"Wha'sa matter?…You don't wanna go?" Morgan frowned.

Prentiss chewed her lip, looking undecided. Eyes narrowed, she considered the possibilities and wished she had Reid's ability to calculate odds.

The longer they waited at the hospital, the more likely she thought it would be that the unsub would show her face. And Emily really, really wanted to leave her mark on it, if and when that face did appear. But the thought of having Hotch to herself for a few more words about the hostage incident was tempting, too. She didn't believe for a minute that her Unit Chief was unaware of what had been done to him.

And she rather had a feeling that he might appreciate the opportunity to talk about it in a private, one-on-one way. Especially now that he's had a little time to get his balance back. And if he doesn't wanna talk, at least he'll know the offer's always there. Northern-born Prentiss shook her head at what she thought of as her boss's Victorian sensibilities. But deep down, it was something she treasured about him. And Prentiss didn't like it when anyone bullied something she considered treasure-able in a world where it was harder and harder to find such special things.

Still, if Megan showed up here…her fists clenched in imaginary satisfaction…

"Hey, if you wanna take over and play statue outside an empty room, that's fine by me." For a moment Morgan thought he might escape the boredom of his faux-guard stance after all.

"No…no, it's okay. I'll go. But…" Prentiss gave a deep sigh. "…if that bitch shows up here, sock her at least once. Someplace where it'll show. Okay?"

Derek shook his head. "Get outta here."

Emily made her way to their SUV, head swiveling the entire time as she did one last check to assure herself the unsub wasn't lurking around every corner…or behind every potted plant…or inside every set of scrubs…Jeeeeez! Snap out of it! The sooner you check on Hotch, the sooner you can get back here and melt the face off that bitch!

Growling to herself, Prentiss finally headed for the Stoneleigh.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Megan Kane's eyes brimmed with compassion.

At last she'd found a man who really was cut from the same cloth that formed her. She was almost sure of it. Almost. They shared the same ingredient that flavored their whole lives. Unwanted. Disposable. It was unthinkable to leave him. Or for him to leave her.

But there's no place for us in this world. He has to understand that.

"Aaron." She reached across the table…past the waiting Mimosa…all the way to his hands. Felt the tremor in them. Decided it had nothing to do with having been drugged, but sprang from the emotional intensity of having found, finally, finally, a true soulmate. Fruit from the same twisted vine. She twined her fingers through his. "You poor, sweet man. You've kept fighting and fighting even though you knew you never should have been born. We were mistakes. Both of us."

Megan thought she'd never seen anything as beautiful as handsome Aaron's tears. Struggling to hold them back. So brave. Always so brave. Brave enough for the both of us. Brave enough to stay with me.

"Aaron, listen to me. Your wife left you. And I know the real reason…don't you?" She saw something deep and bruised in the depths of his eyes. Decided it was a desperate need to know the answer to this riddle that had broken his faithful, gentleman's heart.

"Don't you see? It's another sign that you don't belong here. You're out of place in this world. We both are. We were born out of sync. Out of time. No one wants us. Not our parents…no one." She laid her palm along his cheek slick with tears. "No one wants you, Aaron. No one...except me…"

She rubbed a thumb across the delicate skin just under his eye, smoothing away the moisture, the proof that his life was as painful, as unsubstantiated as hers. Slowly, she leaned back from this man, this marvelous find in a world where heartless cruelty was the norm.

He's like a flower in the desert…too tender to survive the harsh land where it should never have bloomed in the first place. And like that thirsty flower, he needs…this…

Eyes locked on Hotch's, Megan pushed the champagne all the way to him. "No more pain. Come with me, Aaron. I'll never leave you. No matter what. I promise. I'll stay with you always."

Hotch couldn't stop trembling. Every word this woman said hurt. It was like being hit again and again, leaving no break in between to recover or think or make sense of what was happening.

It felt just like childhood.

Instead of the broken bones and blackened flesh his father had gifted him, all the wounds were internal. His heart. His spirit. He just wanted it to stop.

When she brought the crystal flute to his lips…

…he wanted to drink.

But then, he remembered….

The fanatic glow of adoration in Megan's eyes did an abrupt fade-to-ice when Hotch pressed his lips into a tight line and turned his head away.

"Aaron?" Her soft, imploring voice grew sudden spikes, like a different kind of weapon. Not the kind that slid past his defenses couched in gentle persuasion. Rather, the kind that hovered overhead, poised to strike a blow. "Aaron? Drink it!"

Hotch shook his head.

Her fury was choking her. This was the perfect answer for both of them! Why couldn't he see it?! "Aaron! Drink!"

"No." The face he finally turned toward her wasn't angry, wasn't belligerent or defiant. All it was…was inexpressibly sad. "If I do, then I will be like the men you hate. Don't you see?"

Megan's head did a slow, single shake; a sign of complete lack of understanding and disbelief that he couldn't see how…how right this would be. The mournfulness in his eyes held her spellbound. It was genuine. It was like an eternal truth waiting to shine out, the light and heat of which would singe her. Like an axe about to fall…

Hotch took a deep breath. "If I drink that, I'll be just another man who walked out on his child."

It hit Megan like a blow to the gut, robbing her of breath. And hope. And the one perfect way all this could have ended.

She'd forgotten.

Hotch was a father.

Hotch had a son.