter than him, putting them on an equal viewing level. Her eyes were vulnerable, big and dark in her pale face. He could tell she was shaky, confused, by all that had occurred in only the last half hour. Could tell that she was worried. By him, about him.
He hated that he'd caused it. Hated that she—and the team—had seen him lose control that way.
Hotch prided himself on his sense of control. On his ability to contain his temper. He'd not wanted to lay in to someone that badly since he'd broken his father's nose for hitting Sean. He'd been fourteen, and his father was dead the next year.
Hotch never lost control, not like that. But when Palmers had insulted her, had shoved him, he'd had one thought. And it wasn't a good one. It wasn't an acceptable thought. Not for the leader of the BAU.
He had to be above reproach at all times. Had to be an exemplary leader above all else. He was willing to break that with Emily. But he'd never wanted her to see him without his unbreakable control.
Aaron Hotchner's biggest fear wasn't that he couldn't save everybody—like Stan Howard had accused—it was that he'd lose his tight reign on his control.
And become as dark as one of the monsters he chased.
Hayley had never came close to ever understanding that. The few times he'd gotten just a little out of hand, she'd freaked. She could never handle the darkness inside him. And now Hotch feared that Emily had seen that darkness. And would run for the hills.
"Hotch—Aaron—it's ok." She whispered, giving him a hug, regardless of who was watching. "It's ok. I understand it. I do."
APOCALYPSE SIX
Hotch smelled strawberries again, as he returned her embrace, briefly. He kissed the top of her head, unthinkingly. Her dark hair was pulled up, sleek, straight, and soft, out of her way. He momentarily missed the feel of it brushing his cheek like it had when he'd slept.
"Are you ok?" He whispered against her ear, before backing up a step.
"Of course, but JJ and Garcia were a little shaken up." Emily admitted. Today's spectacle wasn't something she'd expected, but it wasn't something she hadn't seen before either. Law Enforcement could be a hard world for women. "But I'm glad you all got here when you did. We, uh, should probably get back to work."
"Yes. As soon as Detective Kinsey returns from booking, we'll give the profiles." Hotch said, looking at Morgan and Allen and nodding, signaling it was time for the internal drama to end and the professional catching of some killers to begin.
Ten minutes later Kinsey and the rest of the entire police force arrived for the profile briefing. Emily stood in the middle of the bullpen, authorative, and professional, and began with the first killer. No one truly missed the horrible bruises already forming on her arm, the only evidence of her earlier altercation. Emily was a professional through and through, and most of the officers had to admire that. "The first killer is most likely a white male, mid twenties to early thirties. No older. Most likely a social isolationist. He'll have very little social contacts. Might work from home, as a freelancer or a computer programmer. He's not comfortable with large groups of people, but is extremely familiar with reptiles and their care. He will have few relationships, but if he has any close friends, they will be dominant and he will be easily led."
Morgan took over, "The second UNSUB—and there are definitely two—is a disorganized killer. His victims were blitzed, and killed within one hundred feet of where he found them. He took great risks, he could easily have been caught, stopped, if someone had walked by. He left no signs of even an attempt to hide his crime. This man is in his thirties, white, physically fit, comfortable outdoors. He might even have military training. He certainly has a general knowledge of anatomy—his victims' wounds were precise, and designed to pierce each organ individually—and they did, so he's smart. At this time, we're not sure the killings of Shawna Dravis, Melina Jenkins, and Emma Reinhard are related to the killings at Libstein or Maxwell, Maxwell, and Teague."
"That's it?" One cocky first shifter demanded, in a voice Emily recognized all too well. It was the guy who'd made that last vile comment to her about what she could do to him. "I thought you all were magic, superheroes, who could tell us what underwear the guy buys."
"We are narrowing down a list of suspects as we speak." Hotch said, in a cold tone that surprised nobody. "Profiling is not an exact science, we use every piece of information we are given to identify the UNSUBs. Rarely are we wrong. Any more questions?"
"So if they don't know each other—why? Why kill first nine people and then three more?" A young woman asked, from near the back of the room.
"At this time, we're not clear on the motives for the poisonings. We do know, however, that the UNSUB is not a classic serial killer, instead is a mass murderer. The motive for the second UNSUB appears to be rage." Hotch answered. "As we learn more, we'll pass it on to you."
Reid had one thing to add, "In the case of the poisonings—most poisonings are of two kinds. Either you have the anonymous killer who thinks he's righting a wrong by wiping out a company whose policies they don't agree with, or you have someone who will benefit financially from the deaths. This type of poisoner is usually a female. We don't think this is the case here, so you'll be looking for someone who might have a grudge against the investment firm and the law firm. That's all, and thanks."
Reid was never truly comfortable having everyone's eyes on him. Detective Max Kinsey smiled at him, getting a feel for the genius's personality at last. He'd not had much to say to her, and she sensed he was nervous. He was kind of cute, in a tall, geeky way.
Hotch pulled Emily and Morgan aside, "Reid's on to something. Someone had to have chosen those two firms for a specific reason. Morgan, get a hold of Garcia and have her cross reference clients from both companies. We should have some overlap. Then we'll split the list. Morgan, you and I will take half with Detective Allen. Emily, you, Reid, and Detective Kinsey will take the other."
"Gotcha." Morgan said, flipping open his cell and hitting number two on speed dial. "Hey, you sexy thing! I have a request that only you can fulfill!"
As Morgan talked, Hotch stood quietly, one hand resting casually on the small of Emily's back.
She realized quickly he wasn't even aware of the gesture, and that disconcerted her. Had things changed that quickly between them? So quickly he felt free to touch her whenever he wanted? In front of other law enforcement personnel? In front of the team?
How did she feel about that?
She was glad he was sending her out with Reid instead of him—or Morgan. She knew Reid would respect her privacy and not question her about her and Hotch. If the boy had even noticed what was going on between his supervisor and her. Give her room to process everything that had happened on this case.
Garcia came through quickly, sending everyone's handhelds a list containing six names.
Reid and Emily took three names, Hotch and Morgan the other three. Detectives Allen and Kinsey were relegated to chauffeuring, but they didn't seem to mind.
Then they were off.
HOTCHPRENTISSHOTCHPRENTISSHOTCHPRENTISS
Reid sat in the back seat of Det. Kinsey's car, legs folded awkwardly, listening to the women as they spoke.
Emily's voice was soft as she asked, "You'd had trouble with Palmers before, right?"
"Just probably more of the same shit he'd pulled with your team. Comments, brushes, leers. Nothing I'd not experienced in the academy."
"Same shit, different day." Emily said on a sigh, and Spencer's ears perked up. He rarely heard Emily that down about anything. "But Palmers shouldn't be a problem any more."
"That made this one of the most awesome days of my career." Max admitted. "We, uh, took him to holding, and well—stripped him of his uniform."
Emily chuckled lowly, mind picturing how Palmers had endured that indignity. "Wonderful."
"It was satisfying to say the least. Although I must admit, I really would have liked seeing your Hotchner rip into him. That is one terrifyingly dangerous man."
"Hotch?" Emily protested. "Hotch prides himself on maintaining absolute control. He'd not have hit Palmers."
"Yes he would have." Reid added. "If Morgan hadn't stopped him. I've worked for Hotch for six years, Emily, in all sorts of situations, and I've never seen him lose control like that. Even when fighting with a suspect, he's always been deliberate and methodical about it."
"Oh." Emily said, though she knew Reid was right, knew it all along. "It's over now."
"So is Hotchner not that protective of you on a regular basis? He seems like the type who would be." Kinsey said.
"Emily doesn't need protecting." Reid said, eyes meeting Kinsey's in the rearview. "Hotch knows that."
"Really, he sure looked all hot and protective today." Kinsey's tone implied complete skepticism at Reid's insistence. Agent Hotchner had been ready to tear Palmers apart—and Kinsey had an inkling why. "All that coldly leashed fury."
Sometimes it was easier for an outsider to understand a group's dynamics than they thought.
"Hotch is protective of JJ and Penelope." Emily said. "Especially now, with JJ being pregnant. That's all it was."
"JJ wasn't the one Palmers insulted." Kinsey pointed out, "The one whom it was implied was sleeping with Hotchner."
"It's the same concept. Hotch will do anything to preserve the structure of his team." Emily said. "Nothing more. And it was Palmers shoving him that triggered it. Hotch has certainly heard worse from the assholes we deal with every day."
"He, uh, almost gambled JJ away in a poker game, once." Reid said, "Before you joined the team, Emily. Nearly lost her to a serial killer."
"Your boss gambled one of your teammates to a serial killer?" Kinsey asked.
"Um. Yeah, but only after letting JJ deal the cards." Reid explained.
Emily had to laugh at that. "JJ knows how to stack the deck, very skillfully."
"So there was no real danger." Reid said. "Of course, they were in a prison at the time, so nothing would have happened. JJ said Hotch never even blinked. And he had a sniper convinced he was on his side, once."
"I heard about that. Heard he kicked you?" Emily asked.
"Kicked me several times. Until I could reach his ankle holster and take the shot. The whole time he talked in the same cold Hotch voice. I've never really heard him like he was today." Reid said. "I wonder why?"
"Is it because you two, are, you know…" Kinsey looked at Emily, while Reid sat in the backseat confused.
"We're not…you know…" Emily said firmly.
"Really?" Kinsey said. "I never would have guessed it."
"Really. We're here." Emily said as she read the address on the mailbox. "Let's move."
HOTCHPRENTISSHOTCHPRENTISSHOTCHPRENTISS
Hotch and Morgan got nothing. The three families they talked to were genuinely puzzled by their presence, no indication that they'd had anything to do with the killings.
"Let's head back to the hotel for a break. Check in with Garcia and JJ." Hotch decided, "Wait for Reid and Emily. Then find dinner."
Garcia and JJ were hard at work searching financial records and all sorts of databases when they entered. They barely looked up, just long enough to nod.
"How did it go? After we left?" JJ asked.
"Palmers is in jail for assault." Morgan started. Hotch interrupted, with an abrupt, I'm going for a walk.
"Wow." Garcia said, as Hotch slammed the door behind him. "What the hell did we miss?"
"Palmers said some pretty raw shit—about Emily. Shoved Hotch, told him to keep Emily out of the precinct or he'd show her a good time—that she'd like better than what she was getting from a cold bastard like Hotch. Something like that."
"And now Palmers is in jail?" JJ asked, her mind running over what Derek had just said. "What charges?"
"Three counts federal physical assault, on count verbal. Called Emily Hotch's 'little dark-eyed whore."
"Wow." Was all JJ could say.
"I thought Hotch was going to kill him. It took both Allen and me to hold him back. He was furious. I've never seen him that way." Morgan admitted.
"Wow."
"Yeah. I don't think he's calmed down, yet." Morgan said, thinking of how quiet his boss had been all afternoon.
"Wow."
"What did Emily do?" Garcia asked.
"Walked right up to Hotch and hugged him—told him she understood. What, I'm not sure."
"Wow."
"What did he do?" Garcia moved closer.
"Hugged her back." Derek paused, dramatically, before grinning wickedly. "Kissed her. I'm not even sure either one of them are aware he did it."
"Wow."
"Double wow." Garcia added.
PRENTISSHOTCHPRENTISSHOTCHPRENTISSHOTCH
Emily was getting more and more amused by the second. Detective Kinsey was obviously charmed by boy geniuses. Boy genius didn't catch on.
When the detective suggested that she and Spencer check out a small pizza parlor on the edge of town later that evening, he just looked at her, puzzled. Emily lost it, a full laugh escaping for the first time all day.
Dr. Reid just looked at her, like she'd completely went around the bend. "Emily?"
"Dr. Reid would love to go for pizza with you this evening, detective." Emily said, around her giggles. At her words, Reid's eyes widened comically, and his head swung, looking back and forth between the two women. Once the younger woman's intentional meaning sunk in, Reid's mouth formed an O of surprise, and he actually blushed.
Emily opened the front passenger door before turning and yanking open Reid's. She grabbed her young colleague and pulled him from the vehicle. He didn't resist. Emily leaned back down to look at the other woman. "Pick him up at seven. I'll make sure he's ready."
"Will do. Bye!" Kinsey waved once before driving away. Reid just stood staring after her vehicle. Emily laughed even harder, rushing into the hotel. Knowing he'd eventually catch up. He did, just outside the hotel room door. Emily hurriedly turned the key and pushed the door open. He was two steps behind her.
Hotch was stretched out on his bed, minus jacket and tie, reading files and making notes, when he heard Emily's laughter and the door opening.
"Emily!" Spencer wailed, drawing everyone else's attention. "How could you do that?"
"Relax, Spencer. You'll be fine." Emily's fist was at her mouth, as she tried valiantly to stop her laughter. She sank down on to the pullout beside Hotch's feet. "A little pizza and some conversation about something other than serial killers. How can it hurt?"
"But, but, but."
"Kid, what's goin on?" Morgan demanded from his position beside Garcia at the desk.
"I…Kinsey…Emily…did…"
"Spencer has a date." Emily said, as seriously as she could.
"That you agreed to!"
"Spencer, the poor girl tried for two hours to get you to answer her."
"What? When?"
"Just go take a shower, get ready. You only have ninety minutes." She patted him on the hand. She was in control of herself now, even if her lips twitched ever so slightly. "You don't want to be late. She's picking you up at seven."
The man spun and around and grabbed his ready bag, stalking into the bathroom.
JJ watched the door slam shut before turning to her friend. "What on earth happened out there today?"
"Det. Kinsey kept asking him to dinner, and he never caught on. So I'd had enough, and told her he'd be glad to go."
"No!" Garcia said, coming over to sit behind Emily. Emily turned, bringing her feet up under her, and casually resting her elbow on Hotch's knee. "You didn't!"
"I did. Then I pulled Spencer from the car and told her to pick him up at seven. Should have seen his face when he finally caught on." She did a surprised Spencer impression and JJ and Garcia started giggling. "She's taking him to a pizza parlor across town."
"That's so cute." JJ said. "Good for her—and good for Spencer."
"Poor kid's a nervous wreck." Garcia said, then turned. "Morgan, maybe you'd better go talk to him. Make sure he's not too terrified."
"He's gonna be nervous. We're all nervous when faced with women like you three—and Det. Kinsey." Morgan protested. "Why me?"
"Because you're the big brother type." Garcia explained patiently. "Who else is he going to ask about dating but you and Hotch?"
"It's been more than fifteen years since I've been on a date, Pen." Hotch said from slightly behind Emily. "I'm probably not the best to ask."
Emily didn't know, but she thought the man was doing alright. His hand rested once again on her back—over her shirt this time, and not under—warm and enticing, and she wondered if anyone else had noticed. "Talk to him, Derek. She really likes him."
"Too bad nothing will come of it." Garcia sighed. "Her being clear out here in California."
"Oh, didn't I tell you?" Emily started. "She's moving to DC next month. Has an elderly aunt who needs more care. She's volunteered."
"Does Spencer know this?" JJ asked.
"I don't think so."
"Wow."
HOTCHPRENTISSHOTCHPRENTISSHOTCHPRENTISSHOTCHPRENTISS
Spencer was ready for his date, and relatively calm about it, at a quarter till seven. He'd yet to stop glaring at Emily. She stood, straightened his tie, and patted his hair. "You'll be ok, sweetie."
"Emily. I owe you big for this. Don't forget it." He nearly squeaked, growling menacingly.
Emily just laughed. "Have fun. Call home if you're going to be late."
As soon as he left, JJ, Garcia, and Emily burst in to roaring laughter.
It took several minutes for Hotch and Morgan to get them calmed down. By the time they were finished the men were smiling as well. The earlier tension was completely gone, and they settled in, trying to decide what they would do for the rest of the evening.
"I want pizza." JJ said, snickering.
"Wouldn't that freak Reid out?" Garcia joked.
"Seriously. Back to the diner?" Emily said. "I'm starved."
"Mmm. Ice cream." JJ said, in anticipation.
"The diner it is." Hotch said, grabbing the keys off the dresser and tossing one set to Morgan. "Let's go."
They settled into the same round booth, in nearly the same seating. This time, Emily didn't have to press up against Hotch to make enough available room for everyone else. Without Reid there was plenty of space. But she could still feel his warmth, smell his slightly woodsy aftershave. His hand dropped beneath the edge of the table and ran unhurriedly down her thigh. She tried not to shiver as she reached down and grabbed the offending hand, firmly. Enough of that.
He turned his palm up and quickly laced his fingers with hers, holding her palm to palm.
It felt strange. It felt right. It felt…ok. No one else was even aware of it, didn't seem to notice Hotch was suddenly eating with his left hand. That both his and Emily's hands weren't visible.
Or so they thought. Morgan—the only other profiler present—had caught on quick, the instant he'd seen Emily shiver. He smirked, determine to tease her about it later, before enjoying the rest of his chocolate chip ice cream.
Would they ever just figure things out?
After dinner, Morgan, Garcia and JJ stood, ready to head back to the hotel. Hotch kept a tight hold on Emily's hand, keeping her from sliding out of the booth after JJ. "Go on, Morgan. We'll be along shortly."
Emily started, and looked at him warily, as JJ and Garcia exchanged glances. Morgan just nodded and grabbed the dinner ticket. "I'll take care of this, and we'll catch you guys later."
Emily said nothing as they left, her thoughts and her tongue twisted in knots. "Hotch?"
"I thought you might want to talk." Hotch said softly, scooting closer to her.
"I don't know what to say." Emily admitted. "This is completely out of my experience, Hotch."
"Mine, too." He said, softly. "I never expected this to happen. These feelings to exist."
"Are you sure it's not just proximity?" Emily asked. "You've only been divorced for a few months. Have you even seen another woman?"
"Besides you? I've been separated for almost a year, Emily. I've not even thought about another woman in that time. Until South Dakota. You're all I've thought about since that night."
"Oh." This was more than Emily had ever expected, and when it came right down to it, she was never truly comfortable in the relationship world. Never would she have expected this. "I don't know what I think, Hotch. I don't know what I am thinking. I don't know what to think. How this will all fit—if it fits. Can you understand that?"
"Yes." His hand trailed up her inner wrist, sending shivers over her skin. "I've given this a lot of thought, Emily, and I can understand if you need to, too."
"I think I do. I've worked hard to earn my spot on this team—regardless of Strauss's original plan—and I don't want to jeopardize it. Not without being absolutely sure."
"I've thought about it, too." Hotch admitted. "I've not just jumped into this. I really haven't. But I can understand if you need some time."
"I do." Emily said. "I just don't understand this, Hotch. I just don't. JJ, and Garcia, even Morgan—they've all just said to run with it. But I don't think I've ever just ran with anything in my life. I'm not even sure where the race starts—or ends."