"Recently I've been
All of content and dreaming I have been
'Cause I've been lately seeing
Quite a bit of this woman…"

Dave Matthews

Cape Cod on a rainy February night could be about as bitter cold as anyone could imagine. Yet, Aaron Hotchner was unloading the trunk of Carrie's Mercedes SLK 350, in a cold drizzle that was chilling him to the bone.

When she'd told him that Dan, her producer, had offered her use of his cottage for a long weekend, he hadn't been overly enthused. It was a long drive to spend the weekend in a beach town, in the middle of the winter.

But Carrie's excitement and sense of adventure was infectious and before too long, he'd agreed to go along. Now, standing soaked and cold in the dark drive way, he questioned his judgment.

As he tried to close the trunk with his elbow, he looked up to find her standing in the doorway of the cottage, trying to open an umbrella.

"Never mind!" he called, finally closing the trunk and making his way to the house. "I've got it."

"You're soaked!" she declared, pulling the door shut behind him.

"Just a bit," he shrugged, carrying their bags back to the bedroom. He deposited them on the floor near the walk in closet then walked back into the living room.

"I'm sorry," she sincerely said, her Southern accent in full force. He'd discovered early on that while she was on camera, she purposely hid the soft Louisiana drawl, but when she was away from the lens, she let it flow freely. "I should have come out and helped you."

"Then we'd both be wet and cold," he shrugged, taking off his jacket. "Just let me get into some dry clothes and we can go find somewhere to get dinner."

"I have a better idea," she drawled, stepping to him. "Let's just stay in."

He smiled as she tugged at the hem of his wool sweater, "There's no food in the house."

"There's a market up the road," she dismissed, helping him remove the wet wool. "While you shower, I'll run up and pick up some provisions…"

"I'd rather you took a shower with me," he slyly said, pulling her to him.

"Aaron…" she giggled, as he slid his hands beneath her sweater. "You're all wet…"

"And when we get in the shower we'll both be," he said, nuzzling her neck. "Come on, Carrie…you know you want to…"

"And what about dinner?"

"Food is overrated," he said, his voice muffled by her neck. "We'll go out and look for something to eat when we're done."

XXXXX

Sunrise over the Nantucket Sound was a beautiful thing to behold and Carrie made sure that she was up, sitting in the window seat to catch the show. Sipping from a mug of coffee, she watched as the night gave way to a new, sunny day.

"What are you doing up?" Hotch asked, stepping up behind her and slipping his arms around her.

"Dan told me I had to get up and watch the sunrise through this window, he said I wouldn't be disappointed," she said, not taking her eyes from the window.

"And was he right?"

"He was," she smiled, as he kissed her cheek.

"You should have gotten me up with you."

"I figured you needed the sleep," she said, turning her head to look at him. "You never sleep in."

"I don't remember how," he shrugged, "Is there more of that coffee?"

"A whole pot," she said, turning and standing up. "I'll pour you a cup."

"I can get it," he dismissed, taking her empty mug. "Stay there. I'll join you…"

She watched as he padded, barefoot to the kitchen. He wore a pair of flannel pajama pants and a navy blue t-shirt, and his dark hair was tousled. She wondered how many people had actually seen this side of him. She didn't figure that many had.

"You're staring," he remarked, carrying the now filled mugs back to the window.

"Yeah, I am," she returned with a smart smile, as he handed her one, "Thank you."

He sat on the window seat and patted the bench next to him, "Sit."

"Yes, Sir," she smiled, sitting close to him. As he slipped his arm around her, she snuggled against him. "So," she said, looking up at him, "What do you want to do today?"

"It's up to you," he replied, sipping his coffee.

"Well," she began, with a devilish grin, "I'd really like to ride down to Fall River and do a tour…"

"Battleship Cove?" he asked, curiosity piqued.

"Well, yeah, we could do that," she shrugged, letting him know that Battleship Cove was not her chosen destination.

"What did you want to do?"

"The Lizzie Borden house," she grinned.

Hotch rolled his eyes, "Carrie…"

"I know, I know, but still, come on, it's fascinating," she coaxed. "One of the most notorious murders in history…"

"You really want to go to the Lizzie Borden house," he said, the set of her jaw telling him she was serious.

"If I let you crawl around on the Russian sub at Battleship Cove, can we do the tour of the Lizzie Borden house?" she asked.

The childlike smile on her face caused him to give in quickly, but not too quickly. He pretended to think it over for a moment, "Okay…"

"Yay," she laughed, pecking his cheek. "I knew you'd give in."

He laughed, "Am I that easy?"

After setting her coffee cup on the end table, she slipped her arms round his neck and kissed him deeply, "Yeah, you are, but I'm not complaining."

Setting his cup next to hers, he wrapped his arms around her, "Or, we could just stay here."

"Nope," she grinned, giving him a quick kiss and slipping out of his arms. "Let me get a shower, so we can get on the road."

"Wait a minute," he said, reaching for her, but she eluded his grasp.

Laughing, she backed out of the room. "I'm taking a shower…" she called, walking into the master bedroom.

"Need help?" he called back.

"Aaron, didn't you get enough of the shower last night?" she returned with a laugh that told him she was serious about showering and getting ready to go.

He stood and carried the cups to the sink. As he passed the doorway to the side bedroom, he caught his reflection in the mirror and realized he was grinning like a fool. He wanted to reprimand himself for smiling like a damn idiot, but stopped. It had been a long time since he'd caught himself with a smile like that, way too long and, he decided, it was high time to let himself feel that way again.

Still smiling, he set the cups in the sink and made his way back to the bedroom, deciding to join Carrie in the shower, despite her protests.

XXXXX

"Okay," Carrie began, as they drove along I-195 East back to Cape Cod, "You can say something any minute now."

"I'm not quite sure what to say…" Hotch laughed.

"You know you want to say something…" she challenged, eyes twinkling. "You've wanted to say something since we started the tour."

Pulling his eyes from the road for a brief second, he took in her playful smile and decided to say what he'd been thinking. "Were you seriously challenging Lizzie Borden's guilt?"

"Yes," she returned, "Like I said to the tour guide, there was a similar murder barely 10 months later."

"Which was committed by a Portuguese immigrant who wasn't even in this country at the time of the Borden murders," he returned. "He was a copy cat."

"Still," she shrugged. "It could have been Bridget, the maid."

"And what would be her reason?"

"She was poisoned," she tried, causing him to shake his head.

"By Lizzie," he dismissed. "If that had happened today…"

"Dave Rossi would be writing a book on it," she giggled, causing Hotch to laugh with her.

"Probably," he allowed. "And you'd be scoring the exclusive interview with Lizzie in prison."

A satisfied smile crossed her lips, "You know it," she smartly said, resting her hand on top of his on the shifter.

"I have to admit," he fondly said, "Your points were well thought out."

"Of course they were," she playfully sniffed, "My days of going off half cocked went away in college."

"I do think you gave old Wilbur the Tour Guide his thrill for the week," he teased, recalling how impressed the older man was once he recognized Carrie.

"Stop," she blushed. "I was probably a pain in his ass."

"He's going to be sitting around telling the story of how you engaged him in…what did he call it? Oh, yes, a spirited debate. Yeah, he'll be telling that story for weeks."

"And finishing it up by telling how my FBI boyfriend was so engrossed in the autopsy reports that he was left behind for fifteen minutes and couldn't find the tour group?"

"I knew you'd get to that sooner or later," he said, only mildly embarrassed.

"You were so busy profiling Lizzie…"

"At least I know she was guilty…"

"Well, she was found innocent," she retorted, sticking her tongue out at him.

"Oh, very mature," he laughed, "Have you thought of going into law? That would make a great closing argument."

"You wish you thought to use it," she laughed, then, "You even missed the gift shop."

"What did you buy?" he asked, casting his eye to the white plastic bag on the floor at her feet.

"I got my dad a Lizzie Borden bobble head," she grinned, "And I got my brother an axe key chain."

"And what did you get yourself?"

"A t-shirt…" she grinned.

"Do I want to know what it says?"

"Everything I need to know about anger management, I learned from Lizzie Borden," she laughed.

"Only you.."

"I got you a coffee mug with a picture of Lizzie on it. I thought you could use it at work. It's fitting."

"Thank you for thinking of me," he deadpanned.

"Always," she winked, looking down at the MapQuest directions she held, "We're looking for Exit 22A – State Route 25."

"What did you want to do for dinner?"

"It's up to you," she shrugged, squeezing his hand, "We can go to that seafood place we saw last night…the one on the water?"

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed, looking over at her.

"We can do an early dinner," she went on, "The clouds are rolling in, looks like it's fixing to snow or something. Maybe we can start a fire tonight…"

"And sit around and tell ghost stories?" he teased, drawing a playful swat to his shoulder. "No smacking the driver!"

"No being a wiseass," she laughed. "I was going to say, we could pick up a nice bottle of wine and sit by the fire…but since you had to be wise, I think we'll skip that and watch the What Not To Wear marathon…"

"Did I tell you that I had to go home tonight?"

"Wise ass," she laughed.

XXXXX

Sitting back, sipping his third glass of wine of the evening, Aaron Hotchner decided that he was about as relaxed and content as he'd ever been. After a damn good dinner of steak and steamed Maine lobster, they returned to the cottage with a bottle of Merlot and some firewood.

While he started a fire, she took the comforter and pillows from the spare bedroom and set them up on the floor, then disappeared into the master bedroom to get changed, returning a few moments later in his Georgetown t-shirt and very little else. There was something sexy about the way she'd just taken his shirt and made it her own, a certain quiet possessiveness that he found reassuring.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, looking up at him.

He smiled at her, "I was thinking that this trip was a very good idea."

"Yeah, it was, wasn't it?" she agreed, sitting up so that they were face to face. She slipped her arms around him. "Thank you…for coming up with me."

"I should thank you for talking me into it," he countered, kissing her softly. "I can't tell you the last time I've been this relaxed."

"After three glasses of Merlot…" she smiled.

"Even before the Merlot," he protested, kissing her again.

She returned the kiss, prolonging it, deepening it, while she pressed her body closer to his. Breaking off the kiss, she pulled back slightly, and said, "You know what would make this night even better?"

"What?"

"Making love by the fire," she said, taking his glass and setting it, along with her own, on the raised hearth. She turned back and slipped her arms around him again. "What do you say, Aaron?"

He answered her with a kiss, laying her back onto the pillows. Looking down, he took a moment to study her face in the light of the fire before kissing her again.

"What were you staring at?" she asked, as he pulled back and tugged at the hem of her t shirt.

"You," he returned, easing the shirt up and over her head.

"That was quite obvious," she laughed, "Let me rephrase the question…why were you staring at me?"

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, "You're beautiful…"

"Aaron…"

"Stop protesting," he countered with a smile, "I think you're beautiful and you aren't going to change my mind."

She leaned in and kissed him, with her lips brushing his, she spoke, "Do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"Stop telling me you think I'm beautiful," she kissed him again, "Just show me."

With a deep throated laugh, he kissed her again, his hand traveling along her side, coming to rest on the curve of her hip. He slowly made love to her, taking his time, trying to do exactly what she requested.

As he did, he allowed himself to think about the woman in his arms and how grateful he was that she walked into his life. Smart, funny, grounded, and beautiful as hell, he fell for her immediately and, in a stroke of luck that he still couldn't believe, she fell for him as well.

He hadn't felt this way in a long time, since way back in high school, when he and Hayley first got together, back in the stage where he would look at her and wonder what in the hell she was doing with him. Long before they got married, long before the FBI, long before things fell apart.

The sounds of her moans pulled him from his thoughts in time to watch as she arched her back, her eyes flew open and she cried out as she reached her peak. Watching her pulled him quickly over the ledge.

He collapsed on top of her for a moment, the force of his climax taking him off guard. As he took a moment, his eyes closed, willing his breathing to slow, he felt her lips on his, placing soft, tender kisses.

"I love you", she whispered, barely audible

He felt a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. As he opened his eyes, he noticed the look of shock on her face, clearly caused by the realization of what she said.

"It's okay," he said, allowing the smile to fully form.

"But I said…"

He kissed her, then softly said, "I heard what you said."

"And?"

"And, I love you, too."

"But…"

"You're still scared."

"And you're not?"

He shook his head, surprised that he wasn't scared by this declaration.

She smiled at him, "You're my fearless FBI guy…"

"I am, you know," he said, growing serious.

"You are what?"

"Yours, for as long as you want me."

Slipping her hand behind his head, she pulled him close and kissed him. "That's going to be a long, long time."