Author's Note: Moving things along a bit, this picks up a couple hours after we left them.

Lonely Souls

"Take the next left."

At the global navigator's instruction, Hotch hit the directional . . . checked his mirror for the fiftieth time to make sure Lipsky wasn't following them . . . and turned off the main thoroughfare they'd been traveling down for the last ten minutes.

It was after eleven and they were in Baltimore County on their way to a twenty-four hour Wal-Mart so they could pick up some supplies for Emily and Daisy. Detective Durant had locked down Emily's apartment as an active crime scene so she couldn't take anything out of there until he'd cleared it.

That process in and of itself would be at least another full day.

Beyond that though, Hotch also knew that the police were planning a reconstruction of the initial attack on Kelly. And Hotch didn't want Emily within a mile of the place when that happened. So . . . at best . . . he figured they might be able to get back into her apartment sometime Saturday.

But that was if Emily was even inclined to want to go back there so soon.

After all, the chain of events that lead to her friend's brutal murder began at the condo. Not to mention . . . Hotch felt a surge of fury . . . the fucking PICTURES that were taken there! So really he wouldn't be surprised if she needed a couple days before she felt comfortable going into her home again.

Basically this whole night had been one trauma after another for her.

Feeling his anger get overshadowed by a resurgence of protectiveness, Hotch looked across the seat to see the subject of his musings.

His expression immediately softened when he saw Emily cuddling Daisy in her arms.

He sighed and turned back to the road . . . well, at least being back together seemed to be helping them.

The cat had stopped shaking and Emily had stopped crying.

Though . . . he bit his lip as he shot Emily another look . . . she looked so sad it was just killing him.

Of course he knew that she was blaming herself for Kelly's death. Which was ridiculous, but he knew how her brain worked. So when they got home he planned to make sure that he swept those thoughts clear before they cemented themselves into her psyche.

As it was she'd barely spoken an unsolicited word to him since they'd left the second crime scene. The only good thing about her silence, was that she hadn't asked him what he'd seen in the apartment. But he knew that it was on the tip of her tongue, and it was going to come up eventually.

God knew though that was one conversation Hotch did not want to have with her.

True to his word, he'd just done a quick walk through the murder scene and had come right back out to be with Emily while she finished giving her statement. But the two minutes he'd been inside, had been more than enough time for him to understand what they were dealing with. It was bad.

Very bad.

The rage he'd seen at the condo was tenfold at the apartment. The message on the wall there was, 'LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO!'

There were those six words . . . and a lot of blood.

He grimaced as he thought back . . . so much blood.

Kelly . . . due to Emily's emotional connection Hotch had started to think of her as Kelly rather than Agent Hsu . . . clearly had been very much alive when she was taken from Emily's. Those splatter patterns he'd seen could only have come from a beating heart. He felt a twinge in his gut as he thought back.

God, that poor woman.

All he'd been hoping for as he walked through was that she'd died quickly. But Durant had pulled him aside as they were leaving to say that after the multitude of NON fatal stab wounds, that when Lipsky finally sliced her throat, she'd been fully decapitated.

There would most definitely be a closed casket.

Hotch had seen so many ugly things over the years, but tonight was one of only a half dozen times that he'd walked through the murder scene of someone that he knew. It was so much worse than with strangers. No matter how hard you tried, there was just no way to get through the moment emotionally detached.

This wasn't just another dead body, another victim . . . this was a real person.

Someone he had spoken to, laughed with. It had barely been two weeks since Kelly had last been up to the Unit to take Emily to lunch. He'd talked to her for a few minutes while Emily had finished up a phone call. And as Hotch had walked through Kelly's bedroom . . . once a cheerful yellow and green, now one splattered and defiled by pools of crimson . . . he kept trying to remember her on that day, laughing as she'd told him a story about Emily's first day at the range. She'd been so nervous that she'd lined up her sights wrong and ended up firing into the target of the guy next to her.

He had not been pleased.

Hotch had chuckled softly as Kelly finished the story. And as he thought back, he remembered on that day she had been wearing a purple blouse and a charcoal grey suit. And the reason he remembered her outfit so clearly, was because the colors were quite striking with her black hair and pale skin.

He'd wanted to tell her that purple was a good color for her. That she looked very pretty. But he'd thought it would be inappropriate.

So instead he'd just told her to have a nice lunch.

That was the last thing he said to the woman as Emily was hanging up the phone. "You two have a nice lunch." And then Emily had turned around and he gave her a little smile before he continued on up to his office.

And all he could think as he walked around the massacre that had taken place in Kelly's bedroom, was that he'd wished that he'd said the other thing.

What would have been so wrong with telling her that she looked nice in purple?

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing. But he was always so worried about professionalism and proper decorum that he'd kept that completely innocuous little compliment to himself. And now that laughing, happy, woman, was lying in a cold metal drawer her body, lifeless, and mutilated.

It was funny the moments that ended up making your life's big regrets.

He never would have thought that such a little thing would now rank so high on the list.

The navigator instructed him then to take a right and Hotch changed lanes again . . . the other thing he'd been thinking as he walked through that scene, was that he'd also been infinitely grateful that Durant had kept Emily from going in there.

Nothing would have been gained from her seeing that carnage.

Hotch had only been a casual acquaintance of Kelly Hsu and even HE'D been haunted by the last thing he'd said to her. Emily didn't need to go through that same hell. Not to mention what it would have done to her to see the pictures of her and Kelly in the photo collage in the living room.

Them younger, smiling and laughing . . . at the beach . . . at a Christmas party.

One with them together on graduation day from the Academy.

He'd stopped and stared at that one. They'd had their arms around each other, and they looked SO happy. They'd had their whole lives ahead of them.

So much good to do.

His eyes had started to burn when he'd seen the smeared red fingerprint on the corner of the frame. Then he'd gone and looked back at the other photos of the two women, and sure enough . . . there was a bloody print on the side of each of them.

Lipsky had killed Kelly and then stopped and tainted all of the pictures of the two of them together.

Seeing those smears would have broken Emily's heart.

As it was, he'd seen the misery on her face when he'd come back out into the hall again. So he went back into quiet support mode, with a hand on her back as she finished telling her story to Detective Durant.

Hotch had been so proud of her. Though he'd known that she was torn up with grief, her voice hadn't quivered once.

They didn't expose their weaknesses to outsiders.

And once Durant had finished updating his notes, they'd passed off their cards to him and had gone with Mr. Kass back to the station so he could process Daisy.

As much as Emily had wanted to stay with her, Hotch convinced her it would probably go faster if they just let Kass do what he needed to do. It had taken almost a half hour, but finally he came back out and said they could come get the cat.

When they'd gone into the lab, Hotch had been incredibly grateful to see that once he'd finished taking his samples, Kass had cleaned Daisy's fur. Because really, Hotch hadn't been sure just how the hell they were going to handle that process without the two of them ending up in the emergency room.

Cats . . . especially ones who had just suffered a major trauma . . . were not fans of the bath.

But Kass had gloves . . . big, thick, leather gloves with an apron to match . . . and he'd been able to get her scrubbed quite well. To Hotch's eye her orange and white fur looked completely spotless.

Unfortunately the one thing Kass couldn't was give them the cage . . . city property . . . so once Emily had picked Daisy up off the table, Hotch had taken off his jacket and wrapped that up and around the petrified feline.

Given how slippery cats could be, they couldn't just depend on Emily's ability to keep her grip. They'd needed something big and loose that would keep Daisy from getting out of Emily's arms if she got spooked.

And Hotch was really hoping that she'd get through the shopping trip without any problems.

Technically . . . he finally turned into the Wal-Mart parking lot at 11:42 pm . . . pets weren't allowed in the store unless they were service animals, but there was no way in hell that he could leave Daisy by herself in the car.

After what had already happened they couldn't leave her anywhere by herself.

Not only would Emily have a fit, but Hotch didn't know what he'd do if Lipsky got the cat again, but this time it was due to a decision that he'd made.

He'd never forgive himself.

As it was he'd already decided that she was coming to work with them in the morning. The cat could live in his office for the time being. But . . . he pulled into the parking spot closest to the door and slipped off his seat belt . . . given the possible issues with her presence while they shopped, Hotch figured that for a change he was going to use his badge to get some special treatment.

The cat was coming into the store whether the stored liked it or not.

He was just going to be happy when he could get Emily and Daisy home and behind locked doors. Unfortunately he was only on the first floor, but . . . he opened his door and circled around to collect his new roommates with a twitch of his jaw . . . if Lipsky came through a window he was going out in a bag.

That outcome was not in doubt.

After Hotch opened her door, Emily swung her feet out and slowly stood up with Daisy in her arms. The cat of course immediately started to squirm in the open air, and Emily felt a pang of sympathy knowing that she just wanted to go hide somewhere.

That's what Emily wanted to do too.

But that was going to have to wait until they got to Hotch's, so for the time being Emily just tightened her grip on the wriggling little mass. But fortunately Hotch was quick on his feet, and he pulled his jacket up around the sides where Daisy was trying to get her paws out.

"We used to have to do this with Jack," Hotch murmured ironically as he fixed the wrap. Then his eyes slid over Emily's shoulder to check out the parking lot.

Though they were far from anywhere Lipsky could track them, Hotch was . . . as a rule . . . very uncomfortable being exposed out in public.

Especially at night when he couldn't see a damn thing.

And even though Emily was not his wife and Daisy was not a child, he couldn't help the feeling of déjà vu he had from the days when he used to go shopping with Haley and Jack.

For a second a faint smile touched Emily's lips at Hotch's comment, but it quickly faded as they started across the parking lot. Kelly had just been murdered.

It felt wrong to smile.

Also, this was an exposed area which was making her a little nervous. But then she reminded herself that they were completely outside of any established routine. They were five counties up and over from their homes. And neither she nor Hotch had been to this Wal-Mart before . . . they didn't often have use for 24 hour discount retail shopping . . . and with the way that Hotch had driven, there wasn't a chance in hell that they'd been followed.

So unless Lipsky was psychic, there was no way that he was here with them right now.

Still though, she was relieved when they stepped through the sliding doors. She was so tired and depressed and sad that she would have loved to have just gone right back to Hotch's when they were done at the lab. But unfortunately they had no cat food or litter. And though they could have bought those things at a 7/11, Emily also needed to get a cage for Daisy.

Not to mention . . . she paused as she saw a store associate heading for her . . . she needed a few things for herself.

Lipsky had completely tossed her bedroom, so her underwear was all going in the trash. The rest of it, well, she'd love to throw all of it out on principle, but she wasn't independently wealthy so she couldn't afford to buy a completely new wardrobe.

She'd resigned her to just washing everything else.

But that wasn't even an option until she was allowed back into her apartment, which would be at least another day or two. So for now . . . Hotch flashed his badge at the greeter that tried to stop her and Daisy . . . she needed to pick up some basic supplies to hold her through the weekend at least. She really wasn't very keen on going back to her condo at all, so even if they could go there on Saturday, she wasn't sure if she'd want to.

But . . . she flinched as Daisy jammed a claw into her shoulder . . . she was obviously going to have to get over that eventually.

/*/*/*/

After Hotch got the number of the pet care aisle from the greeter, he grabbed a cart and he and Emily headed down towards the back of the big box store.

They definitely needed the cage first.

Daisy was . . . Hotch eyed the constantly squirming feline warily . . . not at all happy being out in public. But that was understandable. Hotch wasn't at all happy being out in public either.

So the sooner they got out of there the happier everyone would be.

Fortunately they found the pet aisle quickly . . . it helped that Wal-Mart only had maybe two layouts and this one looked like the one near his old house with Haley . . . and Hotch stopped the cart and reached up to grab a cage from the shelf. Then he paused as he looked between Emily and Daisy and the other carrying options.

He decided they'd probably do better with the soft canvas carrier bag.

After all, they were going to be carting this cat with them everywhere, and the soft bag would allow Daisy and Emily to stay together when they were traveling, without Daisy getting loose or Emily suffering any major flesh wounds from wayward claws.

As it was . . . Hotch unzipped the side of the bag . . . it was obvious that Daisy's claws were digging into her now. Emily kept wincing as she shifted her in her arms.

And that was with her coat on and his jacket wrapped around the cat.

Hotch set the carrier on the floor before he reached over to take Daisy from Emily.

During the transfer, the back of his knuckles accidentally brushed against Emily's left breast and he again flashed on Haley and Jack. It was the oddest correlation.

And so strange that he couldn't shake it.

He watched Emily for a moment as she winced and rubbed the side of her neck.

"Did she get you?" Hotch asked sympathetically as he tightened his hold on the squirming feline.

Emily nodded as she looked down at her fingers to see if there was any blood.

"Yeah, a few times, but I don't think they're too bad. My coat was thick enough to block most of them." Her nose wrinkled as she looked up at him, "I don't know what she's doing to your jacket though. I might have to get you a new one."

It was one thing when she thought they'd just have to get the cat hair dry cleaned off. But now she was thinking that it was probably covered in catches. Though that didn't seem to concern for Hotch as she saw him just shake his head dismissively.

"Don't worry about it," he looked down at the cat carrier bag on the floor, "if you hold that steady I'll slip her inside."

"Right," Emily leaned down, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of the day settling over her as she gripped the sides of the cloth bag, "ready."

Hotch made quick work of getting Daisy contained, and fortunately she immediately seemed less stressed in the smaller space.

Once she was settled in the corner of the bag, Hotch started to reach back to take the jacket out and then said screw it. It wasn't like he was putting it back on right then. If it was even salvageable, it needed cleaning and pressing so he decided to just leave it in there as a blanket for her.

She could hide in it until they were out of the store.

After Hotch tucked Daisy in, Emily reached inside to pet her behind the ears as she murmured, "good girl, we're going home soon."

Well, not home . . . she thought sadly . . . home was out for awhile. But she actually was feeling much better about staying at Hotch's, which would be home for a few days.

Maybe a week.

And the reason that she was feeling better about these temporary living arrangements, was because she knew that staying with Hotch, was the one place that they would be completely safe. After everything that had happened tonight, even if her condo had been an option, she definitely wouldn't have gone back there. Emily bit down hard on her lip.

Not after seeing those pictures.

Really, she wouldn't have been relishing sleeping anywhere by herself. But knowing that Lipsky had been all through her apartment, touched her things, stood in her bedroom, and did God knew what while she was sleeping . . . Oh God!

Emily's earlier disgust and panic began to roar up again, along with a wave of nausea. But she tried to shake it off before she made herself sick.

Seeing the shudder suddenly go through Emily's frame, Hotch . . . who was still crouched down next to her . . . reached over and put his hand on her back.

She'd understandably been incredibly skittish all night so it didn't surprise him that she jumped slightly at the touch before she turned to look at him.

Her eyes were wide as she said worriedly, "Hotch now that I've seen those pictures I don't know how I'm ever going to be able to sleep in my apartment again."

What if this was becoming a conditioned response to what had happened? What if she started to feel sick and panicky the moment she walked in the front door?

What the hell was she going to do then!?

Hotch's expression softened in sympathy.

"Your worries are completely understandable, Emily. But remember that it's still early days. Why don't you see how you feel after we catch him? Then we'll clean out your bedroom, and we can replace everything if you want. I know that would be expensive, but I can loan you some money. But," he zipped the mesh end of the carrier before he slowly rose to his feet tugging Emily up with him, "if you decide that you just don't want to go back there, that's fine too. You're welcome to stay with me until you figure out what you want to do."

Though these were of course terrible circumstances, he couldn't deny that it would be nice to have somebody else around the house for a little while. He'd lived with a woman for twenty years and he'd become accustomed to it. The silence and just being, well, alone, those things were a huge adjustment for him when Haley left.

Emily gave him a sad smile as she nodded, "okay, thanks."

He really was being so sweet tonight. After all of this was over, she was going to have to try and think of some way to repay him for being so good to her.

A faint smile passed over Hotch's lips as he shook his head, "no thanks necessary."

He had a small spare room but it was certainly big enough for Emily and Daisy. Right now it was where Jack slept when he came to stay. But depending on Hotch's travel schedule, Jack was actually only there for one or two days a week. So Hotch figured he could get a trundle bed and put that in his room for his son to sleep on while Emily was staying with him.

Actually though . . . Hotch felt a stab of cold fear as he suddenly flashed on the bulls eyes in the photo array . . . it would probably be best if Jack stayed with Haley until this situation was resolved.

And maybe he'd put an agent on Haley's place.

Granted, Jack had no direct connection to Emily, but she had met him a few times. And if Lipsky had been watching her for as long as they thought, then it was possible that he'd seen her with Hotch and Jack. It was a long shot that he'd have any interest in his son . . . Jack wasn't in any of the photo arrays . . . but with their work, when it came to the safety of family, Hotch didn't believe there was such a thing as being too cautious.

And that thought suddenly reminded him of something Emily still needed to do.

"Your father," he said urgently, "you never called him."

Emily had just leaned down to slip the carrier strap over her shoulder when her eyes widened with alarm.

"Shit!" She hurriedly pulled her phone out, "I meant to do that in the car!"

While they were waiting for Daisy to get processed Emily had called her cousin, but that conversation had taken longer to get through than she had expected. Rick hadn't really comprehended the danger, his first response was to offer to, "kick Lipsky's ass," so by the time she'd given him the abridged version of what had happened to Kelly, and how dangerous this man was, they were being called in to pick up Daisy. That's why she hadn't had a chance to call her dad before they left the station.

Still though . . . she thought bitterly . . . there was no excuse for forgetting in the car.

As Emily started dialing her parents' number, Hotch leaned down to pick up Daisy from the floor.

She was starting to meow.

Loudly.

"Shhh," he whispered while putting the carrier on the top of the carriage, "we're leaving in a minute."

Not unsurprisingly that didn't really quiet her down, so Hotch unzipped the flap and put his hand inside to scratch her ears.

There . . . he sighed . . . silence.

Though he'd had no pets as an adult, they'd had cats when he was little so Hotch was comfortable around them. If pressed he supposed he'd say that he was fond of them.

They weren't as messy as dogs.

His mother was a cat person though, so maybe it was genetic. Even now she had two calicos, but Hotch had noticed that they didn't really seem to care for him. But fortunately . . . he scratched his thumb under Daisy's chin . . . he and Emily's cat had always gotten along just fine when he came over to visit.

So he stood there, petting, (and bonding with), Daisy, as he listened to Emily calling her father. And then she was haltingly . . . somewhat painfully . . . trying to explain to him about what had happened tonight. Her voice caught a few times when she was talking about Kelly and after the second time, Hotch found himself reaching over to rub her arm.

Though he'd never previously been so tactile with her, today, he was finding it impossible to see her in pain and not attempt to offer her what little bit of comfort that he could. And the more he touched her, the more comfortable he was becoming doing it.

It was like a faucet had been turned on and now he couldn't turn it off.

Hotch's brow creased in sympathy as Emily's voice became husky with emotion. And he could also tell from her side of the conversation, just how upset Mr. Prentiss was.

Being a father, Hotch knew exactly where the other man was coming from though. And in his position Hotch would be doing the exact same thing that Emily's father was clearly doing.

Trying to convince his child to move back home.

Emily looked over at Hotch helplessly as she continued talking into the phone.

"Dad, really, I promise, I'm okay. I'm staying with Hotch for the time being, and I'll be totally safe there."

This was the third time that she'd tried to deflect her father's offer to stay with them, but he just wasn't listening to her tonight. And hearing his next request, her jaw twitched and then her expression morphed to one of embarrassment as she pulled the phone away from her ear and held it out to Hotch.

"He'd like to speak to you."

God . . . she closed her eyes as Hotch took the cell from her hand . . . this was so embarrassing. The only thing she was grateful for was that this wasn't their first conversation. The two of them had met last year at Emily's Christmas party and they'd gotten along quite well. Her father had been very impressed with Hotch . . . understandable, Hotch was very impressive . . . and since then had asked after him whenever Emily had dinner at her parents. So she'd thought for sure that simply knowing that she was staying with her boss, would have been enough to alleviate most of his immediate concerns.

But no.

Now she watched anxiously as Hotch turned away from her and lowered his voice. Though she couldn't hear what he was saying, when he turned back a minute later he was closing her phone and his eyes crinkled slightly as he handed it back to her.

"All set. Your father said to tell you that he loves you and that he wants you to call him tomorrow to let him know how you are."

Emily's jaw fell open slightly before she asked in amazement, "what did you say to him?"

Her dad had been adamant that he wanted to her stay at the house because they had round the clock security, so she'd thought for sure that her father was going to try to cajole Hotch into convincing her to go there.

Hotch gave her a sad smile.

"I just made him a promise, one father to another."

That was all Mr. Prentiss had wanted . . . an assurance that his child would be safe with him. And that was fortunately one promise that Hotch could keep.

Her eyes now stinging, Emily stared back at Hotch.

"Oh," she swallowed, "thanks."

Okay . . . she wiped the corner of her eye . . . she really needed to get home before she started crying again. Clearly she was so overstressed that EVERYTHING was triggering an emotional response now. So in an effort to get them moving out the door, she quickly blinked and turned to look at the cat products on the shelf behind her. She started filling the cart.

. . . litter box

. . . bag of Friskies

. . . jar of treats

. . . box of wet food

As she stooped down to pick up the bag of litter, Hotch touched her shoulder, "I'll get it."

Though Emily was capable of getting it herself, it was heavy, and if he wanted to lift it for her . . . she stepped out of his way . . . then she wasn't going to argue about it.

Once he'd hefted the 20 lb bag of litter over the side of the cart, Hotch looked back at Emily.

"Now what do you need to get for you?" He asked.

Unfortunately her ready bag was back at her condo, locked up with everything else until Durant let it all go.

"Um," she started pushing the cart towards the main aisle so they could go to Health and Beauty, "just basic toiletries and some makeup," she rolled her eyes as she added bitterly, "and all new underwear."

Hotch's lips pursed in sympathy.

"Right."

Basically she'd been violated in half a dozen ways tonight. And as he thought about that, his hand again fell to her back as they walked along.

Touching her was definitely becoming a matter of automatic routine, and he worried that it was going to be a little difficult to keep his hands to himself tomorrow when they went back to the office. But . . . he shook his head slightly as they moved over to the shampoo aisle . . . that was the least of their concerns at the moment.

So he refocused on their most pressing issue, getting through their shopping trip so they could get home, go to bed and finally put an end to this awful day.

Fortunately Emily knew exactly what she needed and once they'd picked up her items they circled over to the women's intimates. While Emily picked out some underwear and another bra to tide her over for a few days, Hotch grabbed a few packs of black socks for her.

As he tossed them into the cart Emily gave him a soft smile, "thanks."

It should seem weird that Hotch was helping her buy underwear but, strangely enough, it wasn't. She didn't know why that was though. Maybe just because in contrast to the sexual assaults that they discussed regularly, this was such a mundane, normal, thing. But whatever the reason, she was just grateful that this particular part of the evening wasn't adding any awkwardness to the stress of the night.

Hotch's lip quirked up slightly.

"No problem," then he tipped his head to the side, "do you need to get anything else tonight?"

She sighed heavily.

"Well, I don't even have my go bag so I don't have any clothes at all," then her brow wrinkled, "but I don't really want to have an entire new wardrobe from Wal-Mart."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth she cringed.

"And God does that sound really snotty and shallow right now."

Actually given everything that had happened tonight that sounded just awful! Kelly was dead . . . butchered . . . and yet some part of Emily still cared about something so stupidly superficial.

Jesus . . . her eyes started to tear up . . . what was WRONG with her?!

Seeing how appalled Emily was at what she'd said, Hotch quickly moved to alleviate her concerns.

"Hey," he squeezed her fingers as he said softly, "don't beat yourself up. It's not a big deal. You can't help feeling the way you feel," he tried to distract her before the tears spilled over, "why don't you just pick up a pair of jeans and a couple shirts. Luckily tomorrow's Friday, so we'll just address your larger clothes situation this weekend."

On Saturday . . . if the police let them in . . . they could go to her place with a couple of the guys. Then even if Emily wasn't ready to go inside yet herself, he could get her go bag out of the living room, and a few suits out of her closet. As far as Hotch had seen, most of the stuff that Lipsky had rifled through was from her dressers. So later, when she was ready, they'd go back and throw out what she wanted gone and salvage what she wanted to keep.

She could take care of the washing at his place.

Seeing the wisdom in Hotch's plan, Emily tried to move past her feelings of guilt and disgust as she blinked and nodded.

"Okay," she swallowed, "okay, that sounds like a good idea."

It was nearly midnight, and she was completely at the end of her rope. And clearly this was not an issue that needed a great deal of thought or attention at the moment. So with a heavy sigh, Emily led Hotch down to the other end of the women's wear area where she picked up two simple, long sleeved shirts, one red and one blue, and then a pair of Levi's.

With that, and what she was currently wearing, she figured that she was good until Monday. So she looked up at Hotch.

"I'm ready to go."

Hotch checked his watch . . . just over twenty minutes . . . he started walking them to the registers. That was pretty good given the stop to call her father.

So now . . . he took a breath as he eyeballed a weary Emily . . . home.

/*/*/*/

As he drove into his apartment complex Hotch immediately spotted the cruiser sitting out in front of his place. It wasn't something that Durant had mentioned he was going to do, but Hotch was INCREDIBLY relieved to see it. He knew that the city had to be stretching their resources pretty thin on this case so he didn't think the protective detail would last long. But that was okay. Ordinarily he (and Emily) could take care of themselves just fine. It was just that tonight they needed a little extra help. Even before this personal horror show had started up, they'd been coming off four days of a hellish case.

She was a mess and he was exhausted.

Exhausted, starving and, although not quite as emotionally wiped as Emily, definitely very stressed and in need of some recuperative rest. At least with the cruiser out front, he wouldn't have to camp out in the living room with his Glock and a pot of coffee.

Hotch was also pleased that the officers actually got out of the cruiser when he and Emily started heading to the door. It was obvious that they were genuinely paying attention to the comings and goings of the place, and not just considering this an easy gig.

So after introductions were made with, who they learned were Officers Jericho and O'Leary . . . who would be on the door until eight am . . . Hotch, Emily, and Daisy continued on into the building.

Once they got inside his apartment, Hotch dropped the bags in the living room, hit the deadbolt, and did a quick check of his place. After he'd confirmed that nothing looked out of order, and nobody was hiding in the closets or under the beds, he led Emily down to the spare bedroom so she could let Daisy out of her carrier.

He knew it would be best to let the cat get settled somewhere she could feel safe. And as he'd expected, as soon as she was free, Daisy immediately went running to hide under the bed.

For a moment Emily just stood there staring down at the floor, and she looked so wiped that Hotch was going to tell her to just go ahead and lie down and he'd take care of everything else. But then she shook her head slightly and stepped passed him to go back to the living room.

He looked after her for a moment and then sighed as he followed her back down the hall.

/*/*/*/

After Hotch hung up their coats, and helped Emily unpack her purchases and take care of Daisy's basic needs . . . he set up the litter box while she put out the food and water . . . he did another quick walk through the apartment, that time to check the windows again.

All the locks were good and nothing looked amiss outside.

When he came back into the living room he stopped short when he saw Emily. When he'd left her, she'd been taking the packaging off her new makeup, now she was standing in the middle of the room with her arms wrapped around herself as she stared down at the carpet.

It was very reminiscent of how she'd looked in the bedroom.

He bit his lip.

"Emily," he spoke softly as he walked over to where she was standing, "are you all right?"

Emily slowly shook her head.

"No," she looked up at him with a wince, "no, I'm not."

For a few minutes she'd been able to distract herself with mundane chores. But then Hotch had left the room and her main distraction was gone. That's when her conscience and her guilt and fear had all started eating away at her again.

Everything had fallen apart.

Her sense of safety, her confidence in herself, her confidence in her own abilities, everything . . . she took a breath to hold the tears at bay . . . everything was ruined. She'd fucked up.

Kelly was dead and it was all her fault.

Hotch's eyes locked onto Emily's and, seeing the anguish on her face, he felt his heart constrict.

This was not his Prentiss.

At work Emily Prentiss exuded confidence and strength. She looked after everyone. The victims, the team, the families . . . even him. She was the den mother, always helping everyone else get through their struggles while she tried to hide her own pain behind a smile and a joke. But he'd started seeing through her deflections a long time ago.

She hurt just as much as the rest of them.

How could she not? This job took so much . . . too much. And he'd been trying to find a way to help her deal with things better, to not hide so much from him, but it was so hard when even after all of these years he was still trying to find his own way.

Before he'd had his family, but last year he'd been forced to start coping from scratch. And Emily had done so much for him during that painful period. Staying faithfully by his side while they investigated one terrible case after another.

Absorbed one horror story after another.

Even though he'd never asked her to . . . never would ask her to . . . she'd been helping him find his way again after the divorce. After New York.

Even after Colorado.

What had happened to her that day had shaken him to his core. He'd failed her. Utterly and completely failed her. As her leader, as her friend . . . and simply as a man. He hadn't been able to protect her from that beating.

That beating that easily could have killed her.

And after what had already happened that year, that could have been the final nail in his coffin. He might not have been able to continue on with the unit. But when she had come out of that compound, battered and bloody, rather than screaming at him for sending her into that hell, she'd immediately hugged him and whispered in his ear that it wasn't his fault.

And that he wasn't to blame himself for things that he couldn't control.

Though he couldn't escape the guilt for putting her in harm's way . . . there was no escaping that guilt . . . her forgiveness had been the only thing that meant anything to him. Because by that point in the summer, he had started to truly rely on her always being at his side. And if she'd pulled away from him then in anger, in resentment . . . he didn't know what he would have done.

He definitely wouldn't have made it as far as he had.

Because really, without her quiet support since the divorce, the calls to check on him after he'd had a bad day, the regular dinners, the little jokes as they got coffee in the morning, all of that . . . his jaw twisted as they stared at each other . . . all of that had kept him from sliding completely into the darkness.

So it was time to return the favor.

It was time to offer her support, to keep her spirits up . . . to show her that she wasn't alone in this. And to do that, he needed to extend himself in a way that he wouldn't ordinarily. He needed to extend himself in a way that would be a comfort for her. She needed not just a sympathetic shoulder or a pat on the back, no, those were things that he needed when he had a bad day.

What she needed now was a hug.

A real one. Not just a 'bodies almost touched because he was trying to shield her grief from the world at large,' kind. And hugs weren't usually something that he was comfortable giving. They were so personal. Taking someone's space in the world and making it your own.

How could people not see how personal that was?

Although he was always affectionate with his family, the rest of the world he worked so hard to keep at a distance. If someone couldn't touch you they couldn't hurt you.

That one was simple.

Still though, those were his issues . . . he put his hand out to her . . . and he shouldn't let them affect his ability to help her now.

As she tentatively grasped his fingers, he saw her eyes start to glisten again and he felt a tightening in his chest.

Seeing her hurting caused him physical pain. And that meant he needed to do something to help her.

That one was simple too.

So he put his other hand out and slowly ran it along her bare forearm. He saw her bite her lip just before her eyes dropped to the carpet again.

She was about to start crying.

And that was when he took the last step separating them and pulled her to his chest. The last time . . . the only time . . . that they had hugged previously, was the night that she was released from the compound. That night she had initiated. And that night he'd been wracked with guilt, trying to be mindful of her injuries.

But today he had no such concerns. Today he just wanted to remind her that these burdens that she was carrying, that they were his burdens too.

She wasn't carrying them alone.

So he squeezed her tightly against his body . . . waiting until all the tension had left her, waiting until she was completely soft in his arms . . . and then he tipped his head down to whisper in her ear the things that needed to be said.

"This isn't your fault," was the first one. "You didn't do anything wrong," was the second.

All of the years that he had been doing this, all of the women that blamed themselves for wearing their skirts too short or their blouses too low. It was all bullshit. Even somebody like Emily, somebody trained to know it was bullshit, he knew that she'd been thinking these things too. He'd seen it in the shame as she'd looked away from him earlier in the night. In the guilt on her face as they'd stood outside Kelly's apartment.

Her decisions were haunting her.

She thought that she should have done things differently from the beginning. That she should have seen what Lipsky was the night she met him in the restaurant.

That she should have told everyone what was happening weeks ago.

But none of that mattered now. It was all bygones. And as he felt the warmth of her tears on his chest, he continued whispering things that she already knew to be true.

"These things just happen, Emily. You know that these things happen every day and you can't control them. It's all on him, not you. But you're NOT a victim, you're the strong one," his voice got husky as he rubbed her back, "you're the one I've been leaning on all year."

Then he was quiet for a moment as he got his emotions under control again.

This wasn't about his problems, it was about hers. So he cleared his throat and began again.

"We're going to take care of this together. We're going to get this guy out of your life one way or another," he paused before adding softly, "but to do that you have to trust me Emily. You have to let me in. Can you do that?"

They were close, had been growing closer still, but they still didn't have that kind of relationship.

The sharing kind.

That was totally his fault though. Whatever advances had been made in the depth of their relationship, were all due to her continuing efforts to reach him. But he was so used to holding everyone at arm's length, that even after it became clear to him that Emily had broached all of his defenses, he'd still tried to keep that little bit of distance.

All because he was afraid of being hurt again.

Haley had broken his heart when she'd left and taken Jack away. But Emily wasn't Haley. And if he hadn't been keeping that wall between them for the sins of another woman, then maybe he would have known about her blind date with Lipsky. And then maybe he would have asked her how it went and she would have told him that the guy gave her the creeps. And maybe he would have looked into him. Hell, who was he kidding?

He definitely would have looked into him.

So really, the chain of events that had led them here tonight, could just as easily circle back around to him and the decisions that he had made. If he'd been more open with her, more accepting of her efforts to deepen their friendship, then maybe they would have discovered weeks ago what was happening.

It was a big What If, but Hotch couldn't deny that it was a plausible chain of events. And with Emily still crying softly against his chest he couldn't stop all of those What Ifs from rolling around in his head.

Emily was silent for almost a minute as she considered Hotch's question. Finally she sniffled and murmured back.

"I can if you can."

Still teary eyed, she tipped her head back to look at him.

"I know that I need your help. And," her voice caught, "I'm so grateful, Hotch, that you're in my life. But," she wiped her hand across her face, "I can't be the only one here whose whole life is exposed."

Seeing the confusion on his face, Emily reached up to touch his cheek.

"Don't you see?" She said sadly, "it would screw everything up in the long run. When this over, if you're still you, strong and silent, holding everything in, keeping me and the rest of the world at a distance, and I'm now completely defenseless, my life torn apart with no secrets left," bitterness tainted her words, "the helpless woman that you needed to protect," she shook her head, "we'll never be able to get back to any kind of even ground."

She knew that if she opened herself up to him and he gave nothing in return, that she'd end up having to transfer out when this was all over. She'd be too embarrassed to stay.

Hotch stared at her, feeling the warmth of her hand on his cheek . . . and as much as it pained him . . . he saw the truth in what she was saying. Their friendship, their relationship, whatever it was, it couldn't sustain such an uneven shift in power.

It would splinter and fall apart.

So if was to help her now, then he was going to have to let her into his life as fully as he was asking her to let him into hers. For everything that he'd be taking from her, he was going to have to offer up the same of himself.

But . . . his eyes shifted away from hers . . . was that something that he could do?

This wasn't just extending himself as far as a hug. This was dropping all of those walls that he'd so carefully constructed, for so many years. The walls that had driven Haley away, could he really lower them for Emily? Could he do that just to help her?

Just to preserve their relationship.

His brow wrinkled in worry as he looked over her head . . . God knew that he wanted to, but . . .

And that's when he felt Emily's hand fall away from his cheek. His eyes snapped down to see that her own mask of detachment was falling into place.

She was pulling away.

And for a moment he was a panic as he tried to decide what to do. But then she started to physically push away from him so she that could step out of his arms.

That's when his decision was made.

Whatever their relationship was now . . . whatever it could become . . . if he couldn't do this for her, then he was going to ruin all of it. So if he had let her in then that was what he would do.

No matter how difficult it was.

So before she could get away, he tightened his hold on her waist. And when she looked back up at him, he nodded.

"Okay," his voice was soft, "I promise that if you let me in," he took a breath, "I'll let you in."

It was going to be hard, but he couldn't deny that a small part of him (that part that wasn't terrified that she'd run screaming from all the ugliness) was hopeful about perhaps making a connection with someone again.

A woman . . . his brain whispered . . . making a connection with a woman again.

All right, fine . . . his hand slid along her ribcage . . . a woman. He could admit that much to himself. For the moment though, with her pressed against his body, that was about all he could admit.

With her hands flat on his chest, ready to push him away, Emily stared up at Hotch. She was gauging whether or not he was truly going to be capable of what he was offering.

It had taken him a moment to answer, a moment when she'd decided that she was asking too much of him. And in that moment she'd thought that she was going to be in this alone. But as she saw him looking down at her nervously, she knew that it wasn't just an intellectual decision he'd made . . . his heart was in it too. Because he wouldn't be nervous if somebody was holding a gun to his head, only if he was contemplating sharing his feelings.

For Hotch that would be genuinely terrifying.

Her expression softened and she leaned up to kiss his cheek.

When she pulled back, a flicker of amusement crossed Hotch's face.

"What was that for?" He asked curiously.

The kiss had surprised him. She'd never done that before.

But . . . he felt a slight tingle where her lips had touched his cheek . . . it was nice.

Then she gave him a watery smile.

"I know what a big deal it is for you to agree to that, and I'm very honored that would do it just for me."

As he looked down at her, Emily saw Hotch open his mouth to say something in response . . . but then he closed it again and bit his lip. She knew that he wanted to say more.

But he wasn't ready yet.

That was okay though . . . she rubbed his chest . . . for tonight, the want was enough. And tonight, she would explore the other benefits from this shift in their relationship.

Hugging.

She hadn't realized that Hotch could be so comforting. He didn't make her feel weak for leaning on him. It felt like he was sharing his strength, not diminishing hers.

Us and them.

That's what it was. That was the shift. That's what she got from him.

The feeling . . . her eyes started to sting . . . that when he held her, that they were in this together. And Hotch had not only initiated this embrace on his own, but had offered to change the ENTIRE nature of their relationship.

Just for her.

That was something. Something huge. But now wasn't the time to consider what that meant, now was just the time to take a little comfort where it was being offered.

So she slipped her arms around his waist as she once more rested her cheek against his chest. And then his arms were moving up to wrap around her once more.

A few seconds later, he tipped his head down to rest against hers and Emily's eyes started to water.

All these months . . . almost a year . . . she'd been trying to get him to open up to her. But it took THIS awful thing to make it happen. Her eyes fell shut with a wince as Hotch began to gently rub her back.

Karma really was a fucked up thing.

A/N 2: I didn't want to be redundant with my other stories in terms of how I got them together. So I gave their relationship some consideration here. I was going from onscreen canon and trying to get that leap to move them from friends to more in a short period of time. And I kind of stick with the belief that with Hotch, the only way to truly begin a relationship with him is to get him to open up. He's so reserved, that until he really breaks that wall down with you, you're just spinning your wheels. And in my other stories, whatever the precipitating event is, there's always a follow up period of time where they slowly bond and he starts feeling more comfortable sharing. But here, I figured I'd try something a little different and kind of do a 'push comes to shove' thing. But I thought it was realistic for the reasons they both had in their head. Her entire personal life is now up for grabs. And you can't maintain any type of relationship if one person tramples through the other's life but offers nothing in return. So this way, Hotch will be forced to make an effort that he would otherwise probably not make at this point.