"Okay, but you have to swear not to tell anyone." Prentiss warned, her back still pressed against the hotel door. JJ made her way over to the bed, flopping down and grabbing a pillow to hug to her chest. Emily followed suit, feeling much the preteen girl she once was.

"I swear, I swear. Now, spit it out."

"I'm serious, JJ- if this gets out-" Admittedly, she didn't know JJ well; they had only really just met. However, she could sense that she and the blonde homicide detective would be fast friends: after years undercover with the CIA, she quickly learned to pinpoint who she could trust. Besides, they were two girls playing on an all-boys team, so to speak, and they needed to be friends to survive the BAU's testosterone levels.

"It won't. I am the media liaison for the FBI. I control what everyone knows. I can keep a secret." That certainly was true. In fact, JJ was most often the trusted confidant of the team: from Morgan's fears of inadequacy, to Garcia's secret love of all thing Twilight, she was the keeper of secrets. She guarded them like she would any of her own and was never shocked by anything said- or, almost anything.

What Emily had to say would take her by fierce surprise. "Hotch and I- we kind of had this thing. It was a long time ago- I was just eighteen, then. But still, it's kind of awkward."

"Like: a thing- a romantic thing."

"Like a: he may -or may not- have been my lawyer and we may- or may not- have had sex for a few weeks during the trial- type thing." In earnest, Emily wasn't a gossip. But she felt so trapped, always having to pretend around Hotch- around the team. It was as if she had to tell someone, so she wouldn't hold the secret alone. And JJ was the person to tell; the only one she could trust. So she told her everything.

JJ's mouth gaped open when Emily was finally finished. Preparing for the worst of backlashes, she was taken aback when JJ grinned devilishly. "Was he- you know, good in bed?" They both smiled.

"Oh my god!" Prentiss found herself blushing at the memory of it all. "I was really young, then. He was in his late twenties. So, I remember him being- god- really good in bed." The two FBI agents squealed aloud, much like middle school girls. They were still giggling when they heard a swift knock on their door. JJ jumped up to answer it.

"What did I tell you about the noise?" It was Hotch, already in his pajamas, looking cross. "Seriously, agents- keep it down. I can hear you laughing through the walls. I know you have some feminine escapade to catch up on, but I'm trying to sleep."

"Sorry, Hotch. Won't happen again." JJ promised, giving him that valley-girl smile. He rolled his eyes.

"You're right; it won't. Goodnight." He returned to the room next door, seemingly unaware that their loudness was centered on a conversation about him. Both women were relieved. As soon as they were certain they were safe, they began whispering about everything that had occurred in the romantic entanglement up to that point.

"We never talked again. But, today, when we were leaving his office, he put his hand on my lower back and I thought- I thought he was thinking about me, too. But he's pretending like it never happened." Emily then launched into an explanation of their encounter in the boardroom, which also made JJ gasp again.

"That's just not like Hotch- if he didn't still have feelings for you, he wouldn't have made such a big deal of bringing it up; he would've just told you to keep your head in the present," The younger woman gave a believable Hotchner impersonation. "And left it at that. He's totally into you."

"I don't know." Emily pulled her hair back into a bun, trailing off.

"I do. And that settles it; you two need to get together- at least for sex. He hasn't gotten any in a year, I'm sure."

"No way. He's still extremely –attractive- and I'm sure he's married, or dating."

JJ shook her head. "He was married- they got divorced. But, he still loved her."

"Loved?"

"She was murdered. By one of our UnSubs. Hotch is raising their son, Jack, alone- he hasn't really dated."

"Well, no shit!" As girls know, it is impossibly difficult to keep quiet while in the company of friends. Emily's raise in octave earned them another stern knock. Just as if they were on an overnight school trip, their unit chief was standing outside the door, tapping his foot.

"Again with the shouting. That's it, you two are separated. JJ, get your stuff- you're coming with me." He seemed extremely displeased and, as always, quite serious. He stood in the doorway, his arms crossed dauntingly.

"But, my stuff's unpacked. Can't Prentiss go?" JJ pouted.

Clearly finished with the childishness, he snapped, "I don't care as long as you two are separated and quiet. Bring your bag, Agent." As he turned to go, JJ shared a private wink with Emily, who blushed as she followed him out the door.

When she came into his room, she noted there was only one bed. "I'll take the couch," he mumbled dryly. They both had the urge to note that it felt like they had done this before, but neither spoke. "No, I will; I'm the trouble maker." Prentiss reasoned.

"I'm the one annoyed, I alleviated the problem- let me take it." They continued to bicker politely for a few minutes, before Aaron moved to put both his and her bag onto the couch. "Then we can share the bed, I guess." He paused before adding, "It's not the first time." She blushed. He finally cracked a smile in her direction- one that reminded her of who he used to be, before all this. Emily wasn't sure what his words meant- if he was acknowledging what they had, or not. She decided not to read too far into it.

"Fair enough." She changed into the restroom, coming out in nothing but an oversized t-shirt. "I thought I was sharing a room with JJ. I would've made sure to pack something more appropriate, had I thought-"

"It's fine, Agent. I won't pry." He replied, crawling into bed and turning off his light. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Emily crawled in on the other side, aware of his body and trying not to settle to close. She recognized his deeper breathing- it was a sound from a memory, from her previous life with Aaron.

When he got in from the office, he would always change out of his suit. "I like to be free of work when I'm at home." He explained one time, when she had asked. So, every evening, she had come to expect this routine.

On that particular evening, she wandered in from the living room of Aaron's apartment. "Hey." She gave him a toying smile. He returned it.

"Hey yourself." He motioned for her to come over, wrapping his arms around her waist when she was in range of his grasp. He nuzzled his nose into her hair softly, allowing his hand to slip just under the hem of her shirt- no further. He was always careful with her- afraid she was sensitive.

"How was work?" She asked him on several occasions, to which he'd always reply –I don't want to talk about it. He never did but she always asked. Because she thought, childishly, that adult couples did that.

That day, however, he just sighed. "Not the best." He recoiled from her, heading over to his bed and sitting on the edge of it. She followed, concerned.

"What's wrong?"

"It's nothing. I'm- I'm working a murder case. I hate doing those; talking to their families, seeing the photos, having to stand in the courtroom with the murderer and act civil towards him. He fucking killed a girl, he deserves to be treated like a dog." He spoke so softly then, much unlike the way he usually did- as if his anger was magnified instead by the quiet.

Emily didn't know what to say- admittedly, she was sometimes too naïve to understand his adult problems. So, she compensated with a fervent kiss on the lips. She helped him finish undressing by slowly pulling his tie over his head. "You want to forget about it?"

"Yes." He pulled her down on the bed, atop of him.

Emily opened her eyes, startled. It was one of those dreams she had, sometimes- dreams that were really memories. After she had become fully awake, she could recall that night vividly in her mind. With a curious look at the man asleep beside her, she wondered f he remembered it, too.