Chapter Thirteen

"Please, JJ, you're practically swaying where you stand." Emily gently told the blonde, as she turned away from the computer screen. They were all tired, drained. Trapped in that immensely exhausting moment of hopelessness, as the weight of Reid's situation settled, once again, like sediment after the retreat of a violent wave. Morgan had left a large dent behind in the door he had punched, Emily saw it as she watched Hotch and Gideon pass through the doorway. It was getting to all of them.

"Maybe you should try and get your head down," Penelope suggested, from where she saw in front of her screens. Her face was etched with the same concern Emily felt, her brow furrowed in a way Emily hadn't often seen. JJ gave a laugh, short, sharp, and far too cold.

"Yeah, sure. Should I take Tobias' bed, or Charles?" She quipped, sarcastically. Penelope looked wounded, and sought Emily's eyes. Emily threw her a look that was supposed to be comforting as JJ stalked from the room, and she followed close behind. They left Penelope behind, sitting in front of the screens, looking forlorn and upset.

"JJ," Emily caught the blonde's arm, her voice soft but her grip firm. "I think resting is a good idea." She raised her eyebrows in an imploring expression, "You've been through a real ordeal today. You're injured and you're worried-"

"We're all worried," JJ tried to counter, bluntly.

"Yeah, we'll we aren't all injured." Emily pointed out, firmly. "You don't have a clear head, right now."

"Did you see how..." JJ's voice was thick, almost choked, like her throat was full, as she spoke. "Morgan. He can't even-" Her blonde hair shook around her face as JJ's head moved back and forth. "He blames me. It's my fault Reid is gone. He-"

Her cracked voice trailed off into a heavy silence, and she closed her mouth tightly as Emily saw her blue eyes begin to swim with tears. JJ couldn't look at her, staring instead at the wall, as she blinked rapidly to keep the tears from spilling over. Emily looked over JJ's shoulder, saw the boys in the kitchen but couldn't hear the conversation they were having. Hotch and Gideon separated from the group, heading their way, and Emily gently tugged on JJ's elbow, moving her to the side of the hallway so that they could pass. JJ turned her head, facing the other wall, so that they wouldn't see her upset. Gideon passed them without so much as a glance in their direction, not noticing anything was wrong, but Hotch's eyes flit from Emily, to JJ, and back again, full of questions. Emily gave a small shake of her head. Not now. He seemed to accept what he saw in her eyes because hd didn't stop, didn't pry, but left them in the hallway. Turning back to JJ, to the kitchen behind her, Emily saw Morgan beginning to busy himself with making a drink.

"You should talk to him," She prompted JJ, softly, giving her a comforting nod, "If this is how you're feeling-I think you need to talk to him. He's the only one who can reassure you."

Having composed herself enough that the tears were gone from her eyes, and the redness in her cheeks had settled, JJ nodded. "Yeah. Okay." And she turned, heading for the kitchen. Emily followed, slowly, behind her, giving her enough space that she didn't seem as though she were inserting herself into the conversation. This wasn't for her; this was between JJ and Morgan, two people who knew each other better than she knew either of them yet. She picked up her coffee mug from the table, hanging back a little as JJ approached Morgan.

"I thought you were going to try and get some rest." Morgan didn't even turn as JJ approached; he could sense it was her from the lightness of her footsteps. Emily winced at the tightness of his words; they weren't concerned, as the words themselves would suggest, but almost disappointed, as though her presence was a hindrance to him. She knew JJ felt that, too.

"Everyone else is working," JJ said, almost defensively, "I should be, too."

"We can handle it." JJ glanced at Emily, helpless, hurt, as Morgan's words cut through her. Emily nodded, encouraging.

"It's funny," JJ attempted a smile, and Morgan finally turned to her, but there was no amusement on his face as she said, "I keep thinking the one thing we need to crack this case is, well, Reid."

As she listened, eyes on the dirty mug in her hands, Emily thought about how she had been thinking the same thing. If they had Reid, and his brain, at their disposal, the case would have been over by now, she was sure of it. He wouldn't have missed the things they had.

"Yeah." Was Derek's response; short, cold, emotionless. Emily closed her eyes. She could feel both of their pain; both over having lost Reid, and at the awkwardness between the two of them.

"You think Reid and I should have stayed together at the barn, don't you?" JJ demanded, dropping all pretense. Emily tensed, ready to step in if need be. She glanced towards the hallway, through into the other room, but couldn't see Hotch or Gideon.

"JJ, go get some rest." Morgan said, and both JJ and Emily bristled at the misogyny of his words; trying to brush her off, as though a nap could somehow fix her attitude, as though he could brush her off.

"I can tell that's what you're thinking. So..." JJ shrugged, a question evident in the silence that followed her words.

"I just wanna get Reid home safe." Morgan's tone was growing more and more impatient, less and less calm.

"But, if I had his back," JJ echoed Morgan's own phrase back to him, with venom in her words. "Like I was supposed to, he'd be here now."

Emily set the mug down on the table, shifting her feet to balance her weight, and folded her arms across her chest as she watched the interaction between the two of them. Morgan gave her the shortest of glances, before he focused his attention back on JJ, and demanded, "JJ, what do you want from me?"

"I just want someone to tell me the truth," There was a smile, a sick, absurd smile on JJ's face as she said it. She wanted someone to confirm her own thoughts, wanted someone else to tell her it was her fault, like she had been telling herself all day, like Morgan's attitude had been telling her all day.

"The truth is one of you is here, and one of you isn't." Morgan said, shortly, almost raising his voice, but not quite. "You gotta figure the rest out for yourself."

"Alright, that's enough," Emily stepped in, her words quiet but authoritative. "Any one of us could have been in that exact same situation today. Reid was the one who left JJ standing there, Derek, not the other way around."

"So you're blaming the kid now?" Morgan demanded, rounding on her with a disbelieving expression. Emily shook her head.

"No, of course not," She wanted to reach for him, because she could read the pain in his expression, but beside him, JJ looked just as torn up. "But I don't have to choose between blaming Reid or JJ. Hankel is the one to blame, not them. Not her."

Morgan looked from Emily, to JJ, and back again. His shoulders were slumped, heavy, exhausted. He sighed, shook his head, and then stalked from the room, leaving them behind in a deafening silence. JJ was staring at Emily, helpless, and, much as she wanted to offer her words of comfort, Emily just couldn't find them.

They waited around for a long time.

With no fresh leads, the best they could do was go over and over the evidence they already had, searching for a thread they had missed, or failed to unravel. The night drew on, dark and cold and groaning under the weight of their shared panic and tension. All of them sitting there together, the friction between Morgan and JJ, who stubbornly refused to talk to each other, the absence of Reid so obvious, so poignant, it was heavy and unbearable. Emily picked her nails to bits.

Eventually, in the early hours of the morning, Hotch stood up.

"I'm going to find coffee," He said, quietly, and he caught Emily's eyes across the table.

"I'll come with you," She said, not because she wanted to spend time with him, but because she needed to be out from beneath the weight of all they were carrying, needed a gulp of fresh air, so she could alleviate the feeling of suffocation that held her in it's grip.

Nobody so much as looked up as Emily grabbed her brown leather jacket from the back of her chair, and she and Hotch made their way to the car. Emily closed her eyes as she opened the front door, stepping out onto the wrap around porch. The night air was freezing, goosebumps rising on her skin as the chill crept up her spine, but she inhaled, deeply, grateful to be outside. It was starting to rain, a couple of drops landing on her face as they walked the short distance to the car. If the clouds overhead told the truth, it was about to pour.

Hotch slid into the drivers side, and Emily into the passenger seat. He started the car in silence, and she didn't try to make conversation as he pulled off of Hankel's property onto the road. The dashboard's clock flashed at her; 2:22. She didn't ask if he knew where they were going, she didn't need to. There wasn't any coffee around for miles; he had needed to get out of that house just as much as she did. They were all coiled like springs, any one of them capable of losing it at any moment, and the waiting, the anxiety of it, it was all too much. Too heavy.

"You know," Hotch spoke, unexpectedly, and Emily turned to look at him. He was staring out at the dark, country road ahead of them, barely lit by their headlights, and didn't so much as glance at her. "I always take advantage of Reid for his brain, but I never actually teach him to deal with things emotionally."

It was a confession, Emily knew. One of guilt, of suffering, of anxiety that he might now never get the chance to teach Reid those things.

"It's not your fault," She offered, softly. "He's an adult," She smiled, fondly, sadly, at the thought of the man she hadn't known for very long, but had come to love like a quirky younger brother. The thought of losing him now, when she loved but barely knew him- "We call him a boy, but he's an adult. He might not seem like it, but he is and you might be the leader of this team, Hotch, but it's not your job to teach him-"

"Yes, it is," Hotch cut across her, "It is my job to teach him, to be strong and to endure, to process the trauma we see."

"You're an FBI agent, not a psychiatrist."

"It doesn't matter," He was shaking his head, "It is my job to teach him, to mentor Morgan, to encourage JJ, to comfort Garcia, to protect you-"

"To protect me?" She waited for him to speak, but he just stared ahead, his lips pressed into a tight line. There it was again; the lie. The belief that she had come, as JJ had said, off of a desk job. He still saw her as new, inexperienced. Perhaps he thought she had somehow fluked her way through the first four months of her job. Or perhaps he hadn't noticed just how good at it she was. "I don't need protecting, Hotch." She tried to put everything she couldn't tell him into those words.

"It's..." He pondered over his words, shaking his head. Taking one hand from the wheel, Hotch raked it over his face, rubbing at tired eyes, as he relaxed a little in his seat. "It's not just you. It's my job to protect all of you, as leader of this team. It's got nothing to do with..."

He trailed off, again, but Emily knew what he was getting at.

"I'm sorry." He muttered.

Up until that point, neither of them had spoken about their dalliances, at least not while on a case, not at work. It had been kept entirely separate, not so much as a mention, or a suggestive glance. It was as though their two relationships existed entirely separate from each other, an arrangement that had been working well, or so Emily had thought. And Emily realised that, try as he might to deny it aloud to her, his need to protect her did in fact have everything to do with what they were doing outside of work.

"Oh."

Hotch pulled the car over, shutting the engine off, and they were plunged into darkness at the side of the deserted road. Emily hadn't even noticed that the rain had started to fall heavier, thundering down around them.

"I don't think we're finding any coffee out here." He said, and there was exhaustion in his voice. Emily turned to look at him, but she could barely make out his features in the utter darkness of the night. His eyes were staring, that much she could see. Staring at the road ahead, as though he could see down it, to the future, to tomorrow, to the outcome of this case. Emily wished she knew what he was seeing. She wanted to reach for him, to comfort him the only way she knew how. To let him know that, whatever tomorrow brought, she would still be here. Words weren't enough.

His cheek was warm beneath her hand, and he closed his eyes as she pressed her palm to it, turning his head into her touch, finding comfort there, the first comfort he had found in days. This wasn't why he had brought her out here, but it was what they both needed in the moment. She leaned across the console between them, her other hand turning his face, his face in her palms, and kissed him. Outside, the rain grew louder, heavier.

She couldn't do anything for Reid, but she could do this for Aaron. She knew it was what he needed when he reached for her, hands dragging at her, pulling her from her own seat, to his. She went willingly, climbing across onto his lap, knees squeezed in either side of his thighs, bruising against the plastic of the door and the center console. He needed to not think, needed something to make the thoughts in his head stop swimming, they both did, and with her on top of him, all thoughts of the case flew from his mind. This would provide a distraction, a release of all of that built up tension.

Emily hadn't fucked in a car since she was seventeen years old, but the mechanics were the same. Hotch reached beneath his seat, found the lever that released his seat, and shoved it as far back as it would go, giving her the space to sit up straight on his lap, to frantically tug her jeans down, as he did the same. Emily only freed one leg from her jeans; it was all the access they needed as Hotch reached between her legs, finding her slick, but barely. His hand withdrew, fingers sliding into his mouth, and he coated them with spit, returning to her centre a second later. Emily hissed into his mouth.

"Aaron," She breathed against his lips, hands gently combing back his hair. He looked up at her, dark eyes on hers as he teased her entrance; searching her voice for any hesitation, but finding none. His eyes flit from hers, to her full, red lips and he kissed her again, deeply as she sank down onto him, lips parting against his at the sensation of him filling her, gasping into his mouth. Hotch groaned, overwhelmed by the feeling of her around him. For a moment, all they did was breathe, sharing breath, Emily's forehead pressed against his. He closed his eyes, lost in the feeling of her. Their worlds shrank to that moment, to just the two of them, in a car, on a road, Hotch sheathed inside of her warmth, connected at their core. Everything else melted away.

When he moved, he was not gentle. Hotch's fast and brutal thrusts made her breath catch, and Emily just clung to him, arms wrapping around his shoulders, face pressed into his neck. One large hand slid beneath her red tshirt to splay against her back, the other on her hip, fingers digging into her skin, leaving souvenirs for her to find in the days after. She couldn't even speak, couldn't even moan, could only focus on breathing as he bottomed out inside of her, again and again, the sensation of pleasure building until she collapsed against him with a gasp, twitching on his lap. He followed her over the edge a moment later with an animalistic groan against her ear that Emily knew would haunt her dreams.

It was quick; this time was not meant to be savoured. They were both panting and sweaty when it was over, but some of the tension was gone. Replaced instead by a warmth, an understanding. Hotch's hand, still beneath her shirt, rubbed gently across her back, soothing her as they both caught their breath once more. His cheek rested against her throat, hearing her rapid heartbeat and Emily closed her eyes, fingers still tangled in his hair, and buried her face in it, too, breathing in the mingled scent of his shampoo and sweat.

Half an hour later, when they walked back into the house, muttering their apologies that they couldn't find anywhere with decent coffee, Emily was all too aware of the ache he'd left between her legs, but nobody so much as looked up, and nobody noticed as she excused herself to the bathroom, to wash off the remnants of him.

When she emerged, cleaner but still aching, Penelope called her name.

"Will you tell her, please?" She found JJ in the computer room with Penelope, and frowned from one blonde to the other. JJ stood with her arms folded across her chest, a stubborn, challenging glint in her eyes.

"Tell her what?" Emily asked Penelope, confused.

"I want to see the video."

Emily narrowed her eyes, looked to Penelope for clarification.

"Of the last murder."

Emily's eyes widened, and she looked back at JJ, shaking her head. "Oh, JJ, I don't know if that's a good idea-"

"You didn't flinch." She said, "I know you didn't. You can watch this stuff, and you don't even blink." JJ shook her head, "If I can't watch this...I have no business being in the field."

"Jayje," Penelope said, softly, "It's not a competition."

"I...I just need to see it." She insisted. Emily saw JJ, desperate to prove herself, and felt sorry for her. Was this a response to her own reaction to the videos, to the horrors they saw in the field, or did Morgan's treatment of her have something to do with this? Emily wondered.

"If you stop being affected by things, you lose parts of yourself, you know?" Penelope said, quietly, and Emily didn't miss the way her warm eyes flickered towards her, though she prentended not to have noticed, even as she wondered which parts Penelope felt she was missing.

"Show me." JJ insisted.

"Jayje-"

"Show me." She repeated, firmly, cutting right across Emily. Penelope looked at her, helplessly, but Emily just shook her head, eyes sliding closed. There was, evidently, no talking JJ out of this one. Resigned, Penelope turned back to the screen, pulling up the video.

"I won't watch it with you," She said, standing up and turning away from the screen as the video began to play, and the familiar scene rolled before Emily's eyes.

"3514 Leavenworth."

Penelope passed her, with a glance back at JJ. Her eyes found Emily's, and she read the concern there, but all she could offer was a shrug. With a sigh, Penelope left, heading for the kitchen, where Emily knew Morgan and the others were still sitting at the kitchen table. She, however, was rooted to the spot, as she watched JJ take the seat Penelope had vacated. She couldn't leave. Even if JJ didn't glance back at her, didn't look to her for reassurance, Emily felt she should be there, in case. In case she was needed.

Watching Reid die was the worst moment of Emily's life.

Standing by, helpless, far away, and watching him writhe, choke and foam at the mouth, the inability to do anything almost consumed her. She knew they were all feeling the same. When he stilled, when the writhing stopped, and Reid didn't struggle anymore, there was silence. Then JJ turned, heaved, and threw up on the floor.

"He's trying to save him." Hotch's voice dragged their attention back to the screen, where Hankel was indeed kneeling over Reid's lifeless body. Emily glanced at her watch. Reid had been down for almost two minutes already. They all knew the science; he only had about four minutes before he would almost certainly suffer brain damage.

She watched in horror, they all did. The silence was palpable. No one dared breathe, each of them holding their breath, waiting for Reid to take one. Beside her, JJ grabbed for her hand, squeezing it tight, like a lifeline. Emily squeezed back, unsure whether it was for JJ's comfort or her own.

Then, miraculously, he breathed. Beside her, JJ gasped. Morgan swore, softly.

"Wait, wait a second," Emily said, something clicking in her brain, "When was the video of the last murder posted?"

"9:23."

She looked to Hotch, "And what was the time of death?"

"The 911 call came in at 9:04," He replied, unable to take his eyes off of the screen. And of the tension he had expelled earlier had come back, with force. "The murder must have been moments later."

Recognition dawned in JJ's eyes, as she realised what Emily had; that they could geographically profile. "That's only a nineteen minute difference."

"How long would it take to post the mpeg?" Morgan asked Garcia, as the realisation dawned on them all.

"Two or three minutes."

"Let's call it two," Morgan said, "You figure a maximum of 60 miles an hour in a residential area. That means Hankel has to be within a 17 mile radius of the crime scene."

Garcia pulled the map up, and JJ turned to call Farraday, to lock down the area. But then Hankel started talking.

"The seven angels who had the seven trumpets prepared themselves to sound," He began quoting, and Emily recognised yet another bible verse, the words raising the hairs on her arms. "The first sounded and there followed hail and fire mixed with blood, and they were thrown to Earth."

"He thinks it's Revelation," Hotch said, ominously, "The seven Archangels versus the seven angels of death."

As Emily glanced around at her team, she wondered, idly, which Archangel each of them would be. She didn't remember much from her teachings, but knew that in Catholocism, only three were mentioned by name; Gabriel, Michael and Hankel's moniker, Raphael. So Hankel believed himself an archangel, and believed them to be the angels of death.

They watched Hankel heave Reid from where he lay on the floor. "Tell me who you serve."

"I serve you." Reid lied, still trying to protect himself. There was fear in his eyes; they could see it, even on the blurry screen in front of them.

"Then choose one to die."

"What?" Reid's voice was little more than a whisper, and they all waited, hardly even breathing.

"Your team members." Hankel continued, "Choose one to die."

Reid gave the answer she knew any of them would; "Kill me."

"You said you weren't one of them." Hankel challenged him.

"I lied."

"Your team has six other members." Hankel was not wavering; Raphael was not wavering. "Tell me who dies."

And though Emily could hear the fear in his voice, Reid shook his head, "No."

Watching Hankel take out the gun, knowing there would be no CPR to bring back Reid if Hankel shot him, Emily braced herself, closing her eyes for the briefest moments, sending a prayer to a God she hadn't believed in for years. They all did. Beside her, Hotch covered his mouth with his hand. They all waited to be chosen, waited to hear their own name from Reid's lips. Each of them waiting, wanting to be named, instead of the rest. With each shot, they flinched.

"I choose Aaron Hotchner." Emily's heart jumped into her throat, and she guiltily knew she would rather have heard anybody else's name chosen. She glanced at him, but he wasn't looking at her, at any of them. He just stared at Reid on the screen. "He's a classic narcissist," Reid was saying, and she frowned at the screen, confused, "He thinks he's better than everyone else on the team. Genesis 23:4; Let him not deceive himself and trust in emptiness, vanity, falseness and futility, for these shall be his recompense."

Emily turned as Hotch moved beside her, as he turned and fled the room, before she had a chance to say anything, to comfort him, as she wanted to. She watched him go, turning back to the screen for just a moment, as Hankel's final shot expelled the bullet from it's chamber, before they all follwed him out.

"I'm not a narcissist," She heard him say, as they all filed out after him. Gideon tried to argue with him, but Hotch stopped him, irritated, trying to make them understand. "Everybody, right now, what's my worst quality."

The silence was deafening, almost humourous, as nobody wanted to insult their boss. At work, Emily could have listed ten things, ten terrible qualities he had, but she could still feel the ache of him between her legs; she wasn't looking at him as her boss, right now.

"Alright," He said, sensing their reluctance, "I'll start. I have no sense of humour."

She knew that one wasn't true; she'd seen his sense of humour that first night, and in moments since when they had been alone. He had made her laugh so hard her stomach hurt.

"You're a..bully." JJ offered up, weakly. Hotch agreed readily with her, turning expectantly to Morgan.

"You can be a drill seregant sometimes." Morgan said, and though there was reluctance, there was also truth in his voice.

"You don't trust women as much as men." Mostly, she offered it up because the ohers had said something, and she felt it would be both awkward and obvious if she didn't. And, although she felt guilty, her words weren't exactly a lie.

Later, in the car, on the way to Reid, Emily sat beside Hotch. The others, thankfully, had piled into the SUV in front of them, Morgan in the drivers seat. She had fallen behind, giving Hotch a pointed look, and climbed into the passenger seat beside him.

"I'm sorry," She said, shaking her head, "About before. What I said." She hung her head, "I felt like I had to, I guess."

"You're not wrong." Hotch cut across her, "You have a point. And, psychologically, it makes no sense. I shouldn't trust men more, if my past is anything to go off of." Emily noted down this fact about him, this tiny glimpse into his life that he had gifted her, but didn't pry. Now was not the moment, but she stored it away, anyway, just in case the moment came, one day. "But, you should know," He looked across at her, and his eyes were earnest, clear. "You're not included in that. For some reason I...I trust you more than most."

Emily didn't know what to say to that. Thank you? It didn't seem appropriate, it wasn't what she wanted to convey. So she didn't say anything, just settled back in her seat and pondered over his words. Again, she felt the surge of guilt that he didn't know who she was, or, more importantly, what she truly was; a plant put into his team to bring him down.

The shack was empty, with no sign of Reid besides it being the right place; the one from Hankel's video feed.

"God, what's that smell?" It was something acidic, rotting and burning her nostrils. Emily's eyes watered as she brought her sleeve up to her nose.

Beside her, Aaron wasn't paying any attention. He was just spinning around, his gun at his side, staring into each corner of the shack, as though Reid would appear.

"Let's spread out," He told the rest of them, "They have to be on foot."

Everyone else filed out of the room. As she watched him, Emily could make out two words Hotch was repeating, under his breath, "Please, no. Please, no."

"Aaron-" She reached for him, but before her fingers could wrap around the fabric of his shirt, a gunshot cracked the night.

They found Reid crouching over a dying Tobias Hankel. The relief that flooded Emily made a sob catch in her throat. He was weak, drawn, gazing up at them in disbelief, like he couldn't believe they had found him.

JJ's face was a picture of guilt and relief, her eyes full of tears as she looked down at him. Hotch crouched beside him, a hand wrapping around Reid's bicep, ready to haul him to his feet.

"Reid?" Emily moved to his other side, hand clutching Reid's, and together they helped him up. It wasn't Emily he turned to, or Emily that Reid's voice broke for, as Hotch asked him, "Are you alright?"

"I knew you'd understand," And his voice was that of a child as he wrapped his arms around Hotch, clinging to him like a lifeline. Emily watched Hotch as he clung just as tightly to the boy, saw all of the guilt and self-loathing in his eyes. For a moment, his eyes landed on hers, then he dropped them, too afraid to let her see the shame he felt, and her heart ached.

As JJ stepped forwards, as she took the younger agent in her arms, Emily had to hold back her tears. If there was guilt in Hotch's eyes, it was nothing compared to JJ's. Her voice cracked as she said, "I am so sorry."

But Reid held her as tightly as he could in his weakened state. He had believed he would never see any of them again. "It's alright. It's not your fault."

But even as they parted, Emily could see the guilt still etched on JJ's face. She saw it as the blonde looked to Morgan for closure, and he could only nod at her. She wanted to reach for JJ, but the blonde stalked away, and Emily knew she was crying. Even Morgan's eyes were full of tears and, as she fell into step beside him and they walked back to the cars, exhausted, emotionally and physically, Emily realised that she wasn't the only member of this team holding things back.