Chapter Twenty-Two

"Honey, you're driving a little fast."

"What? Oh, sorry." He was, and he had to consciously pull his foot off the gas. His hands were tight around the steering wheel, so tight they hurt to unflex.

Haley, though, was oblivious. Her voice was light and airy, as she reminded him to slow down, as though she thought he'd just overestimated the speed limit. She smiled at him, and, somehow, he managed to smile back, even if that felt tight, too.

Habit, I'm sorry babe.

babe.

The word rang around his head like the reverberation of a bell, in his ears, behind his eyes, an uncomfortably loud earworm, rattling his brain.

Beside him sat his beautiful, loving, forgiving wife; the wife he was working very hard with, to get their relationship back to what it had been at the beginning, and they were both doing very well at it.

He had been purposefully setting time apart for them. He left the office early, whenever possible, even if it killed him to get up an hour even earlier - he was up by half four most days, now - and head into the office to do the work he put off.

Marriages, he had reminded himself, weren't effortless, the way they made out in the movies. No, marriages too work and sacrifice.

Perhaps, if he put as much effort into his marriage as he had into hiding his affair, they could get back to what they used to be.

And it was working. Haley, certainly, seemed happier, glad he was finally paying her the attention she deserved, and she, too, had redoubled her efforts to repair their relationship. She, of course, was still oblivious to his involvement with Emily, and would stay that way, as far as he was concerned.

Why hurt her when it was over?

It was over, too. He'd scrubbed Emily from his mind; his thoughts no longer lingered over images of her that existed only in his memory, snapshots of her in various states of undress and undulation. He no longer pondered over the dimple in her cheek, or the fullness of her lips. Her laugh no longer turned his head automatically, like a sunflower turning towards the sun. No, he was making a conscious effort to not be affected by her presence at all, in fact.

It was working, or at least, he'd thought it was working.

The flame that had licked its way up his spine, the sheer, primitive rage that had threatened to overtake him, seeing her with Scott, had been entirely unexpected and completely unwelcome.

He hated himself for it. He hated her for it.

Upon reflection, he decided he had contained himself fairly well; shaking Scott's hand when he had really wanted to tear the man piece from piece was an achievement, but it had set back his progress of getting over her significantly.

Emily, on the other hand, appeared entirely unfazed by the whole thing. Besides the shock on her face when they'd first made eye contact, she'd barely blinked.

Obviously she'd achieved what he'd set out to do; their history meant little to her, that much was clear. And he could hardly blame her, could he? She was there with her boyfriend; he'd turned up with his wife. They were two halves of the same coin; his indiscretions were much more criminal than hers.

But then he remembered that night, outside of his house, when she'd kissed him in the car. What fervour she had ignited, with that one act, knowing they might be caught at any moment, that all it would take was a tweak of the curtains in his home, and they would be exposed.

Even now, the thought excited him.

He shifted in his seat, desperate to have his mind on anything but that kiss, on anything but her. Haley, though, noticed and looked at him.

"You're so wound up, tonight," She frowned, resting a hand on his thigh that didn't help in the slightest. She could feel the tension in his legs, he was sure, and ran her palm along the smoothness of his trousers. "Anything I can do to take the edge off?"

Yes. It was wrong, so fucking wrong, but it also wouldn't be the first time he'd fucked her with thoughts of another woman in his head. Another thing he hated himself for. He attempted a tight smile, painfully removing a hand from the steering wheel to clasp hers, and resisted the urge to press her palm against him and grind himself into her hand.

"I'm okay," he said, in a voice he almost believed, and Haley, sweetly, leaned her head back against the headrest, and smiled at him, eyes full of trust and love and all of the things he knew he didn't deserve.

Emily was resigned to just not talking about the awkward encounter at the restaurant. Scott didn't bring it up - just another thing to add to the list of things she loved about him. He really did take her out for ice cream afterwards, and she expected the third degree, or at least a conversation about how she'd corrected him in front of her ex, but that never came. No, he was his usual charming, sweet, easy self and the further away they travelled from that awful, tense atmosphere, the further away she was from that angry expression she was certain she'd seen on Aaron's face the better she felt.

By Monday morning, Emily had all but forgotten about it. She was in fairly high spirits as she drove into the office, music on full blast. It wasn't often that she was the first one in; usually it was Morgan, fresh from the gym, or JJ, or, obviously, Hotch, who put in more hours, it seemed, than the rest of them combined.

This morning, though, she was the first one there and, feeling generous, she laid out their mugs and set about making each of them a coffee. Penelope had her octopus mug, of course, but for the rest of them she just grabbed standard FBI mugs. It was a task to remember all of their orders.

JJ had a coffee with a generous splash of milk and two sugars, Morgan liked his with milk with no sugar, Rossi had it black, with three sugars, Hotch's order was black, no sugar. Reid and Penelope both preferred tea.

She was just stirring in JJ's sugar when the doors swung open and Hotch walked in. She looked up, ready to greet him with a smile, but was halted by the expression on his face which said he'd been hoping to avoid catching her on her own. Emily, though, determined not to let anything ruin this day, just smiled and held out his mug.

"For you," she said, and watched as he looked almost warily at the mug, "Don't worry, I made everyone's. You're not special."

She was joking, but he didn't crack a smile as he took the mug from her and uttered a "thank you" under his breath that sounded positively painful.

"Don't hurt yourself," Emily said, to his retreating back as he turned away from her and headed straight for his office. She watched him go, one hand on her hip, the other on the counter, and narrowed her eyes at the space between his shoulder blades.

She might have followed him, if not for the doors slamming open and Morgan announcing his arrival. Instead of following Aaron, she made the conscious decision to let him go; if he wasn't going to be a grown up, she certainly was.

It had been years since Emily was in New York. She enjoyed the city, but it meant little to her; there were other cities, in other countries, that meant so much more. New York was insignificant, at least up until that case. They hardly had time to enjoy the city, anyway; they had to hit the ground running on this one.

Shootings in the street, in broad daylight. It was only a matter of time before they were fighting the unsub and the panic that would certainly ensue.

Emily was as focused on the case as the rest of them, had all but forgotten Aaron's earlier weirdness; the attitude with which he had greeted her, which she now knew for sure was the result of jealousy over her dinner with Scott, and probably just the existence of Scott in general.

On the jet, she was only half paying attention to the conversation, her eyes on the case file but her thoughts on his audacity, when an exchange between Morgan and Aaron peaked her attention.

"She was a big deal at Scotland Yard before she came to the Bureau." Aaron was saying, about the head of the New York field office. At the mention of a she, Emily looked at him.

"I heard she can be a little bit of a pain in the ass." Was Morgan's reply; this was a common occurrence on the jet, discussions about this agent or that, and the known perceptions of them. Most often, Aaron stayed out of the conversatio. As their boss, he rarely crossed that professional line where other agents were concerned, but not today. She saw everyone take an interest in Morgan's comment, anticipating what his response would be.

"I didn't think so," Aaron said, jumping to Kate Joyner's defense.

Emily couldn't help it when she asked, "You know her?" and Aaron looked at her. The expression in his eyes was mild, almost indifferent, and for some reason, Emily felt the sharp sting of rejection.

"We liaised when she was still with Scotland Yard."

It was an innocent enough comment.. Nobody else so much as raised an eyebrow, but then again, nobody else would suspect that Aaron Hotchner, devoted husband, would ever be unfaithful to Haley. Emily knew better, and dropped her eyes before he could see any suspicion in them, or worse, any jealousy. JJ didn't so much as glance in her direction, for which she was grateful.

"And she's good?" Rossi asked.

"I think we're lucky to have her." Was Hotch's answer.

Yeah, that was definitely jealousy. Damn.

Rossi said the atmosphere would be similar to when they were hunting the Son of Sam; Detective Brustin reiterated the sentiment almost as soon as they stepped foot into the station. None of the rest of them were old enough to remember the feeling; Aaron, Emily and Derek had been 12, 7 and 3 at the time, respectively, and all of them far away from New York City. Penelope, JJ and Reid not even born yet. Rossi and Brustin had both worked the case.

It didn't take long, though, for the rest of them to form an understanding of how it felt, back then. The tension was palpable, the station quieter than most, and they had all seen many. Everywhere Emily looked, heads were bent over evidence and paperwork and crime scene photos; cops sat at computers, watching CCTV footage, witnesses (who each had little to nothing to offer) were being interviewed.

Emily was about to comment on it to JJ, when someone emerged from the office at the end of the station.

Emily's heart stopped in her chest as she turned and saw Haley crossing the office towards them.

No, not Haley. There were distinct differences: this woman was slightly slimmer; her face was more angular; her hair longer and cut more sharply; she wore a suit that was just as sharp, too. Emily had only ever seen Haley dress casually. And where Haley was mild, this person was, Emily could already tell, much more direct. Like Haley, but serrated.

Just as she was having those thoughts, she heard JJ mutter, "Is it just me or does she look exactly like Haley?"

Okay, good, so she knew it wasn't just her paranoia causing her to see Aaron's wife's face on the woman who approached him with an almost hungry expression on her face. Emily's eyes narrowed, flitting to the back of Aaron's head as Not-Haley approached.

"Kate." Even though she couldn't see it, she could hear the smile on his face as Aaron said her name, and somehow that was worse. Emily curled her hands into fists, and hoped nobody would notice, and chewed the inside of her cheek.

"Aaron," the British accent that came from her was as annoying as it was endearing. She didn't call him Hotch, she called him Aaron. And, for some reason, that was almost the worst part. Nobody called him Aaron; Emily only called him Aaron when they were alone, or inside of her own head.

On either side of her, Penelope and JJ glanced across, the three of them sharing a wordless judgement, a promise of a discussion that would take place later, an assessment of what they were witnessing. Penelope looked away, but JJ's eyes lingered on Emily's for a moment longer, and she knew Jennifer was checking on her. Still the only member of the team who knew about their affair, JJ was the only one who could possibly assume Emily would feel any sort of way about Kate and Aaron's interaction. Emily gave the smallest shake of her head, and they both looked forward once more as Aaron introduced them, pasting perfectly polite smiles onto their faces and giving Kate Joyner a nod of acknowledgement. Emily tried not to purse her lips too tightly together. She was secretly pleased to see that Morgan didn't offer her any sort of smile at all.

Poor Kate had no idea how many members of the BAU already had her card marked for things that were completely out of her control.

Penelope hurried off to get set up with security, and Reid was explaining the necessity of creating a geographical profile, asking for a map of the boroughs, when two officers approached.

One, who would quickly be revealed as Detective Brustin, was short, older - around Rossi's age - and from just a glance she knew that he wasn't happy about their presence. That was nothing new; they were used to facing pushback from precincts. Officers, as Morgan often pointed out from experience, were possessive and protective of their cities and their citizens, and many were distrusting of the FBI. She supposed it could feel quite emasculating to need to bring in experts, when you were supposed to be the expert yourself.

The other agent was younger, his face was kinder. He wasn't quite smiling, but nor did he openly snarl at them the way his partner did.

"I see you brought your own computer," Brustin quipped, sarcastically, as Spencer finished speaking. It wasn't the first time someone had made that sort of joke, but usually there was an air of respect behind it, when people realised that the youngest agent was such an asset. Brustin's comment was pure venom, and Spencer swallowed hard, avoiding eye contact with the detective. Emily felt a protective flare in her chest as Spencer looked at the floor, and her eyes in Brustin's direction. His partner - Cooper, as Kate introduced him - noticed, and seemed to bristle, uncomfortably.

The two could not have been more different. Cooper offered answers to Rossi's questions willingly, explaining that the shootings had all taken place in different precincts, and that was why it had taken three shootings before anybody connected the murders. Before that, they were just assumed to be gang activity, not unusual in the big city.

"I guess this is where we play nice and ask you what you need?" Emily looked at Hotch, when Brustin openly voiced his disdain, expecting him to step in and say something, and found him looking at Kate. As she watched, the two of them shared a small smile. Emily's mouth went dry.

Kate, in response to Brustin's comment, said, "I just ask that you run everything back through me. It's been my experience that having one butt on the line is enough."

Very noble. Emily's eyes flit to her right, met JJ's, and they both snapped forwards again, but she was glad to know that the blonde felt as she did.

Brustin, too, was no fan of Kate's. He scoffed, rolled his eyes and said, "Yes, ma'am," in a voice full of disdain, and Emily wasn't proud of the satisfaction she got from knowing she wasn't the only one who had taken an instant dislike to the blonde, albeit she expected for entirely different reasons.

Trying her best not to glare, Emily was glad Kate appeared to be excusing herself, and she would happily go the rest of this case without setting eyes on Kate again, but then Kate leaned in towards Aaron, and Emily had to fight the instincts that made her want to step between the two of them. Instead, she clenched and unclenched her fist, again, and saw JJ notice.

"Can I have a word with you in private?" The question was meant for Aaron, and she dropped her voice ever so slightly, but still they all heard it and Emily knew, she knew, that if she and Aaron didn't have their history, she wouldn't have thought twice about it. But they did, and she did, and so did JJ. This time, they couldn't help it, both women turned and looked at each other, openly acknowledging the overstep by Kate.

Aaron, though, didn't seem to mind at all, and the two of them stepped away, heading for Kate's office.

"They, uh, liaised, when she was at Scotland Yard." JJ quoted beside her, and Emily raised her eyebrows, giving a short nod of her head, trying not to remember all of the ways she and Hotch had, uh, liaised. Trying not to be jealous.

Not the time or place. They had murders to solve.

Brustin was an ass, that much had already been established, but it was, surprisingly, Spencer who decided to test whether or not Cooper was one, too.

"Hey, so, what's your partner's problem?" Emily heard him ask, and it drew her attention. She stepped up beside Spencer, saw Cooper's eyes settle on her properly for the first time. He did exactly what she had learned to expect from men over the past thirty years, a quick, cursory, appreciative glance over her figure, then stared a second too long at her face as he took her in. She was pretty much desensitized to this appraisal at this point in her life, but it had it's.

"Well," Cooper began, "by the fourth murder, the FBI was brought in. Good. We can use all the help we can get," OK, so definitely not as much of an ass as Brustin. "But," Ah, perhaps she'd assessed too soon, "all of a sudden she's taking meetings with the mayor, and calling in you all without us knowing anything about it."

Emily could understand that; it would be like Aaron hiring a new agent and assigning them a senior role to the rest of the team. Disrespectful and insulting. She shook her head, trying to reassure Cooper who, she had decided, would be much more of an asset to them than his partner, as he was much more willing to be civil and work with them, instead of against them.

"We're only here to help," she assured him, "think of us as a resource."

"Okay," Cooper challenged her with his eyes, staring directly into her own, his face open, plain, serious, "Profile me."

Emily was taken aback. For one, she had only just met this man; profiling wasn't clairvoyance. For two, it wasn't often that people demanded to be profiled. Usually people tried to avoid that sort of thing. She narrowed her eyes, titing her head in a question. Beside them, Spencer, the third corner of their triangle, had gone quiet. He might as well not have been there at all, for all of the intensity with which Cooper was looking at her.

"What am I thinking?" He prompted her, with a boyish smile, and Emily raised an eyebrow. Ah. Spencer raised his eyebrows, turning to look at her, to watch her response. Emily, though, just gave a short laugh, and shook her head. She could guess what he was thinking; it was what most men thought when they looked at her. Well, most straight men.

"It's never gonna happen," she said, but she could feel the blush that crept into her cheeks, an annoying, uncontrollable tell. She was a little flustered, and she hated it.

Cooper's smile spread, and it made his face look nice. But it wasn't a kind smile, it was a smug smile.

"No offence," he said, taking a small step towards her, the smile falling from his face, "but we've had five murders. I hope it gets better than that."

And he left them standing there, Emily now feeling flustered and embarrassed.

"Locals sure like us, don't they," Spencer said, sarcastically, from her side. Emily turned her head, intent on replying to him, but as she did, she caught Aaron's eye across the room. He was just emerging from Kate's office, and he was paused, halfway through the door, and staring at her. The expression on his face told her he'd seen their whole interaction, and that he wasn't happy. Emily swallowed hard, then squared her shoulders, thinking of his earlier interactions with Kate. Let him be jealous, let him watch. Perhaps she'd do some more flirting before the day was through, see how he liked it. See what he'd do about it.

"Emily?" Spencer prompted her, and she looked at him, blankly.

"What?"

The boy genius frowned, then shook his head, "Nevermind."

As if seeing her at the restaurant with that boyish oaf wasn't bad enough, now he had to watch her flirt with detectives in front of his nose?

He had been emerging from Kate's office, after her revelation about Morgan and the threat the brass had delivered to her, fix it or you're out, essentially, and just happened to catch the end of their exchange.

The smile on Emily's face, the way she shook her head, he knew those tells. Her mouth was moving, and she might be telling him "never gonna happen", but her body language said something entirely different. There was an attraction there, he was sure of it, and it made that same flame race up his spine.

Rationale tried to abate it. He ran his thumb over the cold, golden band of his wedding ring, as he so often did these days, especially when he was around Emily. A reminder. One he shouldn't need, but which became necessary in her presence. It was necessary now, when he wanted to march over to where they stood and floor Cooper with one punch, take Emily by the wrist and then take her.

Something about her brought out a primal rage inside of him, one that wanted to claim her, one that wanted them to be together. He fought it every day.

She caught his eye, then, and from the expression on her face, he knew his feelings were evident on his own. Her eyes went wide, and he saw her swallow, hard.

Tearing his eyes from her, he marched along the strip of carpet beside Kate's office, heading god knew where, just anywhere away from her and the way she looked at him. Something in her eyes challenged him, begged him to do something about it. His skin grew hot around his neck and Hotch tugged at his collar, palm slamming into the door ahead of him, and he found himself outside. Thank god for mild New York weather.

Morgan was angry. His thick, dark eyebrows were furrowed deep, his eyes narrowed. His lips pressed together in a tight line, and his jaw was clenched.

He had been right.

He'd put forward the idea of sending the team out to stations and spots they couldn't cover. Areas the shooters might hit. There was no way to predict or even narrow down the city, so they were trying to blanket as best as they could. It was, however, Kate's call, and Kate said no.

Later, Emily would learn why; Morgan was next in line for her job, the job Kate had been told was no longer hers if she couldn't close this case. This impossible case. On one hand, Emily knew how unfair that was, and, as a woman, she sympathised with Kate; it was difficult enough to make it as a woman in the FBI, making the top ranks was a promethean taks. On the other hand, there was nothing endearing about Kate's attitude, and she didn't like to see how easily she dismissed Morgan's proposal. She was like a cornered animal; prepared to fight, claw and gauge her way out, if necessary.

But Morgan was right, and Kate was wrong, and that was how she ended up in the 14th Street station with Cooper, the flirty detective.

It was Kate's orders, not Hotch's. She'd not been looking at him when the duos were assigned, but if she had been, she would have seen the involuntary way his jaw jumped, as soon as the order was given. Instead, she left the station without so much as a glance in his direction, brushing past him, innocently. Leaving him with the scent of her perfume lingering in the air.

"So, if we're undercover, maybe we should, uh, you know, act like a couple?" He said, cheekily, boyishly, and for a moment he reminded her of Scott. Emily actually laughed, a genuine and warm sound.

"Oh, are you still working this tired, sexual tension angle?" she asked him, realising she was growing fonder of the detective the more time she spent with him. He was smart and funny, an easy guy to be around. Harmless, eager for her smile. Yes, very much like Scott.

"I don't know," he admitted, "You're the fortune teller, you tell me." He was teasing her, now, and Emily knew he thought profiling was crap. He'd been making that much clear since they'd met, but now it seemed he was truly curious, intrigued, even, and giving her a chance to impress him. Emily was never one to pass up an opportunity to impress.

"You wanna know what profiling is, really?" she asked him, pausing for a reply.

"Why do I have a feeling I'm gonna hear no matter what I say?" his response was wry, but Emily saw right through him, right through to his curiosity, and she smiled, her cheeks dimpling.

"It's just noticing behaviour." She explained, and Cooper nodded. His steps sped up marginally, and he rounded on her, stopping her in her tracks right there on the platform. Now that she had started, he was going to make her continue.

"And I'm about to hear about mine, is that the deal?" It was almost a request, and so she nodded.

"Okay," Why did it feel like she had trained for years not to catch killers and terrorists and abusers, and put them behind bars, but to impress the handsome detective standing in front of her? Handsome, taken man. She wasn't about to make that mistake again, but it was impossible not to enjoy Cooper's company. And she truly was beginning to build a picture of the man in front of her, "When we first met, when your partner was sarcastic, and said 'yes, ma'am', you instinctively reached for your detective shield, as though you were protecting it. That tells me you don't like him disrespecting the chain of command," Something you wouldn't like about me, she thought to herself, "But you're also loyal," She saw him drop his eyes at the compliment. And humble, too, "So you didn't say something to him. I'd say you were military," She narrowed her eyes a little, because she was taking a little bit of a stretch here, "Probably an officer. Praise in public, censure in private, right?"

She was getting to him, and he had so many tells, she knew she was right about the military thing, and couldn't help but smile.. Right then, he reached up and wiped his mouth, and Emily's eyes alighted on another thing she had noticed about him. "You're right handed but you have two different colour pen marks on your left hand. I'd guess-" it wasn't a guess, but she didn't want to freak him out too much, "you have a toddler at home, just learning how to draw."

Here, a cheeky glint came to her eye, and just that was endearing enough to make Cooper's face flush a little and he automatically returned her smile as she said, "You don't wear a ring. And you were quick to flirt with me, so you're happy to let people to think you are a player," He laughed at the emphasis she put on the word, really teasing him now, "But if I took you up on it, you'd run for the hills," here, the smile melted a little from Emily's face and she fixed him with a sincere expression, "because you love your wife. And you would never actually cheat on her."

And there it was; the fundamental difference between Cooper and her boss, the man whose face hadn't left her mind since she'd seen his expression earlier. The one she was certain was a white hot sort of jealousy. In fact, he'd been on her mind for longer than that. She hadn't stopped thinking about him since cacio e pepe. That had to mean something, didn't it? It was just too coincidental. But Emily didn't believe in coincidences. But Cooper would never cheat, and Aaron had, with her.

"Wow," Cooper said, and he wasn't trying to hide his admiration, now, "we might just solve this case yet."

And, for the second time that day, Emily brushed past a man and left him with the lingering scent of her expensive perfume, but this time she was smiling.

They were topside when they heard the gunshot.

"That's too close," she whispered, and Cooper looked at her, confused. Emily, though, shook her head, putting her watch to her mouth.

"Garcia," she said, and she heard the technical analyst typing rapidly away.

"I'm working on it," she said, stressed and under pressure. Emily waited for a heartbeat, then prompted her, again. "16th and Broadway, he's heading East on 16th."

"He's heading our way," Emily told Cooper, who couldn't hear Penelope's voice in her earpiece, and then took off down the street. She didn't look back, couldn't be sure Cooper was following her, couldn't hear his feet over the busy New York street, but as she reached the corner and stopped, he was right at her side, scanning the crowd with her.

He spotted them immediately, the man jogging towards them in the grey hoodie, eyes going wide like a hare in headlights and, stupidly, he turned and ran. They were after him immediately, like cheetahs gaining on a gazelle, both pulling their guns, Emily cocking her glock without looking. She aimed it at the floor as she ran, but Cooper was faster and overtook her, calling for the unsub to stop, yelling for people to get out of their way. She was right on his heels when the unsub turned a corner, and Cooper followed. One second faster, and she would have shot first. If she had been a second faster, Cooper would have been fine.

He went down heavily, and Emily didn't have time to spare him even a glance as she shot, once, twice, and the unsub went down, too. Dead.

Heart pounding, ears pulsing, Emily passed Cooper. She didn't know if he was breathing, but she had to make sure the danger was gone, first. Training took over and she approached their unsub, checked his pulse. He was definitely dead, then she turned and ran back to Cooper.

"Cooper," she yelled at him, then spoke into her watch, as she heard him groan, and relief flooded through her. "Garcia, we've got an officer down. 16th and West of Union square." Kneeling beside him, she moved Cooper's hands, dragging them away from his wound, "Let me see," she demanded. There was blood, a lot of it. "You're going to be okay," she told him, mostly because she had to believe it.

Panic flooding, she lifted her wrist to her mouth once more, "Garcia, can you see us? We have an officer down!"

She began shrugging out of her blazer, "Cooper, stay with me." But he was going pale, his lips pressed together tightly to keep from yelling from the pain. "You're going to be okay, please, stay with me"

Then she needed both of her hands as she pressed her blazer to Cooper's wounds, the two gaping holes in his stomach. Her fingers were immediately slick with his blood, and his anguished cry as Emily put all of her weight onto his belly made her clench her teeth.

"I know, I know," she said, her voice thick with emotion.

His pained cry was his only assent, and his head fell back, hard, against the pavement as she pressed down.

"I'm sorry, I have to, we have to put pressure on it, okay?" Her fingers slipped over the silk material of her blazer, as it grew wet and warm with his blood, but Emily held on tight. Cooper reached for her wrist, clutching it with his hand, but she didn't let up on the pressure.

"The pretty ones always hurt the worst," he quipped, weakly, and Emily let out a short laugh, his joke splitting the tension on her face into a smile for just a moment. "There it is. God, that smile…"

Emily shook her head, as she heard Garcia on her earpiece, telling her the ambulance would be there in 30 seconds, and immediately heard the sirens, "Save the flirting for later," she joked back, grateful for his humour right now.

"I'll do that," Cooper coughed, and blood splattered the sidewalk.

There was blood everywhere. Her blazer was sodden with it, her hands covered. It had seeped into the grooves of her fingernails, and she'd smeared it across her forehead, brushing back hair that stuck to her sweaty face. Her shirt, too, was stained with it.

"Here," Morgan passed her a towel, taken from the ambulance before it drove away, and she took it with a tight but grateful smile.

"Is he going to be alright?" JJ asked, and Emily just shook her head.

"I don't know," she was exhausted; the adrenaline that had been pumping through her veins finally dissipated, leaving her feeling cold and empty. It was barely an hour ago that she and Cooper had been flirting on that underground platform, and now she didn't know if he would last the day.

"It doesn't make any sense," she was saying, confused by the whole situation. "I shouldn't have had to shoot him."

Emily flinched as she felt a hand wrap around her upperarm, registered the confused expressions on Morgan and JJ's faces, and opened her mouth to protest as the strong, unyielding hand dragged her away from them.

He released her and she stumbled slightly against the rough, brick wall. Emily spun to see her assailant.

"Aaron, what the fuck?" she spat at him, confused and angry, and too close to her emotional breaking point to even attempt to unravel whatever was going on behind his eyes right now.

"No, you don't talk right now, Emily," his voice was dangerously low, and he stood just a little too close to her, "You shot him."

It took Emily a beat to understand - her brow furrowed deep as she frowned at him in confusion, and then her forehead smoothed, her eyebrows raising, when realisation dawned, "The unsub? Of course I shot him, Hotch, he shot Cooper!"

"You should have shot to wound, not kill," he said, and she opened her mouth with a retort, but Aaron spoke over her, "he was our only lead!"

"He wasn't a lead, Hotch, he was a killer. Cooper might still die!"

Emily couldn't believe what she was hearing. It went against everything she'd been taught, every lesson she'd had at the academy. Defense was the priority; she had defended both herself and Cooper.

"Plenty of people are going to die, Emily, because you just took the head off of our investigation, by killing our only potential lead." He was practially yelling at her now, and people, JJ and Morgan included, were turning to look. Emily's face grew scarlet with embarrassment and, in that moment, she hated him. She looked away from him, blinking away the tears of anger that threatened, unwilling to let him see her cry, even if it was out of frustration. Her skin burned with rage, and she could feel the heat that came off of his body, too.

"Hotch," it took everything, everything, not to yell back at him, but she somehow managed to keep her tone low, "I can't be near you right now."

And she slid out from between him and the wall, heading for JJ and Morgan. She didn't stop, she just pulled the keys Morgan held out of his hand. He held tight to them and she was forced to turn to him, but one look at the emotion behind her eyes and Morgan let them go, his own face full of concern. With a glance between her friend and her boss, JJ followed her to the car, leaving Morgan standing there, looking back at Hotch with confusion.

Emily got into the passenger seat in the car and slammed the door behind her.

Grateful for the tinted windows, she dropped her head into her hands. She didn't cry, no, the tears didn't come, but she just held her head for a while. She heard the door open, and knew JJ had climbed in beside her by the fresh scent of perfume that washed over her.

"Belt," JJ said, gently, but other than that, she didn't speak as she took the keys from her and started up the car.

Heaving a sigh, Emily fastened her belt and pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her forehead on them.

She could smell Cooper's blood, could feel where it was crusting on her shirt.

"JJ, stop the car," JJ did as she asked, and Emily threw open the door, leaned out of it, and threw up on the pavement.

The water scalded her skin, but Emily stood beneath the flow for as long as she could stand it. She scrubbed at her fingers until they were raw, and even then there were flecks of dried blood left behind.

Everyone else was at the precinct, JJ having headed straight there after dropping her off, and she should have been there, too, but she couldn't go there covered in blood. And she couldn't go and face Aaron right now, not without pulling her fucking gun on him, or on Kate. How dare he? After the show he'd put on with her yesterday morning? He had a fucking cheek.

The muscles that had gradualy relaxed beneath the hot water seized all over again, and Emily rolled her shoulder, uncomfortable with the knowledge that the two of them were together at the precinct.

"We liaised when she was at Scotland yard."

"I'm sure you fucking did, Aaron." She muttered to herself, as she stepped out of the shower and wrapped her robe around herself.

"What?"

Emily's heard stopped in her chest and she scrambled for her clothes, her gun discarded in the pile of clothes she'd stripped off to get into the shower. It took a few seconds for her to recognise the voice, and by then Aaron was standing in the doorway to the bathroom.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" she demanded, breathing hard and dropping her trousers back to the floor. She stood up, gun still in her hand, and Aaron actually eyed it, warily, which gave her a satisfied little thrill. "Oh, relax." She said, and roughly passed him in the doorway, to set the glock down onto the sideboard.

"I came to check on you." He said, remaining in the doorway.

"How chivalrous." she said, with a sardonic little laugh.

Behind her, Aaron was looking at her, all too aware of how inappropriate his earlier behaviour was, and trying to figure out how to explain to her where it had come from. "I mean it, Emily."

She spun to face him, holding out her arms, in the oversized, white robe, and raised her eyebrows as she looked down at herself, "I'm fine, Aaron. You can leave, now."