Chapter 38: Read My Mind

Slipping in my faith until I fall

He never returned that call

Woman, open the door, don't let it sting

I wanna breathe that fire again

She has a splitting headache, thanks to Joe Smith taking a 2x4 right to her head.

Logical consequences, Emily reminds herself, holding the ice pack to her temple and doing her best not to wince as the paramedic treats the gash on her forehead. Aaron has remained only a few feet away from the ambulance the entire time, and she's smart enough to know why. He keeps a close eye on the paramedic who checks her out, his jaw set firmly as they assess her injuries and treat the copiously bleeding contusion on her forehead.

"Does she have a concussion?" He asks, not for the first time, pacing in a circle.

"It's likely," the medic says, finishing applying the makeshift band aid on her forehead. "She's going to need to be watched pretty closely for a little while."

Aaron nods without saying a word, just continuing to pace back and forth, checking his watch every few moments.

To anyone else, it looks like he's showing concern for his subordinate who came very close to a far worse outcome than this. To both of them, it's so much more than a casual brush with a serial killer, but years of tension threatening to spill over, blurring any boundary or objectivity that may exist between two colleagues.

Aaron is barely aware of the fact Strauss is watching his every move like a hawk. She's clearly out of her element in Milwaukee, too. They can't help but snicker at just how out of place she looks among the rest of the team and the city police, with her fancy clothes and not a hair out of place. But luckily, she doesn't say much as Joe Smith is paraded out of the house in handcuffs, her mouth pressed into a thin, albeit relieved, line.

Emily smirks at Strauss's clear discomfort, but that just exacerbates the throbbing in her head. Next time, she thinks, don't go into an unsub's house unaccompanied and unarmed. Except she knows she'd do it again in a heartbeat if she had to. They all would.

"How's your head?" Aaron asks a few moments later, still looking woefully concerned.

"I'll live."

His grimace tells her he saw right through that lie. "You're taking it easy the next few days. And you're going to be cleared by a doctor before I let you go back in the field." He doesn't miss the slight roll of her eyes, nor the tiny frustrated sigh.

"Is it weird I'm glad to be back?"

"I'll make sure it stays official," is what he says, but there's a small grin on the corners of his lips too, which confirms for her what he's really thinking.

He just might be glad too.

"Strauss is coming," Emily murmurs, just loud enough for him to hear, keeping her eyes on their boss, whose behavior since they'd arrived in Milwaukee is anything but bosslike. It's clear she's hardly spent a day in the field. "Maybe stop looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" Aaron asks, his hand sliding back to his gun out of habit.

"Like you aren't sure if you want to rail me or ream me out."

"I'm not looking -" he starts, but it's too late, because Strauss is right behind him, clearing her throat.

"I can't officially approve of how this transpired," she says, but Aaron knows it's a concession on her end. She's going to look the other way, and in a few days, it'll almost be like none of this even happened.

Because he's damn good at this job, and maybe Strauss is finally realizing it, too.

But he nods anyway, agreeing with her stipulations and and she's too preoccupied with bureaucracy and protocol to notice he barely even makes eye contact with her at all.

...

Only after they land in Quantico, standing in the empty Bureau parking lot does Emily realize she has no way of getting back to her apartment in Arlington. He'd picked her up, brought her here. It seems like days ago, when in reality, it's only been hours.

"I'll take a cab," she says weakly, knowing it won't be enough to get him off her back. "Don't worry about me."

"Don't give me that bullshit." Aaron is already reaching for her bag and his, his face eerily determined. "I'm taking you home."

It's not even worth the headspace to argue at this point, so she just nods, mumbling a thank you as he leads her in the direction of his car.

They make it back to her place without any major issues, thankfully, even if they hardly speak more than ten words to each other throughout the trip. At least 95 is fairly empty, a rare yet welcomed occurrence. He carries her bag up the steps, keeps a watchful eye as she unlocks the door, and much to her surprise, follows her right into her apartment.

"What are you doing?" she asks, temporarily stunned by both his boldness and also how casually he does it, even though she shouldn't be. No, this is who he's always been.

"Getting you settled." He says it as if he's explaining to a child why the sky is blue.

"I can settle myself, you know." It feels so wrong to close the door, almost as if they're luring one another into a trap, a test of whose will is stronger. It would be so easy. Just a few wrong moves would be all it takes. A weak moment that would change everything.

"I know. But you won't because you're too damn stubborn. You'll brush it off because you won't let anyone help you, because in your eyes, that makes you weak." He sets her bag at his feet, and Emily wonders if he's purposefully blocking her bedroom door with his body. He's forcing me to talk to him, she thinks, annoyed he still sees through her so easily.

"What would Haley say if she knew where you were right now?" Emily challenges him because he's in her apartment now, behind a closed door, for the second time, and it's the very last place he should be.

"Are you going to take care of yourself for a change?" He challenges her right back, partly because he is concerned about her and partly because she's touched a nerve, and she knows it. "Take it seriously that you got lucky today? And next time could be very different if you're not careful?"

"If this is how you're going to act every time I get a scratch from now on, we're going to have a problem."

"A scratch? I'd say we're a step or two beyond scratches, Emily." He shakes his head in disbelief. Scratches. She's out of her mind.

"Jesus Christ, Aaron. I can take care of myself. I don't need -" She stops suddenly, as a wave of dizziness shoots through her without warning, a blur behind her eyes that clouds her brain, taking both thoughts and air right out of her. It's intense, disorienting, and deep breaths don't want to come. "Damnit," Emily mutters, briefly closing her eyes, leaning against the counter for support. It's been years since the last concussion she'd endured at the hands of another abusive son of a bitch, but she of all people should remember what it's like.

He nods, as if assuring himself his measures are justified. "I rest my case." Satisfied, yet still concerned, he takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over the back of the barstools. "I told you."

"Maybe you're right." She's still leaning on the counter a little more heavily than she would have preferred. "I do feel like shit."

"You have a concussion," he repeats patiently, his tone softening. "Comes with the territory." Aaron eyes her carefully. "You really shouldn't be alone tonight."

"Well …" she looks around, her shoulders rising in a shrug. "You see anyone else around?"

"No. That's why I'm staying with you," he says, in a voice that leaves little to no opportunity to resist. She opens her mouth, a rejection brewing on her lips, but he holds up his hand. "It's not up for debate."

It only annoys her more, and she folds her arms across her chest in defiance. "What about Haley? And Jack," she adds for emphasis, realizing she's never actually seen what his son looks like. Does he look like him? A dark eyed, dark haired, mini Aaron with dimples? Or is he all Haley? Blonde and blue eyed? She wonders, ignoring the fact that her head is starting to ache even more.

He looks guilty, his eyes shifting away from her just enough to tell her it's on his mind. Of course it is.

"Aaron." She pushes him because she knows how to, the same way he knows how to push her. "You need to go home to your wife. And your son. They need you. Not me."

He stares at her for a long moment, before managing to get some part of the truth out. "We …I'm not ... I left." The way he stumbles over words is uncharacteristic, the look of helplessness that clouds his face is concerning. "I left."

Her eyes pop open, and if he's not mistaken, she sways on her feet just a little. If profiling wasn't his career, he wouldn't notice the subtle things that give away the fact his last words have shaken her nerve. "You … you left? You left Haley? When did that happen? You didn't tell me that."

"No. I didn't leave Haley. Not like that." He has to backtrack, because it's come out all wrong, and she looks more than confused. It's hard enough for him to process it all, let alone explain it to her of all people. He pinches the bridge of his nose with frustration and attempts to wrap his mind around the words he'll need to explain this one. "I didn't … leave her. But I left."

Emily shakes her head in bewilderment. "Are you listening to yourself, Aaron? Because you're making absolutely zero sense. I know my head is a little banged up at the moment, but you should hear yourself."

"I left for Milwaukee."

"Right …" She looks totally lost by now, and he quite frankly doesn't blame her. He's talking in circles. "Again, I'm not following what you're saying."

"Haley gave me an ultimatum."

"Which was?"

"She walked in on me packing to leave, and got angry. I told her I was going to Milwaukee because the team needed me. She told me I always had to be the hero."

Emily can't help but snort ungracefully. "She's not wrong, you know."

He ignores her little barb, shaking his head. "She said a happy life wasn't enough for me. I think that was her last straw, and I'm almost positive she didn't think I would go. But I did."

She doesn't say anything, just nods, taking it all in. "I see." It's noncommittal at best. Typical Emily.

"Is that all you're going to say?"

"What else would you like me to say, Aaron? Would you like me to congratulate you for leaving your wife in the heat of an argument? Pat you on the back? What kind of woman would that make me?"

"I thought you'd be a little more supportive."

"I don't really know what to say," she says honestly, if a bit awkwardly. "Plus, my support is not what you need in this kind of situation."

"Thanks," he mumbles lamely, resting his head in his hands. "Good to know." He has a headache now, too, the constant back and forth between them both exhausting, especially after the day they've had.

Emily needs something to do to keep herself from screaming, so she paces through the kitchen, and swipes a bottle of something off the counter, studying the label. "You want a drink? I could go for one."

"You can't drink with a head injury, and I'm fine, thank you." Aaron is suddenly behind her, taking the bottle from her gently, setting it on the counter. "But nice try."

"You don't know for sure that I even have one," she grumbles, attempting an argument, when a second bout of dizziness tears through even faster than the first. And this time she nearly loses her footing, taking a few shaky steps forward, only to completely stumble head first toward the counter.

"Whoa," Aaron says, reaching for her just in time to keep her head from smashing into the counter, taking them both to the ground in a less than graceful heap. She's in his arms now, close enough to kiss, one hand protecting the back of her head and the other wrapped around her body, holding her right to his chest. "Well, that might be my proof right there." Their eyes meet for one long, intense moment, and it almost hurts him to look at her.

What the fuck was I thinking?

"But we can't have you hitting your head again, can we." He pushes some of her hair that's stuck in the band aid away from her face, still holding her in his arms, because now that she's there, regardless of how, he's not quite ready to let go. His thumb smoothes over the band aid almost reverently. "Two head injuries is enough for one day, right?"

"Sorry," she mumbles, awkwardly twisting out of his firm hold and leveling on her feet, taking a few cautionary steps. "That wasn't supposed to happen." It's the way she puts a few extra feet of space between them that whatever he felt just a moment ago, she felt it too.

"Emily, if it happens again I'm taking you to the -"

"Aaron, I swear to God, if you're going to worry all night, one of us isn't going to make it to the morning." She brushes him off, reaching for the water glass on the counter. "And it'll probably be you."

He's still standing close, hovering next to her in case she falls again. "Maybe we should sit down." His hand is still resting on her back; it's making her heart start to race, and it's not because of her head this time.

"Actually," Emily says slowly, shaking her head as if to make sense of it all. "I think I want to lay down. I'm so tired … and I'm so over today." But then something else comes to mind, and when she meets his eyes, he sees apprehension and doubt. "But … what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Where are you going to sleep?" She almost looks scared to hear his answer.

"On the couch," he says smoothly, sounding much more assured than he feels.

She nods, giving him a wary, shaky smile, as if she's not fully convinced. "Okay. I think there are some extra pillows somewhere. Just to warn you, it's not very comfortable."

"I'll worry about it later. Let's just get you settled." Her couch is the least of his concerns at this point.

He sits on her bed, perched on the edge while she slowly goes through her nighttime routine - washing her face and brushing her teeth, pulling out a pair of sweatpants and a shirt from the dresser. She glances at the clothes in her hands, then at him, then down at the clothes again, with a slightly embarrassed frown.

"What's wrong?"

"Can you ... turn around? I probably shouldn't … you probably shouldn't watch … you know." Her cheeks turn the slightest shade of pink. "Right?"

Oh. Right. "Sorry," he mumbles, facing the other side of the wall as he hears the swish of fabric being pulled down and up and over. "It's kind of like old times, you know."

"What? Me taking my clothes off in front of you?"

He laughs for the first time in hours, maybe even days. "That's not what I was going to say, no." He swallows, trying not to think about it for too long.

"Then what were you going to say?" The other side of the bed dips down, and when he turns, she's changed, and is tucked underneath the covers, her dark hair spread across the pillow. She looks completely serene, relaxed, and for the first time in a long time, almost content.

There's a brief pause, because he can't actually say what's on his mind. "Nothing. Just … forget it." He gets up to leave, but grabs his arm and holds him in place.

"Thank you for staying, Aaron." She reaches up, fingertips brushing his cheek that is now dusted with the slightest five o clock shadow of stubble. "You're always so ...patient. I don't know why you do it."

He sighs, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. "You know why, Emily."

And then he leans down and kisses her, right on the lips, using his hands to brace himself on either side of her head. Much to his surprise, she kisses him back, bringing her hand to the back of his neck, digging her nails into his skin. This one is different from the one in his office - it's slower, less urgent, but he doesn't mind because it gives him a chance to savor it, commit it to memory. He pushes her back and eases her down and now both of her arms are closing around him as she nips at his lips, tentatively, until he pulls at her hair, tipping her head to leave a series of kisses along her neck before going back to her mouth again.

Aaron gets a free hand underneath her oversized t-shirt and pushes the fabric up, his fingers sliding up the smooth skin of her stomach and then to her breast. Emily gasps into his mouth at the contact, and moans when he pinches her nipple. She presses up and into him, and he gets another hand underneath of her, tightening his hold around her until her body is practically melded against his. There's the familiar scent of her flooding his senses and he groans as if he's in pain when she sucks at his bottom lip with her own.

But it all comes to a screeching halt when she freezes beneath him, every muscle in her body tightening. "Aaron," she whispers, looking directly in his eyes with her own widened ones, pushing her right hand into his chest. "Come on. You can't."

He pretends not to hear her, moving his mouth down to her neck again and his hand to her other breast, and she slaps his chest this time, more forcefully than intended but it does the job. "Aaron."

That stops him, and he pulls away reluctantly, staring down at her to find her eyes full of remorse.

"You know we can't do this." She shifts underneath of him, doing everything she can not to look at him. "Please, stop." She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, turning away pointedly.

She's right. "You're right. I'm - I'm sorry, Emily. I - I didn't mean - I'll go." Fuck. What was I thinking? He swallows, moving his hand from under her shirt, standing as she pulls the covers up higher around her, looking in any direction but his. "Can I get you anything? Water? Another pillow?"

She shakes her head, still unable to meet his gaze, her voice a whisper. "I'm okay."

"I'll be in the living room if you need anything. Just yell."

He leaves the door open just enough to hear the deep, even breaths that tell him she's asleep within minutes, and he settles in for a long night on the couch. Knowing she's less than twelve feet away, tucked in bed while he lays awake is like a cruel joke.

He checks on her a few times to make sure she's still breathing evenly - concussions are nothing to mess with, and this isn't her first, or her second, he reminds himself. When he's certain she's soundly resting, Aaron turns off the living room light, knowing sleep most likely won't come for a while.

He tosses and turns all night.

His cell phone is what wakes him up the next morning, and it takes a moment for him to remember where he is. It's loud, practically right next to his head, and he fumbles for it as his eyes slowly open. The screen is blurry but it's still ringing, and all he wants is to quell the offensive noise. What time is it?

"Hotchner," he grunts, without bothering to see who is calling. There are only a handful of people who would call him at this hour; none of whom he chooses to talk to right now. He's going to make this as quick as possible.

"Aaron?" The voice on the other line is one he knows, yet he can't place. Whoever it is, they do not sound at all pleased to hear his voice.

He turns the phone over in his hand, then looks at the screen. Fuck.

"Allison?"

"Yes, it's Allison. Why are you answering Emily's phone?"

Son of a bitch. He answered Emily's phone. They must have gotten switched, he realizes with dread, seeing his phone on the counter just a few feet away, turned off. The same black phone, similar case. Her phone must have been on the coffee table. How could we be so stupid? It's an honest mistake, but a mistake nonetheless. And now, he has a hell of a lot of explaining to do.

"Allison - "

"Can you put Emily on the phone?" She sounds significantly more annoyed than had just moments before. "Please?"

By now Emily is awake too, stumbling out of the bedroom, her hair mussed from sleep and clothes twisted around her body. The second she catches sight of Aaron, she knows something is wrong. "Who is it? She yawns, looking pale. The band aid on her forehead has come off, revealing the nasty gash with dried blood all around it.

"It's for you," he mumbles, brushing past her with his hand over his eyes. This is not happening. "It's Allison."

Allison? She groans, connecting the dots instantly, slowly bringing the phone up to her ear. She can practically see the disappointment in her friend's face. This will be fun.

"Hello?"

"Why is Aaron in your apartment?"

"Good morning to you too, Al." Emily pads over to the fridge, looking for water, but Aaron has beat her to it, handing her a glass filled to the top. She nods in appreciation, bracing for the lecture on the other end of the phone as she takes a sip.

"Emily, I don't have time for this. Can you please explain to me why Aaron Hotchner of all people is in your apartment? And why is he answering your phone at seven in the morning?" Her voice is full of accusation, even if it's thinly veiled as confusion.

"Before you jump off a conclusion cliff, back up." She sounds ridiculously defensive, which will only make Allison more suspicious. "Let me just say, he slept on the couch."

"Do you even have a couch? Wasn't your apartment almost empty for a little while?"

"I do in fact have a couch now, Allison. And I can explain."

From his place by the fridge, Aaron gives her a quizzical stare as he begins searching for what she assumes is something to make for breakfast. Good luck, she thinks, picturing the empty shelves in her fridge and pantry.

He's rolling his eyes in frustration at her lack of any real food, mumbling something about going shopping. Chuckling to herself, Emily disappears into her bedroom, the phone held between her ear and shoulder.

"Oh my God." She sighs. "I swear, Emily, it's never a dull moment with you."

"What's going on? It's … Thursday, right? Aren't you supposed to be in court?"

"It is in fact Thursday. I have a hearing later this morning. Emily … what is he doing in your apartment?"

"Why don't you tell me why you called first? Clearly there's something you needed."

"I called you because Haley called me not too long ago. She's frantic. Apparently Aaron didn't come home last night after your case. She asked if Shane heard from him at all, which he hadn't."

"I see."

"And since you two work together, which, for the record, I still don't understand, I thought you might know where he is."

"Makes sense."

"And clearly, I was right."

"I can explain." Emily peers through the cracked door to where Aaron has busied himself with breakfast, judging by the scent wafting through the door, the sound of cabinets being opened and a pan scraping against the stove.

"Oh, please do. You do know how bad this looks, right?"

Her headache, which hasn't quite dissipated, is threatening to come roaring back with a vengeance. "We had a case in Milwaukee," she begins slowly, wondering just how much of this story she should share.

"Explain that to me. Haley told me Aaron got suspended. What the hell was he doing in Milwaukee?" Allison sounds ridiculously confused; Emily can't blame her. It's all so fucked up.

"He did get suspended, and I quit, but that's beside the point."

"You quit? Already? Wait … Do you ever just ... I don't even know what to say, Emily. Just keep talking."

"Long story short, we went to Milwaukee. Some guy was carving women's hearts out of their chests, and the team needed us."

"Jesus Christ, Emily, I'm eating," Allison groans. "Warn me next time before you start in with something like that. I still can't believe you deal with this stuff every damn day."

"I got into a little altercation with this …the guy... And he hit me over the head with a 2x4. I most likely have a concussion. Aaron drove me home from Quantico, and when we got back I got really dizzy and almost hit my head again. He didn't want me to be alone all night. So … he stayed over. On the couch."

There's a long pause. "Okay. Well, that's a whole hell of a lot to unpack," Allison says, sounding somewhat intrigued. "But I'm going to stick to the main points for the sake of time. First of all, you need to see a doctor at some point about your head. Don't give me any shit about it. You know concussions are nothing to mess with."

Emily rolls her eyes. "Fine."

"Second," she says tentatively, as if deciding how far to push things. "Emily, Aaron is married, in case you haven't forgotten. He shouldn't be in your apartment at all, regardless of the fact he stayed on the couch."

"What did Haley tell you?" Emily asks, even though it probably doesn't matter. It's not going to fix any of this.

"She told me they had a fight and he left, even though he was suspended. She was not happy. She called one of your team members when he wasn't answering his phone last night. Apparently, he told her you were getting home this morning, but your teammate told Haley you all got home last night. She panicked. So what the hell is going on, Emily?"

"I didn't talk to him about Haley," Emily winces at the half truth she tells so easily, bringing her knees up to her chest. "I have no idea what he told her." In all honesty, she's annoyed at him now, too, for making this even more complicated.

"Haley and I aren't all that close, but I have to call her back, what do you suggest I say? Do you expect me to lie to her? She's not going to take well to knowing her husband is at his … his … your apartment."

"I don't know, Allison." Emily massages her pounding temples. "Aren't you supposed to be the convincing one? Being a lawyer and all?"

"I really don't want to be in the middle of this, Emily. But here I am, getting dragged in. You're playing with fire. And if you keep sneaking around with Aaron, things are going to blow up. And someone is going to get hurt."

"There's nothing to get in the middle of. We're not sneaking around," Emily says evenly. She doesn't have to know that we kissed. Twice.

"Clearly that's false," Allison scoffs. "Him being there with you at all is the definition of sneaking around. You're smart, Emily. You know the man's loved you since the day I nearly threw up all over him in your mom's house. Probably before that. I don't doubt you're in a ridiculously tough situation, because let's be honest, you love him too. You've never stopped. But … really. Don't let this go too far. Please. I'm begging you."

From her place on the bed, she can see Aaron hard at work, busily mixing into a bowl while something sizzles on the stove, immersed in the task, looking as if he hasn't a care in the world. Maybe she's right.

"You're right," she mumbles, feeling defeated, wishing she'd never agreed to any of this in the first place.

"I'll call Haley and tell her Shane still hasn't heard anything. But Emily, please don't put yourself in a situation you can't find your way out of."

She says nothing, just keeps watching Aaron in the kitchen.

"Are you there, Em?"

"Yeah," Emily says, a lump rising in her throat. "I'm here."

"I have to get going. Call me later. It's going to be okay."

No it won't. The amount of effort it takes to get out of bed again is shocking, but when she's finally standing in front of him, her arms wrapped around herself defensively, all she feels is regret. For all of this.

"You have to leave," Emily says before she can stop herself, hating the way her voice rises with a slight hint of panic. "We can't do this."

"What?" He turns around, spatula in hand, looking strangely at home in the middle of her kitchen. "What's wrong?"

"You heard me. We can't do this."

"Can't eat breakfast? I'm almost done cooking. You really need to go grocery shopping, by the way." He reaches for plates on the counter, flips whatever is in the pan. It smells faintly of pancakes but the thought of food makes her nauseous.

"You have to leave," she repeats, all of this becoming overwhelming and her heart starts to race. "Please just go."

"What the hell are you talking about? Is this because of your phone call with Allison?"

She feels the sudden need to cover herself up, reaching for the sweatshirt on the chair. "Haley is looking for you, Aaron. She's frantic and quite frankly, I don't fucking blame her." Emily taps the ground with her toe, playing with the waistband of her sweatpants.

"What did Allison say?" He slams the spatula down tersely, and it rattles against the counter.

"Haley called her."

His jaw flexes; he clearly wasn't expecting that. "Haley called Allison?"

"Yes. Asking her if Shane knew where you were. Imagine Allison's surprise when she found out you're here, with me." She moves away from him, as if distance will make a difference at this point. "What did you tell Haley, Aaron? Where does she think you are?"

Aaron pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply, pacing in a circle. "I told her we were coming back this morning." He looks completely torn, as if he's being forced to make an impossible choice. "I don't know how she found out. I should have told her the truth."

"Oh, Garcia told her. Haley called her last night asking what was going on. And you're damn right, you should have. What about your child, Aaron? This isn't just about you two or us or the three of us, you know," Emily snaps. "How can you be so cavalier? You're better than that."

It's the disappointment in her voice that makes him cringe; he bows his head in agreement. "You're right, Emily. But you shouldn't have been alone, either. I took you to Milwaukee. I'm the unit chief. I'm responsible for what happened there."

"I'm the one who agreed to go into the house, Aaron. I made the decision. I can live with the consequences."

"But you still shouldn't have -"

"You don't get it, do you?" Emily folds her arms over her chest, incredulously staring him down. "You shouldn't be here at all, and we both know it. Don't even try to deny it."

"What are you saying?"

"What I'm saying," Emily says, drawing a ragged breath. "Is that one of these days, we're going to make a mistake we can't take back." She sinks into one of the stools, defeated. "It's only a matter of time."

He switches the stove off, disappointment and something else lining his face. Something that looks similar to the one that had been on hers the night he came to her apartment to tell her he was seeing Haley. It's not what she expected to see, and doesn't give the satisfaction she'd always anticipated it would. "Fine," he says eventually, giving her a long look. "If you want me to go, I'll leave."

"Go for your family, Aaron. Not because of me. Go because it's the right thing to do."

He's already finding his jacket and grabbing his keys from the counter. "Then I'll see you at work," he says bluntly. "Take care of that head wound. It might need to be stitched."

She closes the door behind him, flipping the deadbolt on afterthought. With a sigh, she sinks to the ground, holding her head in her hands.

"Where the hell were you?" Haley asks the second he comes through the door. "You know I've been worried sick right?"

"Milwaukee," he says sharply, dropping his bag on the ground, looking around the clearly empty house. "Where's Jack?"

"He spent the night with Jessica. And try again. Penelope told me you got home last night, which is not what you said when I talked to you on the phone. You said you'd be home early this morning. Care to explain that?"

"When did you call Garcia?" He hardly has a leg to stand on at this point, having been caught in a massive lie.

"Late last night. I got worried when I didn't hear from you. I thought you were at the hotel, but you weren't picking up your phone. So I called her. You lied right to my face, Aaron. What the fuck is going on?" She looks exhausted, judging by the dark circles ringing her eyes.

"It's a long story," he says, striding into the kitchen for a bottle of water. "We ran into some issues in Milwaukee. Someone got hurt, and I had to sort a few things out."

"All night?" She spits with disbelief. "Don't lie to me again, Aaron. You were with Emily, weren't you?"

"Wasn't it you who said I always had to be the hero?" Aaron holds her gaze, using her own words against her and she sneers right back. "A member of my team got injured while we were away. Part of my job is to ensure their safety and well being."

Haley's voice is full of disdain. "And JJ couldn't have done that? Or Garcia? It just had to be you, Aaron? I'm sure you were more than happy to come to her rescue," she snaps. "In fact, I'm sure it was your idea in the first place."

"Haley -"

He's cut off by the phone that starts ringing on the coffee table, and he reaches for it, grateful for the brief interruption. "Hello?"

No answer, and whoever it is hangs up immediately. He takes a deep breath, setting the phone down, turning back to Haley. "Haley, I told you the -"

Now there's another ring, this one different - Haley's cell phone is ringing in her purse. She stands still, frozen in place, staring between him and her purse, arms crossed defensively.

Interesting.

"Are you going to answer that?" Aaron asks suspiciously, his jaw tightening. "Could be important."

"It's nothing," Haley snaps quickly, shutting the phone off without answering it. "Prank call, I guess."

"Right." When he looks at her, she's staring at her feet, the phone in her hands.

It's not even worth starting a second argument.

I'm going to take a shower." He turns on his heel, starting up the stairs, leaving Haley in the middle of the living room. "When I'm done, I'm going to pick up Jack from your sister's. He doesn't need to be there all day."

"We're not going to talk about this?"

"I think we've said everything that needs to be said."

...

Potomac Mills is the very definition of madness on a normal day; being there for a case is a special form of hell. The fact that it involves a missing child makes it even worse.

There's something off from the beginning, ever since they arrived hours ago. The parents know too little, the aunt and uncle know too much, and the boy - Jeremy - is clearly hiding something from everyone. Aaron has a bad feeling about it but tries to push the worst out of his mind because that's never helped solve a case before. All they can do is what they know, going through the protocols and questions and hope it's enough.

In the end, Emily is the one beside him when he starts to sense what might actually be happening here, and her eyes darken impossibly when he suggests separating the family. Soon after that, it all starts to make perfect, sickening sense. When they finally find Katie Jacobs, she watches with a chilling stare as he starts CPR. Aaron is certain he'll never forget the way the girl's parents sob with relief when the monitor starts beeping normally, indicating that she will in fact make it. It's every parent's worst nightmare; they're the unlucky ones who have to deal with the repercussions.

"I know it's not easy," Aaron says quietly, once he and Emily have a quick moment alone, after Katie has been taken to the hospital, her aunt and uncle arrested. He'd found her sitting on a bench a short distance away from the mall entrance, wringing her hands with a despondent face. She didn't give him an invitation to sit down but he did anyway, a gentle attempt to break down one of the walls that have gone back up since what happened in her apartment after Milwaukee. "Cases like this never are, you know." He knows she struggles with the ones involving children. They all do, but for her, it's a different kind of pain. How can she not, when she'll most likely never have one of her own? "What you're feeling is normal," he tries once more, because she's been sitting in silence on that bench for the last fifteen minutes, staring off into the dark night.

"Don't profile me, Aaron." Emily's tone is biting; her eyes are dark, defeated and distant. "Go home. Go hug your son. That's where you belong."

What she (or anyone else) doesn't know is that Haley and Jack moved out two weeks ago.

Emily decides right away she likes Dave Rossi.

The man is practically a legend in his own right, and of course she's read all of his books voraciously, multiple times. Even if he gives off cold, emotionally unavailable vibes thanks to his taupe walls that have still yet to be painted, there's a soft side to him she's been privy to a few times since his arrival in the BAU. What she likes most about Rossi is the fact that he's always thinking, analyzing what's around him. He sees everything, says very little, and while normally it would unsettle her, it's a refreshing change. And luckily, Rossi takes an immediate liking to her, too.

Aaron, on the other hand, isn't as thrilled to have his old friend back. He has a history with Dave, having worked together a few years ago, back when he was new to the bureau and madly in love with Haley, or so he'd thought. And right away, as Aaron feared, he picks up on the fact that something is very much off. One of the other things Dave notices is how Aaron's eyes linger on Emily during a briefing for just a few moments too long, and ever since that moment, he's been keeping a discrete, yet watchful, eye on them both.

"So, what's the story with you and Emily?" Dave asks, a little more than a week into his return to the BAU. He's holding a full glass of whiskey, sitting in one of the chairs across from Aaron's desk long after everyone else has gone home.

"Excuse me?" His own drink nearly falls right out of his hands.

"Aaron, I've been doing this before you were born." Dave jokes with a satisfied smirk on his face. "I might be a little rusty, but come on. Clearly there's something there."

"Dave," he begins, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. "Tonight isn't the best time to - "

"You said you didn't have any plans," Dave laughs, leaning back in the chair. "I thought that's why we decided to do this." He's amused, but his eyes are questioning. "When you said things were different, I didn't know just how different you meant." It's a loaded statement, meant to cajole the truth out of him. Dave has a way of doing that. He always has.

"A lot has changed, Dave," he begins, reaching for his own glass with a slightly unsteady hand. He's still wearing his wedding ring, even if it's only a formality at this point, warding off the inevitable. "Haley and I have been separated for a few weeks."

"I figured as much."

"How'd you know?"

"Call it intuition," Dave says thoughtfully. He's never been one to reveal his own hand, Aaron thinks with a sigh. But if there's anyone who would figure it out, it's him. "You used to call her ten times a day. Remember?"

Aaron averts his eyes, searching for something on the wall to stare it. "I guess."

"Besides, we've been together for the last forty-eight hours. I haven't seen you call her once. Haven't mentioned her. And you're not going home now, clearly."

"So what's your point?" It's what Dave isn't saying that raises his hackles. He's fishing, Aaron decides.

"You and Haley are separated, and there's clearly something there between you and Emily. I haven't been away that long, Aaron." Dave chuckles. "Writing books might be more lucrative, but I'm a profiler first. I know it when I see it."

Aaron hesitates, wondering just how the hell he's even going to start explaining all of this.

"So … are you going to tell me the story or not?" His eyes are twinkling; there's a grin on his face. It's as if he knows already, Aaron can't help but think, wondering if it's as obvious to the others.

"It cannot leave this office, Dave. For the sake of the team."

"I've always been pretty good at keeping secrets, Aaron. I have a few of my own, you know."

He takes a deep breath, as if he's still thinking about where to start. "About seven or eight years ago, I worked for an Ambassador Prentiss in her security department. It was my stepping stone to the FBI. Over the summer, I met her daughter, Emily. She was … ."

Dave leans back, topping off the dark liquid in his glass, settling in for the story with intense interest, as the minutes turn into hours, and night blends into morning.

Penelope's brush with death rattles them all, himself included, and time seems to completely stop as the team gathers in the hospital waiting room, their faces lined with worry.

Morgan agrees to stay the night at the hospital, promising an early morning update after he's spoken to the doctors. They agree to look at everything with fresh eyes in the morning, and bid goodnight in the hospital parking lot, and he can tell she's stalling as they walk to their cars.

"You okay?" He asks, his stride matching hers as they walk, elbows brushing every few steps. The words don't feel like nearly enough. It's times like this he hates being in charge. In times like this, he doesn't know what to say. There's nothing he really can say, really, to make any of this slightly bearable.

"I think so." She looks pale, tired, stifling a yawn with her fist. "I … I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around this." She wonders for a brief moment what she would have done had it been him on the other end of that gun. It's a sobering reminder none of them are invincible.

"We all are. It's personal. An attack on the team is an attack on one of us." It could have been any one of them, really. It could have been her. "We'll start again in the morning. We all need to get some rest."

"I guess you're right." She kicks at a rock on the ground, slowing her pace to a near halt.

"You're headed home?"

"Where else would I be going?" She lifts an eyebrow, giving him a slight frown. "Why are you so concerned?"

"Emily, I'm just wondering. One of our team members was just shot, if you haven't forgotten." By now they're standing by her car, inches away from the driver's side door. "Just want to be sure you're all safe. So, let me know when you get home."

She leans against the car, staring him up and down. "Tell me one thing, Aaron. Did you ask the others to do the same? To call you when they get home?"

He regards her for a moment, wondering if he should lie. In the end, he tells the truth. "No."

"Why?"

"You know why."

Emily closes her eyes for a brief moment, and the smallest of smiles ghosts her lips. "That's what I thought."

He's at home, staring into the dark almost a half hour later, when his phone rings.

Every now and then, they get lucky, and they don't have to travel very far.

It doesn't make Fredericksburg any less disturbing. In fact, it will haunt them all for a while, even if they managed to save the last two victims from the Battlefields.

Aaron watches her, with more pride than he should feel, as Emily takes on the heavier aspects of the case. To anyone else, she takes it in a professional, efficient stride. But to him, he knows just how long she'll remember this one, even after the dust settles. It's a short trip back to Quantico, and she sits beside him in the passenger seat without saying a word the entire way.

Morgan is the one who suggests drinks, and everyone else is more than happy to join in.

"Ooh! Who's up for five?" Emily jokes, and Aaron's not sure when her mood improved, but she's clearly happier than she was a short time ago in the car with him.

But he agrees to go along, not even trying to pretend it's not because she's also going.

Emily narrows her eyes at him, wondering if a combination of a shitty case and alcohol is a wise idea for either one of them tonight. Talk about the potential for bad decisions.

"Agent Hotchner?" There's an unfamiliar man in a suit striding through the BAU with a packet in his hand, coming right toward him, and Aaron doesn't have to open it to know exactly what's inside the envelope.

Not like this, he thinks, as the team gathers around him with curious eyes.

"What is it?" Emily asks as he tears open the top of the envelope, looking over his shoulder. Oh God.

He swallows, turning to face them all, his face pinched and shoulders slumped. "Haley's filing for divorce. I've been served."

...

They end up going out for drinks (minus Aaron, of course) but it's a much more toned down, solemn affair, given the latest news. At first no one knows quite what to say, making awkward small talk over the noise in the bar. Soon enough, the conversation switches to the topic she's dreading. How could they not?

"I guess you never really know what goes on behind closed doors," Penelope says, unable to hide her shock, or her sadness. "They always seemed like the perfect couple. And poor Jack. He's so young. He shouldn't have to go through this."

"Eh," Morgan says casually. "I can't say I'm completely surprised. Hotch has been distracted for a while now. Since before Gideon left, I'd say. I knew something was up with him."

"I've noticed that too," Reid chimes in as JJ nods in agreement. "Lately it's been pretty clear something is up."

Emily stays silent, not trusting herself to form a coherent thought. "I didn't know Haley well," she finally says, hoping it sounds convincing. "I hope they can figure it out, at least for Jack's sake."

Everyone starts murmuring their sympathies for the little boy they've all grown to love over the years, and Emily can't help but feel a pinch of guilt when she thinks of the fact his son's life will never be the same.

And she's partly to blame.

...

She stays with the team for a few hours, because it's abundantly clear none of them are really in the mood to go home, herself included. Instead, they throw back three rounds worth of drinks, each one seemingly stronger than the last. Emily knows one more is a bad idea, because she's feeling it, and they all have to be at work the next morning.

When Morgan drives her home, because there's no way she could do it safely, it hits her that she's had too much as his car pulls up outside of her building.

"You good, Princess?"

"Always," she drawls, missing the strap of her purse when she leans down to get it. She giggles to herself. Oops. "Always good."

"Need me to walk you in?" Morgan is watching her with an amused grin. He has no idea, Emily thinks as she takes a deep breath. She's drunk enough that she's warm and fuzzy, and things are starting to spin behind her eyes, but sober enough to know she'll feel this in the morning.

"No," she laughs, stumbling ever so slightly when she gets out of the car, her legs a little wobbly. Not surprising, she thinks, tallying up the drinks she'd had the last few hours. "Thanks for the ride. I'll see you tomorrow, Morgan."

Emily makes it into her apartment in one piece, not even fumbling with her keys as she opens the door deftly, tossing all of her things onto the ground as she makes a beeline for the phone. There's only one number she'd be able to dial from memory in her current, slightly drunk state.

"Hello?" Allison answers on the third ring. She sounds frustrated, tired too, and perhaps just a tiny bit annoyed Emily's calling this late.

"Hey." Emily tries her best to sound sober, but Allison knows her too well by now.

"Em, are you okay? You sound … what happened?"

"I'm just fine. You're up late." She knows it's not the most convincing she's ever been, but it's worth a shot.

"I'm preparing for a case. I have to be in court tomorrow morning. I take it you're drunk?"

"I'm not drunk," Emily says, not exactly convincing. "But I did have a few drinks."

"You're definitely something, then," Allison says with a groan that doesn't sound angry, just less than thrilled, and Emily breathes a sigh of relief. "What are you doing tipsy on a random Tuesday? I take it you aren't on a case?"

"Haley filed for divorce." It comes out before she can say anything else. May as well get right to the point.

There's a moment of silence, a deep breath, and another pause. "What?"

"You heard me."

"I know … I know. But … when did that happen?"

"Tonight. He got the papers as we were getting back from Fredericksurg a few hours ago."

"Holy shit," Allison says softly, clearly shocked. "I had no idea it would go that far."

"Would you though?" Emily pries boldly.

"Well, no, obviously. But … I don't know. I didn't actually think Haley would do that. I know things haven't been good, but … I didn't think …"

"Don't tell Shane I told you." That's the last thing I need - for Aaron to know I'm spreading his business around. In her mind, she can see the pained expression that was all over his face when he'd been handed the papers. Despite how she feels about it, it's a shitty situation regardless, for everyone involved.

"Emily, he's my husband. Of course I'm going to tell him. Plus, Aaron is his friend." Allison adds. "He's going to find out at some point."

"Do you two tell each other everything?" Emily asks, now very aware of the fact that tomorrow is going to be rough.

"We're married," Allison says patiently. "Of course we do."

"Well don't tell him I told you. Make something up. I'm definitely not gossiping about my boss." Emily flings herself on her bed, flopping onto her back, staring at the ceiling with one closed eye, then the other. Then she squeezes her eyes shut and when she opens them again, there are stars clouding her vision, flashes of light behind her eyelids.

Definitely had too much.

"Em, I think you need to drink some water and go to bed. Listen, I know it's a lot to think about, and I promise, we'll talk in the morning. Or … whenever you're awake tomorrow. I'll be in court but I'll have my phone. Take some Advil before you fall asleep too. You're going to pay for it in the morning, you know."

"Killjoy," Emily mutters, and through the phone she can hear Allison laughing.

"Get some sleep. Call me when you're up."

Even though she knows it's a bad idea, Emily finds a half-full bottle of tequila on top of her fridge. With her legs propped up against the wall in her apartment on the living room floor, she stares at the ceiling with a ridiculous smile coming and going on her face, drinking until everything seems to float above her head like some strange night sky. She falls asleep clutching the bottle, the smile never quite leaving her face.

She has a splitting headache the next morning, but it's nothing like the ache in her back from falling asleep on the floor all night.

As she expected, but it's inconvenient and unappreciated nonetheless. A shower takes a concentrated effort and she has to sit down, breakfast is definitely a bad idea, so she settles on a few bites of toast in an attempt to settle her stomach, and barely makes it out the door on time. There are no cases today, just a day of work. It's a small blessing in disguise - a day of mundane paperwork and hopefully, keeping her distance from Aaron. It's the least she can do, given the circumstances. While she's not directly responsible for the dissolution of his marriage, part of her can't help but feel the slightest bit of culpability.

"Someone had a little too much last night?" Dave asks when she gets out of her car later that morning, when she's moving a little slower than normal. He's smiling, his eyes are too, and there's something about how he's looking at her that tells her he knows more than he's letting on.

For some reason she can't explain, it doesn't bother her like she expected it to.

"You don't know the half of it," Emily groans as they walk, grateful when Dave slows down just a little for her. "I'm not as good as I once was, that's for sure."

"I won't say a word," he says, holding the door open for her as they make the trek up to the BAU - a few elevator floors and hallways away. "Been there a few times myself. Get yourself some coffee. I'll cover for you until you're ready."

Emily grins as he disappears into his office - he really needs to get those walls painted - and she makes a beeline for the coffee station, desperately in need of something to take the edge off her pounding head.

"You're hungover," is the first thing Aaron says when he sees her later that morning, when they're the only two in the briefing room, sifting through the old files they need to finish some paperwork. Why did I think coming in here was a good idea?

"You took your wedding ring off." Emily challenges him right back, reaching for the coffee in front of her as her eyes rest on his left hand. "Are we even?" So much for keeping distances, she thinks, pressing her hand over her mouth. It's a low blow; she has no right to go there.

He blanches, regarding her with a frown, reflexively shoving his bare hand in his jacket pocket. "How much did you drink last night?"

"How is that your problem?"

"When your after-work activities start impacting your at-work productivity, it becomes my problem."

"I don't see it impacting anything," she bites back. "I'm here, and you've gotten everything you asked for. My reports are done, aren't they?" She sinks into one of the chairs, studying one of the files in her hands, waiting for him to leave. Then she can turn the lights off, because it's only making the headache worse.

Only he doesn't leave, even though it's clear he has no real reason to be in there.

"I'm going to sign the papers," he finally says, flipping a pen through his fingers.

"I had a feeling you would say that." She doesn't even look up from what's in her hands. She can't. If she does, it would give everything away in a split second. No, I won't make that mistake again. I can't.

"What are you talking about?"

"This doesn't change anything, Aaron. You know we can't go back to what we were. You getting a divorce isn't going to fix us. You think I'd just walk back into your arms? Think again."

"You aren't the reason we got divorced, Emily. Haley and I always had issues. Since before you even started here."

"Too much has happened, Aaron. I … we … how do we even begin to recover from it all?" There's weight in her words, indicating she's clearly thought about this many, many times. She stands, raking her hands through her hair, pressing her fingers to her eyes. "Besides," she says, staring directly at him. "When is enough enough?"

"Enough?"

"What happens when two people who love -" she stops, shaking her head. "When two people just can't get it together? When is it enough, Aaron?"

Of everything that's been said, over all this time, that is his breaking point. Maybe it's the culmination of months of this fucked up dance, maybe the fact that his marriage is almost a done deal. But that is it. He tosses the pen to the side, shoves a chair out of the way, doing his damn best to keep his voice down. Aaron grabs her by the shoulders, pushing her back against the wall, his gaze so intense it gives her chills. "Enough?" He hisses, grateful the blinds are closed. "When is it enough? I'll tell you the answer, damnit. Never. It's never enough, Emily. It never will be."

Her mouth is agape, her eyes starting to well. She wants to scream at him but she can't, partly because only a wall separates them from the rest of their team, blissfully unaware of the showdown between the two of them, and partly because words won't come.

"Say something," he pleads, giving her a shake, nearly lifting her right off her feet. "God damnit, Emily. Say something."

"I meant what I said, Aaron. We can't." She jerks right out of his grasp and shoves him to the side. "Hopefully one day you'll be smart enough to see that too." Grabbing the stack of files on the table, she brushes past him on her way out, slamming the door in her wake.

Maybe it's too late, after all.

There's no monumental fanfare when his marriage is officially over. The papers are signed, the ink dries, and everything is finalized. In fact, it's fairly anticlimactic, and the world keeps spinning. He finds an apartment, smaller than what he can afford, but he doesn't need much space. This way, Haley can move back into the house, instead of staying with Jessica.

Moving out feels like a fucked up rite of passage, a milestone he never thought he'd reach. But Morgan helps him make a few trips from the house to his new apartment and Dave brings over an expensive bottle of whiskey under one arm and a cheap pizza in the other. The juxtaposition between the two is a good attempt to numb the fact that it's a done deal. Either way, he's grateful for them both.

They eat the pizza in the middle of the living room on a couple of folding chairs amidst moving boxes and some furniture. Morgan takes a few slices to go, leaving Dave and Aaron to drink the whiskey and stare at the TV, which has yet to be plugged in, let alone turned on.

"Jack's with Haley I take it?"

"Yeah," Aaron mutters, his hand flexing around the glass. "They're back at the house. I'll pick him up later this week."

"You've got some work to do around here," Dave jokes lightly as he takes in the scene around them. He kicks his feet up and rests them on a moving box. "But it sounds like you have a good plan worked out."

"Hardly," he says with a scoff. "It's a big mess." What he doesn't mention are the numerous arguments he's had with Haley about Jack's schedule over the last few weeks. School. Soccer. Playdates. All of it. A mess indeed.

"And what about Emily?" It's the first time all night he's directly mentioned her name, but Aaron's been expecting it. In fact, he's been essentially tap dancing around it since he walked in, with vague questions and subtle references.

"What about her?" He sighs, not in the mood to discuss anything involving Emily at the moment.

"What does she think of all of this?"

"She hasn't said much. We're giving each other space."

"Like that's ever worked." Dave chuckles. "You two had some kind of fight, didn't you?"

"Do you have someone spying on me, Dave? Something else I'm not aware of?"

"No, Aaron. It's not a huge secret you've been pretty miserable for the last few weeks. Divorce is never easy, but this is something more."

"She's had enough, Dave. And given everything that's happened over the years, I can't blame her. No matter what we do, or how good it can be, it always seems to fail. It's like we go in circles with one another. Constantly."

He's uncharacteristically quiet for a few long moments, before finally speaking again. "Do you love her?"

"I think I always have." Even he is surprised at just how easily the words fall from his own lips.

"Things have a way of working out, Aaron. You might not see it now, but take it from me. Sometimes, what's meant to be finds a way."

Emily is nothing less (but nothing more) than cordial and professional in Chula Vista as they work side by side. It's awkward, even if they both pretend it's not, playing a delicate game around each other, keeping distance and pretending they're both not sneaking a glance here and there. Much to his own surprise, he gets the smallest of smiles from her as they stand outside the movie theatre, observing the two teenage girls smoking cigarettes, tossing around theories in an attempt at a profile. It's something he hasn't seen in a while, something he's missed, and he makes a mental note to do it more often.

Pittsburgh is strange to say the least, and he hardly sees her at all for the entire duration of the case. Texas is a completely different story - they're all in each other's way here, because this damn town barely has more than two traffic lights - but she's too preoccupied with Reid's mental state to even notice anything else.

Miami is where everything changes, and it's not the heat, even though it doesn't help things. It's the look she sees on JJ's face when Will LaMontagne walks right in that gets the wheels in her head turning, questioning everything she's managed to tuck away for the last couple of months. The final straw is Will's hope, which quickly changes to despondence, when he marches into the police department, lays it out, but is prepared to walk away. And he does, until JJ runs after him.

Only after she's in her hotel room does she realize she's seen that look, too.

Many, many times.

There's a glass in his hand, and he's watching the television on mute. It's a familiar routine for him; it's been one since he moved. Hours have passed since they got back from Miami. While he's relieved to be out of the sweltering weather, they'd been greeted with a severe thunderstorm that practically brings DMV traffic to a standstill. Much to his chagrin, it'd taken an extra hour to get home from Quantico.

As much as he's missed Jack, he knows better than to call Haley this late. It would only lead to an argument about his hours and unpredictable schedule. Nothing they haven't fought about before.

So he'd showered, changed, and settled into the couch for a long night of pointless tv and mindless consumption of alcohol.

A knock shakes him from a daze, and it takes a second one for him to be sure it's not just the thunder. Definitely a knock. He's not drunk, but the whiskey is doing its job making him feel relaxed and fuzzy, the line between reality and his memories are starting to blur. In fact, the glass is still in his hand when he opens the door, and he does a double take, because it seems as if history is repeating itself once more.

Emily stands in the doorway, wrapped in a dark raincoat and her hair framing her face, hands in her pockets and her foot tapping against the floor. She's not even bothering to hide it. She says nothing, just stares at him, pressing her lips together in a nervous line.

"What are you doing here?" He's not completely surprised to see her - who else would be here at this hour - but how she got here is a question for a different time.

"Do you always drink alone like that?" She tips her head to the side, eyes resting on the glass in his hand.

"About as often as you do," he shoots back.

"That's what I thought." She takes a deep breath, wrapping her arms around herself. "You're settled in, I take it? You got home ok? I was worried...the weather, you know."

"What are you doing here, Emily?" He's really not in the mood for this.

"I couldn't sleep." The way she says it isn't casual, but it's as if she's done this all before. In a way, she has. A lifetime ago. Her eyes flicker between the glass and his, a slight frown crossing her face. "I've been thinking. Since Miami."

"And somehow you ended up here?" Arlington is at least a thirty minute drive without traffic. No, this was planned. "Seems like hell of a coincidence."

"You can throw me out if you want to." She kicks the ground with her shoe. "I'd understand … if you did." She rocks back on her heels, as if preparing for him to tell her to leave. Outside there's another rumble of thunder punctuated by lightning, shaking the building in its wake. She jumps just a little bit.

"Do you want to come in?" He'd be an asshole to make her leave now.

Emily nods, still not meeting his gaze. "Okay."

"Don't get too excited … it's not much to see." As if to prove his point he stands back, opening the door just a little bit wider, stepping back to let her through anyway. She smells like rain, and traces of shampoo; he has to resist from reaching for her

She steps over the threshold, glancing around his apartment with curiosity. At least it's fully furnished now, a clear bachelor pad scattered with evidence of Jack's inconsistent presence. She turns in a circle, taking it all in. "I like it." Taking a few steps closer to him, she smiles cautiously. With a trembling hand she reaches out, touches his cheek. "It reminds me of your old place."

He frowns. "Why are you really here, Emily?" He asks again, his patience starting to wear thin. She's close enough that he can see her chest rising and falling, a little faster than it was just moments ago.

Emily tips her head to the side with a soft, knowing smile, rises on tiptoe, then covers his lips with her own, pressing her body against him. "You know why."