Sorry I haven't posted anything these last couple of days! Real life got in the way, plus I figured you had the real thing to keep you occupied :-) I really liked how Emily reacted at the beginning of that new episode, even though that scene was terrifying, I was holding my breath the whole time. Plus we had a nice tour of Emily's place.
Anyways, because you've been waiting for a while, I'll post two parts tonight to reward you for your patience, and hopefully the epilogue tomorrow. There's romance in the air... :-)
Part 7
Temptations come, as a general rule, when they are sought. - Margaret Oliphant
Emily felt like she was in a dream, events and images succeeding each other in a blur, without making much sense.
She knew this was just her body responding to a build-up of exhaustion, relief and adrenaline but she just couldn't snap out of it. Not when the medics were assessing her injuries, not when Agent Thams was trying to take her statement, nor when JJ then Garcia enveloped her in tight hugs.
She didn't talk to Hotch again after leaving the garage, but observing him from afar as he focused on his job, maneuvering amongst police car headlights and radio dispatches reassured her that he was okay. At one point she saw him talking to Morgan and Rossi, and though she was curious as to how the guys had found their location, she was still feeling too hazy to stick around for the debrief. So when JJ and Garcia showed up at the scene while Emily's cheek was getting bandaged and offered to take her home, Emily didn't refuse.
On the way to her place, Garcia chatted endlessly about how a surveillance camera from across the street (which she had hacked as a preventive measure) had caught their kidnapping live, as well as how Norland's accomplice had actually driven the van down a couple of blocks. From there, they seemed to have changed vehicle, so it had taken a little more time to get a license plate number, trace the owner, and investigate the owner's property. As it turned out, the vehicle had belonged to Norland's accomplice, a man named Fred Cooper who had a series of restraining orders on his RAP sheet. It was probable that Norland, in all his wisdom and profiling abilities, had not expected the team to find the vehicle so fast, or how it was connected to him. He failed to predict that Garcia would have her magical hacker's hands on every surveillance camera on the street.
While Garcia was always entertaining to listen to, Emily only half-listened. Her mind kept wandering back to that garage, memories coming and going in quick flashes. The mean twinkle in Norland's eyes as he looked down at her, the light from the street lamps reflecting on the knife, Hotch's look of panic when the blade ripped her blouse. Then her memory blurred and she was outside once more, she could breathe again. A penlight shining into her eyes as the medics checked her for concussions. Hotch's stoic figure illuminated by red and blue police car and ambulance lights, Rossi's reassuring hand on her shoulder.
Once safely settled in her apartment, Garcia and JJ left her alone only reluctantly at Emily's insistence. She reveled in the feeling of being home for a few minutes, wandering from one room to another. But it's only when she saw her bed that she realized just how exhausted she really was. She was asleep as soon as her head hit her pillow.
She didn't wake until 10am the next morning, when her mother called to check up on her after learning of what had happened. After a long conversation, she decided it was time to get ready. She felt much more clear-headed after a good night's sleep, and for the first time in a long time she felt like a heavy weight had been lifted off her shoulders.
She felt alive, like she hadn't had in months. It was exhilarating.
She took a long, hot shower, then took particular care in getting dressed, feeling like she owed Tom Mansfield a certain amount of solemnity on this day. About an hour before the funeral, she got a call from Dave, offering her a ride, and Emily was grateful. She didn't quite trust her driving at the moment.
So it was that an hour later she found herself standing in the cemetery under the afternoon sun, surrounded by her team and Agent Mansfield's family and colleagues. It was a beautiful summer day, full of those simple pleasures that only a somber event such as this could highlight. Emily took advantage of her sunglasses to close her eyes as Father MacKay spoke the words that would put Mansfield to eternal rest, and be comforted by her surroundings. The feel of the breeze against her skin and into her hair, the warmth of the sun against her face, the smell of freshly cut grass, the sound of birds chirping in nearby trees. It was like magic.
Agent Mansfield had died protecting her, but Emily hoped that, wherever he now was, he could see that she had made it, and that his death had not been in vain. In her mind, he was a hero, and today the universe seemed to be saluting him with joyful bird songs, warm sunrays and the gathering of people he cared about. The best homage one could hope for.
After the ceremony, Emily paid her respect to his wife and two young daughters, then spent some time in conversation with his partner, Agent Sheppard, as they reminisced about some of the funny stories that had happened while the two men had been in charge of her protection. It was bittersweet to remember those moments, but Emily was happy to offer at least a little degree of comfort to this man who had lost a partner and a friend. It gave her a purpose.
On the drive to the wake, Dave kept to himself and Emily was grateful. She just felt like she needed some time to comprehend it all. It felt like so much had happened, so fast, that she didn't have time to adjust. Once in Mansfield's home, Emily stayed close to JJ and Reid as she didn't particularly feel like mingling, but she could see Hotch, arm in a sling, walking around to offer his sympathies. She'd only had a chance to exchange a little small talk with him before the funeral, but as time went by the need to talk to him became stronger and stronger. She didn't know what to say exactly, but her instinct told her that going over what had happened with him would help her put the pieces of her fragmented memory together and eventually help her move on.
After a while he finally joined them in the living room area, holding a plate in his good hand – though with very little food on it, looking grave and tired. The small bandage on the side of his forehead did nothing to hide the nasty bruise underneath and only highlighted the paleness of his skin and the dark circles under his eyes. But Emily knew that, despite her make up, she didn't fare any better. "I just got a call," he said after greeting them. "Fred Cooper, Norland's associate, has confessed to taking the photographs and shooting Agent Mansfield, but asked for life in prison in exchange for cooperating in prosecuting Norland. The DA's accepted the deal."
"The little weasel didn't resist long before confessing, I'm sorry I missed it," Morgan said. "What about Norland?"
Hotch threw a quick look in Emily's direction, before returning his attention to Morgan. "He's not talking. He lawyered up, but we have enough on him to pin him for voluntary manslaughter and rape on four of his victims. Notwithstanding kidnapping and conspiracy to murder federal agents."
There was a second or two of silence as they all took this in, and then:
"Good."
They all turned to Garcia in surprise. They all knew that the charges against Norland would send him to Death Row, so Emily and, it seemed the rest of the team, were surprised at Garcia's quiet condoning of the fact. Though she probably was saying out loud what the rest of them had thought in silence.
"Well for one I'm just glad it's over," Dave said in a lighter tone, sending a small fatherly smile in Emily's direction.
She nodded in reply, picking at the food on her plate aimlessly. So was she, but the exaltation of the morning had somehow dissipated as the afternoon went on, leaving behind only a sense of grief and confusion. How could she be so happy and so sad at the same time?
"Prentiss," Hotch said softly, pulling her out of her thoughts. "A word?"
Feeling her teammates' eyes follow her as she walked past them, she quietly followed Hotch through the house and out into the backyard where fewer people were present. He stopped next to the swing set and put his good hand into his pocket, squinting against the bright sun. "I just wanted to say. I'm sorry for your loss," he said gravely.
Emily looked up at him in surprise. Yes, she was grieving, and somehow he had recognized it even before she could. That was why she needed to talk to him, she decided. He understood.
She nodded in acknowledgement.
He gazed down at her in silence for a moment, pursing his lips, as if debating with himself whether he should say something or not. "I spoke to Chief Strauss," he started at last. "She wants us both to talk to the Bureau therapist. As a preventive measure for PTSD. It's standard procedure."
Emily nodded again. "Oh, okay."
"He should contact you over the next few days. And I've been thinking," he started again as he briefly looked down at his feet, showing a sudden vulnerability that made butterflies make happy somersaults around her stomach. "You have some leave coming up, you should take a couple of weeks off."
Fighting her slight disappointment, she sighed. "Are you ordering me to stay away?"
He seemed a little taken aback by the defensiveness in her voice, and shook his head. "No, but I'll be taking some time off myself and I'm merely suggesting you do the same. Allow things to go back to normal, take some time to get reacquainted with the feeling of not being haunted. It takes a while."
Emily was suddenly reminded that he knew this from experience, so she nodded meekly. "Okay. I will."
"And I think," he went on, the vulnerability reappearing in his eyes, "eventually, we'll need to talk as well. The other night, at the safe house… And some of the things I said last night-"
Emily shook her head, interrupting him. "Hotch, it's okay, we were both trying to find a way to negotiate our way out last night, I-"
"No," he interrupted her firmly. His eyes darted down for a millisecond before he looked back straight into her eyes. "Some of it was true. Not all of it was an act."
Although Emily was starting to come to grips with the fact that Hotch was attracted to her and was apparently willing not to ignore it, she couldn't be more surprised by this admission than if he'd screamed it from the rooftops. Suddenly reminded of where they were, Emily shook herself out of her surprise and quickly looked around them, but sighed in relief when no one seemed to pay them any attention.
"I don't think this is the time, nor the place," she said, looking back at him. His gaze was serious but undecipherable, and that made her nervous. Giddy, almost.
His eyes held hers for a few more seconds, before he tilted his head to the side slightly. A closing-off gesture, as sure as if he'd taken a step back. "Yes, you're right. We should probably take our leave anyway."
Emily nodded, letting out a small sigh as she turned on her heels, but just when she thought she was out of the woods, his fingers closed around her wrist in a loose but firm grip, stopping her dead in her tracks. Her eyes met his in surprise at the burning sensation along her arm, and he slowly, reluctantly it seemed, released her arm. "But will you…" he stopped himself and shifted on his feet. "I need to tell you the truth. Would you be willing to hear me out?"
Emily held her breath as she realized that, in the same way she instinctively needed to relive last night's events with him, he was also feeling that need to free his mind and unload this weight off his shoulder. Maybe even off his heart. As scary as that thought was, she couldn't deny him that chance, so she nodded slowly. "Yes. Of course."
He took a deep breath and seemed to stand taller. "Thank you."
"I should probably go," she said awkwardly as she pointed to the house over her shoulder.
"Yes," he replied quickly. "Me too."
"I'll talk to you later, then?" she said as she took a step away.
He nodded. "Take care of yourself, Emily."
She nodded one last time before making her way back into the house to find Dave so he could drive her home.
Over the next few of days, Emily started putting her life back together. She scheduled an appointment with the Bureau therapist, went grocery shopping, did some laundry and cleaned her apartment from top to bottom. Anything to keep her busy or from dwelling on her feelings. She just wasn't ready to face anything yet. She went to dinner with her mother twice and then JJ and Will invited her over to spend some time with Henry. JJ updated her on BAU news, but everything had been pretty slow since she had started her leave. Hotch had come in to work only once, JJ told her, and just to make sure that they had everything under control. That was all Emily heard about him for a few days, and she quickly pushed aside any thought of him as she returned to occupying herself with various chores.
The memories of that night were getting more and more blurry in her mind and it unnerved her that she couldn't quite remember how everything had happened, the sequence of it all. Her need to talk about it seemed to increase, and she felt it especially acutely when she woke up after a nightmare. They didn't happen very often, but just enough times to keep her from really making up for her sleep deprivation of the last few weeks. Plus, she was so used to looking over her shoulder, that it was hard to get rid of the habit or the paranoia that had seemed to permanently knot her stomach. Hotch had warned her that it would take time, but she hadn't believed him until now.
After a while she summoned the courage to call Matt and make sure he was alright. They talked a little about what had happened, but Emily didn't fail to notice that they were both acting distant, even on the phone. This didn't bode well, but she didn't push it and decided to let it go for now.
One afternoon, as she was jogging in the park and least expecting it, Hotch called.
She stopped and stared at her phone for a couple of seconds, wondering why a tingle ran up her spine when she saw his name on the tiny screen. She tried to get her panting under control before flipping the phone open. "Prentiss."
"Prentiss, sorry to bother you… Everything okay?" he asked after hearing her heavy breathing.
She scrunched up her face in embarrassment. "Yeah, I was just working out. What's up?" She asked lightly. Too lightly. Who was she trying to fool? It suddenly dawned on her that, despite her attempts at pushing aside any thought of him, she had been longing for him to call for days.
There was a second of silence, and then: "Are you ready to talk?"
He had invited her at his place for dinner. "Don't worry," he'd said quickly, as if to set aside any misconceptions, "Jack will be there. He hasn't forgotten about your hidden talent and is really anxious to figure it out. We'll just have dinner, and talk if you want. No pressure."
As much as the whole idea had made her more nervous than she was willing to admit, he was acting very sweet, and she could tell that he was really trying to put her at ease. So she had accepted. Besides, she was really curious about what he would have to say, and found herself hoping that he would broach the subject of the almost-kiss and what he had been feeling at the time. She found herself hoping that what he'd been feeling for her was more than just physical attraction, and that scared her a little.
As per usual when she was particularly anxious, Emily ended up arriving twenty-five minutes early at his place, so she decided to remain in her car in the meantime, all the while stealing anxious glances at his building. Despite all of his reassurances, by definition him inviting her for dinner at his place looked everything like a date. Was that what this was? She didn't know how she was supposed to feel about all of this, and that made her feel self-conscious. An army of butterflies had permanently taken residence in her stomach since he'd called, and there was nothing she could do to send them on their way. While she waited she had nothing to do but think and dread and wonder, and every few minutes she had to stop herself from starting up her car and fleeing the scene altogether. The minutes seemed to stretch even longer than usual as she kept looking at the time on her dashboard. At 6:51 she decided that she'd waited long enough and that he probably wouldn't mind her showing up a few minutes early. Taking a deep breath to regain some composure, she picked up her keys, purse and bags, walked out of the car and down the corridor to his place.
She almost bolted again once she was standing at his door, the fight or flight instinct swaying dangerously towards the latter, but she took in a deep breath again, and knocked. It took a few seconds until she could hear running steps and then a high-pitched "Who is it?"
Emily couldn't help but smile at the sound of Jack's voice. Of course she knew he would be present, but somehow his childish voice made her feel a little calmer, reminding her of Hotch's softer side. His father and affectionate side, of which she'd only ever had a glimpse. Would he let her see more? She found herself wishing he would. "It's Emily Prentiss," she replied.
A second later she heard the deadbolt turn and then the door swung open, revealing father and son standing there to greet her. Emily couldn't help but notice that Hotch was standing behind his son, his hand on his shoulder, as if the boy acted as some sort of emotional shield between them. That's when she realized: he was nervous too. For some reason, that didn't make her feel any better though, because it only reminded her that he too had expectations of how this night would unwind, and he held his cards so close to his chest that she couldn't figure out what they were.
"I know I'm a little early," Emily said as a way of greeting, hoping her nervousness didn't reveal itself too much in her voice. She immediately noticed that he looked much better than the last time she had seen him, at the funeral. The sling was gone, and the cut on his forehead looked well on its way to showing nothing but a tiny scar above his brow. He was wearing jeans and a dark sweater, the sleeves pulled back over his forearms. He looked casual, and Emily was reassured that at least they were on the same page there; she herself had carefully considered what to wear, after all she wasn't exactly sure what to expect. So she had put some effort into looking nice, but not too nice, and tried to find the balance between 'FBI agent hands off' and 'trying to impress'. Either way, she didn't want to give the wrong impression. So in the end she had gone for a comfortable sweater, a casual skirt and boots.
He smiled slightly as he stood to the side, inviting her in. "Oh, no, that's perfectly fine. Please come in."
She smiled nervously as she crossed the threshold and handed him the wine bottle she had brought. "Here, I thought I would contribute to the dinner preparations," she said with a brief chuckle. Bringing wine had seemed appropriate a few hours earlier when she had thought about it, but now that he was standing in front of her, looking all grave and serious, she wasn't so sure anymore. Maybe she should have brought beer, the connotation would have been less loaded with meaning. Maybe she was seeing more into this than there really was?
He eventually returned her smile, a little too carefully for her taste, as he took the bottle from her shaking fingers. God, this was so awkward! Maybe it wasn't too late to change her mind? He would understand, she was sure he would.
"Thank you," he simply said as he leaned closer, and for a stunning moment Emily thought he was about to kiss her cheek and she held her breath at his unexpected presence in her personal space, her eyes widening his surprise. When she realized that wasn't his intention, she rolled her eyes at her overactive imagination, and stood still as he merely leaned past her to close the door behind her, brushing his arm against her back and leaving behind his distinct smell of soap and cologne. She let out a slow breath to get some control over her resident butterflies and quickly put a smile on her face when he returned to his previous position and gestured her to follow him in. "How are you feeling?" he asked as she followed him into his home, taking in the delightful smell of food.
"Okay, better… exhausted," she admitted as they entered the kitchen area. He threw her a brief look of understanding over his shoulder as he pulled out two wine glasses from the cupboard.
"It's probably just residual shock."
She nodded. "How about you?" she asked.
He shrugged slightly. "I'm fine. Glad it's finally over," he said as he gazed at her once more, this time holding her eyes, as if trying to convey more in a look than in words.
"Yeah, me too. It's been a crazy few weeks."
He nodded, still observing her carefully, almost too carefully, as if he knew that her lighthearted tone was just a façade hiding a much deeper relief. Emily felt like squirming, but she willed herself not to look away. This was important. This was-
"Agent Prentiss," a small voice said from her side, giving Emily an excuse to escape Hotch's intense gaze. She quickly turned to Jack, who was standing politely beside her, holding a folded piece of paper. "Could you show me how to make the planes again? Daddy showed me, but his planes aren't as cool as yours. They don't fly as good."
Emily threw Hotch an amused look and a raised eyebrow but he didn't take the bait. Instead he turned his attention to his son. "Jack, Agent Prentiss just got here, give her a few minutes to settle in, buddy."
Seeing the disappointment in Jack's eyes, Emily turned to his father again. "It's fine, Hotch, I can teach him now. That is, unless you need help with anything?"
He shook his head once. "No, it's all taken care of. You go ahead, I'll catch up with you in a minute."
She barely had time to reply before a small hand grabbed her fingers and pulled her away from the kitchen and into the living room. She chuckled a little at the boy's excitement, and upon seeing the bunch of folded paper in the area, she couldn't help but reflect on how similar to his father Jack was in the relentlessness department. It seemed that Jack wouldn't stop persisting until he had what he wanted. Like father like son, she thought, sending the butterflies into a frenzy.
She settled down on the couch and spent the next few minutes focusing on her handiwork and enjoying this quality time with a five-year old, for a moment putting aside her adult concerns and bringing out her own childish excitement at trying to make the perfect plane and watching Jack mimic her. A few minutes later, Hotch joined them, two glasses of wine in hand. He handed her a glass before sitting next to her. He took a sip as he grabbed one of her planes and looked at it from all angles before throwing it with a perfect wrist movement that sent it flying all the way into the kitchen.
Jack cheered, then ran to go and pick it up. It wasn't until he turned to her, that Emily noticed that Hotch was smiling, the first real – albeit small - smile of the night. "Very impressive Agent Prentiss."
"Did you see that?" Jack squealed in excitement as he returned, holding his new favorite plane close to his chest.
"Yeah, wasn't that awesome?" Emily replied with a giggle.
"Show daddy how to make them, so his can go as far as yours when he throws them!"
Emily started shaking her head, somehow the idea making her uncomfortable, until she met Hotch's challenging expression.
"Go ahead, Agent Prentiss, show me how it's done," he said with a raised eyebrow. There was something defying in his tone, maybe even a little playful, and Emily wasn't sure how to react. She didn't often get to see that side of him, and it was a little unsettling. She shook her head and took a sip of wine, both as a distraction and to calm her nerves.
She was saved from having to respond by the proverbial bell of the kitchen timer. Hotch seemed to notice how relieved she felt because she thought she saw a small satisfied smile on his face before he rose to his feet and invited her to the table. Puzzling man!
The meal was spent cheerfully enough, though the awkwardness and tension was still most definitely there every time they caught each other staring at the other. Emily was actually surprised at how good a cook he was, and when she asked him about it, he only shrugged, stating that he could cook, and even enjoyed it, but he didn't get the chance to do it very often. "Jessica does most of the cooking for Jack, and myself, if she's feeling generous," he added.
Emily smiled as she leaned back into her chair and took a sip of wine. "Speaking of Jessica," she started in a teasing tone that made him look up with alarm. Her smile widened at his reaction. "Do you often discuss cases with her?"
His eyes narrowed suspiciously and he tilted his head in a very familiar gesture. "What did she tell you?"
Emily shrugged. "Oh you know, she was really worried about me. When I asked her how she knew about my situation, she said you often discussed it with her." Emily tried to keep some laughter in her tone, but her question was as serious as it got. She really wanted to know what had prompted him to talk about her.
Being a lawyer by formation though, he deflected the undertone expertly. "Only as positive reinforcement when she cooks dinner," he replied cheekily with a quick wink.
Emily laughed as she shook her head. "Oh you're bad, she would kick your ass if she knew you just said that."
"Yes, I'm sure she would," he replied with a quiet chuckle.
After that, the tension eased a little and most of the conversation was spent around Jack, who seemed to have countless stories to tell about his friends, how he had played soccer again with his dad. How 'daddy' had kicked the ball over the fence and into the neighbor's swimming pool, how he was trying to convince his dad to get a dog like his friend Mitch, and so on. Emily didn't mind it one bit. For one it kept her mind from wandering to other things, especially to the conversation that Hotch and her had yet to have. Even though a part of her just wanted to get it over with, another part really enjoyed the familial atmosphere, often surprising herself with the thought that she could definitely get used to this.
Once dinner was over, Hotch excused himself to help Jack with his bed routine. Before following Jack upstairs, he turned to her, looking suddenly nervous. "This will take maybe half an hour. Will you wait?"
Emily nodded quietly before finding her voice again. "Yes, of course. Take your time."
He gave her a grateful, almost longing look before turning on his heels. Once alone, Emily made herself useful for the next half-hour, cleaning up a little in the kitchen. He had cooked, it was only fair that she should clean up. She was so caught up in her task, that she didn't hear him come back.
"You didn't have to do that."
His voice a few feet behind her made her jump. She turned around to face him. "Oh, no. My rule: you cook, I clean, no argument."
He smiled a little. "Well, thank you. Jack was disappointed that you couldn't play with him a little more," he said as he walked past her and around the kitchen counter. "I hope you won't find me too presumptuous, but I told him you would come back another day."
His meaning wasn't lost on her and she avoided his eyes as she took a seat on one of the kitchen stools. "Of course, he's an amazing kid."
He looked a little disappointed at this as he pursed his lips, but really, what did he want her to say? That of course she would be back to spend some time with him? It was way too soon for that. But maybe she could fix it without involving her feelings too much. "You're a great father, Hotch," she said seriously, quietly, gazing steadily at him until he met her eyes again. "I can see it every time I look at him."
That seemed to unsettle him because he sharply looked away. "Would you like anything for dessert? I didn't plan anything…" he said as he skimmed the contents of his cupboard, until he found what he was looking for. "Chocolate chip cookies?" he asked with raised eyebrows, making her smile slightly.
Once more with the expert deflection. Wasn't he the one pressing her to have a discussion? So far he'd spent a lot of effort at avoiding anything too emotional. Unfathomable man!
"Sure," she agreed and he set the box down on the counter and started working on opening the package.
"What you said about Jess earlier," he blurted out as he concentrated on his task. "I did tell her about you."
Emily gulped and her eyes widened, but he was so busy with the cookies that he didn't see it. "Oh?"
He finally looked up, resting his hands flat onto the counter surface. "She was here, that day when I received the picture in the mail." He returned his attention to the reluctant plastic wrap. "To be honest I don't remember how I acted, or if I said anything. But she called me out on it, and I told her about what was going on. I hope you don't mind." He finally managed to rip the wrap as he finished his sentence, so he pushed the box towards her.
Emily chose her cookie carefully. "No, I'm just glad you had someone to confide in."
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "She said more, didn't she? What did she tell you?"
Emily smiled at his expression, wondering what he really had told Jessica to make him look so alarmed, and shook her head. "Not important. She meant well."
He didn't look very convinced, but after a few seconds nodded slowly. They remained silent for a moment as they munched on their cookies.
"It all started with that picture, didn't it?" She asked bluntly after the silence stretched for a little too long.
She had kind of pictured it in her mind, how he would choke on his cookie in surprise, but once more he surprised her when he merely met her gaze calmly. Emily waited impatiently while he finished swallowing.
"Yes and no. I ah…" He cleared his throat and stared down at the counter, frowning in concentration, as if struggling to find the right words. "You must know by now… I mean you must have noticed- I pride myself on keeping a cool head and not being affected by my desires," he stated quickly but clearly, and Emily could swear that he was blushing a little. It tugged at her heart. "And let's face it, I'm on the wrong side of forty, I wasn't born yesterday. Seeing a picture of a beautiful woman wouldn't be enough to make me fa-" He stopped himself and cleared his throat again. "What I mean is that it was more of a catalyst." He met her eyes at last with that intensity that was so particular to him. However familiar she was with that look, though, this time Emily had trouble holding it without wavering. "You're a beautiful woman, Emily," he added, succeeding in making her look down, "and I would have been blind not to notice the first time we met. But our situation, our job, there's always been something to make me push those feelings away before they could become an issue. That picture, it just made me aware again, though definitely with an unprecedented level of consciousness."
Emily nodded quietly. What else could she say? For as much as she could remember from her previous relationships, no man, except for this quiet, passionate man standing in front of her, had ever told her she was beautiful in such a way, without ulterior motive, just because he wanted her to know. She found herself tongue-tied. However as good as it was to hear him actually say the words and confirm some of her suspicions, she still wasn't quite sure what that meant, pragmatically. Was that it? Mere physical attraction? Was he hoping that she would return his interest? As long as she wasn't sure, she wasn't ready to divulge so much of herself. Not tonight. Not so soon.
She must have kept silent for too much, because he went on. "I'm sorry. I know you've never wanted the attention. But I needed to be truthful with you about this."
Was that really what he thought? That he was uninvited? That she wasn't open to the idea? Yes, she had been amazed and surprised ever since she'd discovered his attraction towards her, but as time went on, she'd started seeing him in a different light, and found herself wondering about the possibilities.
"I ah," she stopped upon finding her mouth to dry to speak. She swallowed and let out a nervous chuckle. "I don't know what to say."
He sighed softly. "I know. I don't expect you to say anything. I don't expect anything. But I do hope that this won't keep you from wanting to work at the BAU."
Her eyes widened as she shook her head. "Of course not, I love working at the BAU, I love working with you. Even though you can be kind of a pain in the ass at times," she added teasingly. Then she turned serious once more. "But Hotch, you're wrong about one thing," she started. "I am here, aren't I?" He seemed a little confused as to what she was implying, so she leaned her elbows on the counter and picked another cookie. "You invited me to dinner, and I said yes," she added. "I wouldn't be here if I wasn't ready to at least consider the possibility."
He raised both eyebrows at this. "At least consider the possibility?" he repeated slowly, making smile. "That doesn't sound very promising."
She shook her head in amusement. "You're not hearing me Hotch. But I think I'll leave you to ponder on what that means and call it a night," she said as she rose to her feet and quickly finished her second cookie before walking to the door.
He followed her to the door with a small smile and put his hand on the handle as she grabbed her purse from the hook. This was the awkward part of any date, but to her surprise he didn't make it awkward. Instead, he kept his distance, giving her the space he instinctively seemed to know she needed, and merely met her eyes with a smile and simply said, "I'm glad you said yes."
The next morning, after a fitful night of turning and tossing in excitement and confusion, Emily met the Bureau therapist for the first time. She was going with this willingly, almost eagerly, as she was well aware how beneficial this would be, so she was very open with Dr. Moors about the events surrounding Norland's obsession with her and how they had made her feel, and still did. It helped to talk about her nightmares and the overwhelming dread that still tightened her stomach every once in a while. However, there was a huge part of the story that she wasn't telling, and she could tell that it peaked Moors's curiosity. What was she not telling?
Had he been working for anybody else than the Bureau, she might have told him about how the case had somehow brought her and Hotch together and that this was what really agitated her. But despite doctor-patient confidentiality, she couldn't trust him not to report this. Even if technically there was nothing to report yet. People like Chief Strauss were often too interested in those details to use as political weapons, and she couldn't let this situation affect either of their jobs.
As tempted as she was by what Hotch seemed to be offering – it still wasn't very clear to her what that was – her trying to hide it from Dr. Moors was like a bucket of cold reality. It made her consider whether or not she was ready to hide a relationship, or if she would be willing to risk her job at the BAU – and his. No matter how long she thought on it, she couldn't come up with a satisfactory answer.
One second she felt stupid for even considering it: no matter what happened between them, he would still be her superior at work. Could she handle that? Be his equal one second and his subordinate the next? Could he? Despite years of working together, he didn't know her in a non-work environment, and she had been told countless times by frustrated boyfriends that she was a 'real piece of work' and 'high maintenance.' And Hotch liked control. Could he handle compromising some of this control to be with her?
But then a minute later she would remember his uncomfortable yet noble posture as he admitted some of his feelings the night before, his penetrating, longing looks, how vulnerable he looked when talking about his son, his beautiful albeit rare smile; and she could feel herself swaying. Hotch never did anything halfway, and she found herself wondering how this particular aspect of his personality would translate into a day-to-day relationship. She even found herself fantasizing about what kind of lover he would be, and it left her feeling intrigued and longing to learn more, longing to draw him out and find out.
The only way to resolve this, she decided that night as she got ready for bed, was to rationally discuss it with him, and then make a decision.
The weather was so nice the next morning when she woke up that she decided to go take a leisure walk in the park. Enjoying warm sips of her coffee as she walked unhurriedly, taking in the simple pleasures of this beautiful day, it suddenly came to mind that despite all her thinking about him, she hadn't actually talked to Hotch since that night. She hadn't even thanked him for cooking! Picking up her cell phone, she quickly sent him a text.
Thanks for dinner, had a great time. Sorry to say but I think I might very well be in love – with your son. Went to see Moors yesterday, it helped. But why do I feel like we still have a lot to talk about?
She hit send with more than a little trepidation, not really paying attention to where she was going. Though she could call him, texting seemed a little more casual, and for some reason it seemed to fit what she wanted to convey better. She was curious how he would respond using that medium, though, since he usually preferred more direct confrontations. Moments later her phone beeped in her hand, making her heart skip a beat.
You surprise me, I thought if there were one thing you could have fallen in love with in only a few hours, it would be my exceptional chocolate chip cookies. Glad to hear Moors was helpful somewhat.
The message ended there and Emily was torn between a smile at his light flirtation, and disappointment that he hadn't replied to her most important question. Just as she was about to put the phone away, it beeped again.
And because there are some things you can't share with a therapist. Oh, wait, Jack just scored, I have to cheer.
Emily smiled, and then frowned in bemusement as she read the last part. What? Where are you?
The park, soccer practice.
Emily stopped walking, and looked up in sudden realization. Because they lived at different ends of the same neighborhood, Emily was aware that he sometimes took Jack to the very park she was walking in, and she remembered that they had some soccer fields near the playgrounds. Looking around to figure out where she was, she walked a few meters down the path and sure enough, there were the soccer fields. There were a bunch of kids running after the ball like a fish school in the ocean, and a line of cheering parents along the lines. She was too far away to recognize anyone, but she decided to walk closer, just to make sure. As she got closer she scanned the scattered crowd, and it's only once she got near the small bleachers that she saw him. He was sitting on a bench by himself, elbows resting on his thighs and phone between his fingers, his eyes on the game. Emily followed his eyes and sure enough, there was Jack, running around with the other children.
Picking up her phone again, she typed in with a mischievous smile. Wow, I didn't know you were so intent on beating your son at soccer that you would enroll in morning practices. What kind of a father are you?
She hit send and looked up to watch his reaction. She wasn't sure if he was ready for her teasing, but she figured that if he was really serious about this, about her, he would learn soon enough not to take her – or himself - too seriously.
The moment he got her message he looked down at the phone between his fingers, and a second later he let out an amused huffing sound that warmed Emily's heart a little, then set to type in his reply.
Satisfied with his response, Emily approached slowly and she was only a couple of meters from him when her phone beeped again.
The worst kind. I should be watching him kick the other team's ass, but I can't seem to focus. If I accept popular wisdom, it appears I have a woman on my mind.
Emily gasped audibly as she read the last part. Hotch had told her about being attracted to her, but this last part implied more than physical attraction somewhat. She had never known Hotch to be the flirtatious kind before, but once more he had completely thrown her off. That man was a complete puzzle, and that only served to intrigue her more.
"Prentiss!"
Emily looked up to find him looking at her in shock at finding her a few feet away. Though she still felt a little breathless at his last message, she smiled at his surprised expression. "Hi," she said with a small guilty wave before she walked over. This allowed them both some time to recover, as he also seemed a little discomfited to face her so soon after writing his last message. Clearly he had appreciated the casualness of texting as well.
"I was taking a walk down the path when you said you were at soccer practice, and it occurred to me that you might be here, so…" she explained, hoping he wouldn't consider this as an intrusion on his time with his son.
He stood up from the bench and smiled slightly, putting his hands into his pockets. She couldn't remember ever seeing him wear just a simple t-shirt, and she took a second to enjoy the view.
"It's good to see you," he said quietly as he looked down at her. After a second he gestured for them to walk, and it made her notice the not-so-subtle sideways glances she was getting from some of the women there. Apparently he was high on the list for the most eligible bachelor in this community of parents, and for some reason that amused her, especially since he seemed aware of it but not giving it attention at all. He must appear so mysterious to those women, she thought.
They walked away from the other supporters, though keeping parallel to the field so that they could keep an eye on the game. "How did it go with Dr. Moors?" he asked after a moment.
"Fine," she nodded, "it has helped me a lot in realizing that it's really over and that I don't have to look over my shoulder anymore. Have you heard anything from the DA?"
"Nothing new, it's as we thought, although Norland's lawyer is trying to plead insanity. Though I think we have strong enough behavioral evidence to show that Norland is as mentally sane as you and me, but he will undergo some psychiatric tests. He was transferred a few days ago."
Emily nodded, though she was a little disturbed at the news. She stopped walking when she felt his fingers touch her arm. "Prentiss, rest assured that I'll do everything in my power to make sure he gets what he deserves."
She didn't need to ask what he thought that was, and despite her anger and even hatred towards Norland, she felt a little queasy at the idea. So she just nodded and started walking again, changing the subject.
"Can I ask… Do you remember what happened that night?"
His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"It's just, I mean obviously I know what happened but… I can't help but feel like there are parts of the sequence missing, like I just zoned out. The only thing I remember clearly are feelings and impressions."
"I remember you were much braver than I would have been in your situation," he offered.
Emily chuckled derisively. "You're kidding right?"
"No, you weren't afraid of him. That's more than I can say for myself."
Emily threw him a dubious look at this, but he was looking down at the ground, so she merely shook her head, dismissing his comment for the moment. "You're right though, I wasn't afraid of him, and in retrospect that scares me. All I wanted was to work off all of my anger on his slimy face, all I could think about was 'touch me and you're dead,' while I kept pushing him to do just that. That's not like me, and I hate that he had that power over me. Under the circumstances it such feelings were dangerous, they made me feel reckless."
"But powerful. I think that helped in destabilizing him. He expected you to be afraid of him, that's the one thing he had predicted wrong in his scenario. He had me figured out pretty well, but all of those weeks of letting you know that he was watching you, expecting that it would break you. It didn't, and I think that threw him off."
The distant shrill sound of a whistle made them both look up at the field, realizing that the game was over. They made their way back towards the bleachers at a faster pace, and Emily smiled when she saw Jack running towards them with a wide grin.
"Daddy, I scored twice!" he said, bubbling with excitement.
Hotch crouched down to his level. "That was amazing Jack! High five!"
"Agent Prentiss, did you see?" Jack asked, squinting up at her in the morning sun.
"You, sir, were absolutely awesome," Emily replied seriously, making him giggle.
"Ready for ice cream?" Hotch asked his son who nodded quickly, and then looked up at her. "Emily? Ice cream?"
"I… It's really tempting, but I think I'll pass and leave you two men to enjoy your time together."
Hotch stood up again at this, putting his hand around Jack's shoulder. "Are you sure? We would love it if you could join us. Right, Jack?"
Jack nodded. "What's your favorite ice cream, Agent Prentiss? Mine's strawberry."
Emily smiled. "Chocolate."
Jack shrugged. "They always have tons of chocolate ice cream," he said, as if the only thing keeping her from joining them was the possibility that the ice cream place might not hold her favorite flavor.
Emily smiled at his logic. "Yes I'm sure they do, but I need to go home. I'll eat ice cream with you guys another day, alright?"
"Okay," Jack said, satisfied with the deal.
Emily turned to Hotch again. "When are you going back to work?"
"Wednesday." That was in a couple of days. "You?"
"Next Monday." There was an awkward silence, but Emily shook herself soon enough. "Alright then, great job on the goals Jack," she said with a thumbs-up. "Thanks Hotch," she said meaningfully as she met his eyes.
He nodded in acknowledgment, but she thought she could detect a little disappointment in his eyes as she turned on her heels with a wave. That look made her release a shaky breath.
"I wasn't afraid of him, not for myself," he called out after she'd walked a couple of meters away, making her turn back in his direction. "But I was terrified of what he was capable of."
Capable of doing to you, Emily finished his thought in her mind. She nodded slowly, proud that he trusted her enough with the truth. "I know," she acknowledged gravely, but then grinned as she started walking backwards. "See you later Aaron."
End part 7