Reid's abduction shook them all. On their way back from Hankel's place, Hotch called the Director directly, and gave the word that they had all been granted a few days leave to go home, recuperate; Hotch later told Emily that the director had singled out Reid and JJ specifically, citing their respective ordeals, but the invitation was extended to the whole team, and he had taken it, on behalf of them all. A few days was the least they needed, after the emotional toll of this case.

They were forced to spend one more night in Atlanta, while Reid got checked over at the hospital. They put him on an IV drip, and Gideon insisted on keeping vigil at his bedside.

"You all get back to the hotel, get a good night's sleep, you've earned it." He told them, watching at the door to Reid's hospital room as the nurse inserted his IV cannula. Emily, standing on the opposite wall, glanced in just as the needle slid it's way into his arm and perhaps it was the exhaustion, or the lack of food, but it turned her stomach and she had to look away.

JJ was standing beside her, and couldn't tear her eyes away from Spencer, unconscious in his bed. She shook her head, blonde hair waving around her face, eyes full of unshed tears, and looked at Derek. Emily didn't even think she'd seen Morgan look at JJ since they stood beside Hankel's dead body. She'd seen the look that passed between them, both of their faces riddled with guilt. This case had changed something between them, broken something between them; Morgan had hurt JJ deeply, Emily knew.

"You were right," Jennifer said, in a broken voice, on the verge of tears. "It should have been me."

"No, JJ-" Emily began, beside her, but Derek cut her off.

"He is just a kid," He said, his tone stern, angry. Sitting beside him, Aaron straightened up, ready to step in if need be. "He's a kid. He didn't even pass his firearms training. He's our responsibility. You don't let the kid go it alone, Jennifer. It's an unspoken rule of the BAU."

"I didn't-" JJ started, but Morgan cut her off.

"But you did, JJ. You let him go, and this is what happened," He gestured angrily towards Reid's bed.

Emily, annoyed and feeling protective of JJ, not caring that she was the newest member of the team, stepped out from behind JJ, pointing into Spencer's hospital room.

"Reid is a grown man, and he's alive because he used his brain. If that was any of us," Emily interjected, gesturing around the group, "That bed would be empty and there'd be another body in the morgue." Morgan's eyes flit to JJ at her words.

"How old is Reid?" She asked them all.

"He's 24." Gideon's voice was low, and he hadn't taken his eyes away from Spencer.

"And you're what?" She said to JJ. "26?" JJ nodded, and Emily looked at Derek, levelling him with dark eyes. "If he's a baby, so is she, so how about you back off, Morgan."

Derek's face softened for a moment, with surprise, but then he redoubled, opening his mouth to speak back to her. Hotch rose to his feet, placing a hand gently, but firmly, on Derek's shoulder.

"Take a walk, Derek." He said, softly, with a pointed look into Reid's hospital room; this was neither the time, nor the place, and they all needed a chance to calm down, to process the past few days. Morgan looked like he might argue, then he looked at Hotch's hand on his shoulder, and shrugged it off. He didn't say another word as he grabbed for his jacket, and stalked off down the corridor. As Hotch turned to the rest of them, he caught Emily's eye, and she gave him what she hoped was an appreciative look.

Once Morgan left, the rest of them weren't long in following him. Emily thought perhaps JJ should have stayed overnight at the hospital, too, but the blonde insisted she was fine.

"At least have your arm looked at," Emily asked her, and JJ agreed, to appease her but beyond that there was little the physicians could do for her. Emily wanted to argue that perhaps it wasn't a doctor she needed to see, but a psychiatrist, but one glance at JJ's face, her eyes ringed red from exhaustion, and lowered to the ground, as though she daren't meet anybody's eye, and Emily shut her mouth.

They must have been quite the sight, walking into the hotel lobby at 3:30 in the morning, to retire to rooms they'd had booked but not slept in for several nights now. Garcia had called ahead and remotely checked them in. They congregated near the elevators, and Hotch dropped his go bag to the floor, to head over to the front desk to collect keys. The young girl behind the desk, who didn't look pleased about being up this late, handed over an envelope without a word, then retired through the door behind the desk, presumably to finally clock out. Hotch called a quiet thank you after her and raised his eyebrows as he returned to them to hand out the keys. Emily looked down at the card in her hand, running her thumb across the cold metal strip. Her eyes flit up, and she caught Hotch staring back at her. It was barely a moment, but an understanding passed between them; her bed would remain unused tonight. He passed her without a word, to hand JJ her key card.

"Don't worry about rushing in the morning," He said, "Reid isn't being discharged until 1pm, so you have time to sleep a while longer."

Their ride up to their floor was silent, so heavy was their mutual exhaustion. Nobody spoke. JJ leaned heavily against the wall, her eyes drifting closed. Emily watched her, warily.

"Jayje, let me help you, okay?" Emily told her softly, taking hold of the blonde agent's bag, as they stepped off of the elevator. Emily glanced at Hotch as she followed JJ out, and he gave a tiny, imperceptible nod, understanding.

"Ladies," Hotch inclined his head as he passed them, side stepping politely past them to his door.

"Goodnight, sir," Emily said, and JJ echoed her sentiment, weakly, quietly and Emily watched as he disappeared into his room across the hall.

Following JJ into her room, Emily set both of their bags beside the bed, running a hand over her face as she leaned her back against the door to close it behind them. JJ was standing in the middle of the room, her back to Emily. She held her arm bandaged against her stomach. Emily couldn't see her face, but she imagined JJ's eyes pressed tight together, against both the images that had been flashing through her mind for the past few days, and the tears that threatened now that they stood alone in the silence.

"JJ?" Emily said, quietly, gently, "Are you okay?"

Not for the first time, the blonde started, as though being pulled out of a daydream. Her handbag slid from her shoulder with a thud, and JJ moved sharply, raking her hands through dirty blonde hair.

"I'm fine," She said, walking to her bed and sitting down. As she sat, her shoulders sagged, and she dropped her head into her hands. Emily watched, as JJ collapsed in on herself, and she could practically feel the blonde's exhaustion emanating from her.

"Hey, did you wanna talk about it?" Aaron was expecting her, but he could wait. This, JJ, couldn't. Emily wandered over to the bed, crouching in front of the younger agent, placing a hand gently on JJ's knee. JJ looked slowly up at her, resting her chin on her joined hands, and gave a little shrug.

"It's just…the job, right?" She said, "I should be glad I'm in better shape than Reid."

"Jayje, it's not a competition-"

"That's what Morgan would say, though." JJ insisted, "And Gideon. Hotch, too, probably-"

"I don't think so," Emily shook her head, slightly annoyed at herself that she felt the need to defend him. "I don't think Hotch thinks that. And I know Reid wouldn't. We're all just glad you're okay. Spencer, most of all. And Morgan's just upset and worried about Reid." It didn't make what he had said right, but she understood where it had come from, at least.

"You should just go to bed, Emily, you're probably exhausted-"

Emily shook her head, as JJ spoke, and took one of the blonde's hands in both of her own. "Jayje," She spoke over the younger agent, "Don't do that, okay?" She shook her head, "I'm fine. And I am right here." Dark eyes stared into blue, imploring. "Talk to me. This isn't the sort of thing you want to hold inside."

"How would you know?" JJ didn't mean to be cruel; her tone was blunt, bland. Her eyes were dull, lifeless, when she looked back at Emily, and it wasn't out of cruelty or anger, but out of emotional exhaustion; Emily could recognise that. But, not for the first time, her words made Emily want to flinch. Every time they reminded her that she had just come from a 'desk job', Emily recoiled, as though the lie burned her insides, and not because of their words, but because she knew they wholeheartedly believed it. The closer she got to these people, the worse the lie felt, but there was no way around it. She couldn't tell the truth; not only was she under oath, but to tell them the real story of her past was to put her former team, Clyde, Tsia, people who had worked so hard to keep her safe, in danger. So she shook her head.

"I know how I would feel, if it were me," JJ didn't recognise her hesitation, because there was none; Emily's internal struggle was so second nature to her now that she barely blinked. It all rolled so quickly through her mind that nobody from the outside could see it, and so JJ noticed nothing. She just stared into Emily's imploring, brown eyes, and her own filled with tears at the kindness she saw there. She slumped, and Emily caught her as JJ went down, as she began to sob. JJ slid from the bed, onto the floor beside Emily and Emily held her, as JJ cried, as her shoulders shook with sobs. Emily didn't know why she was crying, whether it was guilt, relief, pain or fear. She didn't really care. She just held JJ, who seemed so young to her at that moment, and let her cry.

Emily held her, rubbing a hand soothingly up and down JJ's back, as her sobs finally died away, as she settled down. Eventually, the sniffling stopped, and JJ sat up. She wiped the back of her hand across her nose, and Emily turned to the bedside table to retrieve the box of tissues that sat there. She offered them to JJ, who took one gratefully.

"Thanks," the blonde said, quietly, "I'm sorry, this is so embarrassing."

Emily shook her head, giving JJ a small smile as she stretched her legs out, folding her hands in her lap. "Don't even worry about it, okay? You've been through a lot these past few days. I'd be more concerned if you weren't letting it out."

"I've just...I know it's the job," JJ repeated, "But I've never been..." JJ shook her head, "What we do is dangerous, I know that. I have no illusions. I've just never been on the receiving end of it like that before."

Emily listened, and didn't interrupt. She couldn't help, though, the niggling thought at the back of her mind that reminded her that JJ was not a profiler, but a media liaison; she had no business being out in the field like that in the first place. None of what had happened in this case had been her fault, and Emily told her as much.

"Yeah," Was all that JJ said, and Emily knew then that it didn't matter what she said; JJ was going to have to find a way to move on from this herself. Nothing that anybody else said would reassure her.

"I'll let you get some sleep." Emily told her, gently, standing up off the floor. JJ didn't protest, and, when Emily left her, the blonde was tugging back her covers ready to climb into bed and go to sleep.

Emily didn't go back to her own room, which was beside JJ's. Instead, she stepped across the hall and rapped, quietly, on Hotch's door, chancing a glance at Morgan's door, anxious that he would choose that moment to venture into the hall. He didn't. Hotch's door swung open quickly and she knew he had been waiting for her. As she stepped inside, she let her bag slide from her shoulder with a thud. Hotch closed the door behind her, and then she felt thick, strong arms wind around her narrow waist, crossing at the wrists in front of her. He was shirtless, dressed only in a thin pair of navy pyjama bottoms, his hair damp from the shower. His hands splayed over her stomach, and his fingers began undoing her shirt. Emily smirked, turning her head to look at him, warmed by his body heat.

"Miss me that much?" She teased him, her voice low and soft.

"You know I did," His voice rumbled in her ear, and in his chest, against her back.

"Hey," She turned in his arms, taking the moment to say something serious, her eyes finding his, so he would see how much she meant what she was about to say. "That, back there, with Morgan? You can't do that."

"Do what?" He frowned, and she couldn't tell if he was confused or offended.

"Take my side." She raised an eyebrow, as he opened his mouth to protest. "I can handle myself, Hotch, I don't need you to defend me."

"You were defending JJ!" He pointed out, and Emily smirked.

"Yeah, well, I'm not sleeping with JJ." She lay her arms on his shoulders, linking her fingers behind his head. "There's no conflict of interest there."

He didn't reply, just ducked his head to kiss her, and she didn't push him. She just hoped he'd take her words to heart, and they wouldn't have another issue like this, but she was done thinking about it for tonight. This case, the past few days, had been gruelling. The half an hour they'd had together in the car had been their only relief from it all, and even that had been tinged by fear for Reid. Now that it was over, now that he was safe, now that they could relax...

The mattress was soft beneath her as Emily's back hit it; it sank beneath their weight like a cloud, as Aaron landed on top of her, bodily pressing her into the mattress as he kissed her, deeply. The pillow was soft beneath her head, dark hair splayed across it. Her white shirt fell open, and Aaron's hand splayed across her abdomen, his hand large enough to fold around her waist, encapsulating most of her tiny form, but not quite. Emily was aware of his size, his sheer muscle, above her; it made her feel delicate, small, it excited her and as his hand crept up, grazing her ribs, she whimpered, weakly, against his lips.

"Are you alright?" Hotch broke their kiss long enough to ask, his nose tracing her cheek as he moved his lips to kiss the hollow of her throat. Emily answered by pulling his face back to hers, as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him in closer to her. His other hand grasped for her thigh, digging in. Even fully clothed, she could feel him, already hard, against her centre. Remembering their tryst in the car, and knowing they now had all the time in the world, Emily's stomach twisted with desire. She reached above her for the headboard, arching her back as Hotch began kissing his way down her throat, to the valley between her breasts. There, he paused, watching her chest heave with anticipation, seeing how her skin glistened with perspiration. Emily felt the pause and looked down at him, met dark eyes with her own, as Aaron lay his tongue against her skin and licked a line between her breasts.

"Hmm," she practical mewled, and she writhed, letting go of the headboard long enough to shrug her arms out of her shirt.

"Eager," The smirk on his face would have been entirely insufferable if she wasn't so desperate to have him inside of her. Instead, she smiled back, tongue tracing her lips, as she lifted her hips and began undoing her trousers. Hotch sat up, discarding his own shirt and unbuckling his belt. As Emily kicked off her trousers, leaving her in just a matching white set, his eyes devoured her. He leaned back in, the bed dipping with his weight, and his lips hovered millimetres from hers.

"Patience, Emily," He said, his voice low, husky, his breath tickling her sensitive lips. He moved his lips, to graze the sensitive hollow beneath her ear, and pressed a kiss there, "I have you here all night."

His words sent a shudder through her, the sensation concentrated between her legs, where she wanted him the most. She could feel his breath on her lips, and her eyes fluttered closed at the sensation. Every fibre of her being buzzed in anticipation, so aware of him hovering above her, his bare chest grazing her own. Her hands fell, limp against the mattress, her chest heaving as she waited, completely at his mercy, for him to make the next move.

The watery, early morning light that seeped its way through the cheap, thin hotel curtains was what slowly pulled Emily from sleep. She didn't open her eyes, as she became aware of her surroundings. She was warm, a thick duvet on top of her, bunched up in front of her, as she hugged it to her chest. There was a heavy arm thrown across her, nestled into the dip where her hip curved into her waist, and a hand pressed against her, tummy, pulling her flush against the warm, solid body behind her. There was a satisfied ache between her legs. Behind her, Aaron's breathing was heavy and steady. He was still deep in slumber. Emily released the duvet she was hugging, tucking her arms inside of it, to grasp at his arm, to feel him, even closer to her. She turned her head, and his breath made her eyelashes flutter. In her chest, her heart stuttered as she studied his face. He was never more peaceful than when he slept. When his anxieties, the weight of his position, all melted away. The frown lines in his forehead smoothed, and his lips didn't press together in that stern expression. Instead, he was calm, peaceful, content. Emily smiled, as her eyes traced his features, committing them to memory.

You're in trouble. That annoying little voice was back in her head again. She ignored it, snuggling back into Aaron's chest, pressing herself closer to him, tangling their bare legs. It had been a long time, so long, since she had slept in such contentment beside somebody, so close to somebody. Ian. Yes, Ian. The Irish mobster she'd been assigned to take down from the inside. And, even then, it hadn't been Emily sleeping in his arms, it had been Lauren. That was what she had always told herself, and what she would continue to tell herself. It was almost three years since she had laid eyes on Ian, since she, Lauren Reynolds, had 'died' in a tragic, fiery car accident. Emily had seen the wreck; they had to make it look realistic. As she looked at the photographs of the burning car, the ones she knew they would show to Ian, in an attempt to break him that she knew wouldn't work, she laid Lauren Reynolds to rest. Lauren Reynolds is dead.

It took months for her to remember who Emily was.

Emily loved sushi, Lauren was allergic to seafood. Emily liked silver jewelry, Lauren wore gold. Lauren's birthday was in April, not October. An aries, and one who believed in astrology, not a libra who thought astrology was rubbish. Lauren spoke French, but that was it. Emily had to reteach herself her other languages, it had been so long since she had spoken any of them. They came back to her, and quickly, especially her Italian, and each word felt like stepping back into her own skin. Lauren wanted a family. That was something she and Emily shared. Lauren had almost had one, with Ian and his son, Declan. Declan, who had called Emily by her alias' name up until the day he 'died'.

"I look pretty good for a dead kid."

Emily closed her eyes against the small voice in her mind, the one that she could never seem to forget. Not for the first time, guilt churned at her insides, but this time it wasn't for her team, but for the terrorist she had put behind bars. Emily had been in her own prison for nine months, but Lauren had fallen in love with Ian, and sometimes that still reared its head. Emily pushed her away, as unwilling to observe those feelings as she ever had been.

She turned in Hotch's arms, and, even in his sleep, he held tight to her, his hand travelling up her back as she nestled into his chest, her eyes closed as she breathed him in. She was safe here. Safe, and content, and completely Emily. Lauren Reynolds is dead.

She didn't see Aaron during their few days off.

She spent the time unpacking her apartment. It had been four months, and there were still boxes lying about that she had yet to empty. She didn't need to be a psychologist to know why; she was afraid to put down roots, she didn't wait to commit, ya-da ya-da ya-da. She knew all of the lines, and no, her unpacking didn't have anything to do with Aaron, thank you very much.

Still, as she organised her bookshelf, she found herself glancing towards her phone, waiting for him to text or call. He didn't.

Her eyes strayed to it's blank screen as she cooked one of the three dishes she knew how to make; chicken with ramen and vegetables.

On their second of three days off, when she still hadn't heard from him, she was more annoyed at herself than she was at him. They were grown people, and there was nothing exclusive about...whatever it was they were doing; he was under no obligation to text or call. Emily bit the inside of her lip, as she glanced, again, away from the page of the book she was reading, to her phone. She tapped her fingertips on the book's cover, and the sound would have been satisfying if she hadn't bitten her nails to stubs.

She had the right, she decided, to text him on their day off. They'd been sleeping together for long enough now that a simple text was fine. She rolled her eyes, annoyed by her own overthinking, and grabbed for her phone.

Hey. Are you as bored as I am?

That was fine, right? Casual, but also kind of cute. Before she could overthink it, Emily jabbed her thumb down onto the 'send' button, and set her phone back on the counter, and spent the next half an hour trying to convince herself that she wasn't concentrating so hard on listening for the buzz of her phone that she started hearing a constant, high-pitched whine as her tinnitus was irritated by the claustrophobic silence.

He didn't reply, and the next day when she walked into the bullpen, she barely cast a glance up towards his office.

She passed Morgan at his desk, but didn't see any of the rest of the team as she sat down. The door to Hotch's office was firmly closed. She set her briefcase down, and took off her coat, then turned to head towards the kitchen to make a coffee. This time, as she passed Morgan, he stood up, following behind her.

"You want one?" She offered, kindly, as she took a mug down from the cupboard.

"Sure, thanks," he said, his hands awkwardly placed in his pockets. He rocked on his heels for a moment, watching her make the coffee. "Look, Emily, I'm sorry for the other day. I was outta line. I was worried for the kid. The last time-" He paused, stared at his own hand on the counter, and Emily gave him a moment, before she stepped closer to him and dropped her voice

"Last time?" She pushed, gently. Morgan met her eyes, and she saw fear there. Fear and pain.

There was pain in Morgan's past. Only a few weeks ago, he had to confront it all, and they were forced to profile their own teammate. Carl Buford was finally being made to pay for his crimes, but Emily knew that pain wouldn't leave Morgan any time soon. That, though, wasn't what he was talking about now.

"Last time somebody on this team got hurt," Morgan's voice was little more than a whisper, "She almost died. And then she shot a suspect in cold blood." Emily's eyes went wide with shock, her mouth opening, then closing as she tried to think of something to say.

"I know it's not an excuse, but it's the best I've got. We lost Elle. I don't want to lose anyone else to this job." He shrugged, "I'd have reacted the same if it was any of you."

She didn't think that was quite the truth, but let it go, because she appreciated the apology. The news of her predecessors fate still whirling around her brain, Emily offered Morgan a smile, shaking her head, ponytail waving.

"It's forgotten," She said, as she handed him his steaming mug of coffee, "But have you spoken to JJ?"

"Yeah, saw her first thing this morning. We're good." He fell into step beside her, heading back to their neighbouring desks. "Is she good, though?"

Emily heaved a sigh, settling herself in front of her computer, and tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. "I'll let you know in a couple of days."

"I'm fine," JJ, who had silently entered the room behind them, her heels quiet on the carpeted floor, said. "And, if it helps, I'm going to be seeing a therapist once a week for the foreseeable future. Reid's seeing her twice a week." She didn't look embarrassed by that, rather relieved. Emily wondered if Reid felt the same way. There was a file in JJ's arms.

"Already?" Emily almost groaned, and JJ pressed her lips together, as though in apology.

"Is Hotch ready?" Morgan asked JJ, as they stood to follow her into the conference room.

"I think he's just finishing up with Haley," the blonde shot over her shoulder, and Emily tilted her head as they walked up the ramp.

"Who's Haley?" She asked.

Morgan cast a glance over his shoulder, and said, "His wife."

His wife.

His wife.

The words bounced around Emily's head like a bullet. She stumbled, tripped over her own foot as her heel scraped on the carpet. Her brain was short circuiting. Morgan caught her elbow, steadying her.

"Whoa, you okay?" He asked, his brow furrowed with concern. Emily could only gape at him, as though the synapses in her brain that made her voice and mouth work had blinked out. Her thoughts were too fast, her eyes too wide, her mouth too dry. She fixed her face, dropped her gaze to her feet and forced a smile.

"Yeah, just…clumsy, thanks," She made the excuse easily, pulling her arm out of his grip, but her stomach rolled, and the urge to vomit rose in her throat. She swallowed it down, along with the scream that threatened, as realisation crashed over her. His wife.

Behind her, the door clicked open, and Emily felt like she was living a nightmare, like the world was moving in slow motion, as she turned, ponytail splaying out behind her head, and watched as a woman stepped out of the office. She was petite, shorter than Emily, and smaller in stature. Blonde. She glanced towards the three of them, and she was close enough that Emily could smell the floral scent of her perfume, and couldn't stop the thought that crossed her mind; if it had been a gift from Hotch. God, she was going to be sick.

She smiled at them, at JJ and Morgan, who had obviously met her before, and said, "Hi guys," and then Haley's eyes found her and, with horror, Emily realised what was about to happen.

"We haven't met," Haley said, as Hotch stepped out of the office behind her, and Emily saw the fear in his eyes as Haley stepped towards Emily, her hand outstretched, "I'm Haley, Haley Hotchner."

Haley Hotchner. Bile rose in Emily's throat, and she glanced over Haley's shoulder, caught Aaron's eye and saw so many things there. Fear, humiliation, an apology she didn't want. Then she looked back at Haley, at her clear, blue eyes.

"Haley," She lied, easily, the words sickly sweet as she spoke them, the smile on her face a little too wide and not quite reaching her eyes, "Of course. I've heard so much about you," She grinned, literally lying through her teeth, and took Haley's hand. It was all she could do not to flinch.

"Nice to meet you," Haley withdrew her hand pretty quickly, and Emily was glad. "Nice to see you guys," She gave Morgan and JJ a little wave, and then turned to head down the stairs, and across the bullpen, and then she was gone, and Morgan and JJ were heading for the conference room, and she just stood there, staring at the place where Haley had disappeared through the double doors at the end of the room. When she turned back to Hotch, his face was unreadable, and anger coursed through her veins.

He turned to head into his office, with the slightest nod, asking her to follow, and she did. He waited, holding the door open for her, but all Emily could feel was the fiery anger in her chest and god, how could she have been so fucking stupid.

Hotch closed the door behind her.

"Emily-"

The slap cracked like a gunshot, and Emily's palm stung. His cheek burned scarlet and there was only silence as she stepped around him and opened the door; he knew better than to try to speak to her. Emily took half a moment to breathe, to compose herself, and then left him standing there, the office door wide open, his cheek burning.

And she didn't say a word to him for two weeks.