Tensions were high. There was a lot at stake – the winners got to choose the pizza toppings. Emily and Hotch were absolutely determined to win; neither liked pepperoni, which both of their boys were absolutely obsessed with. And they'd threatened to order extra.

It was neck and neck; both teams were on the last square in a heated game of Pictionary. Emily and Declan were drawing next. Declan drew the card and glanced down at it. A tiny smile crossed his features, mischievous, and he slid the card to his mom.

Emily picked it up and looked at it. Her eyes widened. The word was Triangle.

It was easy. Too easy.

She glanced up at Hotch, trying to convey this to him with her facial expressions, but then both of the boys started yelling, "No profiling each other! That's cheating!" for the billionth time since they'd started the game, and she quickly looked away from him, hiding her face behind her hands to emphasize her innocence. She started to giggle, and she heard Hotch laughing, too.

"Ready?" Jack asked.

They both nodded. Jack flipped the timer, and it took Emily about half a second to draw the triangle. She looked up at Hotch with wide eyes – he wasn't looking at her; he was still waiting for her to add more to the picture –

"House!" he shouted prematurely, anticipating that she'd add the square underneath and maybe a door and some windows.

"No!" she cried as Jack shouted, "Triangle!"

"Yes!" Declan shouted.

"We win! We win!" the boys cheered, embracing each other in their excitement.

Emily threw her head back, hands tangled in her hair as she gripped her head in disappointment. "Hotch, how could you?"

"I don't know, I thought there had to be more to it!" he defended himself, his eyes lighting up with amusement even though they'd lost.

"It was too easy," Emily whined, shaking her head.

She didn't even care that she had to eat pepperoni pizza; Hotch was here with her, laughing in her living room, and Jack and Declan were doubled over together, still hugging and goofing off as they bragged about their victory.

She felt giggles building up in her own chest and realized that for the first time in a long time, she was really happy.

Naturally, due to their extremely competitive natures, Hotch and Emily couldn't go down without a rematch. They ordered the pizza and got back to the game.

After all, someone had to choose the ice cream flavor.

The doorbell rang a few minutes into the game, and Emily glanced up at the clock.

"Huh, they're early," she commented, starting to get up off of the living room floor.

"What're you doing?" Hotch asked.

Her eyebrows knitted together. "Getting the pizza?"

"Sit down," he commanded her in his most bossy voice, the one he used at work. "I'll get it."

"Let me pay half –" she started to argue, but he cut her off.

"No."

"Aaron!" she protested playfully, grabbing her purse and chasing after him down the hallway, trying to beat him to the door. She was wearing socks, and because of the hardwood floors she managed to duck down and slide right under his elbow, skidding to a halt just in front of the door. She turned around, stuck her tongue out at him as she undid the chain and the deadbolt, and then she swung the door open –

– and froze.

Hotch couldn't see who was at the door, but he did see the smile slip off of his Emily's face, and the way that she instinctively straightened up while wrapping her arms protectively around her torso. She didn't grab for where her gun usually rested on her hip, which peaked his interest, but did nothing to dull the sinking feeling in his gut.

"Hi, Mother," Emily said quietly in a voice that Hotch didn't even recognize. He realized with a pang that she was afraid.

The door was partially blocking Emily's body, and the hand behind it was frantically waving him back into the living room. Hotch frowned. She didn't want her mom to know about them.

"What are you doing answering the door dressed like that? Aren't you supposed to know better, considering your occupation?" the tight voice of Elizabeth Prentiss asked through the door.

Emily winced. It's not like she was wearing lingerie or anything, but the boys had decided that their get-together should be a pajama party, so all she had on were a thick pair of socks, some short athletic shorts, and Hotch's old FBI Academy t-shirt, which she had officially kidnapped into her own wardrobe.

Her eyes widened a little bit as she realized that the t-shirt said Class of 1997 on it, not her Class of 2006. She carefully wrapped her arm to block the date, hoping her mother wouldn't notice that the shirt was way too big on her.

Or – holy shit, was the baby bump showing? She risked a glance downwards – it wasn't super obvious, but it wasn't exactly subtle either, and if her mother actually looked at her stomach, she'd definitely see it. At twenty-nine weeks, she was still smaller than most women at this point, and if she was lucky the oversized shirt would just big enough to camouflage everything.

"Ugh, Emily, at least answer your mother when she's speaking to you, honestly. Why didn't you tell me you were moving back to the States? I had to find out from an acquaintance; it was so humiliating. Are you going to invite me in, or just stand there gawking?" Elizabeth prattled rudely.

"Um, it's not really a good time right now –"

"Nonsense. You've been living here for three and a half months now; if you haven't made the time yet, you're not planning to. That's why I'm here now. Because I want answers."

Emily hesitated.

"Is this because of what I said to you about that man you were dating in London? Honestly, Emily, I didn't mean anything by it. Why do you have to hold such a grudge? I'm your mother for crying out loud. Let's have a conversation."

"I really don't think it's a good idea right now." Emily could sense that Hotch was still behind her. He was, actually, coming closer to the door. But he was being careful to stick to the side of the hallway that was out of sight. Quietly there for support if she needed it.

"Why? Emily Ann Prentiss, do you have someone in there with you?"

Emily started to panic like she would've if she were fifteen and her mom was asking that through her bedroom door. In that moment it completely escaped her that she was forty-four and it was her own damn apartment, she could do whatever the hell she wanted.

"No –" she began, but she was cut off from somebody inside her apartment. Declan.

"Mom, what's taking so long?" the boy called from the living room. "We're hungry!"

Emily froze. So did her mother.

"Mom?" Declan asked again. "Are you okay?"

Emily looked afraid as she stared into her mother's confused face, but then her gaze flitted away from Elizabeth's and she turned back to call over her shoulder, "Yeah, Dec. Everything's fine."

"Dec?" Elizabeth echoed.

"Declan," Emily whispered. "He's my… My son."

"You have a son," the older woman repeated slowly.

"Um, yeah. He's – I mean, he's adopted, but… yeah. Um, Declan, can you come here for a minute?"

The boy padded quietly to the door and looked surprised to see Elizabeth standing there.

"I'm guessing you're not the pizza man," he joked with a charming smile, which Elizabeth didn't return.

"This is Declan," Emily introduced him, her hands on his shoulders. "Um, Dec, this is my mother, Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss."

"Wow, it's so nice to meet you," Declan greeted her, stretching his arm out for a handshake. This even stuck-up Elizabeth couldn't ignore, and she hesitantly reached out to shake his hand.

Declan seemed to sense the tension, but only Emily knew how badly this was actually going – the top left corner of her mother's lip was twitching.

"Emily, could I speak to you for a moment? Alone?"

"Um, yeah," Emily answered as one of her fingernails found its way between her teeth yet again.

"Stop that," Elizabeth scolded her. "That's a disgusting habit. You're a grown woman, stop behaving like a child."

Declan's eyebrows shot up in anger and he opened his mouth as though he was about to tell his 'grandmother' off. Before he could, Emily said quickly, "It's fine, Declan. Can you go back in the living room?"

She knew her son was trying to protect her, which was really sweet, but she didn't want Declan anywhere near her mother. Although the ambassador had never been physically violent towards her daughter, Emily had suffered through enough emotional abuse to last a lifetime.

"Okay," Declan agreed cautiously.

Before he was even out of earshot, Elizabeth started, "You adopted a child and you had the audacity not to tell me? Did you really think I wouldn't find out? What the hell is your problem, Emily? Imagine if someone knew and mentioned it to me, and I wasn't even aware! I'd look like a complete idiot –"

"This is exactly why I didn't tell you," Emily said, forcing herself to speak evenly, trying not to get hysterical. "You always have to make it about you –"

"–How am I making this about me?"

"You're accusing me of not telling you not because you actually care, but because it might've made you look bad that you didn't know! Seriously, Mother, how can you possibly think that there's nothing wrong with that –" Emily asked, her hands flying around like they always did when she got really worked up.

Elizabeth didn't reply. She was… staring at Emily's baby bump. Which was now in plain sight, as Emily's hands were no longer shielding it from her mother's piercing gaze.

She felt the blood drain from her face as her arms returned to their protective position. But it was too late. There was a good three seconds of silence, during which Emily realized that she was legitimately in immediate danger of being disowned.

That thought didn't really bother her as much as she felt it should've.

"Are you pregnant?" Elizabeth demanded.

Emily took a deep breath. "Yeah. I am."

She was holding her breath because she'd expected the shouting to start then, but it didn't. The eerie calm seemed to have decided to linger for another moment.

"And the father?"

Hotch – who was still standing just inside the living room doorframe, protectively hovering so that he could intervene if necessary – saw a flicker of deep, deep pain in Emily's eyes, before she set her jaw in a determined manner.

"He's not in the picture."

There was the shouting.

"What the hell, Emily? How could you possibly be so careless? Adopting a child is one thing, but having the impudence to actually whore around to the point where you get knocked up, and then you keep it? How embarrassing –"

"Mother, stop! I'm an adult, I'm perfectly capable of making my own decisions, and I don't need you criticizing me like I'm–"

"Yes, because this situation completely screams 'responsibility'! Emily, you should have known better than this. How could you be so stupid?"

Tears were welling up in Emily's eyes now. As much as she resented her mother for the way she'd been treated her whole life… she was still her mother. And somewhere deep inside her was the little girl she had once been, the child who was absolutely desperate to do anything to get her mother's approval, and her attention. Elizabeth's words stung now more than ever.

"Don't you dare start crying," her mother scolded. "You just got done telling me you're an adult; maybe it's time you start acting like one –"

Hotch pulled the front door the rest of the way open then, making himself perfectly visible to Emily's mother.

"Ambassador," he greeted her coldly through a clenched jaw. Emily looked at him with panicked eyes; she hadn't wanted her mother to know that he was there, it would only make things worse. What was he doing?

"Agent Hotchner," Elizabeth replied venomously. "What are you doing here?"

Neither of them answered, but it didn't take a profiler to read Hotch's overly protective posture. Elizabeth's assumptions were confirmed when Hotch reached forward to grab Emily's hand. He wasn't trying to aggravate the woman, but he'd never seen Emily looking so tiny and vulnerable, and he felt like he needed to anchor her down to keep her from blowing away.

Elizabeth ignored Hotch completely, and turned her glare back to her daughter. "And you're screwing your boss? Just when I thought you couldn't let me down more. I don't recall raising you to be a slut."

"You didn't raise me at all," Emily cried defensively, "That was the nannies and the butlers –"

"You're pathetic."

"Get out," Hotch said in a dangerously calm voice.

"Excuse me?"

"I said get out," he repeated.

"How dare you?" she huffed. "This is between me and my daughter –"

"No, it isn't. This is Emily's business, not yours. It has nothing to do with you. Now I suggest you get the hell out, or I'll have to make you."

"Are you threatening me, Agent Hotchner?"

"Yes, Ma'am, I am," he replied harshly.

"Do I seem like the type of woman that responds to threats?"

"You seem like the type of woman that wouldn't want her face splashed across the front page of the paper under the headline 'US Ambassador arrested by FBI for trespassing and disorderly conduct'."

Elizabeth's mouth opened and shut several times as she tried to think of a response. "Emily, tell him that he has no authority to –"

"Just go away, Mother," Emily begged.

"If you send me away now, Emily, I am done with you," Elizabeth threatened.

"Good!" Emily cried, although she didn't know if she really meant it.

"You are such a disappointment."

Emily looked like she'd been slapped.

Hotch slammed the front door and locked the deadbolt and the chain right in the ambassador's face. Then he turned to Emily – and she immediately fell into his arms, burying her face in his shoulder.

"Shhh," he whispered into her hair, gently rubbing her back as he held her against him. "It's okay, sweetheart. Nothing that she said is true, okay?"

He knew he had to maintain a calm exterior in order to comfort Emily, but inside he was absolutely livid. How dare that woman talk to his precious, sweet Emily like she was a piece of trash? How could anyone say things like that to their own child?

Especially considering that the woman had no idea what she was talking about. She'd accused Emily of whoring around – last time he checked, Emily had been with Mark for over a year before she left London. Not only that, but her child was not a result of 'sluttiness' by any means: a man had broken into her home and violated her, and she'd had the grace and strength to love the baby anyways.

How the hell had a nasty piece of work like Elizabeth Prentiss manage to raise a loving, generous, kind-hearted woman like his Emily?

"Mom, are you okay?" Declan asked, his brow furrowed in concern as he came back into the foyer with Jack on his heels.

"Yeah – I'm fine," Emily lied, her voice cracking a little bit. But the kids weren't stupid; they could see the tears forming in her eyes. She was still in Hotch's arms, and although they hadn't planned on any physical displays of affection in front of their kids tonight, Emily had absolutely no intention of pulling out of his embrace any time soon. He apparently shared the thought; his hands continued to gently rub up and down her back.

Declan wrapped his arms around Emily then too, and soon Jack joined him. And she was wrapped in a tight group hug. She laughed a little through the tears, and hugged Declan and Jack against her, ruffling their hair. Sweet kids.

"Your mom is mean," Jack commented.

Declan nodded in agreement.

"Jack –" Hotch said warningly.

"Yeah, she is," Emily agreed, angrily wiping a tear away before it could get even close to falling.

She'd never cried in front of Declan before and she damn well wasn't going to start now – and that went for Jack, too. Prentisses don't cry, she heard her mom's voice in her head, and was immediately angry at herself – even now, Elizabeth was getting to her.

"I'm sorry you boys had to hear all of that," she apologized to them, praying Hotch wasn't mad at her for fighting in front of his son.

"It's okay, Emily," Jack reassured her. "It's not your fault."

There was another knock at the door then, and Emily flinched. Hotch looked through the peephole before answering this time.

"It's the pizza," he said, relieved. Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen.

"Can we watch a movie while we eat it?" Declan asked, correctly assuming that none of them were really in the mood to play board games anymore.

"I think that'd be okay," Hotch said, noticing the tears welling up in Emily's eyes despite how hard she was fighting them. They had to talk about this sooner rather than later. "Why don't you and Jack go pick one out and get it started? Me and your mom are gonna go talk for a few minutes."

Emily looked up at him in surprise. Talking about it? Did he really think she needed to talk about it? She didn't want to talk about it – talking means crying, and she's already done way too much of that in front of him.

Prentisses don't cry.

The boys took the pizza box and headed back to the living room, and Emily started to follow them, but Hotch caught her wrist.

He looked down at her, his gaze gentle but concerned, and she knew she wasn't getting out of this. They were going to talk.

"Honey," he said simply, reading all of this in her facial expressions.

He followed Emily into her kitchen, but neither of them actually sat down. Her hand was still in his, and he gently ran his thumb back and forth across her knuckles.

"Emily," he began uncertainly. "Sweetheart… I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault my mother's a bitch," Emily said, her voice thick with tears.

She pressed her face into his collarbone, and he embraced her, gently rubbing her back and arms. Her body shook a little as she continued to fight back the tears – her pregnancy hormones weren't helping that particular battle.

"It's okay to cry," he whispered, and was startled when this caused her to stiffen.

The memory flooded into her mind, uninvited.

They were in Ireland and a weapons deal had ended badly to put it mildly – fist fights, a shoot-out, a fucking car chase… It was rough.

Emily was in Ian's arms in the back seat of the second car, and they were on their way to the hospital – Emily's leg was definitely broken, as evidenced by the hundreds of shades of black and blue, and the fact that the bone was sticking out at a weird angle, as though it were attempting to poke through her skin.

She was whimpering, gritting her teeth in pain, breathing shallowly, and clinging to Ian.

"It's okay to cry, love," he'd whispered, cradling her as carefully as he could, trying not to move her or to cause her any more pain.

But she hadn't, not even then, not even when she was scared for her life with a splintered bone threatening to tear through her leg.

"You're so strong, Lauren," he'd said, looking at her like she was indestructible. "I love you."

"I love you," she'd choked.

"Emily," Hotch's voice pulled her back to reality, and once again the sound of her real name clanged in her ears like it always did when she started to slip back into Lauren.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered. What the hell was wrong with her? She had no idea how she'd managed to keep from crying when she could barely control her thoughts – and if she was thinking of Ian while in Hotch's arms… "Maybe you should go," she whispered into his shirt collar.

She felt him shift, tilting his head to look down at her.

"Do you want us to?" he asked sincerely. He'd do it if she really meant it.

"No," she breathed, not looking up. "But I think maybe it'd be f-for the best."

"What makes you say that?"

"I'm a fucking basket case, Aaron," she whispered, a big tear spilling over and trailing down her cheek. It seeped into his t-shirt. "I have so much shit to deal with right now, and I don't know how – I think I've cried more in the past six months than I did in my entire life up to then. I just… I don't know how to cope with all of this, and you and Jack, you don't deserve to get tangled up in all of it. It isn't fair to you."

"Emily, look at me," he said once he was certain she was finished. Her eyes, filled with tears and the fear that he would actually leave her, met his hesitantly. "You're not a basket case," he said, gently hugging her against him. "I know you have a lot on your plate right now, but I think you're doing an excellent job with Declan and with the baby. And Jack and I love you. So we aren't going anywhere just because you don't think you deserve us, understand?" he asked sternly.

She sniffled, nodding, and he kissed her tenderly on the forehead. This was less about her actual conflict with her mother, he realized, and more about the things that her mother had said to her. Emily was tough, but she was somewhat sensitive, and she took the things that people said about her to heart, especially when they had to do with the things that she was already insecure about.

He held her for another minute and then, just when he thought it was over, he felt another big sob rock through her body, and another hot tear seeped through his shirt.

Emily was remembering what she'd already been worried about earlier today at Hayley's grave – how the hell was she supposed to live up to that?

"Baby, tell me what's wrong," Hotch encouraged her gently.

"I don't know how to be a mom," she whispered, vulnerable and ashamed. "I don't know what the hell I was thinking taking Declan in – I love him to death, but I honestly just… I'm afraid. He's relying on me and he's looking up to me and I don't know what I'm doing. And now, with the baby on the way, I just… I don't know."

"I'll let you in on a secret, since you're new to this whole parenting thing," he said, his eyes crinkling. "The rest of us… we don't know what we're doing, either. This job is strictly fake-it-til-you-make-it, and hope that your kid doesn't turn out to be a serial killer."

Emily flinched. Her kids were probably genetically predisposed to becoming serial killers. She laid her hand on her baby bump and felt the knot of scars.

"Declan has been through so much," she whispered. "I just want to do the best that I can for him. And for Bean."

"That's what all parents want," he agreed, and his heart broke a little when he saw her looking over towards her front door, where her mother just got done screaming at her and belittling her.

"Some parents… they think they know what's best, but they're wrong," Emily said firmly, looking up at him. "I don't want to end up like that. With my kid hating me."

"You won't," he said confidently. "I may not know your mother well, but I think it's safe to say that you and her are polar opposites. I've already seen you listening to Declan's thoughts and opinions like he's an adult – you've done it with Jack, too. And even Henry. The difference between you and your mother is that she always treated you like an extension of herself – a possession," he mused, not caring that he was openly profiling the ambassador. "So when you make your own decisions, it angers her. You're not like that with them," Hotch said with a nod towards the living room. "You know they're their own people, and you love them for it. And that makes all the difference."

"Is that good enough?" she whispered.

"What more could there be?"

She bit her lip and picked her fingernails. "I've been thinking about Hayley," she admitted so quietly she wasn't even completely sure she'd said it out loud.

Hotch stiffened, and for a moment she's afraid she shouldn't've said anything. "Emily –"

"I'm sorry," she apologized quickly. She wasn't sure what the apology was for, but it seemed appropriate.

"It's okay," he reassured her just as fast. "But… you shouldn't compare yourself to her."

"How can I not?" Emily asked, tears spilling over again. "What – what she did, how could I ever possibly live up to that?"

"You don't have to," he said, touching her cheek. "Sweetheart, I love you because you're you. It isn't a competition. You and Hayley are different," he acknowledged. "But that's a good thing, because she and I didn't work out so well. But I'm not trying to replace her. And Jack and I have already had that discussion, so don't worry about him, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed softly, beginning to tire. Crying was exhausting.

"How about I run you a bath," he suggested gently, sensing that the worst of it was over. "And then we can go watch something with the boys?"

She nodded and allowed him to prepare the bath for her, and while she soaked for a while and took extra care to make sure the mascara was washed off of her cheeks, he waited for her in the kitchen, making them all popcorn and hot chocolate. He was worried about her still and wanted to go check on her, but they weren't at that level in their relationship quite yet.

It was strange how serious they were emotionally despite the fact that they hadn't been intimate. It wasn't like they were purposefully waiting for any reason – Hotch certainly wasn't opposed to having sex with Emily, and he was pretty certain she felt the same way about him – they just hadn't gotten there yet. It seemed right though, to go slow on that front, especially considering the forceful conception of her child, and the fact that with their jobs, they could definitely get in trouble for having this relationship. Not only that, but they both had a lot of other baggage – Hayley and Doyle, Jack and Declan, Foyet, and a million other things and the scars that came with them. They would get there when they got there, but for now he would be happy with gentle kisses and comforting embraces, and the occasional night spent in each other's arms.

Emily exited the bathroom and found him in her kitchen. He smiled at her: she looked a bit happier now, beautiful even without any make up on, with her dark, wet strands of hair starting to curl up a bit around her face. He folded her into his arms and she was soft and clean and her hair smelled like green apples – his favorite candy flavor.

God, he loved her.

They rejoined their boys, who had just finished watching Night at the Museum, and the four of them together watched Jurassic Park 2. Declan and Jack sat on the two armchairs, and Emily and Hotch shared the loveseat, unabashedly pressed together. Their boys didn't seem to have much of a reaction to their physical contact, and Emily was still shaking a little bit – her mother had really shattered her confidence – so Hotch had pulled her against his side and wrapped an arm around her. He rested his hand absentmindedly over her baby bump, and she thought nothing of it. It seemed like that's where his hand belonged.

After the movie, they all stayed where they were on the couches for a minute or two, watching the credits scroll by and realizing it was getting late; their get-together was coming to an end.

"I wish we didn't have to go," Jack said, breaking the silence.

"Me too," said Declan.

"Dad, can we sleep over?" Jack asked hopefully.

"Yeah!" Declan exclaimed. "Can they, Mom? Please?"

Emily looked at Hotch. He seemed a little conflicted about it; probably he was wondering if it was appropriate for them to spend the night together with the kids there. But really, it wasn't like he and Emily were doing anything inappropriate, and they'd spent nights before just sleeping together in the most innocent meaning of the phrase.

"Aaron?" Emily asked, making it his decision. He realized her eyes were still puffy from crying.

Maybe being held against his chest tonight was exactly what she needed.

"Okay," he agreed.

An hour or so later, all four of them were lying on the living room floor in a big fort – it turned out that Hotch had quite the affinity for fort-building.

Emily and Hotch were asleep, their legs tangled together under the blanket that they shared, with Sergio curled in a ball next to Emily's head. They slept on top of a big pile of all the pillows and blankets Emily had in the apartment – a perfect, soft little nest instead of sleeping right on the carpet, because she was getting bigger now and Hotch was worried about her hurting her back.

Declan and Jack were still awake, whispering and giggling with each other like they were the best of friends. They'd heard their parents whispering "I love you" to each other right before they fell asleep, and both boys were over the moon excited about that revelation.

"Are they really dating?" Jack whispered excitedly.

"I think so," Declan answered. "I think they really really love each other. They seem so happy!"

Jack nodded.

Unlike most children, Jack and Declan had no resentment towards their parent's new partners – death had made it impossible for either of them to dream of their original parents getting back together. But they did both crave that idea of having a "complete" family, with two parents and their kids. And they were probably getting their hopes up rather quickly, but it was starting to look like that might be an option for them.

"Do you think your mom really likes my dad?" Jack asked, a little worried. His dad had been pretty sad when Beth moved away, even though he tried not to show it.

"I think so," Declan said slowly. He didn't really have any knowledge of what Emily was like when she was falling in love with someone, and he had been pretty little when she was with his dad, but he seemed to remember her acting a lot like this. Like she was happy, and comfortable.

Declan's face suddenly lit up. "I know how to tell for sure if they're falling in love."

Jack smiled mischievously. "Text Aunt Penelope?"

"Text Aunt Penelope," Declan confirmed.