Author's Note: Um. Please don't hate me. There are three chapters left; and a happily ever after. I'll make it worth it, I promise you. We all deserve that much, wouldn't you say? As always, thank you so very much for reading!
Disclaimer in Chapter One!
"Don't judge a man until you've walked two moons in his moccasins. Until you've been in their shoes. In their place."
When Hotch finally succumbed to sleep, his dreams were not nearly as terrifying as Emily's had been; but his was a nightmare he never wanted to experience again.
For a moment, they were happy. He had never known bliss this extreme; having nothing to do in the day save for worshipping Emily's body and holding her close, making her feel safe and him at home. Theirs was a symbiotic relationship, as it always had been. It was why they were such good partners in the field. There was a sense of trust Hotch knew he'd never have with anyone else. He was glad Emily still maintained that; he was the luckiest man alive.
He saw her now, her bared curves pressed against his hard lines. She was so soft and yielding in his arms; she was pleasure the likes of which he had never before experienced.
And she wanted a baby. She wanted his baby.
But they weren't happy anymore. He heard her voice in his ear: "After Clyde left me at my place, I decided I wasn't ready to turn in for the night. I – I went to Finnegan's."
"Finnegan's, the bar down the street?"
Emily nodded, and there was something about her gaze that made a chill run down Hotch's spine. "And...well, I saw Sean. Or rather, he saw me."
Immediately, Hotch's face lit up at the sound of his baby brother's name; he didn't read into the way Emily cringed at the look on his face. "Really? Sean's in town? I had no idea, that's great," he gushed. "How is he?"
Emily was silent. Hotch's face slowly fell. "Emily, uh..." She could see the reluctance, the trepidation written into every line of his face. "Wh-what did you two do?"
The tears were back in Emily's eyes, so close to overflowing. "I was drunk," she admitted pathetically. "He was, too. We talked for a bit, and then – we danced some, even though I really didn't want to. But he insisted. And then – he walked me home." Tears finally slid down her ruddy cheeks. "He kissed me. And I didn't know what was happening, and it kept happening, and I kissed him back –" She hiccuped, shaking her head emphatically. "We slept together, Aaron."
They weren't happy. And Sean – Sean had demanded a paternity test.
Sickness and fear crippled his body as they waited for the results. He was so deathly close to breaking down, to giving it all up, for he felt like a dead man when he thought that there was the slightest possibility that the beautiful life growing in Emily's body wasn't related to him in the way he – they – had dreamed. He wanted a daughter or another son; not a niece or a nephew.
He knew what this was: sick and cruel punishment for the sins he had committed. He wanted it to be over with. He wanted to know the results. He needed to know who the father was. He needed –
To wake up.
Hotch woke with a jolt, his breathing hard and uneven as fragmented images flashed before his eyes. Then he realized where he was. Emily's brownstone; Emily's bed.
He shifted his gaze slowly, like a gentle caress of her skin, and his breath caught in his throat as he looked at her – really looked at her. She was her most peaceful in sleep, he liked to think. The monsters wouldn't touch her there; not if he could help it. He wanted to run a finger down her smooth and pretty cheek; he wanted to kiss her lips for the hundredth time and lose himself in her essence like he had before his dream turned to a nightmare.
Like he had formerly done before his life had turned into a nightmare.
But God, he didn't want to wake her. She had shifted at his troubled groaning, murmuring an incoherent "Aaron" before falling back into sleep's impatient arms. Just hearing his name from her sweet lips had given him that much more strength.
He didn't want to wake her; but JJ had other plans.
Hotch cringed as the shrill ringing of his cell phone broke the precious silence that had blanketed them. He wanted to throw the phone away, run to another room to keep Emily at peace, but it didn't really matter; the brunette refused to budge.
Hotch padded into the hall and took the call, his voice inexplicably hushed as he told JJ he would be there as soon as he could. They were going to Texas and needed to leave promptly, but still, he couldn't bring himself to pull the beauty from her slumber. He stood at her side, watching her for a long moment, debating, before he finally gave in and crawled back under the sheets.
One hand gently brushed unruly curls – curls that were only intact from the night before because she had fallen asleep when her hair was damp – from Emily's face, before a kiss pressed itself to her temple. "Emily," he whispered. "Em, wake up."
"No."
He smiled at that, grinned really, and gave her shoulder a squeeze. "As much as I hate to remind you, it's Tuesday morning. We have work." He sighed down at his phone. "We have a case."
Emily curled her body a little tighter and covered her face with her coverlet. "Where?"
"Texas. I was hoping to ask Strauss for a stand down and I was actually sure she was going to grant us one; but B-Team was apparently busy. So we have to go." He smiled softly as Emily turned her head, peeking tinily over the plush of her white downy pillow. "Hi, there."
Good morning, handsome. "Hi." She blinked. "You had a nightmare." It wasn't a question.
"N–not really. Well, okay, I kind of did," he relented at her flat look.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He knew the question had been coming, and he knew his answer without hesitation. "No."
She looked at him carefully. "Okay. I won't pry." A beat passed, and Emily could feel his gaze on her as she stretched her arms above her head. "You know, I did some thinking before I went to bed last night. About...Doyle. And my nightmare. I didn't actually tell you what happened, did I?"
"You didn't." Suddenly, Hotch wasn't so sure he wanted to know.
Their eyes met, and Hotch found himself loving the way the early morning sunshine touched her sweet skin. "He killed you and made me watch," Emily blurted. She purposely left out the bit involving Jack; the look in his eyes was terrified enough. "And I know why. I took his son from him; I took from him the thing that mattered most in his life."
She said nothing more. He could fill in the blanks.
And he did.
His heart hurt his ribs as it beat wilder than it had ever before. "You were pregnant," he said suddenly, and he watched as Emily's eyes saddened. "We didn't – we didn't know if the baby was mine or – or Sean's."
Emily's breath caught; she very nearly choked. His reason for it being a nightmare did not need any explanation. "Did you ever find out in the end?"
"No." The word was said to her back, as Emily swung her legs off the bed and made for the large bathroom. She needed a mirror; she needed to freshen up and clear her mind.
When a door was between the two of them, the barrier thick enough, Emily whispered something for her ears only. "I'm sure the baby was yours." After all, he had the stronger genes – and the love to back them.
Alone in the bedroom, Hotch laid back against Emily's sheets and stared the ceiling, licking his uncomfortably dry lips. The nightmare had left a bad taste in his mouth, one he guessed would stay for the entire day. If he read too much into it, he would have even considered it to be a bad omen for the hours to come.
But instead, he pushed the thoughts away.
~.~.~
It was a mistake, brushing off the omen that came with the nightmare as nothing. It was a mistake, and it was the first of many that the day – the case – would entail.
"Prentiss, there is absolutely no way you are going in there alone without a vest." His voice boomed and echoed throughout the tension-filled silence.
Her glare was harsh and borderline impatient; he could feel her gaze like a touch on his skin, and it wasn't nearly as pleasant as it had once been. "Hotch, are you actually telling me that a believed suspect would open up the door to you, Rossi, or Morgan, big tough men with flack jackets that scream FBI - literally - and just let you waltz on in to arrest him? He's not stupid. We know he's going to run, but not before bullets rain down on everyone. I look the least suspicious," she urged.
"I could go instead."
Emily whirled around, eyes wide as she looked at Reid. "No way, Spencer," she said, and it was obvious she was concerned for him. As experienced as he had proved himself to be, he was still so young in her – their – eyes. They would watch over him at all cost; Hotch had once recounted to her an instant that involved wild dogs, Dilaudid, and the Archangel Gabriel, and Emily didn't want to run the risk of anything remotely near that happening again.
"Why not?" Both Reid and Hotch asked the question, and Emily could just shake her head until Hotch pulled her aside. "Emily," he said hushedly, "if you don't listen to anything else, just listen to this. I have a bad feeling about this case; I have since the morning, and I haven't been able to shake it off. Please – let Reid go this time." It's always you playing hero. It's always you as the bait.
It's always you getting hurt.
But Emily was stubborn, a fact Hotch figured would never change with time. "No, Aar – Hotch. I can't." She glanced cautiously over at the team, her eyes narrowing imperceptibly when she saw them all look away. "Don't make this personal," she whispered. "Don't let whatever we did last night cloud your judgment."
He looked hurt that she had considered the fact in the first place. "I'm not," he insisted, and while his voice was softer, it also had a bit more bite. He licked his lips, then breathed out a sigh. "At least let Reid go in with you."
"You wouldn't be making this same decision if it were Rossi going in," she pointed out simply.
"No," Hotch conceded. "I wouldn't be." He saw the look in her eyes and frowned. "You're judging me, aren't you? I can feel it. I can see it." You don't know how conflicted I'm feeling right now, he wanted to scream. She didn't know what it was like to make executive decisions like this; she didn't know what it felt like to walk in his shoes. And he wasn't sure he ever wanted her to have to 's gaze was steady. "You know it has nothing to do with how good or experienced an agent you are. You're one of the best I know, Emily. But I –"
"But what?" Emily pressed. Finally, she broke. "Fine," she huffed, though her gaze expressed she wasn't really as frustrated with him as she had come across. "I know you won't change your mind. You've always been stubborn like that."
"It takes one to know one," he whispered, and his frantic heartbeat slowed just a titch when he saw Emily's lip curve just the slightest bit upward. He wanted to kiss her so desperately in that one moment. He needed to hold her and keep her safe even though he knew he really didn't need to; Emily was more than able to take care of herself. She had proven that much more than enough times to count. "Alright," he announced, walking back to his other three agents. "Reid, you're going in with Prentiss. Both – both of you take off your vests," he stuttered, the sickened feeling back in the bottom of his stomach, "and you know how to signal if anything goes wrong. Get out of there as soon as possible."
They nodded swiftly, and just like that, wandered out of sight and into dangerous territory. Hotch didn't like playing with fire like this, not one bit. But the job was the job. And the job hurt more often than it soothed.
They would learn that much too soon.
~.~.~
With every second that passed, with every heartbeat that quickened or ominously slowed, details of the case came flooding to the front of Hotch's mind, but even then he wasn't really thinking about them as clearly as he could or should have been. Serial power-reassurance rapist, obsessive-compulsive, preference for brunettes, submissive, even cowardly; the profile meant nothing at the moment. Nothing was even of the slightest importance anymore. Nothing but Emily.
As a Unit Chief, Hotch was getting really tired of having something like this happen; having the lives of one or more of his agents hanging in the balance, being jeopardized, because of his executive decision. It was too much to contemplate, too much to consider. He wanted to scream.
As a team mate, Hotch felt anxiety creep under his skin as he waited for a sign from two of his most brilliant agents. There was something off about the entire situation, something so perilously off-kilter; he wished he could have sent himself in in their place. Prentiss had had a point, though; one look at him and anyone could have guessed he was some sort of federal agent. It was too suspicious, and they had made enough risks as it was.
As one of Spencer and Emily's most trusted friends, their present situation put Hotch in a state of mind beyond worry. The silence was numbing. He felt bile rise in the back of his throat as he heard raised voices coming from the back of the house, just inches away from where he was crouched in wait. It wasn't Emily's or Spencer's voices that he heard; it was their unsub's, and it cut through flesh to shock bone. It was chilling. It was reminiscent to deadly.
As Emily's lover – or whatever he was now, Hotch didn't care at the moment, he couldn't think at the moment – he was petrified. The screaming blending in with Reid's then Emily's shouted orders was the last straw; he motioned the others in and silently, with SWAT following them like ghosts, they ran to her; and Reid, he mustn't forget about Reid. He ran to her, never knowing adrenaline like this. It was filling his veins, nearly overflowing. As he broke down the door, Hotch realized he was dangerously on edge –
And when Hotch heard the first gunshot, and saw his love's body fall in an arc to the cold, unforgiving floor, all he could do was scream.
"Emily!"
Author's Note: Welp. Reviews are love. The last of the Kiss the Cook cliffhangers...and it trumps all others. Please - take a moment to tell me what you think, even if you haven't before. No matter short or long, signed or anonymous; your feedback, comments, and suggestions are just the inspiration and motivation I need to finish this story. You all have supported me through this endeavor and I'm so very grateful. Thank you in advance!
