Author's Note: Hey, CM people! If you've never seen me here before, once upon a time, so many years ago, this was my only fandom, and I posted hundreds of thousands of words here :) But unfortunately those muses went away. They were so active for so long though that I discovered (as I was cleaning up my Dropbox this week) that I still had a few unposted stories/chapters already written. And I also found a few stories that I had inadvertently taken down from the site a few years back. This is one of those stories. And I figured someone out there might actually still enjoy reading it, so I might as well put it back up again :)

I'm going to mostly leave up the old notes that the chapters already had, just because mostly they still explain the writing process as it was when this went up originally.

So to that end, this story is told as a narrative first person POV and each chapter will be a companion for the one before it, but also pull the plot forward a little further each time. Though it is a very short story, in all it will cover about three and a half years of time. I guess I wrote it originally around season 4, which is a million flipping years ago now!

And lastly, regardless of the tone in this chapter, I promise things will end well.

Prompt Set #5

Show: China Beach

Title Challenge: The Always Goodbye

Hotch POV

My Bleeding Heart

Emily was supposed to be mine . . . but I lost her.

Now every few months I see her around the bureau. We say hi and I breathe in her perfume as she gives me a hug hello. I always make sure though, not to hold on too long or too tight. Then I show her pictures of Jack, and she shows me pictures of her little girl . . . Lucy.

And I smile as I look at the shiny brown hair and the big brown eyes, and I say that she's beautiful. And then I add as a thought only to myself, 'just like her mother.' It was true, but to say that part aloud would be wrong. Because it's too late for such words.

She's happy now.

Emily got married three years ago. I went to her wedding only because I knew how hurt she would have been if I hadn't. On that night we shared one dance. And for just a few minutes I held her closer than I should have, and I pretended that she was mine.

That the white dress was for me.

Eventually of course her new husband came up and tapped me on the shoulder . . . the bubble burst.

I kissed her cheek, and I gave him her hand . . . and I died a little inside. And she looked so happy as he'd twirled her away that I'd had to leave immediately. All while ignoring the blatant looks of sympathy coming from Rossi and Morgan as I got my coat.

At that point they'd known my secret for some time, but they had kept it from Emily because I had asked them to.

And for awhile after the wedding things went on almost as they had before. Because she was still there, she was still with me, right by my side, and I had let myself believe that maybe I could just pretend that things were okay.

Part of me knew even then that I was in denial, but denial seemed to be my least painful option for existence. At least until I could get over her.

Then the bubble burst again.

Six months almost to the day after we danced, Emily got pregnant and transferred out. She cried when she came in to give me her notice.

I almost did too.

Instead I gave her a hug, and once more I held her too close, that time as I told her how I understood why she couldn't work our cases anymore, and that I wished her all the best.

As I'd said the words I'd died just a little bit more.

Because that was the day I knew she was really leaving me. Denial had stopped being a viable state of being. Because it was no longer just a husband that stood between us, it was now going to be a family.

And then two weeks later . . . Emily was gone.

When the baby was born I sent her a card, along with a dozen pink roses and a box of her favorite chocolates. She wrote me back a beautiful, very personal, note. I still have it. She signed it, "love, Emily."

If only it had been true.

Her husband is a nice guy. He's good to her, and from what I've heard, it seems that he's a good father as well.

I hate him.

That bastard took her away from me. But for Emily's sake, when I see them together at agency functions, I have to smile and shake his hand. I pretend.

I think he knows my secret though.

Sometimes he'll give me a look from across the room, or I'll walk up and he'll immediately tighten his grasp around her waist. Seeing his fear causes a bitter amusement to rise up in me.

Really, what does he think I'm going to do? Tell her?

To what end?

She wasn't going to leave him and their baby to come back to me and our horribly dangerous job. And besides that, if she'd ever actually cared for me as I did for her, then she wouldn't have married him to start.

Right?

Usually I tell myself, yes, of course that's right. If she'd loved me, then she would have stayed with me. But sometimes in those quick, unexpected, meetings we have every few months, I see something flash in her eyes when she looks at me. It's something that makes me believe things maybe could have been different if I'd only told her how I felt. It's probably part of the reason why I can't move on, even though it's all bygones now. At this point if I were to say anything, it would simply destroy the last remnants of my relationship with her . . . our friendship.

It's all I have left.

Because I waited too long. Since I'd met her, Emily's boyfriends had always been a parade of losers. They came and they went over a matter of weeks. And in between I'd think, 'I should tell her now.' But I hadn't, at first because my divorce was still so new. And then later because I was afraid that perhaps I was misreading her affections. That she just saw me as a close friend. I thought I'd have more time for us to spend together, more time to be sure before I told her.

It never occurred to me that she'd actually meet a nice guy. That I'd lose my window.

I was such a fool.

And now every time I see her walk away, my heart breaks all over again. Because I know now, she was the one. The one that made me smile, the one that made me laugh. The one that brought me joy.

I no longer feel joy.

But I don't know what to do. There's an emptiness in my soul. A genuine fear that I'll never get over her, because I'll never truly move on. And what will I do then? It's already been three YEARS, and it's still so raw. Can a person actually exist indefinitely with a broken heart? Because that's the life I see in front of me. One filled with loneliness and misery. I don't want that. I don't want it for me, and I don't want it for Jack. He needs a better father than that. So I need to make a decision. I need to do SOMETHING! Because Jesus Christ, I can't keep living like this!

It's killing me.

A/N 2: Though the title is "three acts" it is 4 chapters. Two for each of their POVs. Either way though again, this is a repost so it's all done and will be back up by the end of the week.

Next: "My Best Laid Plans"