Welcome to another chapter of She's Back! I'm appreciate all the feedback I've gotten and I'm glad you all are enjoying this! Please continue to review, I'm very convinced that this story isn't even worth reading. So again, thank you for all the people who favorited, followed, or reviewed the previous chapter!
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. If I did, I never would have fired Paget Brewster and then hired her back, making her feel unwelcome so she ended up quitting!
Emily stands in the bullpen that, after just a few minutes, the chaotic air suddenly feels empty already missing most of the agents on the floor. She finally goes up to Hotch's office.
She knocks on the door and after hearing a loud and commanding "Enter," she knows he doesn't know it's just her. He's still the on-duty Special Agent Hotchner, expecting the worst from a rookie agent coming to ask the legendary Agent how to fix the paperwork they screwed up to a surprise visit by Strauss- Emily shudders just thinking about the cold hearted woman.
Emily opens the door enough to where he can just see her face, grinning as he looks up at her in complete surprise before schooling his features. She shuts the door and moves towards his desk. "Hello, sir," she smirks.
"Hello, Agent," he returns the smirk. He stands up and gives her a hug so fast that if asked, Emily wouldn't even be sure if it happened, before he sits back down. "How are you, Emily?"
She rolls her eyes as she sees that he's really worried about her. "I'm fine, Hotch. I'm not on drugs, anti-depressants, or any other kind of medication. I'm not depressed, suicidal, or on any kind of drugs. I'm also not an acoholic or anything else like that."
Hotch glares at her, but it isn't his famous scary glare that scares serial killers. It's most like an amused glare. "Are you making fun of me, Prentiss?"
"What? Making fun of- no sir, never," she grins. He gives her look of disbelief and she sighs. "Okay, kind of. You asking me 'how I am' translates into 'are you okay'. And I'm definitely okay."
"Still liking being the head of London?"
Emily makes a face, "too much politics for me."
"A home grown girl raised on politics says her job has 'too many politics'? Call the press," Hotch jokes.
"And just how are you doing, Hotch? When I was here, you rarely joked around and now you're throwing jokes around like probie agents expect you to throw sucker punches."
"I had a good influence," he winks before getting serious. "Before you left you kept telling me I needed to loosen up some-"
"A LOT," she injects.
He ignores her and goes on, "so, when you left, I took you advice and started to loosen up around the team, though I haven't loosened up as much as I did around you and obviously Dave."
"Where is that Dave anyway? I didn't see his light on in his office when I came in."
"He took today off."
She arches an eyebrow. "Really?" David Rossi taking a day off is more common than the rarely absent Aaron Hotchner doing it, but it's still not as common as Derek Morgan taking a day- or days- off.
"Yep. His old 'friend' is moving to DC and wanted his help moving some of her stuff."
"And, of course Dave Rossi, the renouned Superhero, just had to help her. I'm sure there is no other motive."
"Of course not. You know our Dave, always one to pitch in and help a friend, expecting no reward for helping."
Emily snorts, "sure."
She remembers the time she asked the team to help move all of her stuff that she had already put into boxes into her new house. Dave complained and complained and complained about spending his weekend helping and only getting a pizza after they were done as a reward. Nevertheless, if she ever decides to move again, she isn't asking for his help.
"So really, you are okay, Emily?"
"You mean besides hating my job? Yeah, sure, I'm just peachy."
"Still the expert markman in sarcasm, I see. I believe you hold the Bureau's record for the most sarcastically, beloved agent."
"Beloved? I'm not loved any more? You act as if I'm dead, not halfway across the world where I'm so busy and you guys are so busy that we can never meet up and you can't help but think about the good times, when you were graced with Emily Prentiss's presence."
It's Hotch's turn to snort, "grace? Just how much grace do you have, Prentiss, because, if I recall correctly, and I do, you also hold the Bureau's record for the clumsiest Agent?"
"Shut up, Hotch. It is not my fault I wear three inch heels on the job."
"JJ does it."
"JJ doesn't chase as many bad guys I do."
Hotch groans. "Just. Wear. Flats."
"If I wear flats than I'll look shorter than all the men," Emily whines, pouting.
"Then, for the love of God, quit complaining!" Hotch exclaims.
"You really know how to make a woman feel better, sir." Hotch rolls his eyes. "No, I'm serious, sir. You just lift my self esteem and it's times like this that I wish I didn't quit my job."
He studies her for a moment and- though he sees the teasing in her eyes- he also sees she's kind of serious. At least about the job part (he hopes!). "Emily, do you want to come back?" He asks softly before rushing his words, "I mean, I know you have your job but you said it has too much politics for you and you only left to find yourself again because you weren't the same since the Doyle thing and-"
"Slow down, Hotch," she laughs. "Take a breath."
Hotch blushes slightly and smiles sheepishly, "I'm just suggesting you could come back. We had Seaver back on our team for awhile but she transferred out again and Agent Blake decided the BAU wasn't for her. So, we are now we are a man- woman- down. And, I know the team would love to have you back."
Emily's smile fades. "Hotch, I uh... have people in my life now and I can't just move halfway across the world without consulting them."
She sees something appear in Hotch's eyes, but it flashes away in a second, too fast for her to get a good look. "That's good that you have... people in your life. And hey, take all the time you need to talk to them about it."
She's confused until she suddenly gets it. When you tell someone you have people in your life, they automatically assume husband and at least one kid.
She pulls out her phone and quickly pulls up at picture before handing him the device. "Hotch, I would like you to meet my fourteen year old daughter Jocelyn, my six year old daughter Carson, and my four year old twins Leo and Johanna Joy."
He takes a minute to study the picture, looking from each of the kid's faces to hers. "Y-you have four kids?"
She nods, "I knew I wanted kids but I didn't have enough time to look at adoption and I couldn't find the right guy, so I just assumed I wouldn't have any kids. Then, about three months after I quit, I found out that distant cousin and her husband had passed away and nobody wanted to take their four kids but nobody told me they passed away," she explains. "So I took them, thinking living with me would be better than living in the foster home they had been in for a year. I didn't expect to fall in love with them, all of them, but I did and I now know that I couldn't love Jocelyn, Carson, Leo, and Joey anymore if I gave birth to them myself."
"Wow... And I thought I had my hands full with Jack."
She grins, "they are definitely a handful but I love them."
"So, you're not..." he pauses and clears his throat, "dating anybody?"
Emily notices his skin turns a tinted pink but ultimately decides it's probably because he isn't used to asking about her personal life. "Nope. Who would want to date a single mother with four kids- one teenager daughter, a six year old who asks every question she can possibly think of, and four year old twins?"
"If someone doesn't want to date you because of the fact that you nobley became a mother to four orphaned children then it's their loss," his tone softens.
She blushes, "you would of done the same thing."
"It's easy to say that I would do it if the situation ever arises, but I don't know if I really would," Hotch argues. "But you did and that's why it's noble," he adds softly.
"So how's Beth?" She changes the subject.
"I assume she's good."
"You assume?" She repeats confused.
"We broke up."
She releases a little gasp in shock, covering up how her heart soared at hearing those words. "When?"
"About two months after you left."
"I'm really sorry, Aaron. You guys were a great couple."
Hotch pauses, puzzled at her use of his first name, "no, we weren't. We never would have worked out, ever."
Emily smiles sheepishly, "yeah, but you looked great together."
"She wasn't really my type."
She studies his posture, the way he's getting slightly defense of, just a tad bit. "What's your type, Aaron? If not Beth, than who? Someone like Haley?" She asks softly, not knowing if the mention of his deceased wife will upset him in any way. But he doesn't even blink an eye.
"Someone who will understand my job. Someone who knows I'm scarred and can help me heal. Someone who can help me forget all the horrors in the world, even just for a minute. Someone who will love my son like their own flesh and blood," he smiles at Emily, "like the way you've always been with my son, not minding to step into the pretend fantasy world of an eight year old."
She sighs silently, wishing he realized that all of those could be her. She understands his job, she knows he's scarred much more than anybody knows, she can make him forget all the things that go wrong with life for more than a minute, and she already loves his son as much as her kids. "Hotch, I-"
"I never thanked you for helping me after Foyet attacking me and Haley dying. You helped me with Jack, even if it was just giving me a candy bar to cheer him up if you could tell we had a rough night or making sure I called him on a case because you knew I needed to hear his voice. Or taking 'the Hotchner boys' out to dinner and a movie just to make sure we got out of the apartment. You helped more than you will ever know."
"You needed help, Hotch. And I knew you wouldn't just be A-okay because Foyet was dead and that was all that mattered. I know you probably still carry guilt over what happened with Haley; the divorce, her being in Witness Protection, and her dying, but you need to know that no one, not even Haley, blamed you for any of it. She knew all the facts and she knew it wasn't your fault."
"I don't regret not making the deal Foyet was offering, but I do regret not protecting my family. Ex wife or not, she was still family. And my son spent an afternoon with a man that butchered a few dozen women. But my biggest regret from life, besides Jack hearing the gunshot that killed his mother, even if he doesn't know what that noise was, and his mother being murdered, is you."
She's suprised, to say the least. "Me?" She squeaks. Her mind wanders about what that statement could mean, but she knows that it's how it sounds. He's not interested in her, not in the way she is interested in him.
Hotch realizes how it sounds but he's sure she doesn't think he means it the way it sounds. Why would she when she won't ever be interested in him the way he's interested in her? "You helped more than anyone, helping Jack and I deal with the aftermath of Foyet, but I didn't help you at all with Doyle. It's like," he blinks away tears as he thinks about how he failed her, because he did fail her, "I didn't even blink when you had to 'die' for seven months and then suddenly come back to life, leaving the team confused as to why they weren't let in on the circle of knowledge and why they had to grieve the loss of their friend."
She stands there staring at him, amazed that he doesn't get it. "You really don't see?"
"See what?" He sighs in desperation, not wanting to hear her talk about how he failed her.
"You protected me."
"Protected," he scoffs, "no I didn't."
"You lied over and over to our friends, our family, so I would stay safe. Every night you would look over the case, not ever giving up the hope that I would be able to come back. Yes, Derek is the one who located Declan Doyle, but you came back to the States and called me back, knowing I could help find Declan. Even though you didn't say anything about it, I know you talked to Strauss about getting my job back. Then you were trying to help with Reid's anger, blaming it on yourself rather than on me or JJ. You talked to me, asking if I was okay about the seven months I was in hiding but you didn't force me to tell you everything, just to tell you if I was having a bad day. You knew something was wrong on the night of JJ's wedding, and you talked through it with me, even if I still decided to leave. You've been protecting me since I came back. Correction, you've been protecting me since I joined the BAU."
"Emily, I didn't-"
"Don't you dare interrupt me, Aaron Hotchner," Emily stares at him sternly, pointing her finger in his face.
His eyes dance with amusement but he nods his head, "yes, ma'am."
"As I was saying, you may have been suspicious of me joining the unit without your sign off, but you protected me with the best of your abilities. Always."
"I'm sorry I was a jerk to you when you first joined, Emily. I really wish I would have know what a great agent you are and how you weren't doing anything to spy on me or anyone else on the team," remorse fills his tone.
Emily sighs, "but I was put on the team to spy on you. Even if I didn't know it, I was, so you being suspicious of me was not far off the mark."
"You always told me that you hate politics and Strauss thought, with your political experience, you wouldn't think twice about helping her take me down. After that ordeal, I would have quit, too."
"Hotch, you know that's not the only reason I quit back then, right? I mean, yes, I hate politics and that was too much for me. But it made me physically sick to think that I was the little birdy that got the hard ass boss but extraordinary agent, Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner, a legend at the FBI, fired because Erin Strauss thought he was competition for a top spot at the FBI. I physically ached for what I was asked to do, so I simply quit, deciding that since I had already done the CIA thing, I would do something in Foreign Languages."
Hotch puts his hand on hers, "I'm sorry that you went through that guilt and decided to end your career over me."
She looks at their hands that somehow got laced together, wishing for the hundredth time that they could do this (and so much more!) all the time, before slowly looking up at him, offering a small smile, "If I didn't end up coming back, I wouldn't regret not feeding Strauss dirt on you. If the same thing happened to me one hundred times, I would quit to protect you. Everytime."
She almost groans when she hears his phone ringing, but she luckily is able to mostly supress it. He still notices though. As he untangles his hand from hers, he smirks, "something wrong, Agent?"
"Nope, nothing comes to mind."
"Uh-huh." He grabs his phone on the third ring, already back to his on-duty Agent voice, "Agent Hotchner." He rubs his forehead and simutanesly nodding. "Yes, sir, I am still at the office. However," he continues before whoever is on the phone can continue, "I am about to leave to go pick up my son and I do not have time for a meeting right now." After a few brief pauses, he picks up the conversation, "yes, sir, I understand that you only have a limited amount of time available right now but I really need to go get my son."
Emily taps his wrist to get his attention and mouths, "I can get him if you want."
He shakes his head, "no it's fine," he mouths back before turning back to the phone conversation. "Director, his daycare closes at six, sir, and I'm already cutting it close to pick-up time."
Her eyes widen when she realizes it's the Director he is talking to and gets his attention again, this time by writing on one of his gazillion pieces of sticky notes, "give me the address to pick him up at and call ahead of time so they will be expecting me," before sliding it to land under his eyes.
He sighs, whispering an apology, and writes the address on the note before handing it back to her. "2347 Chandler Circle. It's Jessica's house, I lied a little bit about him being in a daycare. Thank you so much, Emily! I'll pick him up at your house?"
She writes that, yes, he can pick Jack up at her house and she invites him to her house tomorrow night, with the rest of the team, before leaving to pick up a kid who she hasn't seen in two years but has always loved him like a son. Who wouldn't, when he's just like his Daddy.
How awful was my writing? Any critism, good or bad, is welcomed and appreciated!