He checks his watch for the fourth time.
What could possibly be taking her this long? He's already gotten Jack settled with the babysitter, checked on Ava, replaced the batteries in the baby monitor, and replenished the stash of formula in the fridge. How long does it actually take to put a dress on?
It's been three months since she'd given birth to their daughter Ava Madeline, and three months of adjusting to new schedules, transitioning from one child to two, and a slew of other changes that left them happy and fulfilled yet exhausted.
For the first time since her arrival, Emily and Hotch found themselves navigating a new challenge - parents' night out. Shortly before Ava was even born, they agreed to attend a benefit fundraiser for ALS hosted by Rossi in honor of his late wife. Afterward, they considered not going, with Ava still practically a newborn, but ultimately decided it would be a good thing to get out of the house for the evening.
Except now he wasn't sure if they'd even make it.
Does she forget how to get ready? Hotch thinks with equal parts amusement and frustration. Another five minutes pass, and he finally ascends the stairs, dodging a few toys and a basket of laundry. He's met by silence on the second floor of their house. It's almost odd - their house is hardly ever quiet anymore.
"Em," he calls from the hallway into their bedroom, rapping his knuckles against the door in a tentative knock, quiet enough not to wake Ava. Before he'd headed downstairs almost an hour ago, she'd been putting the finishing touches on her makeup and hair, wrapped in a bathrobe with a tube of mascara in her hand. Surely she isn't still getting dressed. It's never taken her this long before. "Are you almost ready?"
There's no answer, but from this angle he can see the light spilling out from underneath the door to their closet. He tries again, his knock a bit sharper this time.
"Sweetheart, we're going to be late." A quick check of his watch tells him they're going to be very late at this point. The babysitter has been there for almost 40 minutes already - Jack has already finished his dinner, a movie is playing on the television in the family room, and Ava is sleeping peacefully in her crib in the nursery. If they don't leave now, they're going to spend more time sitting in Northern Virginia traffic than at the benefit.
At this rate, they're going to miss the first part of cocktail hour at least.
A muffled noise comes from behind the door, and he steps into their dim bedroom, taking inventory of the pile of clothes that has accumulated in his absence. Several dresses are haphazardly thrown across the expanse of their king-sized bed; upon further inspection, pairs of high-heeled shoes are strewn across the floor.
"Emily," his tone is a shade softer than before, trying his best to hide his annoyance of their inevitable lateness.
"In here."
He pushes the door of the closet open.
Emily is on the floor of their massive walk in closet, sitting on a pile of dresses with one long leg tucked underneath of her, the other in front of her, wearing an expression he can't quite place. Her hair is done - blown out and smooth with the ends curled up just a bit. She's also wearing a full face of makeup - something she hasn't done since before having Ava.
She looks beautiful, but there's no way to hide the discomfort laced in her eyes. It's a look he's seen a few times over the last couple of weeks since they settled into a routine with Ava - fleeting moments that have started to accumulate. It's the look she wears when she passes a mirror, eyes lingering for just a moment longer than normal with a quick furrow of her eyebrows and disapproving grimace. The look she gave him days ago on Sunday morning when he'd woken her with lips pressed to her neck, his hands at the hem of her shirt, before she pushed him away, saved by their daughter's high pitched wails piercing the walls of the house. The subtle irritation he senses when a well-meaning colleague or friend congratulates them and tells her how good she looks for just having a baby; how quickly she avoids the compliment with a dismissive laugh.
"Sweetheart?" He leans against the door frame, observing her as nonchalantly as he can. They're profilers, for God's sake - she can read him just as well, if not better, than he can read her. She'll see through him immediately. It's very clear that something is wrong, and even though he thinks he knows what it is, he's not sure how to fix it.
"Is Madison here?" Emily doesn't meet his gaze, her tone soft.
"Yeah. She's watching a movie with Jack. All settled in."
"You went over everything with her? She knows Jack has been having trouble falling asleep and needs the double nightlight?"
"I took care of it, Em. Reviewed all of your notes with her. She's got it under control."
"And Ava is down?"
"Has been for almost an hour." He offers a smile, but she doesn't return it, only nods her head approvingly.
"I'm almost ready," Emily sighs, pushing aside a pile of clothes. "I just need a minute." She bites her already trembling lower lip, and it only takes a few seconds before she lowers her face into her hands, her fingers pressing into her eyes, careful not to smear her meticulously applied makeup.
"Emily," Aaron steps into the closet, shutting the door, and when he sits down next to her, there are tears sliding down her cheeks. "Come here," he reaches for her, and when she just narrowly avoids his arms, putting two inches of space between them instead, his heart twists in his chest.
He can count on one hand the number of times he's seen her cry. It happens so infrequently he doesn't know what to say. He sensed she was off - that something wasn't right - but he certainly wasn't expecting this.
Within a few moments she composes herself, swallowing hard and dabbing her eyes with a tissue and inspecting it for any smudged eye makeup. "Aaron," Emily tugs at the watch on her wrist; twists her wedding rings around her finger. "Do I look … sloppy?"
"Sloppy?" It's certainly not a descriptor he'd ever associate with her. "What are you talking about?"
Emily takes a shaky deep breath, choosing her words carefully. "Do I look like I've let myself go?" Rising to her feet, she tightens the belt of her robe around her waist, inspecting herself in the mirror, tugging at the fabric. "I've gained so much weight."
As she healed after having Ava, she's become increasingly aware of the changes to her body that came along with pregnancy, and after. Her hips are slightly wider - just enough that her regular jeans are still snug; her stomach is softer than she's used to. She hasn't quite gotten the regular exercise routine back, much to her chagrin.
They're small changes, but coupled with the exhaustion of caring for a newborn, the incredibly slow healing process, and the wave of hormones that come along with having a baby, she'd be lying if she said she felt good, or close to her old self. And in a quick decision, she drops the robe, revealing the matching black lace set she'd purchased for this specific occasion just the other day, just to be disappointed with her reflection in the mirror. "See?" She stands before Hotch, heat rising to her face. "Don't even tell me you don't notice."
Hotch looks his wife up and down for several moments, noticing how uncomfortable she looks even though he's seen her in much less more times than either of them can begin to count. He swallows hard - if she weren't so distraught he definitely would have tossed her onto the bed right then and there - and looks her up and down. She's still perfect to him - the curve of her hip, the fullness of her chest, her long, endless legs - even the fading scar just under her ribcage. He takes a step closer and draws her into his arms.
She doesn't fight him, but shivers when he pulls her to him, and he runs his fingers up and down her spine soothingly. "I don't see anything I didn't fall in love with Em." If he's being completely honest, he's been completely immersed in doting upon his family to even notice any of the changes she's clearly so acutely aware of, but something tells him she's not going to listen to that, at least not now.
She laughs bitterly, the disbelief evident, pulling away. "Sometimes you're too good to me, Aaron."
"Emily," he tries again, this time more gently. "You grew a baby inside of you for nine months. You gave birth to that baby. What were you expecting?"
"Three months ago," she retorts, turning back to the mirror and pressing her hand to her stomach, then squeezing the skin on her hips. "It's like I'm expanding."
"Where is this coming from?" He wants to pull her away from the mirror, tell her she's beautiful, and maybe throw the mirror out the window - but they also need to get going because they're going to be very late at this point. "How long have you been feeling this way?"
As if on a mission, Emily opens the door to the closet and pads over to their bed, digging through the pile of clothes once again.
"JJ lost all of her baby weight in four weeks. She told me it was easy with all the breastfeeding." Her face flushes red; she stares at her feet.
He stiffens. Breastfeeding was a touchy subject with Emily - he doesn't even attempt to go down that route, at least not tonight. He files it away for later; it's a conversation they should have at some point. "JJ wasn't in labor for 24 hours. She didn't almost have an emergency C-section, and she certainly didn't push for nearly three hours." He swallows a lump in his throat when Emily squeezes her stomach in disdain once more. "Sweetheart," he reaches for her again, and she bats his hand away.
"I ... don't feel like myself." Emily sits on the edge of the bed. "I hate what I see in the mirror, and I didn't think it would get to me this much."
"I've only done this once before, so I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure your first job after having a baby is to heal, Emily. What were you expecting? To jump right back to normal? To go back into the field?" He shakes his head incredulously. " Sweetheart, were you in the same delivery room as I was?"
She twists her rings around her finger again. "I was there."
"Then give yourself a break." He perches next to her, reaching for her hand and giving it a squeeze. "You don't need to add more to your plate."
Emily laughs for the first time all evening. "On a good day, I know I'm being ridiculous. Today just isn't one of those days." She plucks at the clothes still on the floor before pulling out an emerald green wrap dress with cap sleeves, inspecting it. "This one might work," she murmurs, glancing at him through her long eyelashes, watching for his reaction.
"You're being incredibly tough on yourself, Emily. You needed to rest and heal."
She sighs, her shoulders sagging. "I guess."
Standing, Hotch wraps her in his arms. "You're an amazing mother, Emily." his hand cupping the back of her head. "Watching you with Ava and Jack is one of the greatest gifts."
"I don't mean motherhood, Aaron. I know I'm good at that. That's the easy part," a thin smile lifts the corners of her lips. "What's hard is watching your body change having almost zero control over it."
"You'll always be perfect to me, you know." Hotch wraps his other arm around her back, holding her against his chest. "Promise me you'll remember that."
Emily nods, albeit slowly. "I promise. I love you."
"I love you too, sweetheart." Hotch kisses the top of her head.
"How much time do I have?"
"If you have any intention of getting there before this thing actually starts, five minutes."
"I can work with that." She twists out of his arms, grabbing the dress and disappearing into the depths of their closet.
She emerges a few minutes later, fastening an earring while stepping into her shoes of choice for the night - black stiletto heels - and reaching for her wrap. "I'm ready." The dress was a good choice - it accentuates her curves without being too much, and he's always had a thing for her in green.
"You look good, Mrs. Hotchner," Hotch eyes her appreciatively.
"You think?" She beams, and she looks so damn beautiful he has to pinch himself.
"So good, I'm planning on showing you when we get home." He presses a smooth kiss to her cheek, his lips lingering by her ear for a few extra seconds.
Her eyes sparkle mischievously. "If we can stay awake that long. Now let's hurry up before we're late."
The end.