-Ten years later; Quantico, Virginia-

Aaron Hotchner sat with his head in his hands, glancing wearily at the pile of cases stacked on his desk in the back office of B.A.U floor of the FBI's training facility. The Behavioral Analysis Unit had recently lost an agent- Elle Greenway- and, as team leader, Aaron had taken on all of the cases delegated to her to analyze, as well as his own.

He picked up a file and glanced through it briefly, before deciding that he couldn't successfully digest the information without coffee. He slipped out into the bullpen to grab a cup from the coffee machine in the back, meeting up with a few of his agents by chance. Spencer Reid, the youngest agent- and MENSA carrying genius with multiple PhDs- gave him a friendly wave. "Hey, Hotch. Did you get a chance to look through that email I sent you about that case in Minnesota? It's extremely gruesome and the M.O is really specific; it's frighteningly similar to that unsolved case in Washington State. I was thinking that they may be connected."

Hotch nodded noncommittally; with all of his own work to sort through, he hadn't gotten around to reading emails. "No, Reid. I'm sorry- but, if you give me a few minutes I can go through that. I remember that case, it was-"

"Hotch," It was Derek Morgan, another agent. He came to stand beside them, crossing his arms and standing in that macho stance that, Aaron figured, he took on unintentionally. "The station in L.A has been calling nonstop. They keep saying you haven't been returning their calls."

"No, I don't think I received any messages, if I could just get back there and recheck my cell phone-"

"Hotch." Being the one to whom everyone answered came with a heavy amount of responsibility- and, at times like this, a crushing amount of stress. Yet, Hotchner kept his face calm- taking on that stone-like expression that he had mastered shortly after is first case as an FBI agent five years prior. Somehow, after seeing so much villainy in society, simple issues at the office seemed unimportant. He took a minute to recollect his thoughts before turning to face the newest person vying for his attention.

"Yeah, Gideon?"

"Did you approve a team transfer?" James Gideon- one of the most famous (if not infamous) FBI agents on the team and Hotchner's co-leader- seemed extremely frustrated; holding onto an official-looking paper.

"What do you mean?"

"We have a new agent, she starts today. Did you approve this?"

"What? A new agent- today. No, I haven't even heard about this before. Who approved this?"

"The Hell if I know- but, she should be on her way up, now." Everyone turned to face the door as it open, revealing a dark haired woman with a porcelain face and deeply set, fierce eyes. Hotchner caught himself losing his stoic expression and reminded himself harshly to breathe. "This," Gideon slipped into his I'm-in-control persona with a friendly smile, "Must be Emily Prentiss. As our newest agent, I expect everyone here will make her feel welcome. Agent Prentiss, this is SSA Aaron Hotchner, our team leader. Why don't you accompany him back into to his office so that he can get you briefed?"

Hotch glanced at her expression, which mimicked his perfectly. He straightened up, approached her, and held out his hand to shake. "Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner." She took his hand but, as they pretended to be strangers, Hotch couldn't help but let his mind wander back to the other things those hands had done years before.

"Agent Emily Prentiss," She replied and followed him back to his office. He shut the door and was almost convinced that he would say something about their previous relationship, but he did no such thing.

"I'll admit that neither Gideon nor I approved this transfer, so I'm not exactly sure what to do with you, yet." He said it dryly, so without the emotion that used to grip his voice. In fact, as Emily looked him over, she realized that nothing in his appearance signaled that he was the same man she had been so youthfully attracted to a decade ago. "Which leads me to an important question; how exactly did you land this position without our approval? Did your mother have-"

"No. My mother had nothing to do with this; thanks for the warm welcome." Emily had matured much into a woman sure of herself; vibrant in wit, friendly, yet extremely guarded. Maybe it was his years as a profiler that urged Hotch to begin analyzing her- but realistically, he wanted to see how she'd changed- grown- since they had last seen each other. He suddenly became quite aware of his own inadequacies; self-conscious of how tired he looked, old- even. Behind his vacant mask, he noted that she was still beautiful; with her newfound confidence, even more so.

He allowed himself to break a soft smile, "My apologies, Agent. I hope you will feel welcome here. I'll put you at our vacant desk out in the bullpen, next to Dr. Reid. I'm sure he'll make you feel right at home- just don't ask him any questions."

"Questions about what?"

"Anything you don't want to hear about for an hour or more." He told her with another smile; though he rarely grinned at work. As he followed her out the door, he put his palm on her lower back- it was something that just felt natural, a remnant feeling from his past life with her. She said nothing, but allowed his hand to stay without comment.

He pulled away only when they were in full view of the team. Emily glanced back at him with a sparkle in her eye.

"There's this place in me where your fingerprints still rest, your kisses still linger, and your whispers softly echo. It's the place where a part of you will forever be a part of me." –Gretchen Kemp