Author's Note: I'm honestly surprised I haven't been killed in my sleep by angry, passionate fans. That being said, thank you so much for your overwhelming support and feedback. As you all know, this story is coming to a close with only two more chapters (and an epilogue?) left in store; and rest assured, it will be smooth, sweet sailing for here on out. I think you'll enjoy this installment - and I just know you'll love the next one. Maybe I should post it on Valentine's Day. Would that be indicative of what the chapter contains? ;)
Anyway, thank you dearly for your time. Enjoy, my loves!
Disclaimer in Chapter One!
"Emily!"
Hotch didn't wait a single second to observe what was happening around him; he didn't see their unsub fall to the ground dead, nor did he hear anyone else's screams over the sudden ringing in his ears.
Only Emily's. He skidded to a stop at her side, dropping to his knees and clutching her hands in his as she gasped in a way that had him unbelievably terrified. "Emily," he breathed, eyes frantic. "Emily, look at me." The plea met her ears; but it just hurt so much to meet his gaze. A groan was torn from the back of her throat as he put pressure on her chest wound. It was almost as if she could feel the bullet embedded in her heart, burning through layers of skin, causing a mind-numbing prickling at the edges of her consciousness.
And the blood. It seeped and marred her precious skin. And as she lay sprawled out on the unforgiving floor, Emily realized just how scared she was. Scared, and suddenly so weak.
"Aaron." His name came out in a rasp, and she winced at how coarsely the sound fell upon her ears. "Aaron –"
"Emily, please hold on. An ambulance is on its way. Please." The guilt crushed his lungs and made it impossible to breathe. If only he hadn't let her go, if only he had made someone else go in her place – she would have been pissed, but she wouldn't have been like this.
Pain lashed at her, blinding her, crippling her. A chill began settling over her. "Aaron, if I don't make it –"
"Don't say that. Don't you dare." His order came out with a bruising sob. He hadn't even realized he was crying. "You're going to be absolutely fine. The EMTs are coming and we'll get you out of here, and –"
"Please shut up and let me talk." Her urging was rough, but her tone of voice, the look in her eyes – it was frighteningly soft and thready. Hotch squeezed her hand, but still tears burned his eyes; there was just so much blood. Thick, dark red, it tainted the air with the biting smell of rust, so heady he could taste it on his lips.
"I'm sorry," he mouthed; and it was like everyone had left them alone for this moment. No one else existed in their private world.
"I need you to know," Emily gasped out, biting her bottom lip hard when the pain doubled, then doubled again. "Aaron...oh," she shook her head, her hair clumping together and fanning out on the cold tile floor – white tiles that would likely forever be stained pink. "I need to tell you."
"Tell me what?" Please hold on; I need you, Emily. I can't let you go.
For a long moment, she didn't – couldn't – answer, and Hotch didn't know how to move or function. Then her voice broke through once more, quieter than it had ever been. "You've been...oh, God help me. You've been a real ass to me, Aaron Hotchner." Her lips quivered; her fingers trembled. "But somehow, when I do...some soul-searching, my answer is...always the same." She could see the look on his face, the way he apologized so earnestly with his handsome eyes.
She wondered briefly if that would be the last thing she ever saw.
"And then I realize –" Emily began to choke a little. Tears of her own wet her paling cheeks. Their gazes smoldered when they met with finality. She shuddered as Hotch brought her hands to his lips in a prayer and a kiss.
"I realize I never stopped loving you."
The admission was strikingly clear; and when she fisted a shaking hand in his shirt and tugged him down for what she was sure would be their last kiss, when she heard – no, felt – him whisper a teary "I love you so much more" against her skin, against her lips as she tasted him once more...she found herself just the slightest bit more prepared for the blackness that swallowed her whole.
Emily didn't hear the screams of her lover, nor did she see him roar at the EMTs to let him ride with her in the ambulance. She didn't know he never once let go of her hand.
She didn't know – for her heart didn't beat.
~.~.~
Aaron Hotchner was a ghost. He wandered the hospital with something like a heavy emptiness in his chest. It was like he had lost a part of himself – his soul. He weaved through one hall, then another, never realizing until much too late that her blood had dyed his dress shirt an unsightly red. It was everywhere on his body, under his skin and on his face and –
Suddenly worn to the bone, Hotch slumped against a wall far from everyone else but close enough to Emily, and sunk to the ground, his head in his hands. He had never been this way before; so sickened with worry, so uncomfortable in his own body. He had heard the things his team had begun to whisper; spot-on musings regarding him and Emily. They were certain now, certain that the two had done more than simply "know one another" before Emily's joining the Bureau. There was so much more. And suddenly, they knew it all.
Surprisingly, Hotch didn't mind one bit. He knew he would have to explain himself someday, but at the moment, he much preferred letting Rossi take matters into his own hands. After all, it wasn't as if they had really been discreet; the kisses, the touching, the tears – and Hotch's roar of, "You have to let me go with her, she's my fiancée." So what if it had been a little lie? He wasn't about to let himself be separated from Emily, not even for the short duration of the ambulance ride.
Hotch let out an audible groan, and the tears threatened to spill for a second time. He needed her to be okay; he would give or do anything. She didn't deserve to be the one who was always caught in the crossfires.
She didn't deserve torment like this.
And if they were on the subject of who deserved what, Hotch knew Emily deserved a man so much better than himself; Clyde Easter maybe, a disgusting voice piped up in the back of his mind. All this he knew. But he also knew he would fight to keep her. He would –
In his pocket, his phone buzzed then; and though he knew the hospital personnel wouldn't particularly appreciate him taking the call, he didn't give it much thought. How could he, when forming coherent thoughts had become such an impossibility? When all he could hear was Emily confessing her love for him, right before her breathing stopped?
Instead, he accepted the call without even looking at the caller ID; though it wouldn't have mattered if he had, for he wouldn't have recognized the number – or its New York area code.
"Hotchner."
A beat passed, then there was the obviously anxious clearing of a throat. "Hey, big brother."
Hotch froze. He wasn't sure Sean was something he could deal with at the moment – or really ever, but he would have to address him someday, he supposed. Conflict resolution seemed to be the recurring theme of his life as of late. "Sean," he greeted, then grimaced at the almost pathetically weary tone of his voice. Please, Emily. Please be okay.
"Em–Emily told me you were in town the other day." Despite the forced conversational tone, his mouth was suddenly so dry, saying her name, having it rest like a stranger on his tongue when he wasn't sure when he would be able to see her next – it was a pain he had never known.
Naturally, Sean was oblivious to his older brother's inner torment. He had not the slightest clue as to the hell that had manifested on the other line. "Yeah, I was. I was really disappointed that I couldn't stay for long; I was just passing through, and I really wanted to see you. But your phone was off the entire night. Apparently you were at a gala?" Closing his eyes for a bit, Sean began to pick at his nails. He would be lying if he said Hotch didn't intimidate him. There was no denying the fact that he had fucked up. And in this particular situation? Well, the possibilities were plenty and none were especially good.
For a long moment, Hotch was silent, having forgotten he was on the phone. Once again, there was her voice, haunting him: "I never stopped loving you. I never stopped loving you. I never stopped loving you."
"Aaron?"
"Hmmm?" He blinked. "Oh. Yeah, there was a Bureau gala that night." God, please. I know I haven't prayed in a while but please let her be okay. Give me her suffering instead. She needs to heal.
"...Aaron, are you okay?" There was just something about him that was strangely off. "You sound distracted. Do you want me to call back later?"
Yes. "No." Hotch pinched his brow hard. There was too much swimming through his mind at the moment; he was going to break, he just knew it. "Sean, we – we need to have this conversation."
Sean swallowed thickly. And there it was: his nightmare becoming a reality. "Yes, that's...actually why I called. I – how much else did Emily tell you about that night?" The question was tentative and yes, even a little bit scared.
It was a struggle for Hotch to keep his sanity in check. He didn't want to play any games like these with his brother. He wanted cold, hard facts. "She told me you kissed her."
Though he knew he deserved it, Sean was instantly sick to his stomach. Hotch's voice was indecipherable; he cursed profilers for always being unreadable. "Aaron...I've never regretted anything more in my entire life. It was a mistake. It was irresponsible, inconsiderate, and wrong. And I'm...really very sorry."
Hotch's jaw ticked a little at that. He believed his brother was being genuinely apologetic, but it just wasn't that easy. Then, for a second, he stiffened.
This must be what Emily felt like.
Yet again, he was assaulted with a pang of guilt – and love that Emily had blessed him with one last chance. He would prove to her that a simple 'I'm sorry' wasn't all he had in store. He would make everything up to her. He just needed time. "I love her, Sean. And you knew that."
"And she loves you, too. You're right, I do know that. And at the risk of sounding defensive, I know you're going to see this as some sort of cop-out, but I really wouldn't have done this if I hadn't been drunk. I wouldn't have been so selfish. I saw and understood how confused she was, how conflicted she seemed. That's it. I agree, I took things way too far; but I wouldn't have if I had been thinking straight."
Hotch's frown deepened; and this time, it was his turn to ask the question. "What did she tell you?"
Sean paused, choosing his words carefully. The last thing he wanted to do was provoke his brother even more. "She told me you had gotten back with Haley for a while."
Hotch cringed, then peered down the hallway to distract himself. When would they receive word of Emily's condition? He needed to know. "That was a lapse of judgment," he said curtly. "We've talked about it. I still have a lot of groveling to do, and you can bet I will willingly give her everything I have in me in the process, but I want to say things will heal with time."
"I hope so. You two were so good for each other; I'm sure that hasn't changed." A beat passed. "Listen, Aaron. Please…take care of her. Take care of her so you can take care of yourself. I know she means a lot to you. And I really am so sorry."
It was then that Hotch finally crumpled. The conversation had taken an unexpected turn, one he didn't particularly like; and now all he could think of was how he had failed miserably at doing just that – taking care of Emily. "I'm at the hospital right now, Sean." His voice broke.
"You're what?"
"I couldn't protect her." Footsteps came racing down the hall then, and Hotch was on his feet in a heartbeat, anticipation written clearly across his features. He couldn't possibly 'prepare himself for the worst', lest he truly go insane. "She's been in surgery for hours, and one of the doctors is coming out right now. I need to know – I have to go."
"Wh– Aaron–" Sean sputtered, obviously floored. "Call me when you have the chance."
"I will." Please God, let there be good news.
When the surgeon rounded the corner, an unreadable expression on his face, there was a brief moment when Hotch's heart plummeted to his stomach, when he wanted to give up – but only before those faithful words met his desperate ears.
"She's going to be okay, Mr. Hotchner."
He felt his knees go uncharacteristically weak; and when the other man reached out to steady him and began to explain Emily's situation, everything became a blur. A whirlwind of words telling him of a nicked lung, flatlining, bleeding that wouldn't stop, more scars to litter her always beautiful skin – it was all too much. He just wanted to see her, the love of his life. At the moment, he was but the shell of a living man. He would only be fully brought back to life once he could see his Emily for himself.
"Take me to see her."
~.~.~
He didn't mind in the slightest when he entered Emily's room and found her fast asleep. It was a comforting enough sight, though the wires, tubes, and IVs she was hooked up to made his heart wrench. A glance at the clock on the far wall told him it was two in the morning; and Emily needed her rest. She arguably deserved it more then than all of them combined.
The team had been respectably silent when he had passed them on his way to see her. She was only allowed one visitor at a time, and somehow, it had gone without saying that Hotch would be that one. Hours ago, he had urged the others to go home, promising them he would contact them when there was any bit of news, but they hadn't listened – and Hotch couldn't bring himself to be surprised. Only grateful. He wasn't thinking about them anymore, though.
He had eyes for only her.
It was with the utmost care that Hotch sunk into a chair beside her uncomfortably sterile bed. He drank her in then; the steady but shallow rise and fall of her chest, the new, more pronounced paleness in her face, the thin line of her lips. He knew from experience that she was both a fighter and a winner. But at that very moment, she looked like the most delicate and fragile of porcelain dolls.
He didn't want to break her.
So instead, he whispered his love of her in her ear, leaning close and linking their fingers together, needing that tiniest bit of connection to be able to live again. He reveled in the sight of her heartbeat monitor, for it showed him how strong she was. Every new beat filled him with that much more hope and faith.
"I believe in you, sweetheart," Hotch crooned, dropping a kiss in her hair. His exhaustion didn't register as he took what had to have been a full hour to gently caress her face with the touch of only a lover; any and all traces of somnolence disappeared the moment he saw her eyes flutter slightly. His breath caught at the back of his throat.
It took a millenium, but Emily did stir at his touch, whimpering a little as the bright hospital room lighting filtered in through her closed eyelids. When their eyes locked on one another, seeing each other as if for the first time, it took everything Hotch – and Emily – had to prevent from breaking down. Thank you, God.
Emily's fingers twitched as she stared at him for the longest of minutes. And then: "You're here," she croaked. Her mouth ached from the breathing tube the doctors had previously removed, but it was an annoyance she could easily disregard, especially with Hotch so close.
"I told you I'd never leave you." He gave her an achingly sweet smile.
"I told you that, too." Her gaze dropped to his lips; impossibly long lashes shrouded the pained expression in her eyes. "But for a second there, I thought I was going to have to break my promise."
Her whispering jolted him right down to the core. "I wasn't about to let you." Hotch willingly let her pull him closer. "I'm never letting you out of my sight ever again."
Even through the pain, he was able to make her lips curve into a slight albeit very tired smile. "So that's how this is going to be, then? With you being stubborn and entirely over-protective?" A shaking hand moved to his face, tracing the contours lightly but with a desperation that made him want to kiss her and never stop.
He moved his mouth to the inside curve of her wrist, finding the pulse point and reverently pressing his lips there. "Of course. Do you know me any other way?"
She bit her bottom lip, and her smile widened. "No, I suppose I don't." The teasing calmed her, made it possible for her to block out her surroundings and focus on just herself and the man in front of her. The man she loved and always had. "Speaking of which, I had a nurse tell me earlier that one of the doctors told her my fiancé bullied his way into the ambulance so he could stay with me." She raised an eyebrow. "I had no idea we were engaged."
Hotch laughed a little, and the sound soothed Emily's soul in a way she had missed for much too long. "About that. I, well, tried telling them I was your Unit Chief and that I should be allowed to ride with you so I knew how my agent was faring. They didn't seem to care. So apparently being your fiancé trumps being your boss."
"Seems like a logical conclusion." Her words slurred together a bit, and she wet her lips with her tongue, thanking Hotch with her eyes when he held a cup of water – just what she had been wanting – to her lips. Her mind particularly liked playing around with that idea; the idea of her in white with his ring on her finger. Once again, she found herself being inexplicably calmed.
Then she was struck with a sudden realization. "I guess they know about us now."
Hotch watched as she lolled her head to the side, burrowing back further into the pillow. "I guess they do."
A curious expression danced about with a sparkle in those beautiful eyes that would thankfully never dull. "You don't seem to be too worried."
He remembered the way his heart had beaten a terrible tattoo against his chest; he thanked his lucky stars that was the past. He would make sure they had so many things to look forward to – a happily ever after, if she would give him that blessing. A shuddery sigh left his lips. "I thought I was going to lose you. It's the least of my worries. Are you? Worried, I mean."
"Not at all." Emily closed her eyes, her lips curving a little more. She shifted in the bed then, wordlessly moving to make room so that he could lie down beside her. She wanted to be able to lean back against the sturdy wall of his chest, to feel his arms around her waist…
Overjoyed didn't seem to be a good enough word to describe Emily when Hotch instinctively understood her intentions. No more than a few seconds had passed before they were snugly sharing the bed, bodies aligned nearly perfectly. Her chest still ached and she figured it would for a while; but having him so close made everything better.
It was when she had successfully buried her face in the crook of his neck that Emily finally broke the silence. "I'm sorry for giving you a scare," she whispered against his skin. "I never wanted to hurt you."
"Hey." He thumbed her chin, bringing their lips delightfully closer. "Sweetheart, you have nothing to be sorry for. I just want you to be safe and sound, that's all." He was still such a gentleman; it filled her with the overwhelming urge to say those three words again, but she kept quiet for a little while longer.
Hotch, however, had no qualms. Pressing his forehead against hers, he muttered, "I'm just so glad you're okay. I don't know what I would've done if –" Her lips found the corner of his mouth then, and his eyes fell shut. "I love you, Emily."
"I heard you." Her voice was nearly inaudible. "When I was on the floor, bleeding out…" She shuddered when he turned his head, making it so that their lips met blissfully. "I heard you and it gave me all the strength I needed."
"You amaze me." Their kiss was sweet, delightful, perfect. He wanted to do nothing but worship her and nurse her back to health. He knew Emily Prentiss needed no protection; but he wanted so desperately to support her – to never leave her side.
Their kiss deepened, and Emily let out a little moan. "I love you, too, you know." She closed her eyes once more, masking a yawn. "So much." Too much.
"I know, Em." His kiss landed on her temple this time. "Now go back to sleep," he crooned. "I know you're tired."
Emily flushed a little, disappointed that he had seen her yawn. She wanted to stay up with him so badly…but sadly, she knew he was right. She was weary; their conversing would be much more productive in the morning. "I'll sleep if you promise me you won't stay here all night. You've got to be tired. That same nurse that let slip about my 'fiancé' – she told me you've been here, on high alert, since I was admitted. That's around seven hours, Aaron. Sleep."
"I don't think I can make you that promise." His fingers smoothed the skin of her cheek. "I'm never letting you out of my sight, remember?"
His quiet laughter made her smile, and slowly lulled her to sleep. "Right, you're stubborn and over-protective. How could I forget?"
"I don't know, sweetheart. I don't know."
Author's Note: Reviews are love, and you all are the absolute best. Please leave one, if you have the time; even if you've never before! I'd love to hear from you, no matter short or long, signed or anonymous. And really...thank you for absolutely everything. Two more chapters left. Let's do this.
