I was reminded the other day that this was Paget Brewster's last season, that makes me really sad, I'm kind of afraid of where this show is going. And this season hasn't been the same without JJ either. *sigh*
But anyways, on a brighter note: thanks again for your comments and feedback! They're always appreciated! For those of you who enjoyed that little moment with Jack, don't worry, you'll see more of him :-) So, so far Emily's been pretty oblivious to poor Hotch's torments, but that's all about to change [insert dramatic music] ;-) This is one of my personal favorite parts I think, so enjoy :-)
Disclaimers in Prologue
Part 4
Henry Miller once wrote: "One of the reasons why so few of us ever act, instead of react, is because we are continually stifling our deepest impulses."
Hotch let out a long sigh as he tried to focus on his report. His head ached with tension and he was more than ready to call it a night. He looked at the clock.
7:08 pm.
He really should go home, especially as the only thing keeping him at the BAU was this damn report, which he could easily finish at home. The others had already left anyway. As he started packing, his earlier conversation with Prentiss came replaying in his mind. She was mad at him, but he couldn't really blame her. He understood more than anyone how she felt. He had noticed over the last couple of weeks how dark lines had appeared under her eyes, how even paler than usual she had begun to look. She hid it well, and if the others had noticed that her bad moods were becoming as frequent as her good moods, no one said anything. But he knew the looks – they had looked at him the same way when his search for Foyet had (admittedly) turned into an obsession – a legitimate one, in his opinion, but an obsession all the same.
He himself had considered weeks ago setting up a bait situation to provoke Norland or whoever the UnSub was into action, but he remembered bitterly that the last time he had used a member of his team as bait, it hadn't turned out so well. True, in some ways Prentiss was better at compartmentalizing and more cool-headed than Elle Greenaway, but Hotch had recognized in Prentiss's eyes the same desperate need and restlessness that he'd seen in Elle's during those last few cases before she left. And this was what scared him. He knew he could trust Prentiss when the time came to follow protocols and chains of command, and she had proven countless times that she could hold herself together in stressful situations, but what if her physical and psychological exhaustion clouded her judgment? What if her need for action made her act recklessly? He wasn't ready to take that chance and put her in a position where she'd have to make that choice.
Rising to his feet with a sigh, he shut his briefcase. A knock at the door made him look up.
"Excuse me, sir," Harrison said, "this came for you. It says it's urgent."
Hotch took the envelope. "Thanks Harrison. Good night."
The young agent turned on his heels, but Hotch barely saw him leave. Suddenly his vision tunneled on the envelope between his hands – the address was hand-written, just like-
Feeling the blood leave his face, Hotch rushed out of his office and ran through the bullpen to catch up with Harrison, unaware of the strange looks he was receiving from his coworkers.
"Harrison! Did you see who delivered this?"
The young man seemed confused. "Uh, FedEx I think. What's wrong?"
Hotch looked at the envelope again and saw that postage had indeed been paid – it hadn't been hand-delivered. He also noticed that there was a return address, but Hotch didn't recognize the name; was pretty sure it wasn't real anyway.
Oh God…
Suddenly unable to breathe, Hotch tore the envelope open with shaking fingers. It was more photos and his heart stopped beating before it suddenly sprung to life again and pounded erratically against his chest. Prentiss was not on them, he realized with relief; this time they were pictures of restaurants, four of them, but Hotch was absolutely certain that this was another one of Norland's message. What did it mean?
Forgetting all about Harrison, Hotch turned on his heels and grabbed his phone. He walked anxiously as Prentiss's phone rang once before it went to her voicemail.
"God DAMN it!"
Next number on the list.
"Supreme commander of all that is information with a capital 'I', how can I help you?"
"Garcia, I need you to find four addresses for me. I'm thinking they're probably local." He gave her the names of the two Italian and two French restaurants.
"Yes sir, they're all in DC. I'm sending you the coordinates right now."
"Thanks Garcia. I need you to get Rossi and Reid to go to When in Rome, ask Morgan to meet me at La Table de Jacques, I'm going to send more agents to the other two locations. It's about Prentiss." As soon as he hung up he gave the call to request for backup and dispatch them at the four locations even as he walked out to his car. When that was done he dialed JJ.
"Hello?"
"JJ, do you know anything about Prentiss eating out tonight?"
"Ah, yeah, I think she said something about a date downtown, why?"
Damn! "Do you know if it was Italian, or French?"
"I don't remember her saying… Hotch, what's going on?"
"I just received four photos of local restaurants."
"Oh my God, you think she was going to one of them?"
"I'm dispatching agents to all four locations, she's not picking up her phone."
"I'll meet you there, send the address? Do you need me to call the others?"
"Garcia's taking care of it. I'm going to keep calling Prentiss, hopefully she'll pick up. Just meet us at the address I'll send you when you can."
"Alright, see you in a few minutes."
Hotch hung up and started driving, all the while trying to keep himself from considering the worst case scenarios. This could not be happening. Not again. The usual 40-or so minute drive from Quantico into DC took him less than 20, so that he arrived at the coordinates of the first location just after the local police. He'd briefed them over the radio as he'd driven, so everyone knew what to expect. Prentiss still hadn't answered her phone, and Hotch just really hoped that the reason was something as simple as her turning it off during dinner. If she had done that to retaliate after their argument and piss him off, he would wring her neck!
God, please let her be alright, he silently prayed as he stopped the car.
Hotch met with the chief as soon as he got out of his car. "I'm going to go in first with two officers, I don't want to cause a panic if this is just a false alarm."
"Got it, we'll secure the perimeter-"
"Hotch!"
Hotch sighed in relief as he saw Morgan running towards him. "Morgan, you're with me, let's go."
Morgan didn't ask any questions as he pulled out his gun and fell in step beside him.
As they walked towards the entrance, Hotch grabbed his phone again and dialed.
"Rossi."
"Dave!"
"Hotch, I'm on my way to the restaurant."
"I'm at another location, about to enter. Keep me posted."
"Will do, good luck."
Nodding to Morgan, they got in and Hotch started looking for Prentiss from the entrance as Morgan showed off his badge to the hostess and explained the situation. They didn't want to cause a fuss, so they remained at the entrance for a moment, trying to get a good look at the patrons. The restaurant was packed, which didn't help at all and many tables were hidden in crooks and corners.
"Do you see her?" Morgan asked as he scanned the crowd.
Hotch shook his head and grabbed his phone, dialing her number for the hundredth time. Voicemail again. "Alright, I'm going in, Morgan, watch my back, Officer keep a look out for Steven Norland or any suspicious or sudden behavior."
Hotch walked in, eyes constantly scanning the crowd, trying to spot her dark hair while always keeping a look out for sudden movements. He did a double take as his eyes landed on an unexpected face: Agent Mansfield, sitting at a table by himself. Hotch made a move in his direction, but at that moment the agent looked up, and if he was surprised at seeing Hotch a few feet away he hid it well. Instead, he only tilted his head towards his right. Hotch followed the direction of his gaze, and then he saw her.
She was sitting in a corner to his left, half turned away from him. She was laughing and Hotch's breath caught in his throat for a second at seeing her safe. She looked amazing with her hair falling in loose curls on her shoulders, her soft sweater, skirt and high-heeled boots. He forced his gaze away and looked at the man sitting in front of her. He looked in his late thirties, and while the light beard darkening his jaw gave him a somewhat manly look, his curly and unruly hair made him look much younger. Was he the 'cute Canadian boyfriend' then? To Hotch he looked too boyish to be able to hold a candle to a spirited woman such as Prentiss.
"Morgan, 11 o'clock, corner booth. Keep a look out for Norland, I'm going to retrieve her. Agent Mansfield is also keeping watch," Hotch said into his watch, his gaze never leaving her form.
"Got it."
With her back to him she didn't see him approach, but Hotch could see the expression on her date's face go from confusion to outright fear as Hotch approached their table in a determined stride. He must have been a frightening sight because the younger man actually seemed to gulp and lean back into his seat as he realized their table was Hotch's destination. Suddenly seeing her date's expression, Prentiss stopped laughing and followed his gaze, settling on Hotch just as he stepped beside their table.
"Hotch, what are you-"
"Prentiss, out. Now."
Her expression changed from surprised to furious in a flash. "Hotch, who do you think you are, barging in like this-"
"Emily, no time to argue. Let's go. Now."
"Uh, is there a problem, Emily?" The guy asked as he stood to his feet and glared. Hotch admired his courage, really, but did he really think he could intimidate him?
"Matt, no, there's no problem, just… Excuse us for a second."
She rose to her feet and Hotch grabbed her elbow in a tight grip in order to guide her towards the entrance. He inconspicuously scanned the crowd, the urgency in his gut making him walk in tall strides. "Hotch! What the hell are you doing?" she hissed as she tried to keep up with his pace. She might be angry at him for showing up like this, but hell, so was he. What on earth had she been thinking? Just after he'd told her that Norland had been seen in Georgetown!
"Why aren't you answering your phone?" he hissed back.
"What? What are you talking about?"
"Are you saying you didn't get my calls tonight?"
"Hotch, just STOP, for a second," she said as she planted her feet on the ground and snatched her arm away. "Either you tell me what's going on or back off!"
Hotch flinched at her words as if she'd slapped him the face. Did she really think he'd be acting this way if he didn't have a good reason? He pulled out the pictures out of his vest pocket and handed them to her even as he put a little pressure on her back to keep her moving. She complied as she gazed down at the photos between her hands. He felt the muscles of her back stiffen as he led her through the rows of tables.
"Oh my God!"
"Come on, we'll talk on the way."
"On the way where?"
"The safe house."
"Whoa, wait-"
"Prentiss," he interrupted sternly, brooking no argument. "We'll talk in the car."
"But Matt, I can't just leave him like this-"
"Agent Mansfield will explain the situation and make sure he gets back home safely." He threw her a quick look and his gaze softened as he saw how much this seemed to affect her. "You can call him back once this is all over."
"Yeah, right, as if he'll want anything to do with me after this," she mumbled as they reached the entrance and they met with Morgan and the officer. He saw her exchange a pointed look with Morgan, but Hotch ignored it. They escorted her outside without incident and she threw him a surprised look over her shoulder as he climbed after her in the back seat of the FBI SUV. Morgan took the wheel and Hotch breathed out in relief as they started moving. He heard Morgan call Rossi and the others and reassure them that Prentiss was safe, and he was grateful for the initiative.
He wasn't sure which emotion threatened to overcome him first; relief that she was safe, or anger that she'd acted so recklessly. Damn it, this was exactly the situation he had been trying to prevent! Looking down at his hands he saw that they were shaking, so he crossed his arms over his chest and looked out the window into the blurred city lights, taking advantage of the darkness in the car to close his eyes and try to get the erratic pounding of his heart under control.
She was safe. Thank God, she was safe. But how?
"How did he know I would be there?" Prentiss asked, and Hotch turned to throw her a sharp look... Had he spoken out loud? But her frown of concentration made him realize she was talking to herself. He knew she did that sometimes when she was trying to get in the mind of UnSubs or victims.
"How did you communicate with…?" Hotch trailed off, realizing that he couldn't remember the guy's name, but it brought her attention back to the present and she threw him a quick, cool look, which was enough to make him realize that she was still mad at him. He wasn't sure he understood her reasons, and that troubled him. He had done what he had to protect her.
"My cell phone, but my line was secure…"
Hotch rubbed a hand over his mouth. "We'll check. I also think we have to assume that he knows where you're staying. We'll have to go over our safe house options. Morgan, let's go to the BAU first, meet the others over there."
"Got it."
Hotch grabbed his phone and updated Rossi on their meeting location, asking him to relay the information to the others.
"Why did he send you the pictures?" Prentiss asked once he'd hung up. She was focusing on the job - he could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she frowned in concentration - and he admired her ability to compartmentalize and set her anger aside. He, on the other hand, found himself having a hard time letting it go. He took a deep breath.
"What do you mean?"
"He must have known you guys would come get me and usher me away. So why send you the pictures? Why risk this opportunity by allowing someone to get to me in time?"
"I don't know, maybe he wasn't counting on me dispatching responders so quickly or getting there so fast, I- I drove kind of fast." He heard her quiet snort, but when he threw her a look he realized that she was smiling – a tiny quirk of the lips at the corner of her mouth. Derisive or amused? He couldn't tell. He returned his gaze back to the night sky. "I don't know. Maybe he's waiting for something else. We let our guards down tonight, so maybe he's hoping that we'll do the same mistake again."
"We? You mean me."
Hotch threw her another look, but her face was turned away from him, so he couldn't tell if she was angry or just being rhetorical. He hadn't meant to sound like this, but then he realized that deep down he did resent her for taking such a bold chance with her life. God damn it! What had she been thinking?
And if he was honest with himself, the fact that she had been on a date bothered him more than he liked to admit. He hated himself for it, but seeing her laughing and relaxed, looking beautiful and smelling – God help him – wonderfully sensual and exotic, he couldn't help the stab of envy that pierced his chest. He knew that his infatuation with her – or whatever the hell had been going on over the last few weeks – would lead to nowhere, he knew that. And despite his conflicting emotions, he really wanted her to be happy; he didn't want her to one day look back on her life and realize that she'd missed out on the things that mattered because her job got in the way. A family, kids, love… She deserved it all, and he didn't want to stand in the way of that.
He sighed. "No, I mean 'we.' I told you before Prentiss, you're a part of this team, and whatever happens to you happens to the rest of us." He returned his eyes to her face and was surprised to find her already looking at him, with an expression he couldn't read. "Your safety is my responsibility. I should have seen this coming, but I'm afraid I haven't been very attentive lately."
"I appreciate the sentiment, Hotch, I really do, but I'm a grown woman," she stated patiently, but he could hear the underlying frustration in the way her words were uttered slowly and deliberately. "I make my own decisions – stop acting like what's happening is your fault, because it's not."
"Hey Prentiss, was your phone off tonight?" Morgan asked suddenly from the front seat, and Hotch wasn't sure if he welcomed the intrusion in the conversation or not.
"Of course not, I took every precautions, I even had Mansfield accompany me on a date, for God's sake," she said as she dug through her purse and got her cell out, snapping it open with a flick of the thumb. She sighed. "Battery's dead. I'm sorry guys, I should have checked…"
"Yes, you should have." Hotch regretted the accusatory tone as soon as the words left his mouth and he saw her pained and angry expression. He pursed his lips and looked out the window again.
"So what now?" she asked.
"Now we find the son-of-a-bitch," Morgan said with conviction when Hotch remained silent. But he couldn't have expressed it better himself.
The air tingled with a mix of adrenaline, exhaustion and restlessness at the BAU. Every member of the team was on edge, and Hotch was the first to admit that he wasn't sure what to do next, he was becoming too personally involved in the situation, so he remained silent, standing by himself next to the window while he listened to the others.
They all agreed that Prentiss couldn't stay at the hotel anymore, but there was now a lively debate between Rossi and Morgan about setting up a bait situation (Morgan) or go about this the same way they would other cases – with an investigation based on a profile (Rossi).
As they debated between themselves, Hotch observed the other members of his team. Reid was sitting quietly, going over Norland's case file, apparently not paying much attention to the conversation – though with him one never knew. Garcia looked horrified from where she was sitting next to Morgan, her eyes jumping from Morgan to Rossi as she followed the discussion, as if watching a tennis match, but she didn't actively participate. JJ was nursing her tea, looking worried, and every once in a while rubbing a hand over Prentiss's back.
And Prentiss… Prentiss was sitting with her legs folded against her chest, her arms around her shins and her chin resting on her knees. She'd changed into a more appropriate attire but to Hotch the ponytail, jeans and hoody vest made her look younger and more vulnerable somehow, and for a second he envied JJ's ability to physically demonstrate her support. Despite her staring into space, he could tell that she was paying attention to the conversation by the way she would sometimes shake her head or heave a sigh. It pained him that she wasn't fighting for what she wanted, instead quietly letting the rest of her team decide on a course of actions that could have serious repercussions on her life. Was that his doing? Had he somehow convinced her that she didn't have a say in what was going on? That hadn't been his intention – he'd only wanted to make her realize the danger she was in and protect her from it.
"Hotch, you haven't said anything, what do you think?" Rossi suddenly asked.
Keeping his eyes on Emily, he redirected the question, raising his eyebrows. "Prentiss?"
She looked up at him in surprise and he thought he could understand her feeling – they had had this conversation only a few hours before and they both knew what the other thought best; she wanted to be used as bait, Hotch thought it was too risky. But looking at her tonight, sitting there quietly, it made him realize that as much as he wanted to protect her, this was her life, and ultimately she was the one to decide. And he was telling her that now – whatever she chose to do, he would support her. He wished he could do more for her, but he cared too much for her to pull rank at a moment like this. And he valued her judgment too much to pretend that he had a clearer understanding of the situation than she did.
Letting go of her legs, she sat straighter as she held his gaze. "I know it's risky, but I'd like to set up a bait situation," she said and Hotch looked down as he released his breath. He had expected it, but had still hoped that she would have changed her mind. "Hear me out, guys," she added quickly. "All we have to rely on to find him is the old case file, but we've all looked at the damn file from every possible angle at least five times over. With the change of location and no new victims that match Norland's MO, we have no new information on how he's been living, what he's been doing – we have no starting point for an investigation except for the photos. But, we know that he's smart, methodical and patient, and so far we've played along, but I'm getting tired of looking over my shoulder and second-guessing myself every time I walk out of my hotel room. He's been enjoying the wait, but he knows that he won't get that many chances, so if we make him believe that we let our guards down again, he might jump at the occasion."
"You sure about this? You know what he's capable of," Rossi said.
Hotch returned his gaze towards her at this, wondering how she would react to that. She laughed wryly. "Yeah." Her eyes fell on the folder between Reid's hands, and her wan smile slowly disappeared. "And the only way to stop him is to provoke him – and make sure we're ready for him."
"I agree with Emily," Reid suddenly said as he closed the folder and dropped it on the table. "Without more recent victims in the area, the probabilities of getting a geographical profile right are astronomical."
"You guys know that I agree with that, so what about you, Hotch?" Morgan asked.
"I respect Prentiss's decision," he said and he saw her release a relieved sigh, as if she'd been holding her breath. "But may I suggest that we don't do it right away? Let him think that he's succeeded at intimidating us-"
"He has," Garcia interjected, but Hotch went on.
"- because if we do this now, he'll never buy it. No one would let their guards down again so soon after a night like tonight. Not even us. Especially not us."
"What do you suggest we do in the meantime?" JJ asked.
"We need a case."
"What?" That came from Morgan.
"We need a case that'll take us away for a few days."
"A real case or a cover up?" Reid asked.
"Doesn't matter. As long as Norland thinks we're behaving like he expects us to. While we're away, Prentiss will be safe from him, and it'll give us time to come up with a workable plan."
"Maybe we should split up," Morgan suggested. "Some of us could go to wherever we're needed, while the rest of us accompany Prentiss to a safe house."
"I'd rather work a case than stay God knows how long in a safe house," Prentiss interrupted. "Especially if I have to live with Morgan," she added teasingly.
"Ouch," Morgan retorted as his clutched his chest with his hand.
"Prentiss is right, I think we need to stay together," Hotch interrupted the banter, "but she will have to keep a low profile, no public appearances. No one can know she's there with us. Remember, Norland has to think that we're behaving as he expects us to, that we're hiding Prentiss to protect her."
He saw six heads nod in agreement. Good, they were agreeing on something at last.
"JJ, do you think any of the requests you've reviewed recently could take us far enough away, while still being a BAU case?"
"I'll go over the files again," she said as she rose to her feet and left in the direction of her office.
"In the meantime, it's late. We should all get some sleep. Reid and I will accompany Prentiss to the safe house and I'll request some more agents to escort us there."
"I'll stay with JJ, look over the files with her and make sure she gets home and gets some rest," Rossi added as he rose to his feet.
"Good, let's reconvene tomorrow morning at 10am, as usual." Just at that moment, his cell phone rang, and he answered, his face falling as he heard the news from the police officer. Oh God… He hung up with a deep sigh.
"Hold on, everybody." He threw a brief look at Prentiss's curious eyes, but then looked down at the phone between his fingers. "Agent Mansfield was shot tonight, he died in the ambulance."
After going over the safe house options with the security department of the FBI, they opted for a house located about two hours away, deep in rural Virginia, at least for this one night. The drive there was spent mostly in silence, as Reid had fallen asleep, he and Prentiss were lost in their own thoughts and the escorting agents just weren't very talkative.
The news of Agent Mansfield's death had affected everyone deeply, but Prentiss took it the hardest. It was no surprise, as she knew him better than the rest of them, so Hotch kept to himself during those few hours, allowing her some private space to cope with the news. He thought he heard her sniff quietly a few times, and he'd had to fight the urge to bridge the gap between them and put his arms around her at the sound.
They got to the house around 2am and after the security agents secured the perimeter, Hotch followed Prentiss and Reid inside. Reid sleepwalked to one of the bedrooms while one of the agents got their groceries from the car and dropped them in Hotch's arms. "Here's the food and your radio, we'll keep an open channel all night."
"Thanks."
The house was small and basic, but it had a couch and TV in the living room and all the necessities in the kitchen. As he busied himself with putting away the groceries, Hotch saw Prentiss slowly wander around the living room, looking exhausted with her red eyes and pale skin. She looked almost lost as she walked around, right arm around her waist as if to protect herself, while she bit her left thumbnail nervously. As he put on the kettle for some tea, he saw her finally settle down on the couch, gathering her legs to her body and holding her knees to her chest.
Once tea was ready, Hotch joined her and handed her a cup as he sat beside her. They sipped at their tea in silence for a few seconds.
"You're not going to lecture me about getting some sleep?" she asked suddenly.
He tore his eyes away from the amber liquid in his cup and glanced at her. Her gaze was still full of sadness, but at least there were traces of her usual humor in her eyes now. He admired her for it. He raised an eyebrow. "I learned a long time ago that my lectures don't have the desired effect on you, Prentiss."
She snorted. "That has never stopped you before."
Hotch played along, drawn by the twinkle in her eyes. A part of him wanted to forget how angry he had been at her recklessness, so he tried to focus on the present moment. "Alright then, but you asked for it. You should get some sleep, Prentiss," he said in as stern a voice as he could.
She smiled sweetly and took a sip of tea. "Reid crashed in the bed I wanted."
He smiled at the image. "Your very own Goldilocks, huh?"
Her brief and quiet chuckle sounded genuine and Hotch's smile widened slightly at the sound. Her laugh echoed softly in the quiet house and, as he glanced at her, Hotch was suddenly reminded why he had kept her at arms length over the last few weeks. Her eyes were dark and soulful, the pale skin of her neck looked incredibly soft and inviting and her hair looked silky to the touch as it curled into her ponytail. He wasn't sure how she could achieve it, but she looked both strong and vulnerable as she sat beside him, more comfortable and relaxed than he had seen her in over a month.
She felt safe around him, he realized, but with the way his hand twitched to reach out to touch her, he wasn't sure he deserved her trust. He cleared his throat.
"I'm sorry about Mansfield," he said.
She sighed, the smile on her lips turning melancholy. "Yeah, me too. He was a good guy. And a great agent."
Hotch nodded in agreement, but said nothing. There just wasn't anything else meaningful to say.
"Thanks for letting me call Matt, make sure he was safe. I needed that."
Hotch nodded. "Of course. Did you tell him to leave town for a few days?"
"Yeah."
"Good."
"He thought you were my ex or something," she said after a beat.
Taken aback, Hotch didn't dare look at her. "Really?"
"Yeah, isn't that funny?" she asked with an incredulous chuckle, as if it was an entirely ridiculous notion.
It probably was. Hotch nodded into his cup, trying to mimic her chuckle. He wasn't so sure he was very successful at it. "Yeah…"
"Though, I guess all things considered it's probably a more plausible explanation than me being threatened by a sadistic sociopath."
Feeling suddenly very awkward, Hotch just nodded, unsure what to say. The moment seemed to pass on its own as Prentiss became lost in thought once more and they both returned to their silent drinking. While Hotch enjoyed the quiet intimacy of the moment, there was still something awkward about the silence, and not just because of that last part of the conversation. Despite her being somewhat relaxed in his company, there was still some kind of wave of energy emanating from her, and he wasn't sure if it was from residual anger towards him or just from the night's stressful events. Whatever it was, he didn't know what to say to alleviate some of the tension.
"Hotch," she started after a moment, the hesitancy in her voice making him look in her direction. She was staring down at the tea between her hands, her long fingers toying with the rim nervously. "Thanks for letting me make the decision tonight. I know that what I decided goes against your instincts, so… it means a lot to me."
Hotch merely nodded. There was no way he could explain to her that he had done so because he cared about her. If he hadn't made that decision to support her tonight, he knew she would have resented him for it eventually, and it would have put a severe damper on their friendship for a long time. Was it selfish of him to let her risk her life in order to protect their relationship? He thought so, especially since putting their relationship above work meant relinquishing some of his protective responsibilities as her boss. He knew he might regret it bitterly if this didn't go as planned, but as he sat close beside her, he realized that right then he didn't want to act as her boss. He wanted to act as something that wasn't impeded by ranks and hierarchy and chains of command. He wanted it so much that it stunned him.
She shifted around so that she was facing him, resting her temple against the back cushion. She looked exhausted, but he understood why she probably couldn't sleep even if she tried. What had happened tonight… it was a lot to deal with. He wasn't sure he could sleep himself.
"Emily, there's something I need to know…" he started after a moment. "Did you go on a date to provoke Norland?"
She tensed and straightened her back. "No." Her voice had lost its former relaxed tone, and Hotch could tell that he had offended her. He felt like an ass for angering her again, but he had to know.
"No, I went on a date because I'm sick of being scared and alone." She sprung to her feet and started pacing, talking animatedly. "You know, when I started this job I promised myself that I wouldn't let the horrors we see get under my skin." She chuckled wryly. "That was probably impossible from the start, but usually I can deal with it just fine. I'm getting pretty good at reminding myself that people are not all bad or in violent psychotic breaks, but Norland… he just made that impossible for me anymore. He's made the horrors a part of me, and I hate him for it, and I hate that I feel this way!" Hotch felt his heart hit his toes at the emotion in her voice and the sadness in her eyes. "So tonight I decided that if all I could do was wait for him to find me," she continued resolutely, "then I wouldn't let that stop me from living my life. I decided that I wasn't going to let myself be intimidated and afraid anymore."
She rubbed her forehead and blew out a long sigh. "Look, I know not telling you where I was going wasn't the smartest thing to do, but I was being cautious." She sat back down on the couch and rested her head in her palm, her elbow raised on the armrest. "Do you think Mansfield died because of me?" she asked coolly, her eyes stubbornly on the wall ahead, and Hotch had to fight the impulse to reach out to touch her. She wouldn't put up with it. That's what Dave had said a few weeks before, and Hotch was starting to understand what he had meant.
"No," he replied sternly. "Prentiss, don't even go there," he warned. "You know that nothing of what's been happening is your fault."
She nodded slowly. "I know." She sighed. "I know. But it still feels like it is, you know?"
Oh he knew. He had lived with that same guilt for months and months. But he had learned that thinking about the what-ifs didn't change anything – it didn't alleviate the pain, the opposite in fact – and in the end feeling guilty didn't accomplish anything.
She sighed and turned her head in his direction again. "I'm sorry about before."
That was unexpected, so he met her eyes curiously. "What do you mean?"
"At the restaurant, I'm sorry I doubted you. I thought you were angry at me for going out on a date."
Hotch smiled wryly into his cup. Oh if she only knew… No way was he going to let her know, though. He shook his head and tried to look confused as he looked down at the warm cup between his fingers. "Why would I be mad about that?"
"I guess what I mean is I should have known you had a legitimate reason to show up. I'm sorry."
He probably should have felt insulted that she had assumed him to be acting irrationally, but she was right. Part of his anger at finding her at the restaurant had been irrational. He had acted on instincts alone, driven by his fear for her life and slight envy for the man she was sharing flirty smiles with. He shook the thought away. "Your reaction was perfectly understandable. I'm sorry I interrupted your dinner, but you weren't answering your phone and I had to get you out of there."
He almost jumped when her fingers touched his arm and circled around his wrist just below his rolled up sleeve. His eyes snapped to hers in surprise at the burning sensation of the contact; he could tell that she had been about to speak, but no sound passed her lips when their eyes met. He felt her grip loosen without completely letting go, her index finger resting just over his pulse. He watched, mesmerized, her comforting expression turning serious as she registered his own intense expression, and then transforming into curiosity as she tilted her head to the side and held his gaze. At that moment he thought he could never tire of looking into those dark eyes and of being slowly and irrevocably pulled in.
He had never allowed himself to seriously consider the possibility before, but at that moment he found himself wanting to bridge the short distance that separated them, put his arms around her and pull her close. He wanted to kiss her, but more than that, he wanted to hold her, comfort her... It must have shown on his face, because her curious gaze suddenly morphed again, this time into a mix of confusion and – God help him – desire. Behind her bemusement, he could detect signs that she was as affected by the moment as he was – her eyes darkened, her cheeks flushed and he could tell that she was holding her breath.
He leaned a little closer almost unconsciously, half expecting her to retreat, but she stayed where she was, still regarding him with eyes that seemed to be getting darker and darker. His hand shifted of its own volition so that his fingers brushed against her palm and the inside of her wrist and the desire to bridge the gap between them intensified as he felt her shiver at the feather-light caress. But before he could act on it, her expression turned into shock and it was enough to make him fully realize what he was doing. Or had been about to do.
He tore his gaze away from hers and jumped to his feet and away from her side, breaking the spell of the moment. Good God, what had he been thinking? This was dangerous, uncharted territory that had a big DANGER sign on it! All this time he'd been telling himself that all he wanted was to save their friendship, and he had almost done the one thing that could have cost him her trust! What a hypocrite! He took two steps back and raked a hand through his hair, trying to regain some composure.
When he looked back up at her, she was still staring at him with wide, astonished eyes. Good God, she really hadn't been aware of his attraction to her before this moment, had she? He almost laughed derisively at himself at the realization. If only he had kept himself in check, she would still be blissfully ignorant. Damn it, he had almost kissed her! He knew he had to formulate an explanation or an apology or something, but where to start?
"I um… Sorry, I…" He frowned at his lack of eloquence. He used to be a prosecutor, for God's sake, talking had always been easy for him, why was this suddenly so hard? He cleared his throat. "Prentiss… Emily," he corrected himself, "I apologize, I was way out of line, I-"
"Hotch," she interrupted from where she sat unmoving on the couch. Her shocked expression had disappeared and she now looked serious and confident - similar to a look that the Agent Prentiss who chased down serial killers, who carried a gun, who could show compassion and understanding to people on their worst day of their lives, would wear. "Do we have cards around here?"
"Excuse me?"
"Let's play cards," she suggested as she rose to her feet and wandered about the room, apparently in search of a deck of cards.
Hotch frowned in puzzlement as he watched her move across the room and into the kitchen. "Emily, this is important, we need to-"
"Come on Hotch, just one game."
Perplexed by her reaction, Hotch watched her for a few more seconds, suddenly reluctant to spend more time alone with her tonight. Hell, how could she want to still be in his presence after what almost happened? "Prentiss, we both really should get some sleep, it's-"
"Ah ha! Found one!" she cried from the kitchen. She walked back into the living room with a triumphant smile that showed her dimples, presenting him with her findings. "Shall we?" she asked as she sat back down on the couch.
"Prentiss…" he said, half warning, half pleading.
She met his eyes, suddenly dead serious. "Hotch. Let's just play, please."
There was something pleading in the way she was steadily holding his gaze, and then it suddenly all made sense to him: her fear of being alone apparently outweighed whatever harm he had done to her trust in him… Not that she would ever admit any of that out loud. Sighing in defeat, Hotch sat back down next to her, though not as close as before.
"Fine. But no cheating."
End part 4