Author's Note: Finally got this one cleaned up.

Prompt Set #11

Show: Zoey 101

Title Challenge: Rumor of Love

The Reunion

Emily stared out the window of the plane, watching as they cleared the tarmac so the luggage carriers could roll up.

The snow was coming down so hard the mini plows could barely keep up with it. In fact, as she looked out the window now, she was actually amazed that they hadn't been diverted to another airport.

Though it had been kind of a rough landing she hadn't realized just how bad the weather was until they were on the ground.

Actually though . . . she tipped her head . . . 'kind of' was a bit of an understatement.

The oxygen masks had dropped, the overhead cabinets' had popped open, three women (and one man) had screamed and the guy across the aisle had thrown up into his laptop case.

It had definitely not been an experience she wished to repeat.

But they'd landed at JFK in one piece, and that was really all that mattered. And now she was waiting for her chance to deplane. And this time alone . . . without the drama of the last fifteen minutes of the descent . . . once again gave her the opportunity to kick herself for being such an idiot.

Her eyes started to sting as she stared out at the whipping storm.

Really, to kick herself for thinking such awful things about Hotch when his mom was so sick. Last night, after she'd dropped the phone and burst into tears, she'd thought that was it, it was all over. She had been a complete fool.

Not only did he not love her . . . he didn't care about her at all.

And for a moment she'd tried so hard to be angry with him because she'd thought it would make it easier. But she just didn't have it in her. There was no anger.

All she'd felt was humiliation and pain.

A pain that had hurt so much she hadn't been able to think straight. So she'd curled up into a ball on the couch, and cried. It had been years since she'd had her heart broken, and it had sucked just as much as she'd remembered.

Then not ten minutes later . . . just as her tears were starting to taper off . . . she saw Hotch's name begin flashing over and over on her caller ID. House phone and cell phone . . . back and forth he went.

And even though that's all she'd wanted for days . . . just to talk to him . . . she couldn't pick up. As stupid as it sounded to her now, for that little while, she'd been convinced that he was off with some other woman. That when had Emily called, he'd been washing off her scent. And with those images in her mind, she just couldn't bear the thought of hearing his voice.

Of hearing him actually say that he'd never cared about her at all.

So'd she ignored her phones . . . but he just kept calling and calling. It wasn't until later that she'd realized that should have been the obvious sign to her that something else was happening.

That something was genuinely wrong.

But at that point she'd been too blinded by her pain to think logically. So she'd pulled on her sneakers, grabbed her gun, and went for a run.

In her haste to get away from her apartment . . . to get away from him . . . Emily had forgotten to take her jacket. And being out in just her t-shirt and sweat pants, she'd begun to freeze the moment she'd stepped out the front door of her building.

But still she'd kept going down the front steps and out to the street.

The sidewalks were icy and the streets were dark and deserted, and she'd known that she was being stupid. But she didn't care. She'd just ran and ran, trying to clear her mind of all thoughts related to the man who had broken her heart.

The moment her lungs had began to burn though, a thought suddenly came to her from the little voice that sat in the bleachers.

'Hotch would be so upset if he knew that you were out in the cold right now by yourself.'

Emily had tried to push that voice away, telling it that he didn't care what happened to her. But just like the ringing phones . . . the voice kept coming back again and again.

Reminding her how he always pushed her behind him when they went on a raid. That even though she carried a gun, he always walked her to her car to make sure she was safe. And when he brought her home at night, before he left the parking lot, he always waited for her phone call that she was safe inside her apartment.

And then finally she remembered that last night that she'd seen him. And for a change she remembered not the passionate kiss that he gave her, but the sweet one later. The one where he'd kissed the back of her hand and then a few minutes later he told her that he'd see her in the morning. That was the last thing he'd done before he'd left her that night.

He'd said that he'd see her in the morning.

The little voice pointed out that those weren't the actions, or the words, of a man who didn't care about her.

And as she ran through the streets of Arlington, her tears frozen on her face . . . those images playing in her mind . . . she'd started to realize that she'd made a mistake. Not in initially trusting him with her heart . . . but in NOT trusting him tonight.

Because Hotch wasn't any of the terrible things that her broken heart had been trying to make her believe that he was. He wasn't a cheat, and he wasn't cruel, and he would never play with her feelings. Even if he hadn't wanted to get involved with her, he would have been man enough to simply tell her that to her face. He wouldn't have just taken off and hoped that she'd get the hint. That was the coward's way out.

And Aaron Hotchner was not a coward.

It had just been so many years with so many crappy boyfriends, that Emily had become hardwired to believe that men were ALWAYS going to treat her badly. Expecting the worst had become a survival mechanism. So she'd let herself forget that this wasn't just any man.

This was Hotch.

And once her brain had started working again, she'd known that she had to go home and see if he'd left her a message. When that woman had first picked up his cell, Emily had been convinced that that there was a good reason for some strange girl to be answering his phone late at night. Well, maybe that good reason was sitting there as a blinking light on her voicemail.

So almost forty five minutes after she'd left her apartment, Emily had turned around and raced back home again.

And as she'd started to listen to his message, the tears had once again begun to run down her face.

But that time they were tears of shame.

How could she have thought so little of him? And then when he said that he missed her, and that he wanted her there with him . . . she'd started to sob.

His mom was dying and she hadn't taken his call because somebody else had picked up his phone.

At that point she wasn't even sure if she deserved him.

And by the time she'd finished listening to his voicemail . . . and realized the woman had been his sister-in-law . . . Emily was positive that she didn't deserve him. But still . . . he was all that she wanted. And apparently he wanted her too, so she'd needed to make things right before it was too late.

As desperately as she'd wanted to call him back right then, she'd known it was much too late. By then it had been almost 1:30. She'd stubbornly . . . and stupidly . . . avoided listening to his message for almost two hours. And if he had to be at the hospital early, she didn't want to take away the few hours of rest he clearly would need in order to deal with his mom's situation.

So she'd sat there, tears still streaming, as she'd played his message two more times, wondering how she was ever going to make this up to him. Because she knew that he'd be so hurt if he had known about all the ridiculous, petty, awful, things that had been going through her head for the past two days.

But then as she'd listened to his words that third time, she'd suddenly realized that there had been a way to make it up to him. Even if he didn't actually know that there was anything to make up.

She could just go be with him.

That's what he'd said he wanted, so that's what she'd decided to do. She'd go support him and love him and take care of him. All of the things that she should have been doing for the past forty eight hours while she'd instead been acting like a neurotic, completely self involved, nut case.

So she'd immediately gotten on her laptop and booked herself a ticket to New York on the commuter flight leaving at five thirty am. And then she'd called every hospital in the New York metro area until she'd tracked down the one with Hotch's mother. After she was sure that she knew where she was going, she'd sent Hotch a text message telling him how sorry she was about his mom. And she'd promised that they would talk soon. That hadn't been a lie.

They would talk when she got there.

But she'd wanted to surprise him because she was sure that if he knew that she was coming, then he'd tell her that the trip was too far and she should stay home. But she'd heard the pain in his voice.

He needed her.

She'd wanted to sign her message 'love,' but it was definitely too soon for that. So instead she just wrote, 'XX OO, Emily.'

Hugs and kisses were as good as an 'I love you' but without all of the potential awkwardness the actual WORD entailed.

At that point it had been nearly three am, and she'd been exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster of the night. But there had still been so much to do before she could even consider resting her eyes.

Sleep could wait until she got to the plane.

The last thing she had done before running up to shower and pack, was to leave Dave a voicemail saying that she had to take some personal time, but that she'd call him later and let him know when she'd be back. With Hotch already out, Dave definitely wasn't going to be happy about her leaving too, but, he could deal.

She had more important concerns.

So after she'd packed, Emily grabbed a cab to Dulles only to sit around for two hours waiting for them to get clearance to board. Even though it had been quiet in Virginia, the storm up north was screwing up the whole eastern seaboard. And she'd been about five minutes away from just catching a cab to Union Station to get the train, when suddenly the agent called out to get their boarding passes ready. Twenty minutes later they'd been taxiing down the runway.

And now she was here in New York.

It had been eight hours since she received Hotch's message, and hopefully he'd been sleeping for the majority of that time. She'd wanted to get to the hospital the same time that he would be getting there, but now she knew that she'd be arriving at least a couple hours after he would have.

It was unlikely that she could stay with him for the duration of his trip, but at the very least she wanted to be with him today for his mom's surgery.

After all, that was what good girlfriends did.

And though the term still sounded funny to her ears . . . everything was changing so quickly . . . after hearing Hotch's message, she was quite sure that's what she now was.

The girlfriend.

She was also an exhausted girlfriend. She'd only caught a half hour nap on the plane before the first bout of turbulence had nearly tossed her out of her seat.

Even being an experienced flyer, that first violent jolt had still scared the crap out of her. But honestly, beyond any fears for her own safety, all she'd been able to think was how upset Hotch would be if she got herself killed coming to visit.

Well, he'd definitely be upset in principle, no matter what. But specifically, he'd probably never forgive himself if she got killed because he'd said he wanted her there. So for his sake, when the plane was tossing about, she'd done something that she hadn't done in decades . . . a repeat loop of the Our Father and the Hail Mary.

It didn't matter how many years it had been since she'd said the words, she still knew them by heart.

And though she kind of doubted that the plane would have plummeted to the earth without her recitation of prayers from her youth, there was nothing to say that they hadn't helped either. So she decided that when she got to the hospital, she'd make a stop into the chapel and light a candle for his mom.

Because there was nothing to say that wouldn't help too.

As the aisle finally emptied and she was able to make her way off the plane, Emily did a mental run down of next steps.

Catch a cab into the city . . . which should be nearly impossible given the weather . . . and then somehow get to the Upper East Side before the sun went down.

But first . . . she started up the gangplank . . . bathroom.

/*/*/*/

Getting the cab was as difficult as expected. But forty minutes later . . . as she stood outside freezing her ass off in the whipping snow . . . she finally got to the head of the line. And then the guy behind her tried to push her out of the way.

Bad move.

She flashed her gun and then her badge. And she did it in that order just to scare the shit out of him. Although he immediately backed up, stuttering a "sorry officer," she decided that today, apologies weren't good enough. She was exhausted, freezing cold and SO annoyed at his asshole behavior, that she sent him all the way to the end of the line of people waiting.

She didn't ordinarily use her badge for 'general policing,' but . . . she jumped into the backseat of the cab . . . in this instance she felt that punishing him from his douchbagery was justified. And after she'd yanked her door shut, she leaned forward and let out a heavy sigh.

"Beth Israel, please."

/*/*/*/

It took an hour for the cab to get into town, and another forty minutes to get to the Upper East Side. Finally Emily got so anxious that she just threw a bunch of twenties at the cabbie, jumped out, and started walking the last five blocks.

The snow was again whipping around her face, and she was pretty sure that she was going to have frostbite on her fingers if she didn't get inside soon.

She really should have worn two pairs of gloves.

Through her squinting, Emily could see that the snow was definitely falling harder than the plows could keep up with it. If the storm didn't break soon . . . and it was unlikely that it would . . . the city was going to become a parking lot within a few hours.

As she approached the main entrance of the hospital, she saw three cars at the light across the street, slide into a minor fender bender. That's when she began to honestly wonder if they'd even be able to get out of there later.

But . . . she entered the hospital shivering as she pulled off her gloves and started rubbing her hands . . . that wasn't a concern right now. So after she'd hoisted her bag over her shoulder, Emily went up to the admitting desk and pulled out her badge for the third time that day.

Her fingers were so cold that it took two tries before she was able to get it out of the front pocket of her jeans.

"Hi," she tried her most ingratiating smile, even though her teeth were chattering, "I'm looking for Eileen Hotchner's family. I know that Mrs. Hotchner was having brain surgery this morning, so if you could just please direct me to the correct waiting room?"

Given how she wasn't family, the badge was the only surefire way to get information about where she needed to go in the hospital.

And sure enough, after the nurse had looked at her credentials, she typed a few words into the computer.

"Uh," she ran her finger across a line on the screen, "Mrs. Hotchner's surgery began two hours ago," the nurse glanced back over at her, "the waiting area is on four."

Emily nodded a relieved, "thanks."

Then she hurried over to the elevators, leaving puddles of slush on the floor behind her.

Home stretch!

/*/*/*/

Hotch pulled out his phone and pulled up Emily's text message for the tenth time that morning. And just like the first time, he felt a warm glow in his chest as he stared down at the little Xs and Os.

Hugs and kisses.

Just like the air kiss of the other night, it was so perfectly Emily.

He snapped the phone shut . . . God he missed her! And he so badly wanted to call her back again, but he definitely couldn't leave the hospital right now. They were only in hour two, of a six hour surgery. Twenty minutes ago the nurse had come out to tell them that things were going, "as well as can be expected."

Hotch didn't think that was a particularly encouraging phrase, but he was trying really hard to keep a positive thought. After all, the update could have been worse. At least that's what Emily would be telling him if she were here right now, so that was what he was trying to tell himself.

But after the surgery was done this afternoon, his mom would be moved to Recovery, and then Hotch would be able to slip out for a few minutes to call Emily back. If he didn't talk to her today he was going to go nuts. It was especially hard watching Sean and Ileana together when he missed Emily so much.

Fortunately for him . . . if not for Sean . . . Ileana had left to take Gabby to her pre-school class. The two of them would be gone until after lunch.

If they came back at all.

Sean had told Ileana that if the weather was too bad, she should just take the train straight home. Though if the weather was that bad, Sean and Hotch might end up leaving the car there that night and take the train home themselves.

This storm was supposed to drop at least a foot of snow.

Thinking about that, Hotch decided to take a break from his pacing in the waiting room to try pacing out in the hallway again. Television held absolutely no appeal for him, and it was nearly impossible to concentrate on his work. Even though this was day three of his trip, more than half of the case files he'd brought with him to review, were still sitting in his bag untouched.

A bag that was sitting in the chair that he had been pacing back and forth in front of for the past ten minutes.

And he really didn't feel like lugging everything with him right now. But of course he couldn't leave his bag lying around unattended either. So he zipped it up and went over to drop it into his brother's lap with a look,

"Do NOT open it. I'll be back in fifteen."

Not that he didn't trust his brother, but people were always curious about his work. The public's grim fascination with serial killers was beyond Hotch. The reality of the evils these monsters perpetrated was completely outside the realm of anything that the layperson people could ever comprehend. And Hotch didn't want his brother . . . no matter how old he was . . . to be exposed to the reality of those horrors.

Sean put down his book as he gave him a sharp nod.

"Trust me, I won't open it," his eyes dropped down to the bag full of nightmares before he looked back up at his brother, "I don't want to know why you don't smile, Aaron."

Hotch stared at him for a moment. Then he patted his arm.

"It's not just one thing Seanie."

And before his brother could respond, Hotch turned and walked out into the hall.

For a minute he just stood there trying to decide what to do with himself. There wasn't much on the surgical floor for distractions besides anxious family members crying or pacing. Finally he decided on getting another coffee.

Or . . . he started walking . . . maybe tea.

Over the past few days he'd drunk WAY too much coffee. It probably wasn't doing anything good for his blood pressure.

That was a thought that came to him in Emily's voice too.

As Hotch headed down towards what he knew from three days of research, were the only decent vending machines in the hospital, he saw a woman just stepping off the elevator. His brow wrinkled.

Her profile looked awfully familiar.

Emily stepped off the elevator and looked to the left. Okay now where . . . and her eyes widened in surprise.

Hotch.

Okay, she didn't actually expect to run into him JUST as she walked off the elevator! And the poor thing looked awful. But despite the reasons for her visit . . . and the obvious strain he was under . . . she also couldn't help the burst of joy she felt at seeing him again.

So her fingers curled into a little wave, and a shy smile touched her lips as she called out a hesitant.

"Hi."

Though she was positive that coming to him was the right thing to do, it was still kind of scary to actually do it. This was a big step in a relationship.

She felt very vulnerable.

Hotch stared at the woman in shock.

Emily.

It was Emily.

It was like he'd just conjured her up out of his imagination. But then it started to sink in . . . she was really here! And that's when he realized that she was standing MUCH too far away from him.

Shaking off his shock, he quickly closed the distance between them.

"How did you . . . what are you doing here?" He asked in wonder.

When Hotch stopped in front of her, Emily looked up at him a little self consciously

"Well, your message said that you wished I was here, so . . ." she gave him a little smile, "here I am."

His eyes began to burn.

She'd dropped her entire life and flew up in a snowstorm just because he'd said that he missed her. That was . . . something.

It might even be love.

So he tentatively reached out and ran his fingers down the sleeve of her jacket. And when she dropped her bag on the floor, he leaned down to pick her up before he squeezed her to his chest.

When her arms slipped around his neck, he whispered against her ear, "thank you for coming."

Emily's eyes began to water as she whispered back, "I'm just sorry that I wasn't here earlier." She turned her face into his neck, breathing him in, before she added, "and Aaron, I'm so sorry about your mom." She leaned back slightly so she could see his face, "how's she doing?"

If Hotch's appearance was any indication, not good.

Their noses almost brushed as he shook his head.

"I don't know. She's still in surgery. The nurse came out a little while ago and said things were going, quote, 'as well as could be expected,' he lowered Emily to the floor and his eyes floated to a point over her shoulder. "I keep telling myself to think positively but," his gaze snapped back to hers as his voice caught, "I really don't think this surgery is going to work."

Emily bit her lip as her fingers softly stroked down his cheek.

"You have to keep a good thought, Aaron. It doesn't do you, or her, any good to start preparing yourself for the worst. Not now. Not when there's still hope. And the doctors wouldn't have even tried another surgery if there wasn't hope it could fix things, right?"

If he gave up on his mother now, Emily knew that he'd never forgive himself if she pulled through later.

At her words of support Hotch's heart began to fill . . . because this was what he needed with him all the time.

Emily.

So he gave her a watery smile as he nodded. "Right, you're right. They wouldn't have done the surgery if there was no hope."

Her eyes crinkled then.

"That's right," she lightly patted his cheek, "so you keep that thought in your head."

They stared at each other for another moment, neither of them speaking, and then for the second time in his life, Aaron Hotchner was leaning down and kissing Emily Prentiss. But it was nothing like the passionate kiss of the other night.

This was just a simple kiss hello.

As amazing as that first kiss had been, this one almost meant more to him, because it was a sign that this was something real. It wasn't a mistake or a one-time only deal. And besides that, it was so nice just to be able to kiss someone hello again. It was the one thing that he still missed about being married.

The Kiss Hello and the Kiss Goodbye.

Somebody cared that you were leaving . . . somebody missed you while you were gone.

When you had it, it was something that you took for granted. But he was sure that he wouldn't take these kisses for granted again. Before they had always seemed like such a little thing . . . but now he knew that it wasn't.

It was a sign that you were somebody's world.

And if he was going to be involved with Emily then he would have that again . . . somebody to Kiss Hello.

A somebody who had soft lips that tasted like strawberries.

His eyes crinkled as he murmured against her mouth, "you taste good." And she smiled as she slowly pulled back.

"Strawberry Chapstick. Do you want some?"

The corner of his lip quirked up as he leaned down to kiss her once more before whispering against her mouth, "thanks," he pulled away, "but I think I'll just have some more of yours later."

The soft smile she gave him then, came with a slight tinge of pink on her skin. His amusement at that was short lived, because as he ran the back of his hand over her cheek he frowned.

"Emily," he muttered in distress, "you're freezing!"

'Of course she is, you idiot! It's probably fifteen below with wind from this storm!'

That was also the point where he noticed that her hair and coat were damp with melted snow. He'd been so surprised to see her that he hadn't consciously picked up on either of those things at first.

His observational skills were apparently a bit rusty.

Now that he had though, he quickly pulled her back against his body and began rubbing her back to warm her up. Then he murmured against her hair.

"We'll go get you a coffee in a minute."

As Hotch tried to take the chill from her body, Emily closed her eyes and huddled against him in a moment of bittersweet joy.

As wonderful as he was being . . . as much as she felt a spark of genuine love for him in that moment . . . all she could think about was her behavior of the night before. And what he would have done if he'd caught her outside in the freezing cold at midnight. First he would have yelled at her for being so careless with her safety. Then he would have done this.

Fussed over her as he warmed her body with his own.

No . . . she felt her eyes begin to water again . . . she absolutely did not deserve him.

Hotch slightly loosened his grip on Emily so he could lean down to pick up her bag. Then he slipped his arm around her shoulder before he turned to kiss her temple.

"Let's go drop your bag off with my brother, then we'll run down to the cafeteria."

He was just going to go to the vending machines, but she'd probably been traveling for hours and would need a proper meal.

Preferably something hot.

To hide her watery eyes, Emily turned her face against Hotch's chest as she murmured back, "okay."

All of her neuroses the past few days could have caused her to lose this. And that would have been a tragedy.

He tightened his hold on her as they started down the hall. Then he turned to murmur against her hair again.

"If I haven't said it yet, I just wanted you to know how happy I am to see you."

Emily's arm slipped around his waist, and she leaned her head on his shoulder before she whispered back.

"Ditto."

A/N 2: Given all the crap I'm putting Hotch through now, I just couldn't leave him all by himself up there in NY so I had to put her on the plane. Again thanks everyone for the kind words :)