Emily answered the door and instantly, Hotch knew he'd made a mistake. She looked more attractive than he'd ever seen her, despite the fact that she was only wearing yoga pants and a thin, tight tank top that showed a small portion of her stomach.

"Hotch?" Emily said in disbelief. "Is something wrong? It's late!"

"No, nothing's wrong," Hotch assured her, trying not to think about how much he wanted to be close to her at that very moment. "I just came by to check on you."

Emily smiled. "C'mon in. I was just about to make some coffee. Would you like some?" She opened the door wide and gestured for him to come in, which he did.

Emily's apartment wasn't as clean as Hotch had thought it would be. Her knock-off designer bag was on the table in the small foyer with her car keys and gun next to it. The decorations were somewhat contemporary and modern, but everything looked very comfortable and lived in, despite the fact that she lived alone and wasn't there half the time.

"You've got a nice place," Hotch commented, following Emily into the kitchen where she pulled a container of Folgers Medium Blend out of the freezer and began brewing a fresh pot of coffee.

"Thanks," Emily replied, pouring water into the coffee maker. "I've barely been here since I moved in, but I call it home."

"It's nice to have a place to call home," Hotch said. As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Hotch flinched inwardly. What kind of conversation was this? He wanted to tell her how worried he had been about her and how much he'd come to care about her, even though he was certain that he would be rejected. She was in her thirties, tall, and extremely attractive. She would have no trouble finding herself a boyfriend. Hotch, on the other hand, was over forty, had been through a nasty divorce, and had son to look after. There was no way she could find him attractive.

"Yeah, it is," Emily agreed, interrupting his thoughts.

Taking a deep breath, Hotch took several steps closer to her. "Listen, Emily, I really came over here to check on you—make sure you were recovering all right."

"I'm fine," Emily snapped, looking down.

Instantly, Aaron backed away little. "I'm sorry. I was worried. I'll go now." He turned and walked towards the door, all the hope draining out of him. It was worthless—he was going to get hurt if he tried getting close to Emily. She didn't care about him.

"Wait, Hotch!" she called after him. He stopped and half turned, looking at her painfully.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, walking towards him. "You were right to worried. I'll admit, I'm a little shaken up by the whole thing." She absently tucked some hair behind her ear and Hotchner saw the bruised, cut side of her face. Slowly, he walked towards her, reached out his hand, and gently cupped her face in it. Her dark eyes fluttered shut and she leaned into his touch. Suddenly, he saw two tears slip down her cheek. In a moment, he had his strong arms around her and she was clinging to his desperately. She needed him to be strong for her right now and he was happy to be there.

For the longest time, he held her like that. She sobbed onto his French blue dress shirt and pressed herself against him. After a while, she pulled back a little and smoothed his shirt down. He looked down into her eyes for a moment, and then leaned in close and pressed his mouth against hers.