Chapter 42: The Space Between

The space between where you smile and hide is where you'll find me if I get to go

The space between the bullets in our firefight is where I'll be hiding waiting for you

The space between our wicked lies is where we hope to keep safe from pain

She wakes up one morning, her head against his chest. It's early, the sky still a darkish blue-grey. What they can't see are the thick clouds forming in the distance, bringing rain and thunder that will no doubt open the skies before breakfast is even ready. But her eyes drift open for a brief moment, and she shifts in his arms, just enough that he wakes up too. Aaron's eyes don't even fully open before he kisses her, wherever he can reach. "Hi," he murmurs, bringing a hand to her back. "Are you awake?"

"Mmhm. Sadly. Wanted to sleep longer." She stretches, her body going taut against his, and Aaron uses it as an opportunity to roll her on top of him, bringing her up to straddle his waist. Emily groans at the sudden change in position and the rush of cool air that greets her almost bare skin. Her hips twitch when his hands slide to her waist and further, brushing her nipples with his thumbs.

"What time is it?" He pinches her nipples between his fingers, then captures one in his lips, smoothing his tongue over it.

"Close to 6." Her head falls back ever so slightly, her body starting to respond to his gentle touches. "We have some time." A glance at the clock confirms what she hopes is true. Jack doesn't need to be awake until 7. "Aaron." His name falls from her lips like a whisper of a ghost when his hand dips down, slipping a finger inside of her.

"Let's make the most of it then," Aaron says, cupping her cheek with his other free hand, and her breath hitches a little when his thumb finds her clit, moving in the softest circle. "The things I could do to you in an hour."

"Show me." Emily arches her back, the slightest whimper coming from her throat when he adds another finger, her hips bucking into his hand. The sound of his voice, low and deep in her ear, makes her heart flutter with a mix of anticipation and need.

"I plan on it." Sometimes it amazes him it's been so long, yet, sometimes it feels like yesterday since the first morning in that hotel room in New York, all those years ago. "I love you," he adds, adding one more flick of his thumb before sliding his hands under her arms to bring her down into his embrace. "I don't think you know how much."

"Oh, I know," she says with a smile, her eyes warm in the low morning light, her hair forming a sheet around them. "And I love you, too."

Aaron deftly flips them over, brings his mouth to her neck, his teeth nipping at the skin underneath her ear. His fingers trail down her stomach and between her legs again, smiling when her hips arch into him like he expected they would.

She pushes her hips into him again, as if asking him for more, but he ignores her. "Do you remember," he murmurs into the shell of her ear, "that first morning in New York?" He remembers. He remembers all of her; there's little he's actually forgotten over the years. Their years, both together and apart, run through his mind in perfect recollection.

Emily's head rolls on the pillow, her eyes starting to glaze as a laugh escapes, because she too remembers it, just as well as he does. "I remember you wore me out." If she's not mistaken, she wore bruises on her hips for a few days after that. "Do that again."

"Planning on it." He's kissing her neck, a series of soft pecks, sweet and tender, a complete juxtaposition from the intense focus she sees in his eyes, completely immersed in her beneath him.

She sighs and enjoys the gentle drift of his lips, taking his time to explore and tease. But then he takes her by surprise, pinning her down and kissing her fervently, biting down on her lip until she moans into his mouth.

"Aaron what - " She manages barely, when he gives her a moment to breathe. She shifts beneath him, an attempt to get the upper hand but he just stares up at her reverently while holding her still, his hair falling into his face.

"Don't move," Aaron rasps, getting his hands under her thighs and pulling her down the mattress until she has absolutely no leverage against him. Her hands tighten in the sheets when his mouth finds her inner thigh, teeth scraping against the skin there. It catches her off guard even though it shouldn't, but the air is sucked out of her lungs when he moves just a few centimeters, his nose brushing her clit, followed by the quick push of his tongue inside of her. Her hands fly to his hair, pulling and threading through. She lets out a long moan, only to do it again when his lips close around her clit, punctuated by the press of his fingers inside of her, pumping a few times until she rocks her hips against his face. Her nails press into his shoulder as he works her higher with ease, completely focused on one thing - making her scream.

And a few moments later, she does just that - into a pillow, because they aren't the only ones in his apartment this time. When she opens her eyes, Aaron is moving back to the head of the bed, kissing her stomach on his way, looking proud of himself, as he watches her take a few deep, steadying breaths.

He gives her hardly any time to recover, coming to cover her body with his own, pushing his hips forward, sliding into her. The unchecked groan that escapes from him matches hers as she adjusts, her eyes closing at the familiar ache as they become one. Emily all but wraps herself around him, legs tightening around his hips to keep him as close as she can, her arms around his neck. Her heart flutters in her chest; the safety in which she feels with him like this is something they've worked for in words and actions over time. It's not something she takes for granted, or ever will.

"Em," he whispers, pulling her from her own mind. "Emily." Her name rolls off his lips, and he shudders, his own eyes closing for a second. Her hand cups his face, his cheek rough from the shadow of stubble that's formed since yesterday morning.

"Slow," she whispers into his ear, arching her back up to press into his chest.

"I thought you wanted to be worn out," he quips, teasing her with a quick thrust of his hips, a reminder of what he'd promised just a few minutes earlier.

"Maybe later." She smiles, brings both hands to his face, kissing him again, a quiet whimper into his mouth. She wants to savor him, for sometimes she's reminded of just how much they've been through, how far they've come.

He seems to appreciate that answer, and begins to rock into her, each push of his hips slow and deliberate and full, almost patient as he cradles her against him with one arm around her back. "Is this what you need, sweetheart? Like this?" He's moving so slowly she can feel every inch of him each time he moves, a rhythm that builds, each of his movements sending her closer to that edge for the second time. "I can tell you're close, aren't you? You should see how beautiful you look like this."

She just sighs with a blissful nod, tilting her hips up to meet his in a practiced way that only years of experience can bring, linking their hands together and bringing them above her head. "Aaron," she whispers between his kisses as the pace of his movements intensifies, because he's just as ready as she is. So much for slow. "I'm going to -"

He can't even answer because he tips over the edge with one squeeze of her around him and she follows suit. He's holding her so tightly she can barely breathe, his voice coaxing the last of her own climax out of her, drawing it out with a final push of his hips, reaching his hand down to stroke her through her own release.

It's barely six thirty; their day is just getting started yet she's exhausted again. Aaron murmurs something about closing her eyes, because it'll be a long day for them both. Emily dozes off in his arms, her back against his chest, the peaceful warmth of his bed like a sanctuary before the rush of their daily races. The quiet moments don't happen very often, and as she hovers between a dream and consciousness, Aaron's voice shakes her from her sleepy reverie. "You might want to get in the shower soon," he murmurs. "Maybe I'll join you."

"We might never get out of here then," she says, perfectly still in his arms. "Last time we tried that you -"

"Daddy?" The small voice from the hallway is one she'd know anywhere now, and from behind her, Aaron sighs, instinctively tucking the blanket around Emily's shoulder. He drops a quick kiss on a part of her skin that remains visible.

"Daddy?" Jack is a little more insistent this time, and the knob starts to turn. "Where are you?"

"I'll be right there, Jack," Aaron says, grappling on the floor for whatever articles of clothing he can find, cursing under his breath. "Give me one minute."

"Hurry up, Daddy," he demands impatiently, clearly not willing to wait any longer. With a last longing look at Emily, Aaron pulls on the sweatpants he'd abandoned earlier that morning and gets a shirt over his head before carefully cracking the door open.

"What is it buddy?"

"Daddy, come now. I can't find my Buzz Lightyear. He ran away in the middle of the night." Jack sounds so solemn and serious, and all but pulls Aaron right through the door. He doesn't even notice Emily's curled up form in his bed, or the apologetic look Aaron tosses back to her before disappearing down the hall.

...

"You're quiet this morning." It's a thinly veiled statement hiding the questions he doesn't want to ask. A gentle probe at why she's hardly said anything since he'd gone to tend to Jack soon after they'd woken up again. That was over an hour ago. Since then she'd showered and dressed, made coffee, and is now cleaning up the remains of breakfast, her sleeves rolled to her elbows.

"I have an appointment today," Emily says quietly, neatly arranging a few plates into the dishwasher. "With my doctor."

His head snaps up from his newspaper, clearly taken aback at what she's just said, not needing any further explanation. "Since when?" He fully remembers what she said in New Mexico, about their options. He just didn't expect it to be so soon.

"I made it last week." She doesn't look at him, just busies herself wiping up the counter, neatening up the mess left behind from earlier.

"Already?" He pauses, a look of surprise ghosting over his face. "Are you actually thinking about -"

"It's the first step, Aaron." She wipes her hands, avoids his questioning stare. "Just to … check on some things. It's been awhile," she adds, pushing some hair behind her ear with her wrist. "It's nothing but a starting point."

"You didn't tell me."

"I didn't think there was a reason to." Of course she could have told him, had debated it, ultimately deciding against it.

"Do you want me to go with you?" He looks confused, which isn't surprising. She avoided telling him for this very reason. She knew he'd be concerned immediately, which is exactly what she can't deal with quite yet.

"No," she says immediately, and his confusion turns to a frown, his jaw flexing.

"Are you sure? I can rearrange a few things today."

"Yes, Aaron," she says firmly. "Please don't worry. I'll be fine. Nothing I haven't been through before." She reaches for his nearly empty coffee mug and finishes the last sip.

Her words make his throat tighten with regret. "Take the rest of the afternoon off," he urges calmly, his eyes shifting to the hallway in the direction of Jack's bedroom door as he lowers his voice just a notch. "We can manage without you."

Emily rolls her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. I'll be in later." She closes the dishwasher with a slam, something else coming to mind. "And I know I don't have to say this, but don't -."

He sighs heavily. "Come on, Emily. You know I wouldn't do that." Even after all this time, there are still shadows of doubt from time to time that come roaring back on a schedule he can't predict. And each time it happens, it's a reminder of everything he's had to earn back, and the way they still have to go.

"I know." She leans in to kiss him, a quick peck on the cheek, only to have Aaron cup his hand around the back of her head, pressing his lips to hers and deepening their kiss.

"What was that for?" She asks when he finally releases his hold, her cheeks a shade darker and her eyes a little brighter.

"Because I love you," he says simply, touching his forehead to hers. "Call me … if you change your mind, and I'll meet you there."

She smiles, kisses him once more. "I love you too, Aaron. And don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

She's thankful the rest of the team seem to be relatively preoccupied when she walks into the BAU a few hours later. JJ is nowhere to be found, but Emily sees her office door is closed, as is Rossi's. Reid barely looks up from his desk, only Morgan gives a friendly wave before returning to his own work in front of him. She's glad she went with a long sleeve shirt; it'll hide the rapidly forming bruise in her elbow from the blood draw. She's barely seated at her desk for five minutes when Aaron is suddenly beside her, having clearly watched her come in.

"We're going to San Francisco tomorrow." He sits against the edge of her desk, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

"We are?" She doesn't bother to look up from the mountain of paperwork that's accumulated on her desk in the few hours she's been gone. "What's the case?"

"A body was found in Presidio Park. There's a pattern with some similar murders over the last couple of years."

"That's all you have?" Emily lifts an eyebrow, silently judging his reticence. "Does JJ know about this?"

"Sam Cooper called me today. I'm going to talk to him right now … to get more details." He perches on the desk beside her, lowering his voice. "I have a feeling Strauss won't be on board with this one."

"So you're bypassing JJ completely," Emily says thoughtfully when she finally meets his gaze.

"I think it's worth hearing what Sam has to say. He's been looking into it for awhile. Said he has a theory."

"So go talk to him." She shrugs. "We can keep things afloat here for a while."

"I was waiting for you to get back before I left." He eyes her expectantly, as if for her to speak first. He doesn't ask any questions, but he doesn't have to. She knows him well enough by now to know exactly what's running through his mind, and what he wants to ask.

"We'll talk about it later," Emily says firmly, her tone an immediate shutdown of any possible conversation. "Not here."

He opens his mouth only to be quickly cut off with a wave of her hand.

"No, Aaron." She brushes him off, turning back to the work in front of her, signalling the end of the conversation. She's thankful for the distraction. "Go talk to Cooper. Find me later."

...

"So are you going to tell me how it went?" He says over the phone later that night when they're both packing for the trip to San Francisco, in their own separate apartments for the first time that week. Her own feels foreign at this point, which is a separate issue entirely, one she isn't quite ready to think about. "Your appointment today?"

"It went well. I told you. It was routine. We're going to keep an eye on some things. I'm going back in a couple of months for a follow up. And talk about next steps if we need to." She rolls her eyes even though he can't see her, doing her best to keep her tone even. "Please promise me you're not going to bring this up every day now."

There's a pause on the other end, and she can almost see his face as he considers his next words. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Just one?"

"Just one. And then I won't bring it up again." He sounds tired on the other line, and she can hear Jack in the background, complaining about bedtime, asking about monsters in the closet. Sounds about right, she thinks.

It's her turn to pause this time. "Go ahead."

"Would you tell me if it hadn't gone well?"

The honesty catches her off guard, some clothes slipping out of her hands, rendering her silent for a few moments. "Eventually," she mumbles, grateful he can't see her face.

"That's what I thought."

Less than twelve hours later, they're on their way to California.

...

Despite the praises Cooper sings about him, Aaron isn't a huge fan of Mick Rawson. Maybe it's his cocky attitude, or the fact that he and Emily hit it off together almost immediately. In fact, they strike up an easy conversation mere seconds after being introduced, bantering back and forth. He's not jealous, of course not, but he doesn't trust him at all. Yet there's something about this case that tells him he just might have to do just that.

But Emily is on the top of her game in California, and Mick is one of the best Sam Cooper has ever worked with, after all. It makes sense they work well together. In fact, they're the ones who make the connections between the victims that gives them a break in their puzzling case. There's not much time to think about the fraternization between the two of them, because the clock is already ticking, and Strauss is breathing down their necks.

Much to her surprise, partnering with Mick turns out better than she expected it would. Once Emily gets past his overwhelming arrogance, he isn't all that bad, actually. In fact, she finds him entertaining in a mysterious, charming kind of way, clearly with a past of his own that might just mirror her own. It's clear right away he's a risk taker, something that might not go over well with most. Emily deliberately but gently rejects each of his advances, despite his persistence, which is clearly something he's not used to.

Of course, Aaron is less than thrilled about all of it. "I just don't like him," He tells her when they're laying in bed later, having spent most of the evening running around the Tenderloin District without much success. "I don't trust him either."

"Cooper does," Emily says smoothly, threading her fingers through the hair on his chest. "That should mean something to you. He's really not that bad, you know. Rash, yes. Cocky, yes. But he knows what he's doing. Maybe give him a chance."

"I sure as hell hope so."

"I'm not going to sleep with him, Aaron, if that's what you're worried about." Emily rolls her eyes, playfully slapping his shoulder. "That's why I have you." She laughs lightly, amusement playing across her face.

"You mean that's all I'm good for?" He feigns offense, propping himself up on an elbow, smoothing a hand over her bare hip underneath the sheet tossed loosely over them both. "I'm hurt."

"That and other things," she says casually, dropping a quick kiss on his cheek before flipping off the light on the nightstand, snuggling into his chest with a satisfied grin. "Don't worry so much. I'll be fine."

Mick turns out to be the sole reason she doesn't end up with a bullet in her forehead.

He doesn't hear the specifics of what went down on the roof until much later, after things have settled down. He's glad, because according to what's said (and what isn't), it was a very close call, a snap decision on his end that came at the nick of time. Aaron can't be anything less than grateful, even if he wants to wipe the satisfied look off of Mick's face during their debrief, because he's clearly very pleased with himself. But instead, he does the very opposite, discreetly pulling him aside once everyone else has dissipated, going their separate ways.

Someone suggests celebrating after the case closes. It's not what they normally do, but this one is different, and it sounds like a good idea. They gather in an empty warehouse with a huge cooler full of drinks that never seems to empty. There's music - in his opinion, a little too loud, since a headache is starting to nag in the space behind his eyes - but the gathering itself is light and casual, and everyone looks to be having a good time. Only after he arrives, a little bit later than the rest of the team, does he realize Emily is brushing past him, a bottle in each hand. He doesn't have to ask to know exactly who the other bottle is for.

"You know, I could have just missed," Aaron overhears Mick say, watching as Emily clinks the neck of her beer bottle against his with a smirk that matches his.

"With your ego? Not a chance." She looks tired, he notices that right away, but she's safe, only a few feet away from him, and even if she's a few inches too close to Mick, that's all that fucking matters at this point.

But it's the thinly veiled relief in his voice that tells her just how lucky she got today. He beckons for her to come closer. "I didn't peg you as the one who'd be fucking your boss, you know." He takes a sip of his beer, lowering his voice just enough so only she can hear. "Have to say, you surprised me there."

It takes her by such surprise, beer almost comes right out of her nose. "I beg your pardon?" She sputters a little, swiping at her mouth with the back of her hand less than gracefully.

"What would he say if he heard you denying it?"

"I think you -"

"You know," he says, his eyes spanning the group of agents laughing and talking. "I can't say i'm not disappointed. I was planning on taking you home later on tonight. Turns out my hopes were dashed."

Emily stares at him, slack jawed. It's definitely not a secret amongst their team anymore, but it's also not something they're publicly displaying, especially not here in front of a group of relative strangers. That being said, she can't help but laugh, because she's not one bit surprised by his intentions. "Is that your standard way of doing things, Mick?"

"Usually." He gestures to Aaron, who by now at least a few steps closer to the cooler full of drinks. "But … you're clearly spoken for."

"Did he tell you that?"

"He didn't have to. It was obvious, when he thanked me for saving your life earlier." And then he taps his empty bottle against hers one last time, winking on his way for another.

Emily's gaze follows him for a few moments before looking away, in search of something else. From across the room, Aaron's eyes meet hers and close briefly before he opens them again, his face full of something she recognizes instantly.

Relief.

...

"What did Strauss say when you talked to her?" Emily asks when they're finally alone a few hours later. Whatever buzz they'd felt from the beers is starting to fade, now it's just exhaustion threatening to take over.

"She's not pleased, but I think she'll get over it." Aaron fluffs the pillow behind his head, crossing his ankles under the sheets. He's been relatively quiet most of the evening, and she knows why.

"I heard about what you said to Mick." She's laying next to him, hands folded across her stomach, staring at the ceiling.

"Before or after he told you he planned on taking you home with him?"

"After." Emily makes a face at him, a wry grin stretching across her face. "How did you know?"

He says nothing, only puts his hand over hers. "I was wrong about him."

"You do owe him one, you know." Emily scoots closer, resting her head on his chest and sighing softly when his arm comes up around her shoulder. "Today could have been - " Her tone is impressively casual, for talking about her own brush with mortality. "Pretty bad."

"Stop," he says sharply, cupping her chin in his hand, his grip a little more forceful than usual. He knows where she's going with this, and as grateful as he is for how the day turned out, he can't stop thinking about what could have been the reality. "Just stop talking."

"Only if you stop thinking about it," she whispers, low into his ear. Then she pushes his shoulders down, swinging a leg over his waist to straddle his lap. "You're still stuck with me, Aaron."

He's not complaining. Not even a little bit.

...

Alaska takes a lot out of them all. It's cold, Garcia is a mess (they honestly can't blame her given what happened), and they're feeling the effects of some pretty tough cases and nonstop travel even before landing in the small, remote town completely surrounded by water. The tiny plane makes JJ noticeably queasy, Dave is cranky, and Reid just looks cold the whole time.

He fucks her senseless in Alaska. Maybe it's the cold, the stress, or the reclusive town. Maybe it's the surprisingly quaint bed and breakfast lodge they're staying at. Or, maybe it's the fact they end up sharing a room, which doesn't happen often, even if what they're doing is anything but a secret anymore. Dave makes a few wisecrack comments as the owner passes over a single key to the both of them, also wearing a smirk of her own.

"See you in the morning," Dave jokes good naturedly, making a show of letting them pass him in the hallway. He's not complaining in the slightest about his room situation - a whole one to himself - as he shoulders his bag with a smirk. "I'll send a search party if the two of you don't show up tomorrow on time."

As they walk the fifty-some steps to their room, Aaron checks and double checks the alarm on his phone, just to be safe. He laughs inwardly as he catches Emily doing the same.

He fumbles uncharacteristically with every button, snap, and zipper on her clothes - she's wearing too many layers - which he tells her, yanking her shirt over her head as the seams nearly rip apart.

"We're in Alaska, Aaron," Emily purrs into his ear when his hands finally hit the back of her bra strap, flicking it open with a skilled hand. "It's not exactly warm here, you know, and I don't want to freeze."

But he pushes her onto her back on the bed, bringing his head down between her legs. She can't stop moving, her hips undulating beneath him even though he's barely even kissed her yet. She needs to feel him somehow, because the stress from all of this is finally getting to her, in need of a release. She grabs at his shoulders, pushes her fingers into his hair as he teases her, pulls him closer with a hand around the back of his head.

Hold still, damnit," he growls from his place at the side of the bed, dragging her down further. He pins her hips down with one hand and wraps his other hand around her leg, his fingers digging into her knee as he trails kisses across her lower stomach, torturously making her wait for more until she settles down.

"Hurry the fuck up, Aaron," Emily's head falls back on the pillows. The impatience in her voice tells him it won't be long until she's screaming his name, but he wants to drag it out, make her wait until she can't any longer. There's nothing he enjoys more than watching her unravel. She's ready for him, he can tell, but he's in no rush.

"Ask nicely," he says, kissing her inner thigh, leaving a little mark with his teeth. Lately she's covered in those little marks, all from him, on different parts of her body. They're little pieces of him, a reminder at any given moment of how much he loves her. Aaron pays equal attention to the other leg, using just the tip of one of his fingers to circle her clit, the stutter of her hips telling him she's getting even more impatient.

"Aaron," she gasps, whimpering, and he smiles, because even the slightest touch elicits that reaction. "Please."

"That's my girl." And then he puts his mouth on her, licking and sucking like he can't get enough of her. Emily cants her hips and whines at the contact, because words won't form in her throat. She's already shaking, her legs trembling under his hands, the ones that hold her legs apart. "Come on, sweetheart," he encourages her, resting his chin on her for a few seconds, giving her a moment of reprieve as he looks up at her, eyes hooded, her body flushed and waiting. "Come for me." It's the sound of his voice and a few circles with his thumb that send her over the first time. The intensity of it renders her almost silent with a hushed whimper, her body trembling as she rides it out. He watches her with fascination as the muscles in her legs twitch, her arm thrown over her face, her back lifting right off the bed. It's a view he'll never get tired of.

"Get on your knees." He helps her up because she's still recovering from before, her legs unsteady. "Like this." He fits himself behind her, anchoring an arm across her waist to keep her upright, her back pressed against his chest. When he slips inside of her she whimpers, her hips pushing against him as fills her completely. Aaron uses his free hand to pull her hair back, whispering in her ear a string of words about how good she feels, how badly he wants to fuck her, how beautiful she is, rocking her back and forth as she mewls in his ear.

Emily's already biting her lip when he starts to move at an intense, unforgiving pace, each push of his hips more forceful than the last. He reaches around her hips with his free hand, moving between her legs . She's clearly close again, judging by the noises she's making, increasing in volume and frequency, her body tensing and trembling as she clenches around him,

He hushes her, tightening his grip around her waist, something about thin walls and people sleeping, but she barely hears him, about to break when he thrusts into her, but he's ready for it. Aaron's hand covers her mouth, carefully muffling her screams, as Emily clenches around him, her head falling on his shoulder as she's all but hurled into her second climax, this one tearing through her. It sends him over with her, and he presses his teeth into her neck to silence himself.

"At least I'm not freezing my ass off anymore," Emily jokes as she puts a few inches of space between them on the bed, a few moments later. "I have you to thank for that." Her hair is a mess, her skin slightly damp with sweat, a few bite marks on her neck and hips that will become bruises soon. Despite her disheveled appearance, Aaron is certain she's never looked more perfect than she does in that very moment.

"You might be saying something different in a few hours." Even with the heavy blankets, there is a definite chill in the air, one they're both not used to. "Come here." He pats the empty space next to him and Emily shifts back into his arms, sighing when his hand comes up to her back.

"I love you." She touches one of the nine scars on his chest, now a healed ridge in his skin that she hasn't forgotten, but hardly notices anymore. Her fingers find the next one, and the next, until she's traced over all nine of them, each one getting equal attention. And as she does, his fingertips trace the deep curve of her spine, as if searching for the ones she carries. Her scars are mostly internal, unable to be seen, but by now he knows them all (or so he thinks), having been responsible for a few of them over the years. His touch is like an apology without words, one that comes cycling back every so often. These little moments, the ones where they know exactly what the other is thinking, are an ability to reassure, to think of all that's ahead of them in the years to come.

"I want to be with you forever, you know. Grow old with you." Aaron murmurs, lips brushing hers as he draws her closer. "God, I love you."

The smile against his lips is an agreement, and she shivers, telling herself it's just because of the cold. "Me too. Just anywhere but Alaska."

...

Late spring and summer pass with the casual and lazy haze of heat, a near constant threat of afternoon rainstorms, and the days blend together. Allison and Shane welcome their son, a baby boy named Jude in late June. The first time Emily holds him in her arms a few days later, he wraps a tiny hand around one of her fingers, his grasp stronger than she anticipated for a newborn. When he does, she looks at Aaron from where he's sitting across the room, the look on his face telling her everything she needs to know.

It's a life he wants with her, one they may be able to have after all, having gotten good news at her last appointment. News that fills her with hope in a way she hasn't felt in a long time. She stares down at Jude in amazement, then back up at Aaron, a smile grazing her lips.

...

There's a two week stretch of summer without a single case. They take Jack to the shore, spending a few glorious days in the sun without as much as a care in the world. They eat water ice on the boardwalk and Emily takes him on the ferris wheel three times in a row without even blinking an eye. Jack squeals with joy, waving to Aaron who is waiting all the way at the bottom, a huge stuffed giraffe under his arm and cotton candy in the other hand. It very well might be some of the happiest days of her life.

Labor day comes and goes, with nothing more than a quiet reminder that fall is upon them. Fall brings with it a heavy milestone - the one year anniversary of Haley's death. It's something they haven't quite discussed but probably should soon, when the time is right. But when the leaves start to turn, everything feels too right. It's a feeling she can't quite put a finger on, but it leaves her with a tiny, yet growing, sense of unease. It's as if soon, everything that's slowly worked out over time might not be theirs for much longer.

As it turns out, it isn't.

JJ's departure rocks them all to their core, shattering the foundation the team has built over the years. It's a shock, but it's been brewing, because Emily has known there's something wrong with Aaron for days. Whatever is eating him alive is a problem he undoubtedly can't solve, and when he recedes into himself, she waits patiently, knowing it'll eventually be revealed. But when the truth comes out and tearful goodbyes are said after they return from Atlantic Beach, the hollowness she feels in her own chest hurts more than she ever thought it would.

She waits until they're home, as he's sitting on her couch with a glass of whiskey in his hand, his eyes on the wall above the television. He looks dejected, worn out, as if he lost a battle he never could win. The FBI is a messy web of politics and bureaucracy, and this is a nagging reminder that in some way, shape or form, they're all expendable. There's always someone to fill a position, but no one can truly replace JJ.

"Aaron, there's nothing you could have done." Emily speaks first. "I know it doesn't make any sense."

"She didn't want to go, you know." His jaw is set; his hand firm around the glass.

"I know." Emily sits beside him, a comforting hand on his knee. She remembers Rossi's words from earlier. "Our loss is somebody else's gain."

"None of this is right." He tips the rest of the glass down his throat. "Or fair." The only thing he sees is the quiet resignation on JJ's face when they both knew it was all but a done deal.

"Sometimes, things just aren't."

They both know this, all too well.

The only thing that numbs the pain of JJ's departure is throwing themselves into work. Her absence leaves a void that will never be filled, yet they carry on without her as best they can. There's cases in Ohio and the Midwest, Michigan too, and while it never feels quite right, all they can do is put one foot in front of the other and do what they've always done.

Halloween brings a beautiful, chilly evening, and as the sun sets, there isn't even a cloud in the sky. "Are you almost ready?" Aaron asks from his place outside Jack's closed bedroom door, not for the first time, checking his watch with a frown. "We're going to be late, Jack." If they're lucky, they'll make it just on time.

When his door opens, it's not at all what either of them are expecting at all. Emily has to avert her eyes when she sees Jack's Halloween costume, having called a last minute audible from the classic Spiderman getup to another superhero - one she knows very well.

"I'm you, Daddy," Jack beams with pride as they look him over, taking in the haphazard costume he'd pulled together from his closet along with a few other important pieces along the way, including one of Aaron's ties. Even though it only loops around his neck and the pants are too long, Emily's heart cracks in her chest. Looking over at Aaron, she finds him beaming with pride as he wraps his son in his arms, a sweet moment passing between the two of them.

"Let's go get some candy, my little G-Man."

"Okay!" Jack is more than excited, his face lit with joy, as he scurries off in the opposite direction to get his shoes. Emily turns away, swiping at her eye with a thumb, carefully as to not smear the makeup that took almost forty minutes to apply.

He's at her side instantly, a hand on her back. "You okay?"

"I think the G-man was cutting onions or something," she retorts quickly, fixing the cat-ear headband in her hair. "But forget Superman. I'd take Aaron Hotchner anyday."

Aaron says nothing, just pulls her in for a hug, bringing a hand up to smooth through her hair.

"Come on Daddy! Emiwy!" Jack's enthusiasm is what pulls them apart as they exchange a knowing look. It's about to be a long, tiring night indeed.

...

"Where's your road soda?" Shane asks as their little group makes its way down the street. He's pushing the stroller, dressed as Tigger, a tumbler of something undoubtedly alcoholic in his other hand. He looks slightly ridiculous but given that it's their son's first Halloween, he and Allison went all out. In the stroller, Jude is a mini Winnie The Pooh, sound asleep and oblivious to all the excitement.

"A what?" Aaron narrows an eye, shifting Jack's overstuffed bucket of candy to his other arm while taking his son's hand. They've been at this for almost two hours, the sun is starting to dip in the sky, but Jack hasn't stopped smiling all evening. And a few feet behind him, Emily and Allison are still deep in conversation with no sign of stopping anytime soon.

"A road soda. It makes all of this a little more bearable," Shane jokes as a swarm of kids in masks run past, squealing and shrieking. "You know, when they sound like that." He dodges another gaggle of kids, making similar noises, while downing half of his cup.

Aaron laughs, because it's the fifth pack of kids they've encountered on this street alone. "Left mine at home."

"They're having fun, Shane. Don't be such a buzzkill." Allison chides her husband gently, rolling her eyes at Emily. Dressed as Eeyore, she looks just as ridiculous as Shane, but the joy on her face is evident. "By the way, Emily, Jack looks adorable."

"He's Aaron." Emily smiles, watching as Jack runs toward another house, dragging Aaron along behind him. "Superman didn't make the cut this year."

"Obviously." Allison grins. "I'd say Aaron's a cooler superhero anyway."

"I don't disagree with you," Emily says with a smile, watching as Jack hurries back to the group with a huge candy bar in his hand, Aaron not far behind.

...

The one year anniversary of Haley's death creeps up on them. The day dawns sunny and beautiful, as if Haley is smiling down at them. Emily contemplates giving Aaron and Jack the day to themselves, to mourn and grieve just the two of them. She's about to leave, shortly after breakfast, when he stops her, a hand on her elbow as she's gathering her jacket.

"Don't go," Aaron says softly, glancing around the quiet apartment. "I … I don't know how to do this alone."

Emily nods quietly in agreement, a nervous smile stretched on her face, because she doesn't exactly know how to do this either.

They talk about Haley, reminisce, and spend the day mostly outside. Jack watches his favorite videos of birthday parties and soccer games, giggling with a toy tucked under his arm. Aaron talks to him, patiently, reminding him it's okay to feel sad. Emily watches from a distance for most of the day, but comes across him playing quietly in his room after dinner. Sitting down beside him, she asks if she can play, too.

"I miss my mommy." Jack says almost immediately. He moves from coloring to playing with his trucks and action figures, leaving one mess to make another. "I love Daddy, but I miss Mommy too. Do you ever Mommy, Emiwy?" He still struggles with the second syllable of her name, which she can't help but find endearing. Aaron had briefly mentioned it at a parent teacher conference, mildly relieved when his teacher assured he would grow out of it.

"We all miss your mommy, Jack." Emily says quietly, unsure of what else to say, wondering if there's anything she can say. Of course, Jack was blissfully unaware of the past between the three of them. But Haley was his mother, and always will be.

"Did she forget about me?" He rolls the truck right over Emily's foot, then pushes it towards her.

"No, Jack. Your mommy would never forget you. And she'll always be with you, too." She pushes the truck back in his direction, placing a hand over her heart. "In here."

"What about you, Emiwy? Will you always be wif me too?"

And when she finally gives him her response, what she doesn't see is Aaron standing just a few feet behind the door, listening to their every word.

...

Ashley Seaver comes in as a set of fresh eyes for the case in New Mexico. It's mostly Dave's doing, but Aaron goes along with it, and Emily can't help but feel a touch of sympathy for the girl. She's young, has a lot to learn, but she's certainly not naive, with years of her own baggage tightly packed away in their own tiny boxes. She's bold, a risk taker, and it almost gets herself killed before they even get back to Quantico.

And while what she did was incredibly stupid, Emily admires her for it, because a few years ago in Europe, she would have done the same thing. On the flight home, she overhears snippets of the conversation between Ashley and Dave, and some of it is like looking into a mirror of the past. There's no winning, Dave says, and it's as if he's talking to her too. The past is the past; sometimes there are no easy answers or fixes.

Emily offers to take Ashley under her wing, because she understands. She knows what it's like to be in over your head from the very beginning, and to have so much to prove to a bunch of strangers. Aaron only nods and signs off on it immediately. She supposes he's grateful it's one less thing he has to worry about for the time being.

Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years bleed together, some of the quickest weeks of her life, but also, some of the most joyous. There are parties, gatherings and celebrations mixed in with quiet moments along the way. An early snowfall all but shuts Northern Virginia down for the better part of a week, rendering them housebound. It's inconvenient, but gives them a few quiet days at home, building snowmen and snow forts, watching the fluffy white mess accumulate from the windows.

It's the safest, and maybe the happiest, she's ever felt.

...

Several thousand miles away, on a bitterly cold night in late February on the outskirts of a Russian town, a man emerges from the shadows without being seen. It's the middle of the night, the narrow stretch of road completely deserted, but experience has taught him one can never be too careful. He flags down the first car he sees, satisfied to see the driver alone behind the wheel when it comes to a stop.

The man is unassuming, with nothing more than a bag over his shoulder as he pretends to hitch a ride, muttering a few words in Russian, a language that feels unfamiliar and heavy on his lips. Coupled with his Irish lilt, it sounds unnatural, but it doesn't matter, because the driver is as good as dead, anyway.

The driver never sees it coming, the quick flash of a knife does the job in seconds. He hardly recognizes the cold wind as he drags the body from the car; he's felt much worse than this. The man steals the phone from the dead man's front coat pocket, dialing a number he's known by memory for years.

In the pale moonlight, a pair of striking blue eyes reflect on the bright screen as the call connects with the crackling of some static. The voice on the other line answers on the first ring.

"Is that you?"

"Liam. Have you found her yet?"

"Not yet. But I have something I think you'll want to see." The voice on the other end is gravelly and raw, but recognizable, one he hasn't heard in years, one he'd never forget. "A few more days are all I need. How soon can you be here?"

"I'm on my way. And watch your back. They'll be looking for me soon. And you too."

"I wouldn't let you down." Liam has never been anything less than loyal, and perhaps, he was right about Lauren Reynolds all along. "I want the bitch dead just as badly as you do."

"Excellent." Ian Doyle snaps the phone shut, a satisfied smile spreading across his lips as he imagines exactly how he plans to destroy her. He's been imagining it for years, after all.

...

"This is everything I have," Liam says during their clandestine meeting with a bottle of whiskey between them. The last several years have not been kind to him, not that Ian is surprised. His hair is greyed, his eyes dull, face worn and wrinkled with the years of exhaustion that come with narrowly escaping the authorities, constantly looking over his shoulder. There's a shabby envelope in his hands, the paper almost frayed at the corners, held together with a brittle rubber band. "Took me long enough." He passes it over, and when Ian picks it up, it's heavy, an entire dossier of information - all the information he could ever want. It's practically a map right to her, complete with information about those she holds dear, a sure means to her end. It's exactly what they need.

"You did well, Liam." The Irish lilt is still in his voice, even after the years he spent in a Korean prison. The words he said to Lauren Reynolds years ago ring in his mind. I'm a warrior, Lauren. I raise warriors.

"I want to be there when you kill her," Liam says, an almost evil glint in his eyes. "I'll let you do the honors, but I want to be there."

Blue eyes meet brown ones, narrowing with understanding and scorn.

"And you will, my friend. You will."

...

Six thousand miles away, tucked in bed, Aaron spills into Emily with a grunt, a stutter of his hips filling her to completion one last time. In his ear, she keens loudly as another orgasm rips through her for the fourth time that morning. She doesn't bother trying to be quiet at this point, and there's no need- they've been alone for the last sixteen hours. She wouldn't be able to be quiet if she tried. By now her limbs are shaking, her body exhausted as he draws the last waves of pleasure out of her, watching with satisfaction as her face contorts with bliss. Aaron kisses her through the lingering moments of her comedown, bringing her legs down from his shoulders carefully. They've been at this for awhile; he knows she's already sore.

"You know how happy you make me?" He asks moments later, brushing her hair from her face.

"Tell me."

"Happy enough that I agreed to go salsa dancing tonight."

It was Allison's idea to go salsa dancing. Emily had laughed when she mentioned making it a double date, but her friend is persistent, and coincidentally, Jack has another birthday party sleepover that night, so there's little she can say to refuse the invite. Not to mention, it'll be good to spend some time together. They rarely spend time with Allison and Shane as is, and ever since Jude was born, even less.

"Salsa dancing?" Aaron had asked, with a raised eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.

"It'll be fun," she said right back, coyly. "Just don't step on my feet."

"Oh, come on. Don't tell me you're not the least bit excited."

"The things I do for love," he quips, with a sigh, looping his arms around her waist and pulling her back to his chest, his teeth marking up her ear lobe. When her head falls against his shoulder, Emily wonders if every moment of pain and heartache they've been through was actually worth it in the end.

...

Much to her surprise, and his too, salsa dancing is a smashing success. The four of them are a lively mess, laughing in the night air, stumbling out of the bar. Aaron is beside her, his hand finding hers as they fumble with coats and jackets, not bothering with gloves. Her cheeks flush pink in the cold, and against her pale skin, she looks like some kind of Snow White - a tipsy one, at least.

"You weren't nearly as bad as I thought," Emily jokes, pushing her hip into Aaron's. "That was a lot of fun. We should do it again."

"We should," Shane laughs, reaching for Allison's hand and spinning her underneath his arm, a kiss to her cheek. "We hardly ever have fun anymore."

"We're parents, Shane." Allison kisses him back, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Our priorities are different now." But she's beaming too, and quickly points out a new bar on the street corner - one they've been meaning to try.

Emily is only half aware of her ringing phone, quickly pulling it out of her pocket. Usually the babysitter calls Aaron, but they have her number too, just in case. It's a number she doesn't have saved, and one she can't place. Definitely not the babysitter. Whether that's from the alcohol or not, she isn't sure. Closing one eye, she stares at the brightly lit screen, she frowns at the unrecognizable number. A quick, closer look shows this person has called three times before that, in fifteen-minute increments. There's a text message too - short, nondescript, but it's enough to make her freeze in place.

Call me on this line ASAP. SM.

The blood rushes to her ears, because there's only one person with those initials who would send such a cryptic text. Whatever happy buzz she felt leaving the bar is all but gone, leaving her with nothing but a headache and ringing ears, her mouth drier than dust.

"What is it?" Aaron asks, sounding curious but carefree, his arm slipping around her waist. He catches her staring at her phone, tightening his grasp. "Everything alright? Jack's okay?"

"Fine," she says with a smile. "Jack's just fine."

No. There's no way. It has to be some mistake.

"I have meetings all day, and one with Strauss at six." Aaron says over breakfast a few days later, after Jack has already left for school. "I'll be home late." From over his newspaper, he glances at her. "Jessica is going to pick up Jack after school and keep him for a little while. Do you think you could pick him up around seven?"

"I have an appointment again," she lies a little too easily, holding her coffee mug in two hands. Anything less than that and it might slip from her grasp. She's racked her brain to come up with a more plausible explanation, even considered telling him the half truth - having drinks with an old friend. But he knows her, and would certainly ask more questions.

"At seven PM?"

"It's the only time they could fit me in." Emily still doesn't look up from the coffee, watching the layer of cream blend with the dark liquid, swirling together as she spins the mug around. She's barely taken a sip at all. "They have later hours on Wednesdays now."

"Everything okay?"

She gets up, discreetly dumping the mug into the sink, putting it in the dishwasher before he notices it was almost full. "Just fine." To convince him, she leans down, capturing his lips in a deep, long kiss, complete with tongue and teeth, sucking gently on his bottom lip. "Stop worrying so much."

"I thought you forgot I was even here," he holds onto her for a few more seconds, wanting to keep her close and never let go. "You seem so distracted. You have the last two days."

"I'm just tired. I didn't sleep well." She smiles, as reassuring as she can. "I'll feel better once the day gets started."

Aaron frowns, but it fades quickly, as he glances at his watch and hurries to his feet. He's about to be late. "See you tonight then. Call me when you're on your way back." He kisses her again, like he'll get to do it every day for the rest of his life.

Emily swallows the lump in her throat, wondering if this might be the beginning of the end.

Sean looks like he's aged twenty years as opposed to the five or so it's been since the last time she saw him. In fact, she almost misses him as she slips into the dark bar. It's a dive, in one of the seedier parts of the city, yet she knows why he picked it. She'd do exactly the same thing. No one would ever think to find them there.

"You haven't aged a day," Sean says, pulling her into a hug that doesn't feel as warm as it should, given how long it's been since they've seen each other. He smells like cigarettes, and she can tell he's already had more than one drink. "What's your secret?"

"Profiling murderers across the country for weeks without a break." There's a drink across from his, waiting for her. Clearly, he hasn't forgotten what she likes, and her mind goes back to all the drinks they shared over the years, surreptitiously in cities across Europe and a few in the states too. The initial coffee dates, the late night chats. It seems like a lifetime ago.

"Sounds about right."

"How are you, Sean? How is Adaleigh?"

"A spitting image of Rebecca." The softness of his eyes tells her the hidden meaning behind his words. It might be the only reason his hair isn't completely greyed. He took his own advice and got out, like he'd urged her to do years ago.

"You're back together, aren't you?" Emily can't help but smile, because there was a time when things were much different, and what was left of her own heart had ached for Sean in those days. Maybe he'd overcome his own vicious cycle. Maybe they both did.

"For almost four years now. It's not always easy, but we've been making it work. Things have been … good." He folds his hands, regards her carefully, as if debating what to say next. "And you?" He looks as if he already knows what she's about to say. In some way, she supposes he probably does.

"Aaron and I are together." It comes out as a whisper, even though it's not a secret anymore. "We have been for awhile now."

"I had a feeling. So I was right all along about the two of you."

"You were right. And It wasn't easy. It still isn't, some days. But … lately …" She trails off, thinking of what she and Aaron have built for the last year and some months, and before that too.

Sean's eyes drift closed for a fleeting second, which sends a chill down her spine. Whatever he came here to say is weighing on him heavily. There has to be another reason why he's here, she tries to rationalize with herself. It can't be what she's thinking. It just can't. Fate hasn't exactly been kind to either of them over the years, and now it seems as if the relative sense of normalcy they've had within the last few years is about to be cruelly yanked away.

"Why are you here, Sean?" She touches his arm with cautious, trembling fingers, cold as ice. "Why did you ask me to meet you here? You didn't come all this way without a good reason."

"Ian Doyle escaped from prison. Interpol can't find him."

Nothing could have prepared her for those words, even if she knows it's the only explanation why he'd be here like this. "What? What are you saying?" Her fingers tighten around his sleeve like a vice. The news itself makes her mind spin, her heart race and her stomach twist, the numbness starting to take over, enveloping her in a fear she hasn't known in years.

"He's off the grid, Emily. He could be anywhere. You know how good he is."

She knows better than anyone. "Do you think he's headed here?" She asks, the alarm in her voice evident, a rasp she doesn't even recognize.

Sean says nothing, a clear indicator that he has no words to calm her, something he's always been able to do in some way, shape or form. He scrubs his chin with his hand, the lines in his face deepening before her eyes.

"Am I in danger?" Emily says quietly, then immediately thinking of something so much worse. "Is Aaron in danger?"

"We all are."

Emily doesn't go back to Aaron's apartment after bidding Sean goodnight. He doesn't say it outright, but his parting hug is a plea to be careful, and it has a sense of finality behind it. When she turns away she swipes at a tear, because it might just be the very last time she ever sees him. Instead, she goes to her own place, leaving Aaron a quick message, a lie about a maintenance issue in her building. Of course she'll have to come up with another lie in the morning to cover the one she's just created, but for now it's the best she can do.

And there will be more lies after that, because that's what her old life entailed - a series of lies, one after the other, until there's no distinguishing between what's real and what's not. Lying to him nearly rips her apart. Those days are supposed to be long behind her, not coming back to haunt her.

She stares into the dark that night with the Gimmel ring tightly wound in her hand, unable to sleep or even move from the chair perched in the hallway, just facing the securely locked door of her apartment as her mind sorts through her endless memories of Ian Doyle. He'll want revenge - there's nothing else left for him now. Not after what she's done to keep those closest to him safe, or what she imagines he's been through over the last years. He's a warrior, he told her as much himself. He won't stop until she's dead, taking down everyone she loves along with her.

The blissful happiness that's been blooming slowly in her chest, bit by precious bit, for the last few months, along with the illusion of safety, shatters at her feet in a million pieces.

...

At first, she's so convincing that everything is fine, he doesn't pick up on it right away. She lies again when he asks about the maintenance issue, right before their morning briefing as they're leaving for Los Angeles, because there's a taxi driver drowning women in methanol. When they return home a few days later, he tells her Jack has the stomach flu, and that it might be better if she sleeps at her own place that night.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she says in his embrace as he leaves kisses along her ear, keeping her tone steady. "I love you." She hugs him a little extra tightly and watches him drive away, the tears pricking the back of her eyes like a thousand needles.

One day he'll know the truth, and by then she'll be long gone, where no one will find her. She'll spend the rest of her life paying the price of a lie, but he'll be safe. They'll all be safe, and in the end, that's all that matters.

The purple flower that waits upon her return tells her it might already be too late for that.

...

Emily scrapes by in New York, holding it together by the seams, each moment more challenging than the last. Outwardly, she keeps her composure, because she has no other choice. But the subtle signs are there, starting to bleed into her perfectly steeled exterior, and Aaron is quickly catching on that something isn't right. But he knows pushing too hard will only drive her away, and it's a test of his own willpower to come to him on her own terms.

Only when he says her name more than once in the car one morning does she realize she won't be able to keep any of this a secret for much longer. "I'm a little carsick," is the lie she tells time, cracking the window. And he doesn't believe her but he says nothing, only grips the steering wheel a little tighter.

If they can just make it through this case, is what he tells himself, deep down knowing something is wrong - going beyond a simple bad day or a rough week. No, it's another issue entirely. Something he's determined to get to the bottom of, no matter what.

...

The night they get home, she wakes up in his bed, the clock next to her reads 2:00 AM. The second her eyes open she's hypervigilant, listening for even the slightest sound that something might be out of place. She isn't supposed to be here - she knows she shouldn't be here at all. But she'd been too exhausted to argue, and his persistence eventually wore her down.

She gently moves his arm that's somehow found its way around her waist in the hours since they fell asleep with things left unsaid. Slipping from the covers, she tiptoes silently out of his room, avoiding the parts of the floor that squeak under her bare feet. She checks the apartment - first Jack's room, then the living room and kitchen, finishing with the bathroom. She moves with a silent, precise efficiency, checking the windows and doors, then double checking. It's an exhausting ritual, one she's done before, one she won't have to do much longer.

The pain of knowing it's only a matter of time is excruciating. She runs through every possible scenario. There's only one way to make sure none of them get hurt. To leave. It'll be her undoing, and his too, she knows that much. But knowing she could be responsible for him (or Jack) falling into Doyle's trap, there's no alternative.

Emily makes it until close to 5, her eyes on the ceiling and her hand on Aaron's leg. But she just can't take it anymore. Locking herself in his bathroom, she turns the shower on full blast, the water as close as she can get to scalding without burning her skin. She steps under the spray, sinks to the ground, legs pulled to her chest, and sobs silently into her knees. The pain in her chest is familiar, but this is unlike anything she's ever felt. The past is colliding with the present as she always feared it would in the back of her mind. No coming back from this.

The shower is where she stays until she hears his alarm go off around 6, the water long gone cold and her fingers pruned.

She's fully dressed before he's out of bed. There's not a hair out of place; she's her same self, beautiful as the first day he ever saw her. But he knows better, reading the tiny changes in her body language - the way she looks away when he asks if he should make an extra piece of toast. The slight hesitancy when he wraps her into a hug, the distance she puts between them every chance she can - hiding behind a counter, sitting a few extra feet away on the couch. He's wanted to deny it, but can't any longer.

"Emily, are you pregnant?" Aaron asks a little while later, out of the blue and unprompted, as she neatens up the kitchen methodically, occupying her hands but not her mind. Her mind hasn't stopped racing since the night she walked away from Sean on the street in DC. There's no way it ever could.

"What? she says sharply, turning to look at him. It sounds harsh, her eyes flashing angrily until she remembers he's done nothing even remotely wrong. Her hand tightens around the sponge in her hand, soapy water dripping down her wrist. "What would ever make you say that?"

"You've been … not yourself. Not sleeping, not eating." He's searching for the right words, treading lightly but pressing nonetheless. "If you think I haven't noticed, you're wrong." It comes out soft, gentle almost, as if he's hurting as much as she is. She guesses, in some way, he is. "I just thought maybe -"

"No, Aaron. I'm not pregnant." She has to bite her lip to keep it from trembling, because he almost looks hopeful that she might just say yes. "I can assure you of that."

"Have you taken a test? To be sure? I can go get you one .. if you think it might … We haven't really been careful at all." He's searching her eyes, desperate for an explanation, the culmination of her distance as of late coming to the surface. In his mind, it's the only thing that makes sense, and it hurts to see him look so disappointed.

"Aaron," Emily says softly, a little too quietly, immediately setting his warning bells off that something is indeed wrong. "You … don't have to worry about that. Especially now."

"What are you talking about? Did … did something happen since your last appointment?" He's racking his brain, thinking back to the days before and after her latest one. Did I miss something?

"Everything is fine, Aaron. Nothing happened." The smile she forces is painful, the fake reassurance of her own voice unbearable. The palm of her hand burns when she touches the side of his face, freshly shaven and smooth. "I'm tired, stressed, and I haven't been sleeping well. You know things have been hard since JJ left. Some days, it just gets to me. That's all. I promise, I'm just fine."

"Why won't you talk to me? This isn't about a burst pipe, or whatever else you're about to push me away with. It's a bad excuse. I know something isn't right, Emily. I know you. Don't you know that?"

"Aaron," she says quietly, her mind replaying some of their happiest memories, a catalogue of the years of her life. "There's nothing going on. I promise." Emily rises on tiptoe, kissing his jaw, watching him with widened eyes. "You need to stop worrying."

They're interrupted by his ringing phone, which he answers curtly, nodding and muttering a few short words back. When he ends the call, he already looks exhausted and drained, for it means they have a case, and from the sounds of it, a tough one "We'll talk when we get back. Let's leave it at that."

All Emily can do is nod. She owes him the decency of the truth, but the truth will rip them apart, and may even be the end for both of them. The truth, she decides, will remain buried.

It's the only way.

...

The news of Jeremy's death means Ian is closing in, and most likely saving her for last. If he can find Jeremy, he can get to them all. Easily. "What's being done to locate Doyle?" Emily asks nervously from a bench, the burner phone pressed to her ear. She doesn't have a lot of time, and even being on the phone with them is making her heart race. From across the courtyard she sees Tsia and Clyde for the first time in years. Her heart aches for Tsia, who can't even properly mourn her husband at his funeral.

"Every agency in the Northern Hemisphere is looking for him."

"He sent me flowers. I think it's safe to assume he's coming here." Emily says nervously, glancing around at the hordes of people. He could be anywhere.

"I will find him, darling." Clyde sounds more confident than she does. "Trust me."

She doesn't believe him. Not in the slightest. "I don't trust anyone anymore."

Aaron's eyes are dark when she hurries into the briefing a little while later. She mumbles a brief apology, knowing it probably won't be enough to appease him. But they have a job to do, one that involves a traumatized child in Louisisana, and there isn't enough time to even process what's going on between the two of them.

It's another brewing storm between them, one she's fully responsible for.

The morning they're scheduled to leave Louisiana, he makes love to her one last time. He doesn't know it's the last time, but she does. Soon enough, he will too. "I love you, so much," she breathes into his neck, their chests pressed together, her heart beating against his. It's about to shatter into pieces.

He wraps his arms around her so tightly it makes her eyes burn even through the final, powerful climax that tears through her, taking her breath away. Emily chokes back a sob and presses her teeth into his shoulder to stifle her moans and her tears.

What she doesn't know is that he's crying too, for he feels her slipping away, and he's powerless to stop any of it.

Emilys helps Ashley with some bureaucratic nonsense on the flight home - it's a thick packet of paperwork from the Academy, along with the rest of their case reports. It bides the time, keeps Aaron a safe distance away, for he wouldn't dare to call her out in front of the team.

This is it.

...

Emily turns her phone off, but immediately before, sends a quick text to Aaron. It's another lie- a lie that traffic is bad, but she's almost at her apartment, and that she loves him. She doesn't bother to wait for his response. He won't believe her, and it might rip her own heart out to see his response. The coffees she brings with her are an afterthought, an attempt to settle her frayed nerves. It's a way to make her presence seem casual to the random passerby as she settles at a table for two, the sun setting behind the trees.

A trickle of sweat runs down her spine even though the wind that whispers through the trees is chilly, almost announcing his presence. She waits. Unsure of how long, exactly, but judging by the fact the coffee has cooled under her fingers, at least an hour. Maybe two. But he'll be there. He's probably already there, and has been for hours. She doesn't dare look at her phone - Aaron should be asleep by now but there's no way he is. With her phone off, he can't trace her, which is one small blessing in all of this. If he could, he would have found her already. She can't think of what would have happened then.

The hand on her shoulder chills her to the very core, even though she's been waiting for it. A gentle touch so familiar yet foreign, one she'll always remember, seared in her memory from what feels like a lifetime ago.

"I knew you were watching me."

"What's the expression? Keep your friends close, your enemies on surveillance?"

"Hello Ian."

"Hello, Lauren." He sounds exactly the same as he did all those years ago, his voice a memory in and of itself, and when her name rolls off his tongue in two syllables, there are hundreds of others that flood back. She remembers each of them in perfect, agonizing detail. "Or should I say … Emily Prentiss?"

He knows everything, as she expected he would. "You're running out of time, Ian. Interpol is already looking for you."

His fingers dig into her shoulder, now a menacing reminder of just how much damage he's capable of, how much power he wields, and how little time she has left. His voice is frighteningly calm and cold as he sneers. "Oh, but I've got all the time for you, love."