Chapter Twenty-Four

Emily hadn't had many jobs throughout her life. Moving as much as they did when she was a kid wasn't particularly conducive to building a well-rounded resume in her teen years. She also hadn't had to work. Hell, she wouldn't have to work now, but she chose to. Living on her mom's money had never been an option: even as a teenager, she'd only spent it to spite Elizabeth most of the time. Eventually, when she turned eighteen, she'd gone straight to Yale, visiting her mother only on the holidays and, once Yale was done, immediately into the Academy. So, Emily hadn't had many jobs throughout her life, but this one really had gotten under her skin.

Even before she started packing up her desk, Emily had known it was going to be a difficult job. As she packed photographs and memories into her little box, she felt as though she were packing up her entire life. The apartment had been packed for days, and hadn't taken up as much emotional energy as this was. Tickets from a comedy show she and Morgan had treated themselves to last minute, one weekend they miraculously had free. Trinkets Penelope had gifted to her after difficult cases, like the small red heart stress ball. She squeezed it, letting it expand in her hand, then put it to her nose. The strawberry scent was still there. Faint, but still there. There were so many coloured post-its that she couldn't count them. Notes she and JJ had passed back and forth, either during briefings, meetings or on the jet. JJ, she knew, also had a stash of them in her own desk. Emily glanced at a few, smiling down at her friends handwriting, before deciding she couldn't bring herself to throw any of them away, and then they all went into the box, too. The black box she pulled out of her desk and unfolded was the magnetic chessboard Spencer had bought for them when he grew sick of their pieces falling over during turbulence on the jet. Emily withdrew the king, walking to Spencer's desk and hiding it at the back of his top drawer. He would find it, one day, and smile, she hoped. Either that, or he would phone her and point out the illogical nature of the action; without a full chess set, she made the entire board redundant. And she would tell him that she couldn't bring herself to play chess with anyone else, anyway.

A small, square card. Embossed with a golden birthday cake and the words 'happy birthday'. Opening it, Emily traced the handwriting with her finger, feeling the deep indentation of the pen. She'd know his writing anywhere, after all these years, even if it wasn't signed.

Emily,

Happy Birthday.

Love, Hotch.

Her brown eyes lingered a moment on the words before that, too, joined the other items in her box.

"You're really leaving?" Prepared as she had been for it, the hurt in Reid's voice sliced right through her heart and Emily closed her eyes, glad of a moment to compose herself, before turning to face him. The small photo frame now in her hands, a gift from Dave for the same birthday she'd received the card from Hotch, which she was certain was an antique, and which contained one of their rare team photographs, hurt as she clung to it tightly. "You're leaving us? Again?"

"Spence-" Emily didn't really have the words to comfort him, or any excuses to offer him. There weren't any. This was a decision she had made knowing the hurt it would cause, and knowing there was no other option for her. "I got an offer I couldn't refuse." She shrugged, helplessly.

It wasn't a lie, not really. She had received a call from Clyde Easter a few weeks ago. He was stepping away from running the London Interpol office and had recommended her for the job. When he'd first called through, Emily had rolled her eyes and laughed him off with a sarcastic comment. She was happy and home. This, the BAU, was where she was supposed to be. That was what she had told him. This was family. But, even then, there had been a part of her that nudged, squirmed, didn't quite fit. So much had changed. Everything was different now. Everything. And not just because of Doyle.

In Reid's eyes, Emily could read all of the confusion and pain that told her that her excuses weren't enough. Emily's heart tightened and she opened her mouth to speak, taking a step towards him just as the doors behind him swung open and the rest of the team filed in. Morgan's face was dark. Behind him, JJ couldn't bring herself to meet Emily's eyes. Penelope, she could see, had been crying; her cheeks were flushed and her eyes wet with as yet unshed tears. Rossi looked resigned, and heaved a great sigh when she caught his eye, like he had known this was coming for a while. He had a habit of being able to read those things about people, so Emily suspected the older agent had probably sensed her discomfort even before she had. Damn profilers. Hotch's eyes, as usual, were unreadable.

"You told them," Emily nodded, grateful and resentful at the same time. He nodded, sharply.

"I thought it would be easier..." Hotch trailed off, uncharacteristically and, Emily thought, potentially for the first time in his life, lost for words.

He was right, and she hated him a little bit for it. This was easier than having to break the news to them herself, spineless as that might be. Now, they knew. Now, it was out in the open.

"There's nothing we can say?" JJ tried, bu it was a weak attempt, feeble. JJ knew the answer before the question left her lips. Her blue eyes tracked over Emily's empty desk, glancing over the items in the box. When she looked away, sharply, Emily knew she had caught sight of their post-it correspondence. JJ tried a smile, but the sadness in her eyes was obvious, and her bottom lip shook ever so slightly. Emily tried for words, failed, had to swallow heavily as her throat tightened with emotion.

"I love you," She finally managed. She thought she saw Hotch's eyes flit towards her a moment, but she couldn't bring herself to meet them. "All of you. So much. We're a family. But I can't just...I can't fall back into my old life and pretend nothing happened. I've been trying, really. I've been looking for houses...I thought putting down roots would...but I can't. I feel like a puzzle piece that doesn't fit into the puzzle anymore. And I don't wanna ruin any of this by trying to force myself to fit. I don't want to ruin this by trying to force more out of it."

The speech was for them all, and it was the truth, but she and Hotch both knew that the last part - that was for him. The office was quiet. Reid impatiently wiped at his eyes, strode past her to his own desk and sat on his chair. The rest of them watched as he spun around in his chair, recognising that he had checked out of the conversation in an attempt to protect himself. Emily hated that more than anything. She was just another person leaving him behind.

"When do you leave?" Penelope asked, from beside Hotch. Her voice shook with the effort it took to ask the question. Emily inhaled, deeply, before she answered.

"Tomorrow night."

The answer fell heavily onto their ears. JJ closed her eyes a moment in disbelief. Derek, who still hadn't said a word, scoffed lightly. It had been cowardly, booking a flight so soon, not giving them any time to process, but, for her own sanity, Emily needed to get away.

"How about one more family dinner before you leave?" Rossi stepped forwards and putting his hands on her shoulders, smiling that fatherly smile at her. His eyes crinkled at the corner and made her feel safe and warm. "I'll make your favourite, my Emilia. Carabonara à la Rossi."

More grateful for him than she had ever been, Emily reached up to take his hands in hers and smiled back at him. "That sounds great." She breathed.

"I'm up for that," JJ nodded, putting her hands into her pockets and swinging back and forth on her heels. "Will'll have the boys."

"Definitely," Penelope piped up, elbowing Morgan in the ribs when he didn't immediately reply. He scowled down at her, then his gaze returned to Emily, head resting on Rossi's shoulder, and his brow softened. Sighing, he, too, nodded.

"Sure, princess."

"Reid?" Rossi prompted the younger agent, still swinging around in his chair. Reid made a nondescript hand gesture, but Morgan muttered that he would make sure Reid found his way here.

"That sounds great, Dave," Hotch agreed, passing them and heading straight up for his office, indicating that their impromptu meeting had come to an end. As the others dispersed, Emily caught Rossi's gaze.

"Thank you," She muttered, so that only he could hear. His smile grew wider and his hands moved from her shoulders to her cheeks, cupping her face in his hands.

"Qualsiasi cosa per te."

Anything for you.

Dinner was, as always, a cosy, comfortable affair. At first, there was a heaviness to the air, as the reality of why they were there rested heavily upon their consciences. But, as the wine flowed and Rossi presented the with course after course of deliciousness, they settled into their usual routine of anecdotes and laughter. In the week since what Emily had begun referring to as 'the incident', her wounds had cleaned up a little bit, most of the bruising had faded to a pale yellow and her stitches were slowly dissolving. The slice across her arm was basically healed, aside from a small red scab. Whenever she caught herself in the mirror, though, her eyes were still drawn to the angry pink track across her throat. The doctors had assured her it would fade, that it wasn't deep enough to scar, but that it would take time. She could use oils to help it, they had told her. As a field agent, Emily didn't mind it. It was almost cool, a battle scar, if that sort of thinking wasn't so dismissive of the ptsd that followed an incident like the one she had endured. Her new job, however, was a lot of desk work, a lot of signing other people's field work off, a lot of interacting with very important people. It was, she thought, a good job that England was renowned for terrible weather; she would definitely be sporting turtle necks for a couple of months.

The wine was devoured swiftly, as was the food Rossi presented them all with. True to his word, he had made her favourite and Emily ate it down, thinking how much she was going to miss it. Not just Rossi's excellent cooking, but the group of them all being together. The hardest part of it was knowing these gatherings would take place, she just wouldn't be in attendance. Much as she knew that was her own fault, it didn't make the reality any more pleasant.

"We'll Skype you in!" Penelope suggested, when Emily voiced this to her and JJ. It fell out of her mouth so quickly that Emily thought she must have thought about it before she ever brought it up. They were sitting at the edge of Rossi's pool, feet dangling in the cool water, heels discarded nearby. Over on the decking, there was raucous laughter and the sound of Spencer trying to have his voice heard over it, but Emily couldn't make out exactly what was being said. Smiling at her blonde, bespectacled friend, she nodded.

"That sounds great. I'll just have to make do with Italian take out, instead of Rossi's incredible menu."

"Isn't it about time you learned to cook?" JJ told her, with a chuckle as she put her beer bottle to her lips.

"Says the girl who burns soup." Penelope jumped in, making Emily laugh and JJ splutter on her beverage.

"I've survived this long on take-out, room service and restaurants," Emily pointed out, "I think I'll be able to handle London. I know British food is, stereotypically, terrible, but they have take-out, just like we do. And their chocolate is the best." England had been one of Elizabeth's longer posts when Emily was a child, second only to Italy. As a result, London wasn't completely unfamiliar to her, which was making the move a little easier. It had never been difficult for Emily to up and move: it was all she knew, really. Throughout her childhood, she'd grown used to night flights and temporary accommodations and waking up of a morning to find furniture that didn't belong to them once again covered in plastic, staff packing up their belongings and her mother rushing her to get ready for a flight Emily didn't know they had to make. But this time, it was different. There was no post, no Elizabeth, no choices beyond her control. She had done this. This time, she was choosing to leave, choosing to leave behind the only real family she'd ever had. She was running away. JJ and Penelope were still talking about chocolate as all of this raced through her mind, but another round of laughter from the guys drew Emily's eyes and they landed on Hotch.

He had one hand thrust into the pocket of his dark jeans, the other wrapped around a bottle of beer, and seemed to be highly amused by something Morgan had said. Emily's breath caught in her throat for a moment, as she gazed at him over her shoulder, at the sight of that smile. Then, his eyes landed on hers and she couldn't help the magnetic smile that spread across her face in response. As she did, though, his lips fell back into a straight line and he averted his gaze. The swelling of her heart in her chest stopped, replaced by a cold feeling of rejection, and she turned back to JJ and Penelope to find them both looking at her, curiously.

"What was that about?" JJ asked, concerned and loose lipped thanks to the copious amount of wine she had consumed at dinner.

"Yes, what was that about, Emily?" Penelope pushed, incredulously. "Why do I feel like I'm out of the loop? Like, here there's a loop," Penelope drew a circle in the air, "And I'm not in it. I'm over here somewhere," She was waving a hand behind her head now, "And you two are in the loop together and I'm not and I would very much like to be in the loop, please. Like, now."

"Okay, I know we're outdoors, but, please, indoor voices, Penelope," Emily gestured with her hand to lower the volume while JJ unceremoniously clamped a hand over Penelope's mouth. "I will tell you, but you have to promise me you won't freak out. At least, not right here and now, okay?"

And then, it was all spilling out of her mouth, as though she had been holding it back forever, which it felt like she has. There was a coiled spring of tension in her stomach that had everything to do with her Unit Chief...former unit chief, and with every word, the spring loosened a little. Once she started talking, she found she couldn't stop it. She told them everything. His office, the plane, the elevator. Everything. Everything except all of the wonderful things Hotch had said to her that night in her hotel room. Everything else was physical but that. His words, those emotions. It would feel like betraying him to tell them that. Those words were just for her, for them. She could tell JJ and Penelope about every time he had touched her body, but when she opened her mouth to explain their conversation the night he'd showed up at her hotel room door, the words stuck like toffee in her throat. That felt like betrayal, somehow. He had said so little, but it had meant so much. JJ and Penelope didn't need to hear any of that.

"So, what now?" JJ asked, when she was finished. Throughout the story, both she and Penelope had leaned in, and Emily didn't think either of them had noticed. JJ, who had known bits and pieces already, looked shocked, having not realised the extent of all that had happened between her best friend and boss. Penelope looked absolutely catatonic. She stared at Emily, wide-eyed with amazement.

"I mean, I always knew you guys had chemistry," She said, finally, impressed, "But jeez, Em."

Emily scoffed aloud and put her beer bottle to her lips. Taking a long swig, her eyes wandered, once again, to the deck. This time, she found Hotch's eyes already on her and he held her gaze as she swallowed her beer, which was suddenly tasteless on her tongue.

"Chemistry," She repeated, before ripping her eyes away fro his, "Right."

"You didn't answer my question," JJ pointed out, having wrapped her head round all that Emily had told them.

"I know."

Penelope loudly and suddenly announced that she had to pee. They watched, amused, as she ran back towards the house, both smiling to themselves. Sometimes it was glorious just to witness Penelope being Penelope. Emily turned back to the bottle in her hands, kicking her feet slowly in the cool water of the pool, and began peeling at the label of the bottle; the smile was still on her face, but the sadness had returned.

"I'm really gonna miss you."

Emily couldn't bring her eyes up from the bottle when JJ spoke. Her voice was thick, like it had been in the hospital, like she had something caught in her throat. Suddenly, breathing was difficult.

"Don't do that," Emily spoke down to her lap, "You have to wish me well, or I'm not going to be able to go. You're my person, Jayje, you have to tell me it's okay to go. And we'll get to play Scrabble online, again."

"I wanna play real scrabble." Now, Emily could hear the tears. She looked up and met blue eyes, brimming over. Shuffling around the corner of the pool, Emily wrapped an arm around the blonde's shoulders and JJ's head cae down to rest on Emily's. JJ sniffed, then breathed deeply, thinking about how much she would miss the smell of Emily's perfume that she had grown so accustomed to over the years. She'd missed it so much in the seven months Emily was in WITSEC, and now she would have to miss it again.

Emily closed her eyes as her own tears threatened, turning her head and kissing JJ's blonde crown, a stray tear managing to leak out of the corner of her eyes.

"I'm really going to miss you, Cheeto-breath."

Sorry to the person who reviewed and said they could see an end to the angst..

thank you all for the continued support with this fic! I'm going to start trying to post once a week, as I think that's a schedule I can stay on top of without putting pressure on myself!

Wash yer feckin' hands

(and leave a review)

Steph x