Author's Note: I do remember a lot of you commenting on how lovely you thought the fact that Hotch and Emily only very rarely fought in Part One was. That was before their lives had gotten so complicated with their jobs - with their same job. And so, the drama begins here. Honest to God, my intention with the upcoming chapters is to depict Haley as a regular human being with human emotions (which can very often be ugly). I don't want to make her into a psychotic ex-wife hell bent on exacting revenge on her husband and all the women in his life.

But my muse might think differently. ;) I hope you enjoy! As always, thank you for reading.

Disclaimer in Chapter One!


"Aaron."

"Haley."

Hotch was only barely able to suppress his tired sigh. Their phone conversation hadn't even begun, yet he was already wishing it were over. It was always empty rhetoric, day after day: hi, hello, how are you, good, same here, I'll pick Jack up at three, okay, good-bye. Detached seemed to fall short.

It wasn't that he hadn't ever loved her. He had, greatly. She had profiled as charming, soft-spoken, and understanding, though Hotch would learn that the latter wasn't too true. He didn't really blame her, though; the job was the job and it loved wrecking havoc on any party that impeded its way.

Above everything else, the petite Haley Hotchner, née Brooks, was the mother of his child, the son whom he adored with every fiber of his being. He knew she was just as dedicated to raising Jack in the best of ways as he was, and for that, he was grateful.

But as their time together lengthened to a very long five years, Hotch couldn't help but feel as if it just…wasn't enough. She wasn't enough; though he would never mention that to her, of course. He was, after all, a gentleman through and through.

And so, they had broken things off.

Shaking his head, Hotch ran a hand through his dark hair before speaking once more. "How are you?"

"Good." There was a pause. "Though, imagine my surprise when Jack called me from daycare today."

"He did?" Hotch's tone was…unsure. Wary.

"Mm-hmm. He couldn't wait to tell me all the details about his fun night with Daddy." Haley let a terse exhalation pass her lips; and nothing could have prepared Hotch for her next words.

"Who's Emily?"

Hotch opened his mouth, closed it; tried to speak, couldn't. "Emily is the new agent on my team," he said evenly, looking at her all the while, watching as Emily downed her second cup of coffee and grimaced shortly afterward.

But Haley wasn't sold. "You're sure she's not your…what was it that Jack called her? Oh, right. Your 'special friend'?"

Hotch couldn't suppress his sigh this time. "Haley," he said quietly, "believe me, I do not want to sound crass. But I'm not entirely sure this is any of your business."

"No, you're right," she said just as coolly. "It probably isn't. But it is if you're parading random women in front of my – our – son. It's a bit early for that, don't you think?"

Parading? Hotch couldn't believe they were having this conversation. What kind of man does she think I am? "First of all, I actually did not plan on having Emily over last night, and it wasn't as if she knew it was a day I would have Jack with me. She dropped by unannounced." Hotch wondered briefly if he sounded as thrilled as he had felt when he had seen her there, on his doorstep. "Emily said it herself," Hotch continued. "She was surprised that she had gotten the chance to meet Jack so…early. And secondly, Emily isn't some 'random woman'," he informed.

There was something about the way he said that, Haley noted; a certain fondness she remembered hearing a while back, while they had still been married – and happily so.

"Wait," she said suddenly. "Emily…is this the same Emily that you used to date?"

The fact that her tone was purely curious unnerved Hotch to no end. "Long before you and I met, yes," he answered after a beat. "That's her."

"Wow. How long has it been since you last saw her? Five, six years?"

Hotch was growing increasingly uncomfortable. "Almost nine," he amended, with a clearing of his throat. "Listen, Haley…"

"So let's say it's been eight years. At the risk of sounding crass," she said conversationally, echoing his words from earlier, "what are your plans here? Are you just going to pick up eight years later as if it's only been eight days? Don't get me wrong, Aaron; I wish you the best," Haley said in a tone that hinted the opposite. "But it just seems like you're rushing an awful lot."

"We're not dating officially yet," Hotch informed, getting defensive – of himself and of Emily.

"Oh, so you're just sleeping together. That's a smart relationship move." Even Haley winced as the words slipped past her lips. She hadn't meant to be so…aggressive. "I-I'm sorry –"

"Don't be," he said curtly. "I have a lot of work to do, Haley. Surely you know that."

Oh, don't I. Haley thought back to the day he had gotten the Unit Chief position; the day he became more married to his job than to her. "I do," she mumbled softly, almost ashamed at her behavior. Jealousy could be one ugly beast. "I'll leave you to it."

The line went dead.

Letting the phone drop back into its cradle, Hotch slumped back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose with two long fingers – fingers Emily never failed to tell him she loved.

Emily.

With a begrudging sigh, Hotch turned to take on the paperwork on his desk, the paperwork both he and Emily now had to fill out. The paperwork about Emily being shot.

A familiar feeling of dread settled deep in Hotch's bones as he recounted the scene. He could remember, clear as day, how he had felt when he saw the blood staining her pristine – and undoubtedly expensive – white blouse. It had been crippling; all he had wanted to do in that one moment had been to rush over to her and take her into his arms, unsub be damned.

And that scared him. He wasn't about to let Haley's misguided words get to him, but he did know that he – and Emily, too, for that matter – could only do this, could only be in this…relationship…if it didn't affect their job performance. They had to be able to remain objective and maintain a certain sense of clarity.

Because close calls were no good for anyone.

He knew all this. But the moment he saw Emily coming up to his office, a stack of papers in hand, it was as if nothing in the world mattered – nothing but her. Hotch groaned, feeling more than bipolar; and, in an instant, he realized that this had probably been exactly what Emily had felt when she had chosen to leave, eight years ago.

Perhaps the sickened, conflicted feeling he was experiencing was visible on his face, because upon entering the office after a gentle knock, Emily's first words were, "Are you okay?"

"I was just about to ask you that." Hotch cleared a place on his desk for her to set her files down.

"I'm fine," Emily said with a bit of a laugh. "But you already knew that. Now, don't be going and evading my questions."

Hotch indulged her with a smile that was becoming rarer and rarer with every day that passed. "I'm alright," he said; though he couldn't help but shoot a contemptuous glance at his office phone. "Just drained, you know?"

"I do." But Emily was remaining optimistic. "I bet Jack will be able to cheer you up when you get home, though."

"Haley picks him up today."

"…Oh."

Hotch met her eyes, gazed at her almost wistfully. "Yeah."

Emily suddenly had an overwhelming urge to wrap her arms around his waist and just hug him. "Well…at least I finished my paperwork. And I see you're almost done with yours, too. That makes the day a little less dull, right?"

"It certainly does." He let a quiet chuckle escape. "Remind me to keep you around. You've always been good at cheering me up." At making me feel good.

His shy laugh was contagious, and Emily found herself joining in before she knew what she was doing. "Alright, Agent Hotchner. I'll remind you…after work?"

"Sounds good to me, Agent Prentiss." The way he rumbled her last name was almost too much for Emily to handle. "I'll see you around," he promised.

"Yes, you will."

~.~.~

"Daddy!"

Emily had been right about that much; seeing his boy after a long day at work did wonders for his attitude and state of being. "Hey, buddy," he greeted affectionately, laughing when Jack leaped into his arms without even a second of hesitation. With a kind wave to the lady in charge of the quaint little daycare, Hotch playfully carted Jack to their car, making sure he was thoroughly and safely strapped into his booster seat before climbing in behind the wheel and heading home. "Did you have a fun day, Jack-Jack?"

"Uh huh!" The boy wriggled excitedly, and Hotch was not at all surprised when a heavily crayoned piece of paper was thrust in his direction. "Look at what I drew, Daddy! D'you like it?"

Hotch waited until they were stopped at a red light, five minutes from home – their old home, Haley's home –, before looking at the tasteful drawing. As per usual, it depicted three misshapen stick figures of various sizes; but this time, the third person was someone different, someone Jack had never drawn before. Hotch had an inkling he knew who the black-haired woman holding a red triangle he assumed to be a slice of pizza was…but he asked his son nonetheless. "Who's this, buddy?"

"That's Miss Emmy! Can't you tell?"

"You bet I can." Hotch shot his son a grin over his shoulder. "It's a very nice drawing, Jack. I'd even go so far to say it's one of my favorites."

"D'you think Emmy'd put it on her fwidge like Mommy?" Jack's tone was of the utmost seriousness. "'Cause I wanna give it to her."

"You know, I bet she would. She might even frame it."

Jack's eyes went wide at the sheer thought. "Really?"

"Really. I can give it to her when I see her at work, if that's what you want."

"Uh huh." It was a while before Jack settled down again. Nothing could stop him from chattering away, though. "Daddy, I like Emmy."

Hotch smiled to himself, dimples and all, at his son's sweet words. "I like Emmy, too, bud." I like her a lot. So much. Almost too much.

"Is she coming tonight?"

The sly voice of Hotch's conscience couldn't resist piping up. Not in the way you think. Hotch shook his head. "Not tonight, buddy. You get to stay with Mommy for a couple days, remember?"

"Oh, yeah." For the life of him, Hotch couldn't tell if Jack was…disappointed. "When, Daddy?"

"Right…now." Hotch put the car into park as he pulled into Haley's driveway. "Look, buddy, there's Mommy. Let me unbuckle you so you can go run and give her a big hug and kiss, okay?"

"Okay." Hotch delivered true to his word, and Jack was instantly off like a rocket, running straight into Haley's waiting arms. "Hi, Mommy," he greeted, grinning from ear to ear.

"Hi, honey," she beamed. "I missed you so much this weekend. Did you have a good time with Daddy?" And…Emily?

He nodded exuberantly. "We made pizza!"

"Oh, wow, pizza," Haley said indulgently, smiling down at her beloved son. "That sounds tasty. Was it tasty, Jack?"

"It was, Mommy! It was the –"

"– the best pizza ever." Hotch's voice was low as he offered Haley their customary, cordial hug. He was surprised to the point of stiffening momentarily, however, when Haley pressed a kiss to his cheek soon afterward. Her gaze was carefully averted from his; but inside, her heart was pounding, wondering at how he would react.

Jack thought nothing of the seemingly simple action, though; to him, it was the funniest thing he had seen. Giggling raucously, he wriggled in his mother's embrace until he was able to press a sloppy kiss to his father's cheek as well.

And, try as he might, Hotch couldn't prevent from smiling, just a little. It had nothing to do with Haley, he assured himself that much. But it had everything to do with his son. His son, for whom he would do anything and everything. Jack was greatest reason he continued doing his job, day in and day out; to make the world a better place for both new and old generations alike, one unsub at a time. Jack was certain his father was Superman. But all Hotch wanted to be was Jack's personal superhero.

Anyone driving by would have thought nothing of the scene they passed. To them, the man with the lined face, the woman with the sleek blonde hair, and the boy who was surely their adorable son made up the perfect family. The normal American family. And, for once, Hotch let himself pretend that that's what they still were. It was what he had always wanted, when he had been a child himself. The neighborhood girls he had grown up with had wanted the white-picket fence with the dog and the loving husband. He had always wanted the classic Radio Flyer red wagon on the sidewalk, where his children would have left it, and a wife to grow old with. A wife he would be able to take long walks with in the morning, their wrinkled hands always intertwined.

Even as a child he had been wiser, more aged than most. He hoped it had made his parents proud – or, at least, his mother.

Not for the first time that day, Hotch found himself suppressing a weary sigh. It was all just fantasy, he reminded himself. They were not a normal family; they were so beyond normal, it would make people's heads spin. It wasn't as if he and Haley'd had a bitter divorce. He had been the one to bring it up in the first place, and had consequently been the one to file for it in the end. But it had been a mutual decision.

At least…that's what Haley had repeated to him a dozen times. How she really felt, Hotch was certain he would never know – especially now with Emily in the mix. Haley had always been a mystery, and not necessarily in the same captivating way as his favorite brunette.

You're comparing them again, Aaron, Hotch heard the voice of his conscience say. Watch yourself.

He didn't need to for much longer. Because, before his overactive imagination could spin up more ideal family tales to ponder over, the sharp ping of a ringing cell phone cut through the air, bringing Haley's and Jack's lighthearted conversation to a stop – an abrupt one on the former's behalf.

Hotch didn't really need to look at the phone to guess who it was. The smile was threatening to curve his lips once more; but right before he could bring himself to pull his phone from his pocket, a key line shot through his mind.

"Are you just going to pick up eight years later as if it's only been eight days? It just seems like you're rushing an awful lot."

Hotch couldn't fault Haley that much; both he and Emily had both readily admitted that very same observation to one another. But they were working things out, slowly but surely. They had always been a good team. Things would be good in the end.

Things will be good in the end, Hotch told himself, repeating it like a mantra so he would never forget it. Never let it…slip right through his fingers.

Unbeknownst to him, for he was in such deep thought, Haley was gazing at him intently, listening to the phone as it gave ring after ring after ring. She, too, was perceptive enough to guess that Emily was the caller. And she didn't really know how she felt about that.

Not that she should've had such strong feelings in the first place. Why should I care that an ex-girlfriend is calling? We're not married anymore. He has his personal lives and I have mine, she reminded herself. But the tiny voice doing the reminding sounded remarkably less than half-hearted.

It took him a frighteningly long while before he made the decision to answer the call. He would have answered it eventually, he was sure. He had just…needed some time to think things over.

Glancing upward for a single second, Hotch shared a less-than understanding glance with Haley before finally answering the call. The smile had finally broken free.

"Hey, Em."


Author's Note: Thoughts? Questions? Anything you'd like to see happen? If you have the time, please leave a review! No matter short or long, signed or anonymous, they always make my day!