AN: this one's a sequel to Dream.
When he tells JJ Emily is on her way, he hears the fear in her voice, and he understands completely. It's not just that bringing Emily back to the US is unimaginably risky, even with Doyle in their custody. It's that what they've done is too big and there's no time to explain properly and no time for the team to process. They knew when they made the decision they did that they couldn't undo it, that things would never be the same whether she came home or not, but these weren't the circumstances they expected to explain themselves in.
It is, Emily would tell him, going to suck.
He keeps on top of his anxiety when he tells them, giving nothing away even though he knows this is what makes him unapproachable, because there's too much emotion attached to this to show them any of it.
And there's almost no time to take in the brand new stabs of guilt he feels when he sees their faces, because there she is, standing in the doorway alive and whole and looking just about how he feels – her eyes wide with sadness and her mouth tight with anxiety. She hugs them all like they're fragile, like she might break them, and maybe she could. Maybe they have. She meets his eyes over Reid's shoulder and there's something there he hasn't seen since Matthew died. She's lost, but she's determined.
He doesn't touch her, won't let himself, because he can't take his eyes off her.
She's deadly dark when she interrogates Doyle, betraying nothing but biting impatience, and he's never admired her more. He remembers how it felt running into his house knowing Foyet was there, remembers that even though he was fuelled by nothing but adrenaline, even though he knew Jack was in there and he had to get to him, he was terrified. He can't imagine how it feels to walk into that room with Doyle after spending seven months focused solely on not letting him get near her. But Declan's her Jack.
She comes out of the interrogation room and looks at him, looks around at the otherwise empty room, and her shoulders drop a fraction. "I'm proud of you," he says, and she blows out a breath and wraps her arms tight around herself, hiding her bitten nails. His heart jolts. "Let's get this to the team."
They walk out together, and he grips a file hard with both hands to stop himself from resting one on her back.
She stands up to Strauss, stands up to everyone, keeps her head high and keeps fighting for Declan and he can see that she's afraid and it only makes her more impressive.
After Doyle's shot, Hotch waits in the airport with her and Declan for his guardian. "I'll give you a ride to your hotel," he tells her, and she nods, her eyes unfathomable, her arm protectively around Declan's shoulders. He sits a little away, giving them space, and when her friend arrives for Declan she stands, hugs him hard and still doesn't cry. She kisses Declan's forehead, messes up his hair, and then she walks toward Hotch straight-backed and poker-faced.
He should be thinking about their jobs, about how many rules they broke to get where they are, about how this will not go down well, and probably that's what the anxious knot in his stomach is. But as he walks side by side through the dark parking lot with her, knowing Declan is going home and Emily is here, he just can't bring himself to think they did anything wrong. They're silent until they reach the car, and he pauses as he reaches for the passenger door. "Emily -" he begins, without quite knowing what he's going to say. I'm glad you're home, I'm sorry about this mess, I'm sorry the team are hurting, I'm sorry we didn't get to you sooner, I'm sorry…
She shuts up his racing mind by reaching up, tentatively brushing his scruffy cheek with her fingertips before dropping her hand to his shoulder. "No razors in Pakistan?"
He smiles, and before he can talk himself out of it his hands find her waist and pull her toward him, and she fits against him so easily and buries her head in his shoulder. "This doesn't feel real," she mumbles, and he spreads his hands over her back, holding her there. "Thank you," she says, even softer. "For everything you've done."
He closes his eyes, chews his lip, won't let himself say anything because his voice isn't to be trusted. But she nuzzles his shoulder a little and he turns his head just enough to brush her temple with his lips, and by the time they get in the car there is no question that he is not dropping her off at a hotel.