Author's note:

Ok, so, guys, this is my first intro into the Criminal Minds fandom. This has not been edited at all. I chose to do a little one-shot. Let me know if you would be interested in seeing more! Goodness knows I want to see more of Aaron Hotchner/ OCs in fanfics.

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Elowyn O'Connor knew she should have left when she had the chance. She sat at her desk in the empty bullpen. The rest of the team had gone ahead to assess the three different ritualized murders in Portland. Garcia had brought her a cup of herbal tea before she left for the evening with a stern warning for her not to stay all night. Half of the cup was empty when Hotchner jogged down the stairs, his office door slamming shut. He slung his go-bag over his shoulder while his suit jacket hung from his other arm. Rarely did he ever take his coat off in the office. She remembered two instances in the three years she had worked in the BAU, but, oh, how she had indulged in protecting those memories.

Elle glanced at her watch. 7:30, it read. He seemed surprised to find her sitting at her desk. He schooled his features quickly, swiping against his phone screen, declining a call. He looked up again, and she stood, pulling on her black cardigan.

"O'Connor, grab your go-bag," he said.

Her brow rose, her turn to be surprised. As an analyst, she was summoned into the field seldomly. Despite this, she still kept her go-bag underneath her desk for emergencies. Usually, the emergency was a stained shirt, but…

"You saved me from calling you." he slid his phone into his pocket. "The jet's back on the tarmac waiting for us,"

Hotchner eyed the bright red duffel bag she held with what could only be described as disdain or contempt. She heaved the bag into her arms, leaning at an awkward angle to counterbalance the weight. Hotch considered asking her if she needed help. His eyes darted around the nearly empty room. He spotted Linda from HR. He decided against asking her. At least while still in the office.

Her glasses slid down her nose a touch when she punched the elevator button. "So not that I'm not excited to get out of the office, but-" She looked up at him. "Why am I getting out of the office?"

The elevator doors slid open with an electronic ping. Both of them stepped into the car. Hotchner pushed for the basement. "Reid was analyzing some details and recognized some religious irregularities,"

"Religious irregularities?" she dropped the heavy bag, reaching for her phone, texting her regular dog-sitter. He thought he felt the elevator shake with the weight of the bag hitting the ground. "How do you mean?"

"I know you have experience studying West African religions. Reid recalled that as well. A nganga was found. He said that your knowledge may be helpful,"

She appreciated the fact he didn't acknowledge the rumors circulating around the FBI that the team only kept her around for the laughs afforded by her propensity to lean towards theories more to the unusually unexplainable. She could put up with the fact that others compared her to David Duchovny's famous character, as long as her team took her seriously. Well, most of the time. She pushed her glasses back up, chuckling. "Reid says that he might not know enough about a particular subject? Has JJ checked him for a fever?"

Hotchner smothered any remnant of amusement. "I did request a health check-in while on the phone with him,"

His response surprised her. She couldn't stop the full-bodied laugh that escaped. A small hint of a smile peeked through on his face. What do you know, there was a human behind that stone face.

He put in a requisition for a vehicle to the airport while she waited near the black SUV. She hated being on the plane for more than a couple of hours. She decided to knock down a couple of Benadryl to ensure she would sleep.

She thought a bit hazily about the fact the team had found a nganga at one of the murder sites. She needed to ask if all the bodies had been taken apart. Arms, legs, heads. All important in traditional medicine in African. She frowned. Why would there be ritualized murders in Portland, Oregon? She thought the only dangers there were the wannabe lumberjacks and overpriced coffee. Elle tried to recall any known Santeria or Palo communities in those areas.

She could be wrong. She rarely was, but there was always a chance.

Apparently, the rarity of her making mistakes soon arrived after she and Hotchner jumped into the car. He told her they would be going to Portland, Maine, which drastically reduced their time in the air to a mere one and a half hours. He noticed her agape mouth faster than she wanted him to.

He thought she would be relieved?

"Oh, no." her head fell into her hands. "No, no,"

His brows bunched. With one hand on the steering wheel, while also trying to keep an eye on the road, he asked, "What?"

"I thought we were going to Portland, Oregon, Hotch." she looked up in despair with pink tinging the tips of her ears. Her hair had begun unraveling from its intricate up-do around her face in soft light brown curls. "I just two whole pills of Benadryl. I'm gonna be completely out of it. How are they going to let me on the plane?"

He wanted to say they would let her on the plane because he damn well said for them to, but he digressed. He thought about it for a moment. He knew that taking a half of a Benadryl threw him for a loop. He snuck a glance at her. Was it wrong to suddenly be looking forward to this trip?

He relaxed back into his chair, shaking his head. "It'll be fine." he hoped he kept his features serious. "We'll go straight to the hotel and start on the case first thing in the morning. You've been at work all day," he reassured. "Why were you still at the office? I thought I was supposed to be the one who chronically overworked,"

He had only stayed back from going with the team to stay with Jack for an additional night before he had to leave again.

She shrugged, hoping her face didn't say: 'Well, it definitely wasn't to spy on you. No. Definitely not that.'

She replied, "I was running through a few of the crime scene photos from past cases, cataloging, making additional notes,"

She didn't say what kind of notes. She wondered if it was too soon to bring up the fact that her phone wallpaper was of a cryptic UFO with the words, 'I want to believe.'

She hoped she didn't say anything weird. Arguing with Spencer about the unexplained was one thing. Jabbering about it with Hotchner while she was semi-incapacitated was completely another thing. The man lived and breathed professionalism along with a healthy sense of stoicism mixed with a deathly protected personal space bubble.

She let her head drop against the headrest. Maybe fear of embarrassment would be enough to keep her awake?

-O-

Hotchner reached the airport in a record time of fewer than thirty minutes, driving up to the tarmac. He unbuckled his seatbelt, glancing at his passenger. She lay back with her head against the seat and her eyes closed. Was she already asleep?

He tried saying her name softly, "O'Connor, we're at the airport,"

An arm twitch, but nothing more significant.

He tried again. "O'Connor." he touched her arm. "O'Connor,"

She jerked awake. "W-what?" she turned in her seat.

Hotchner pointed a finger at the plane, receiving a drowsy 'oh' in reply. She tumbled out of the car, nearly faceplanting into the gravel. His eyes flew upwards as he pretended not to see how she jumped back up. Her face turned an endearing shade of purple in the fast disappearing sunlight. Without Linda from HR present, Hotch grabbed both his bag and Elle's bag. He nearly didn't pull hers out of the back of the car. She thankfully missed that part as she leaned against the car door. He closed the back. He nudged her shoulder, provoking her to move again.

She nearly stumbled climbing the stairs into the jet. He kept her bag pushed tightly against her back, keeping her standing. Jack had been this tired once while he and Haley were bringing him back from some kind of toy festival held in the city's center. The thought of his recently deceased ex-wife was enough to replace his solemn mood.

The door closed up behind them as the sun finished descending into the sky. Hotchner heard her mumbling to herself as she pulled her phone from her pocket, quickly texting someone.

She gave him little mind as she plopped down into one of the wider chairs nearest to the window. More importantly, the chair next to his chair. Everyone knew that was his chair. Surely she knew that was his chair. He stilled for a long moment, staring. Did he move?

She seemed like she didn't care about his inner turmoil as her eyes were already closed with her seat leaned back as far as possible.

He stowed their bags before coming to his decision. It was his chair, and Hotchner didn't know the meaning of the word retreat. He sat down, pinching the bridge of his nose before taking out a pile of folders filled with paperwork needing to be signed off on, approved, or denied to be sent back for re-evaluation.

Elle slept through the take-off.

His will managed to get him through two papers before he looked at Elowyn. Everyone called her Elle just as some called Reid by his first name sometimes. He was the only one to call her 'O'Conner'. He preferred to not analyze what that meant, even though Dave vehemently presented his own suppositions. Like he had last week, the week before, and the week before…

Her eyes moved behind her eyelids signaling her entry into a deep sleep. She stirred, and his eyes darted back to his work like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. She never woke up during the duration of the flight. But he also never went back to his paperwork either. He watched her.

She shifted again, her head falling from her chair onto his shoulder. She seemed to like that position better as she curled further toward him. He didn't move. He told himself it was because he didn't want to wake her. No one had been this close to him in ages. He had missed this kind of contact so much it ached.

Her breath came out in puffs. His fingers twitched as he wanted to move a tendril of hair out of her face. He had never seen her face so still; her expressions moved at a constant pace, showing everything she thought and felt. She was a prime micro-expression reader's dream. He felt his own stern expression relax a bit.

Hotchner's eyes never left her face until the pilot announced their initial descent. He nearly wished they had been going to the Portland in Oregon instead of Maine.

Elle never woke even when the wheels hit the tarmac. The jarring only jostled her head against his shoulder.

He hesitated in waking her. Her clothes rumpled, her hair askew, and her glasses slipping down her nose, he wondered what Rossi would say about this. Hotchner knew what he would say.

"Hey, O'Connor," he murmured. He shifted in his seat, his back aching from sitting in one spot too long. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, squeezing lightly. "O'Connor." Nothing. He squeezed again. "Elowyn,"

He enjoyed saying it. Who knew how long it would be before he could say it again.

"Elowyn,"

She roused from sleep finally at that. She sat up; she never really opened her eyes, only blinked owlishly before narrowing them again. "Hmm…" she noticed Hotchner sitting next to her. The sweetest smile he had ever seen shone back at him. "Hi,"

He could give himself this one thing. He let his fingers stay around her wrist. "Hi,"

END…