Author's Note: Direct continuation of them in the bank.

Prompt Set #15 (February)

Show: 7th Heaven

Title Challenge: When Bad Conversations Happen to Good People

Boy And Girl Get Their Signals Crossed

Aaron stood in the middle of the crowded bank trying to think of a reason to keep the conversation, such as it was, going for another few minutes. Unfortunately though, he was a little (very) out of practice at making conversation with strange . . . albeit quite beautiful and klutzy . . . women.

It didn't help that he was distracted by his brain again trying to substitute 'flirting' for 'making conversation.' So he again had to shut his brain down.

It was just conversation he was trying to make. Talking.

That was it.

Okay, big shot . . . he huffed to himself . . . so it was talking. So now what the hell should they talk ABOUT?!

That was the question bouncing around in Aaron's head as he stared down at this lovely girl who was in turn staring down at the toes of her too high, black patent leather heels.

Finally a sentence popped into his head. And he was just desperate enough at that point . . . the silence was beginning to stretch to an uncomfortable point . . . to blurt it out.

"Today's my birthday!"

And he immediately cringed in disgust.

SERIOUSLY Aaron! Today's my BIRTHDAY! You sound like an idiot!

But then to his surprise . . . given what a RIDICULOUS non-sequitur his announcement had been(!) . . . Emily's face lit up.

"Is it?!" Her lips curved into a happy smile, "well happy birthday! How old?"

FINALLY! The silence had passed! Also, birthday talk was a casual . . . pressure free . . . opportunity for the exchanging of personal information!

Now she just had to work them up to phone numbers!

"Thirty." Aaron's brow rose up slightly, "you?"

Okay maybe the spastic "it's my birthday!" sputtering wasn't quite so socially awkward an announcement as he'd feared. It was at least allowing the conversation to attain a shred of momentum. Which was . . . admittedly . . . more than his conscious thought had allowed it to do.

"Twenty-two," Emily responded quickly, but then immediately added, "but I'll be twenty-three in October."

All right, that was the first time that she could recall 'upping her age' in a while, but she just didn't want him . . . at the ripe old age of thirty . . . to think that she . . . at the still fairly youngish age of twenty-two . . . was just a kid or something. She was NOT a kid. Hadn't been for in well, ever. Not possible when you'd traveled the world twice over for the first sixteen years of your life.

And that was including the first nine months in-utero.

"So, uh, do you have any big plans for the big Three O?" She asked with a soft smile.

This birthday thing really was a gold mine for two reasons: A) because she honestly couldn't think of anything ELSE to talk about(!), and B) she was now thinking (hoping) that maybe he was having a party, or some kind of general get together. Really, you'd think so, thirty was a big birthday after all. So then if he actually did have some sort of interest in her . . . and all signs were pointing to a big YES on that point . . . then maybe he'd invite her to said theoretical party/get together.

And a birthday party would be the PERFECT opportunity to see him again!

It was, by definition, a social gathering. One where she would be able to get dressed up and look pretty. But it wouldn't be like she would be getting dressed up and looking pretty JUST because of him. It would be for a party. So it would be like a date. But not a date.

Again, PERFECT!

"Uh," for a second Aaron drew a complete blank as to what Haley had planned for his birthday . . . but then it came flying back to him. And he realized then that he hadn't forgotten.

He'd just blocked it out.

Bleh . . . he attempted to hide his grimace from Emily . . . the party.

Haley had rented out a function room at a fancy French restaurant in Dupont Circle. "Le Petite" something or other, he'd never even been there. But Haley had had lunch there once or twice with a wife of one of his law school classmates, and she'd liked it. And he didn't (generally) care too much about things like that . . . as long as it wasn't some restricted old club he was good . . . so when she'd asked him if it was okay to throw the party there, he'd just shrugged and said, "sure."

He'd been regretting that "sure" for the last three weeks.

Because rather than just keeping it as a small dinner party for close friends . . . the type of outing he'd expected at a "fancy" restaurant . . . instead she'd sent out gold leaf invitations to half the people in his address book. The invitations were to join them for an evening of 'aperitifs & hors d'oeuvres.'

Seriously, 'aperitifs & hors d'oeuvres.'

If it was possible for his wife to have made his birthday party sound any MORE pretentious than she had, he wasn't quite sure. They'd even had a bit of a fight on the topic. Not a big fight, but still, words had been exchanged. Cross ones. She didn't really understand what his problem was.

And he couldn't really understand how she COULDN'T see what his problem was!

So basically it was safe to say that he was NOT looking forward to this party. Actually, no, that was an understatement. He was not looking forward to his next 'turn your head and cough' physical. He was DREADING the idea of this party. Just by virtue of it being his birthday, he was 'pretentious by association.'

Not to mention that he couldn't STAND half the people in his address book!

They were mostly people that he knew from school or through his work. And by work, he didn't mean the men and women in his fraud squad, or the federal agents that brought him his cases. No, he meant the other attorneys (both public sector and private) and people he'd used as expert witnesses. Not to mention the low level congressional staff members.

They were the worst.

And those people weren't friends . . . he had maybe a dozen people in his life he considered "friends" . . . they were just contacts. People he needed to keep on good terms with if he wanted to stay afloat in this town. It was how you built a career. But his career was a topic of consideration for a different day.

Today's topic was just his . . . uberly pretentious . . . birthday.

So after that moment of reflection on said birthday, Aaron simply wrinkled his nose a bit as he responded to Emily's question.

"Oh, nothing much," he shrugged, "just a small thing with . . . family."

All right yes, okay, he'd kind of taken a left turn there with the word "family." He should have said "wife." Yeah . . . his conscience gave him a poke . . . he should have. But he hadn't actually LIED. Wives were family. Chosen, legally bound to, family.

They shared your name and address and everything!

'Sometimes it was nice being a lawyer,' he thought with a faint trace of bitterness, 'you could (almost) even bullshit yourself.'

"Oh," Emily tried to cover over her disappointment with a faint note of interest in her tone, "well. that sounds nice."

But it didn't sound like the kind of evening that she was going to be getting an open invitation to.

Shoot.

But before she could get disappointed by that turn of events, Aaron had repeated her age, and then asked if she was still in school. And then she was explaining that she was graduating in a few weeks. And then he asked what she was doing in town. And she told him that she was visiting her parents.

And on it went, from one thing to another. The awkward pauses had passed.

They were talking.

For at least ten minutes . . . perhaps a bit longer . . . they stood there chatting in the middle of the bank. They were a bit in the way . . . people were walking all around them . . . but Emily was afraid to move for fear of breaking the little momentum they had going. All they were doing was making chit chat, talking about the weather and the city, and just nothing really at all. Aside from the little bit about her school and his work, they didn't even exchange much personal information. But still . . . she grinned as he made a joke about the air conditioning in his office . . . she was having such a good time!

He was just so . . . NICE!

He was a nice guy. She never met nice guys. And he was smart and funny, and it was clear that he was really listening when she spoke. Men didn't usually listen to her. Most of the men she met, they just tried to, well . . . a few bad memories came up and she pushed them down again . . . well, they just usually had other things on their minds.

Actually just one other thing on their minds.

But Aaron wasn't like that at all. Or at least he didn't seem to be. And the longer they talked . . . ten minutes were definitely moving closer to fifteen . . . the less likely it seemed that he was going to suddenly morph into some big jerk who told her that she had nice tits and a cute ass.

A not uncommon pickup line from Emily's . . . less than stellar . . . experiences with men over the years.

But then the momentum began to wind down . . . time was passing . . . and Aaron finally tipped his head to look down at his watch. It was clear.

He had to go.

But then to her surprise, rather than asking her for her number, he just smiled and reached out to shake her hand. He told her that it was very nice talking to her, good luck with her finals, and after that, he shot her a dimple and told her to be careful with the heels.

Then he started to turn away.

WHOA!

She felt a little burst of panic . . . he was about to leave her there and go back to his life! And though she'd automatically responded with the expected . . . though genuine . . . nice to meet him too and all that jazz, she'd just thought that was the lead up to the actual asking out on a date.

But it wasn't.

And if she'd given herself even a moment to think, she might have stopped to consider why that would be. Why they would have such a pleasant conversation, and then he'd just say goodbye. But she didn't stop to think . . . she just reached out and put her hand on his arm.

And when he turned back, she smiled brightly.

"So before we go our separate ways here, maybe I could buy you a birthday lunch to say thanks for the hand up?"

And though that part was planned . . . and sounded pretty smooth if she did say so herself, it was his birthday, and everybody needed to eat . . . she had very little experience in asking men out.

Usually she just played defense.

So in the end, at the last second, her nerves got the better of her. And so she followed up her suave little lunch invite, with a very unladylike . . . snort.

Her face started burning up.

'Seriously Em?! You couldn't stay cool for FIVE flipping minutes?!'

And as she'd expected after that high school flashback social geekout, Aaron's smile suddenly disappeared. Of course, why wouldn't it?

Now he probably thought that she was not only a total klutz, but now a complete dork as well.

And she was just about to throw in the towel and say "never mind," before she embarrassed herself further, when she saw Aaron's smile come back.

Though this time it wasn't so much gallant and charming . . . as awkward and embarrassed.

Her stomach started to clench.

"That would be very nice Emily," he said softly, "but I'm sorry, I can't. That is to say I'm uh . . ."

As she looked at him in confusion . . . what was he trying to say(?) . . . Aaron suddenly pulled his hand from his pocket, and raised it up between them. And that's when Emily saw something that she hadn't noticed before.

A wedding band.

"Oh," she bit her lip, "you're married."

There was no question in her tone, it was just . . . flat. That was why he hadn't asked her out.

He had a wife.

But of course he had a wife . . . she started feeling like a complete fool . . . Emily Prentiss just did not have the kind of luck where a sweet, movie star handsome, AVAILABLE, guy came galloping to her rescue.

That was not her life.

Her life was the one where some dickhead named Snake who walked up and asked her to go give him a squeezer in the backroom of the bar.

That had happened last weekend.

And then on Friday there had been that asshole who'd grabbed her breasts, and then Saturday she ran into a high school boyfriend, Jimmy Herlihey.

He'd asked if she still put out on the first date.

She didn't. But . . . Emily felt a crushing wave of shame and embarrassment wash over her . . . that was obviously how men still saw her.

As a whore.

Really . . . a lump began to form in her throat . . . how could she have ever have thought that a guy like Aaron, nice and handsome with a good job and everything, would really be interested in a girl like her? That was ridiculous.

She was just . . . her eyes started to burn . . . pathetic.

And he was just a nice guy who was making a few minutes of conversation with a stranger that he'd met in the bank.

That was it.

So even as he began to awkwardly apologize for the misunderstanding . . . while simultaneously slipping the offending ring hand back into his pants pocket . . . she started violently shaking her head.

She didn't even try to keep the smile on her face.

"No," she cut in quickly to save herself further humiliation, "no, please don't. It was my fault. I misunderstood. I thought you were um . . ." her voice cracked and she hurriedly cleared it, "never mind. Anyway uh," her eyes dropped to the floor as she started backing up, "have a nice birthday."

At that, and with as much dignity as she could muster, Emily spun around on her wobbly heels, and started running for the door.

/*/*/*/*/*

Aaron blinked in astonishment as he looked after the girl that was actually RUNNING away from him!

It was clear that she was embarrassed . . . and genuinely upset . . . thinking that she had misread the situation. But she hadn't misread things. Not really. He felt a stab of guilt in his chest.

This wasn't her fault.

This was completely his fault. He'd been too friendly.

'You were FLIRTING!'

Okay FINE . . . he huffed at his conscience . . . he was FLIRTING! He'd been FLIRTING with a pretty girl! SUE HIM! He had deliberately not mentioned his wife once during their whole conversation, and then he'd deliberately kept his ring hidden until he'd been forced to show it to her.

And that was after she'd asked him out on a date.

She'd asked him out on a date. And then she had gotten embarrassed . . . and that was his fault. It was his fault she was upset because he'd completely led her on. He should have just helped her up off the floor and waved goodbye. But no, he had to make 'chitchat' and flash his dimples and just be an all-around ASSHOLE because it was his birthday! And what could it hurt to chat up a pretty girl for a few minutes on his birthday?

Well . . . he felt another stab of guilt as he watched her moving at rapid speed towards the revolving door . . . it could hurt the girl, that's what. It wasn't like he thought he was such an amazing catch, but he KNEW that she was interested in him.

That had been apparent.

He knew that from the way that she'd smiled at him and laughed at his stupid jokes. And he'd liked the attention. So he let her think that he was interested in her too.

When he wasn't.

Well . . . he bit his lip as his eyes dropped down to the floor . . . okay, that wasn't true either.

Because he was interested.

Not like 'hey, let's cheat on Haley' interested, but he'd enjoyed talking to Emily. And he'd enjoyed the diversion of a pretty face. Not a crime, but still . . . he felt a wave of shame . . . it wasn't nice to play with other people's emotions. It hadn't been intentional, he just hadn't considered the consequences to his actions. But the consequences were that he'd ended up causing hurt to a nice girl because he was a bit bored with his life.

'So are you just going to let her LEAVE?!'

That was his conscience again.

And his conscience was right . . . again. He needed to apologize, properly, for not being forthcoming with her about his status. He didn't want her feeling badly about what had happened.

He was the jerk here.

So just as she was stepping into the revolving door, he bolted after her, nearly knocking down two people in the process.

Though he got a few curses yelled after him, he just muttered a, "sorry," over his shoulder. He was too busy to even look back because he needed to keep his eye on Emily's movements.

He could see her on the other side of the glass.

And as she started walking double time up towards Lafayette Park . . . she was going much more quickly now that she was off the marble floors . . . he was stepping into the glass merry-go-round himself. And though some small part of his brain tried to point out that he still needed to deposit his fifteen thousand dollar check . . . not to mention eventually needing to get back to work . . . he just kept on moving after the pretty girl that he'd just been unspeakably rude to.

As Aaron stepped back out onto the sidewalk, he was already turning in the direction Emily had been heading.

He started to jog.

Though logic would dictate yelling her name might allow him to catch her faster, given that she was running AWAY from him, he was worried that if she knew he was behind her, that she'd just kick off her heels and bolt.

He wouldn't really blame her.

But luck was on his side, because rather than continuing on to a Metro station, or further down the street, Emily simply cut onto one of the side paths and went over to sit down on a bench. It was an area partially obscured by the bushes . . . he probably would have missed her if he hadn't been right behind her when she cut over there . . . but at least she'd stopped moving.

So he did as well.

Stopping to smooth down his shirt and push his sleeves back up before he took a breath. Then with slice of crow firmly lodged in his throat, he continued over to the small footpath that she'd taken a moment before. Ten paces later, he was standing in front of her bench.

Her head was bent down, and . . . his gust twisted . . . oh God.

She appeared to be crying.

He wanted to punch himself in the face.

"Emily," he whispered as he stooped down in front of her, "are you all right?"

Part of him wanted to reach out and touch her shoulder, but the rest of him knew that was a bad idea. She wasn't looking in his direction . . . she didn't know it was him. And even if it was broad daylight, you don't lay hands on an attractive young woman in a public park, unless you want to hear her scream bloody murder. Then he'd be swarmed by Secret Service Agents. And faster than he could say, "no, but I really do work for the Justice department!" he'd have his face in the grass and a boot in his back.

So he waited until she raised her head . . . and seeing the mascara streaks on her face . . . he bit his lip.

"Please don't tell me that you're crying because of what just happened?" He whispered.

If he did this . . . well, he was just going to hell. That was all there was to it.

Emily blinked in astonishment.

"What are you doing here?" She asked with a shocked sniffle as she hurriedly wiped her hands across her face.

Then she realized that he obviously must have followed her out, and she felt like an even bigger idiot than she had before. He'd just found her crying in the park.

Now he must think that she was a complete mental case.

So before he could say anything else, she quickly put her hand up to shoo him away.

"Aaron," she shook her head as she tried to stop crying, "please, just go. I'm fine."

"No," Aaron started to reach out to wipe her tears away . . . but then quickly curled his fingers back, "you're obviously not fine. And if I'm in any way responsible for you not being fine, then please," he whispered, "please know how very, very sorry I am. You shouldn't feel badly. Or be embarrassed. I should have told you right away that I was married. I shouldn't have been," he bit his lip, "well I shouldn't have been flirting with you."

Seeing her brow darken slightly, he hurried to explain.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I mean, that hadn't been my intention when we first started talking, but I realized after you ran out that's what I'd been doing. And so I gave you completely the wrong impression about my situation. So you shouldn't be embarrassed for asking me out to lunch. You didn't misunderstand anything. I . . . well, I . . ."

For a second he was at a loss for words . . . and then he decided the truth would be best. It would be humiliating.

But he owed it to her.

"I just liked you immediately," he gave her a sad smile, "you were really pretty, and I wanted to talk to you for a few minutes. And then after those few minutes were up, I realized that you weren't just pretty, you were smart and you were funny too, and um," he swallowed, "well, I just wanted to talk to you for a bit longer."

Seeing that Emily's eyes were still watering . . . though she did at least appear to be listening to him . . . Aaron reached out to squeeze her hand.

"I'm so sorry for the misunderstanding. I wasn't thinking. But," he asked hopefully, "did you hear the parts where I said that you were smart and funny and really pretty? I said pretty twice."

His goal was, at minimum, to get her to stop crying, and, at most, to get her to smile.

He got both.

"You're flirting again," Emily said with a watery smile, and when his dimple slipped out she huffed, "still flirting. You really need to put those away. Though at least this time," she gestured to the wedding band sitting on the hand that was squeezing hers, "this is on display too."

Though part of her wanted to be mad at him, she couldn't really see that he'd done anything so terrible that she should get angry. He'd thought she was pretty and wanted to talk to her for a minute.

How do you get mad at somebody for that?

It wasn't like he'd asked her out on a date or something. Or lied and said that he was single. It was just a short conversation in a bank.

It was just that he'd been absolutely ADORABLE while he was conversating!

But . . . she let out a sigh as she patted the seat next to her . . . there was no crime against being adorable. It wasn't his fault that she'd been having such a shitty week.

That that embarrassment in the bank had been pretty much the last straw.

Hence him finding her crying on a park bench, over a, in the grand scheme, relatively minor social gaffe.

Which was in and of itself, yet ANOTHER embarrassment for the day. But she was getting a bit numb to them. Maybe that was a good sign. Maybe in a few years she wouldn't care so much what people thought of her.

Then every little screw up wouldn't feel like the end of the world.

And when Aaron placed a brown paper napkin in her hand, she finally turned to face him.

He'd just spilled his guts, so she might as well return the favor.

"I forgive you for your accidental flirting," she said with a little smile, "and please know that I'm not generally quite such a basket case that I would cry over a misunderstanding like that."

She took a breath before she started wiping the tears from her face.

"It's just been a really lousy week." She continued, "I'm stressed out for my finals," she tipped her head, "I told you that they start next Tuesday, but I didn't tell you that I'm really worried about my statistics class. The final's half my grade and I suck at stats. That's why I left campus, everyone studying like their lives depended on it was just making things worse. So I came back home to visit my parents for a few days. I told you that," she sniffed and wiped her face again, "but I don't think that I mentioned that my dad got called away for work the day after I got here. So it's just me and my mother. And my mother and I don't really get along that well. Then this morning we had a big fight about my post graduate studies," Emily cleared her throat, "she doesn't approve of me going to the Sorbonne. So there's all that, and then, um . . ."

Her cheeks started to get a little pink as she paused for a moment.

"Well, I'll just tell you this so you'll know that it's been a particularly bad 'guy week.' I went out with my girlfriend this weekend to the Nine-Thirty Club, and some asshole pushed me against the wall, and before I could stop him, he got his hands under my shirt and felt me up."

Seeing Aaron's brow darken considerably, just as his fingers tightened over her hand, she hurriedly shook her head.

"It's okay, I took care of it. Busted his nose, and broke his fingers. He won't be doing that to any other girl for a while."

He was such a scumbag though . . . dirty and greasy and just, bleh . . . that she'd gone home and scrubbed herself raw in the shower.

And noting then that Aaron's obvious anger on her behalf, had morphed to a look of surprise . . . and admiration . . . Emily shrugged sheepishly.

"My dad made sure I knew how to handle myself. He used to make me practice maneuvers until I could flip the Marines."

Choosing not to elaborate on that point . . . too much to get into there . . . Emily sighed as she crumpled the makeshift tissue in her hand.

"So there was that run in, and then we went out again Saturday night, different club of course and I bumped into an old boyfriend. He didn't touch me, but," her eyes started to sting again as she thought back, "he was just a real jerk to me for no reason. And well," her gaze snapped up to Aaron's, "you weren't a jerk. You were nice," her eyes started to fill with tears again, "and nice guys never ask me out."

Okay . . . she quickly started blinking . . . she hadn't meant to start crying again. That was stupid. But still, it was true. Nice guys NEVER asked her out.

"Oh, Emily," Aaron soothed sympathetically, "that can't be true."

Could it? If it was, then he was going to feel like an even bigger asshole than he had up to that point.

And he wouldn't have thought that possible!

"It is though," she wiped the corner of her eye as she gave him a sad smile. "I'm a bum magnet. My mother always says so, and on that one point, I do have to agree. So yeah," she leaned back against the bench and crossed her legs, "that's why I'm having a little mini-breakdown in the middle of the day. It's not your fault. It's just my pathetic life," her eyes crinkled slightly as she looked over at him, "but I'll live. So you can feel free to leave me here now to wallow in my patheticness."

Though it was a bit embarrassing telling him all that, it had been clear that he had also been embarrassed about what he'd told her.

So they were kind of even there.

And really . . . she bit her lip . . . it actually had felt kind of good to get all that crap off of her chest. Usually when she had a mini, (or maxi), freak out, she just hid in a corner somewhere, kicking herself for being such a loser. But when she'd said all that stuff out loud, she didn't feel like quite such a loser. It was like she was talking about somebody else.

Just some poor girl that was having a hard week.

So maybe . . . Emily took a breath as she wiped the mascara smears she was sure were in the corners of her eyes . . . she should be a little kinder to that girl. She should be a little kinder to herself.

She'd probably be a bit happier if she was.

Aaron's jaw slowly ground back and forth as he stared down at a dead leaf on the stone path in front of them. He was about to do something . . . and make no mistake, he was DEFINITELY about to do this thing . . . but he honest to God didn't have a clue where his actions would fall on the matrimonial scale of inappropriate behavior.

Probably somewhere in the middle.

But he could live with the middle. So he took a breath before looking back up to Emily still fixing her face.

"How about we go get that lunch?"

Emily looked over at Aaron in surprise.

"What?"

"Lunch," Aaron reached over to take the, now useless, soggy, napkin from her fingers, "food. Sitting down, eating." He turned to drop the wet clump of paper into the trash barrel before looking back at her with a shameless dimple.

"It's my birthday and I would like to have lunch with a pretty girl who can't walk in high heels. You're the only one around right now."

Seeing her sheepish smile, he gave her fingers a light squeeze.

"Seriously Emily, just lunch. Then you can go back to your life, and I'll go back to my life. And in the little bit in-between, we'll just have a nice meal together. Would you like to do that?"

For just an hour he could pretend like it was a different world . . . one where he wasn't married. Where it wasn't wrong to have lunch with the girl that he'd just met in the bank. Because he knew that by married man standards . . . certainly by Haley standards . . . this was wrong.

But it didn't really "feel" wrong.

Intellectually yes, but emotionally . . . there was no guilt. It was just a meal. A special meal to apologize to this nice girl for being one more guy who had not treated her as well as she deserved to be treated.

It was the least he could do.

Emily looked down at the shiny gold band on Aaron's finger, and then back up to the soft . . . hopeful . . . smile he was giving her.

Her eyebrow went up.

"And no funny business, right?"

Though she knew the answer to the question . . . no . . . still, she'd feel stupid if she didn't at least ask. She didn't date married men.

Aaron's lips twitched.

"If you're asking me if I was planning on ravishing you over our salad course, no," he cleared his throat, "no, I was not planning on doing that."

Good for her for checking though. Maybe he was just a creep with a wedding ring. Okay . . . he flashed on the tears running down on her face moments ago . . . he was a creep with a wedding ring. But he wasn't THAT kind of creep. He was the kind that made nice girls cry.

Not that kind that cheated on his wife.

Emily's eyebrow shot up a little higher, this time in amusement.

"What about over dessert?"

A slow grin spread across Aaron's face.

"No, not over dessert either. Though that was an excellent question, and if you so choose, you'd make a fine lawyer one day. So let me assure you unequivocally, you will be safe from any and all ravishing for the entire period of our brief acquaintanceship." Then he stood up and put his hand out. "So what do you say? Lunch? You, me, salad, dessert? Maybe an entrée in between?"

He just had to deposit his check, and call the office to fake a lengthy errand.

Then the afternoon was his.

"Yes," Emily chuckled as she took Aaron's outstretched fingers.

"Yes, I'd like that very much."

A/N 2: If you read Girl proper, you'll see a lot of overlaps in their bonding relationship in this version. As in, it always beginning over mindless chit chat, and then Hotch's protectiveness, and Emily beating up guys in bars :) There's more there too if you're looking for it, but basically you see, it's the same them, just different circumstances pulling them together.

And given how it's established that Em was a mess in her teen years, and she's only 22 here, I see her issues obviously still being real issues. Perhaps not quite so prominent, but her mother problems and her self-esteem problems wouldn't have all magically resolved themselves just by a few years in college. She was still picking lousy boyfriends well into her 30s, and by that age you have a bit of a sense of humor about something like that. But not so much at 22. Problems seem bigger when you're younger, but then you get a little older, some perspective, and you realize then that most things don't really matter as much as you thought they did. Especially relationship problems. And at this age she's not yet the smooth confident FBI agent. So though she's grown-up Emily with the same kindness and quick wit, plus her ass kicking tendencies (the marine flipping is Girl canon from Chapter 87, Father Knows Best) she's still more vulnerable and more easily hurt. Not a basket case :) just, young.

And Hotch, he's still just Hotch. He's a stand-up married man, but from canon, this is the point in his life where he starts making some radical changes. Going from the Law to the Order aspect of the criminal justice system is a big jump, so clearly things in his world right now are not entirely copasetic. And if Emily were to enter his world at this stage, where he's about to start making some radical changes, how would that effect his decisions, and growth as a person? We shall see :)