A/N: These next two chapters a bonus ones because I liked the idea of wrapping up the story in 50 chapters. I really hope you guys have enjoyed this story. I'll start posting the next part of the story soon. So please keep reading and reviewing!

Chapter 49: The Final Words of Emily Prentiss: Hotch

Hotch pulled the cover up over Jack's shoulders, tucking him in tight. He leant down to kiss the top of his head, breathing in the scent of his soap. Hotch stood from the bed and turned off the bedside lamp, so the only light left in the room was from the night light in the corner. As he made his way to the door, he turned back to look at Jack once more, before he closed the door behind him.

He sighed as he crossed the hall, walking into his bedroom and kicking off his shoes. He sat on the ottoman at the end of his bed and leant forward, his elbows on his knees, running his hands over his face. This week had been absolute hell. Stabbing murders in San Diego AND Strauss on his ass to complete the evaluations of the team.

According to Strauss, Emily's death wasn't enough to warrant shielding the BAU from coming under budgetary review, and that meant they'd be looking through everything the BAU touched with a fine tooth comb. And one of the items on her agenda was for Hotch to find a third party to complete his grief assessment. Hotch didn't know if it was genuine concern for his emotional wellbeing as the Unit Chief, or if this was another dirt-finding mission for Strauss, whose primary motivation in life seemed to be to destroy his career. Either way, Hotch had decided that if it had to be done, it would have to be on his terms and without the chance of his personal disclosures coming under Strauss' scrutiny.

And thus came the additional stressor for Hotch that week.

He'd had to reach out to Clyde Easter.

Clyde had gladly offered to help, finding the contact details for an Interpol-approved counsellor for Hotch to debrief with. Hotch had called her and booked an appointment for the following week, updating Strauss in an effort to keep her off his back for a little while longer. Hotch had very little desire to engage with any kind of mental health professional, but it had to get done, and at least this way, with her clearance level, Hotch might actually be able to get some things off his chest.

God knows he wasn't about to talk to anyone else.

As he threw his suit and shirt in the hamper and made his way into the bathroom, Hotch wondered if it would be helpful to use this time to talk about what Emily's "death" meant to him. He turned on the taps in the shower and waited for the water to heat up before he climbed inside, relishing in the hot water running over his head and down his body. He had occasionally spoken to JJ about it, but there were still limitations on what Hotch felt comfortable disclosing to her. He could tell her that he missed Emily, and even perhaps that he cared about her, but he wasn't about to detail to JJ the full extent of his feelings towards Emily. He couldn't tell her that he wanted a future with Emily. He just didn't have the ability to be so vulnerable with someone he already knew.

Besides, Hotch was still having those occasional doubts about it all. He couldn't be sure that Emily felt the same way. He couldn't be sure that Emily would still feel the same way when, or if, she returned. He couldn't be sure that, when it came down to it, he could give up his role in the BAU to try for a future with Emily. There was too much that was out of Hotch's control, and for a control freak, that was terrifying.

Feeling sufficiently clean from his short shower, Hotch climbed out and wrapped a towel around his waist. He wandered into the bedroom and threw on his pyjamas, before he headed back out into the hallway. As he made his way down the hall, Hotch wondered if speaking with this counsellor might give him the chance to process everything that Emily had done, the secrets they had uncovered about her past, before she came back into his life. Maybe this would give him the chance to figure out how they could move forward before she could return.

He decided to put a pin in that thought process. He had another, more important task on the agenda for tonight.

Hotch had been planning this evening, ever since that day in the park with JJ and her family, when she'd given him the letter and the bottle of whiskey. In truth, he'd been putting it off since that day, not ready to read these words. He had made excuses to delay reading the letter, visiting Reid and playing, spending time with Morgan on his construction projects, and golfing with Rossi. He anticipated anger from Emily, and he felt like he could cope with a letter where Emily told him how he had let her down, that they couldn't even have a future as colleagues or friends, leave alone something more. What he didn't think he could handle was if she told him that she loved him. If he had to picture her, sitting in a hospital room all alone, writing to him the words that he'd been hoping to hear from her, when she knew he could hear. When he could say it back to her.

After they'd returned from Boston, Hotch had heard part of it from Emily, on a message she'd left on his home machine. She had to have known that he wouldn't get a chance to listen to the message until the case with Doyle was over, so she had consciously chosen to call his home instead of his cell. And he thought he knew what she had been saying when she'd been cut off, but now he could never know. At least, not until Emily was back.

Hotch walked over to the liquor cabinet in the dining room, where he had stashed the bottle of whiskey after they'd come home from that trip to the park. He took out a glass and poured himself a drink, but as he turned to walk away, he turned back and decided to take the bottle with him. He couldn't get drunk, not with Jack asleep down the hall, but he probably wouldn't be able to stop at just one glass... not tonight. On his way past his desk, Hotch reached into his messenger bag and took out the letter, feeling the weight of it in his hand as he walked over to the armchair in the corner. It wasn't a physical weight, but an emotional one. The envelope felt like it was filled with lead.

As he sat down, resting his glass and the bottle on the side table, Hotch's eyes locked on the green couch where so many of their conversations had taken place, big and small. He could feel Emily leaning against his side, her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest. He could feel her laughter as it ripped through her body, making him smile. He could smell the coconut from her shampoo. He could see Emily and Jack having a tickle fight, giggling to the point that they both lost their breath.

Hotch sighed, sitting back in the armchair and fixing his glasses on his nose. He looked down at the envelope in his hand, running his finger over her handwriting, the curves of the letters making his heart hurt... it wasn't addressed to Hotch or Agent Hotchner... it was addressed to Aaron, and that small detail gave Hotch hope. He opened the envelope carefully, taking out the paper from inside and unfolding it, feeling the tears start to well in his eyes. He sniffed them away as he started to read her words.

Dear Aaron,

Just a heads up, I'm sitting in my hospital bed and freaking out about writing this letter, because I am saying all of these things without knowing if you hate me or if you understand what has just happened. I am probably going to sound a little out-of-character because I'm pretty emotional right now. If you want to, you can blame the drugs I'm on, because that's what's allowing me to even write these words to you.

Before I say anything else, I want to tell you something that that I've wanted to say for so long, but I was terrified about what saying these three small words would mean. I was scared that telling you would make saying goodbye so much harder. I was scared that telling you would make me more vulnerable than I'm willing to be, and that in this situation, telling you would not be enough to stop you from thinking about everything I had to do to keep you and Jack and the rest of our family safe, and hating me for it. Most of all, I was scared that I would say the words and I would never hear you say them back to me. But now I don't really have a choice. I have to tell you, and this is the only way.

I love you.

Aaron, I love you. I'm embarrassed at how much of a coward I have been, not telling you how I feel. Because now I see that it's cost us so much more. I should have told you when you had a chance to hear the words come out of my mouth or had a chance to respond. In truth, I did tell you this once, but I waited until you were asleep. I wanted to at least say it once in my life, whether you heard me or not. And now I see how foolish it was of me to do that.

I'm so sorry.

I'm sorry for a lot of things, not telling you that I love you when I was still with you is one thing, but there are so many other things that I am sorry for. I hope I'll get a chance to tell you all of this one day, explain my side of things in person, but just in case we don't, I need you to know a few things.

You are my best friend. You are the person that I trust more than anyone else in the world. And I feel like we've only just started. I spent so long thinking you were an asshole, and I'm so sorry that this letter includes that statement, but I thought it was important for you to know. I really didn't like you at first. I thought you were a robot in a good suit.

Boy was I wrong.

You are so much more than the "Hotch" you present to the rest of the world, and I feel so lucky that you have shared Aaron with me. Aaron is a beautiful, tender, loving man. Aaron is a man who fights for the people he loves. Aaron is a man who plays hide and seek with his son while the pizza goes cold on the counter.

I love Aaron.

I really hope that you'll find a way to let the rest of the world see more of the Aaron that I've been able to know.

There are so many things I wanted to be able to tell you, and maybe we'll get our chance. I want to tell you everything, and if/when I come back, I will tell you about all of it. I promise. No questions will be off the table. And any reactions you have to my answers, I promise not to hold them against you. If we have any chance at a future, we need to agree to that. Honesty and transparency, no matter how much it hurts.

Now I have some favours to ask from you. You've never let me down before, so I hope you'll grant me a little more grace.

First, don't you dare blame yourself for any of this. I didn't run to Boston because I didn't trust you. I ran to protect you. I knew what he was doing, and I knew I had to go to him and take him out, and I'm so, so sorry that I couldn't do that. But I know you, Aaron. I know you'll be blaming yourself and I need you to stop. I am alive because of you. I'm alive because I hated the thought of losing you, of losing a future that I still want with you, if that's what you want as well. That's what kept me alive. So please, do not blame yourself. I love you too much to let you do that to yourself.

Second, please tell Jack how much I love him. Tell him that he'll always be my Jack-in-the-box. He is one of my favourite humans, and I'm so grateful to you for giving me the chance to know him, and to love him. Tell him that I want him to grow up big and strong, so he has to eat his broccoli. Tell him that I want him to be happy. Tell him that He-Man and Optimus Prime will watch over him when I can't be there. Tell him that I love him.

Last of all, I have told someone to reach out to you. It's not my place to tell you who he is to me, but you'll know when you meet him. He's going to have so many questions, and I want you to answer them in whatever way you feel is right. I trust you to know how to answer his questions. I know I'm asking so much of you, but please, Aaron. He is someone very special to me, and I want him to be able to reach out.

Aaron, I'm going to say it one last time in this letter, and hopefully the next time I say these words, you'll be standing in front of me. And hopefully, you'll have something to say to me in return.

I love you.

Always yours,

Emily

Hotch sighed, holding the letter in one hand, a glass of whiskey in the other, as he ran his mind over everything he'd just read. There was a lot to process, but his mind kept going back to the words he'd been hoping to hear from Emily. He'd still like to one day hear them come out of her mouth, but for now, the fact that she had written them for him meant just as much.

Emily loved him.

He sat back in his seat, poring over the words again.

Emily loved him.

It was a bittersweet feeling, knowing that he had been waiting months to have her say the words and now she had, but he couldn't say them back. He couldn't hold her in his arms or kiss her until they ran out of breath. He couldn't show her how he felt with his actions. He couldn't tell her that he loved her too, and that none of her past would change that for him.

Hotch's eyes took him to some of Emily's other words. The questions she knew he would have. He stood quickly from the armchair, walking over to his desk to grab a legal pad and pen, returning to the armchair and starting a list. Questions about Emily's past, but also questions about their future… if they had one.

As his mind started to lose steam, aided by the long week in San Diego and the whiskey, Hotch ran his eyes over Emily's writing one last time. He wondered about the last favour in her letter, but his brain had no energy left to truly consider this request. As he eyed the bottle of whiskey, still sitting on the side table, Hotch decided to put the bottle away and save it for when Emily returned. They could share their stories as they shared the bottle.

Sighing as he pushed himself up from the armchair, Hotch decided it was time to call it a night. As he stopped to place the whiskey bottle back in the liquor cabinet, Hotch stopped to look through the dining room He watched the bright moon in the sky and wondered if Emily was watching it too, wherever she was. He hoped she was safe, he hoped she was healthy, and he hoped she was trying to find a way to come home. Because Hotch had big plans for a future with Emily Prentiss, and he had no time to waste.