This is set post 100. It takes into account Haley's death, and builds on from the relationship Hotch and Emily have started in Calverville Point and Humanity – there are no spoilers for the fic that will come after Humanity. It has five chapters (although it was originally meant to be a one shot!) And you don't have to have read any of my previous fics for it to make sense.

In order to say thank you to those who review, I have written a sixth chapter that I will send via PM or email to those who review each of the five chapters. It isn't the 'ending' to the story, but an add on, and is therefore not essential, so don't feel that you're being cheated out of the end if you don't review! You can review even if you don't have an account on fanfic.

Anyway, I don't own Criminal Minds or the characters, so don't sue!

Thank you to Chiroho for the beta :)

Lake Erie: Part One

The Tides

"They say that every snowflake is different. If that were true, how could the world go on? How could we ever get up off our knees? How could we ever recover from the wonder of it?"
- Jeanette Winterson

The sounds of a sleeping child had soothed the atmosphere of a strange place, and now the night was his own in which to wait patiently for the delivery of morning. Through the large, single pane of glass he could see the tides of the lake creeping slowly over the sands of the beach, leaving the smallest of gifts as they trailed back.

The tide would return to take back the gifts and return them to its depths, unless small hands found the first, placing them in buckets and carrying them home; mementoes of a holiday that would one day be blurred by time.

The moon shone on the water, its reflection a pale silver sheet against the darkness of the lake. Hotch pulled his winter coat from the back of the wooden rocking chair and threw it over him, zipping it up tightly, and opening the back door .

The lake house was secure; if anyone tried to enter he would hear them, no city noise to mask anything that shouldn't be there. His paranoia had lessened as the months had fallen by, the distance between Haley's death now a million winding rivers away. Not that she was forgotten. Not that time had made what had happened any less bearable. But he had found ways in which to deal with the flotsam that had drifted, and sometimes thundered, in. Memories of her survived; some were golden; the days when Jack was a baby were hazy, but tinged with a precious metal. He recalled their courtship and early days of their marriage with the same cloudiness that he had a few years ago, and refused to polish those recollections with falsehoods. And then there were the more recent memories, the more painful ones, and he would not discard those either. Acceptance was needed, not just of her death, but of everything that had preceded it.

He heard his own footsteps on the sand, the only sound apart from the gentle lap of the waves. Crouching at the water's edge, he let his fingers trail in the water, feeling its winter coldness, the shock of it waking him. It was late, later than he knew it should be, but he needed to have some of the day that was left to himself. They'd left their new house, moved into just three weeks ago, at eight that morning, and he'd driven steadily to Lake Erie, stopping several times to break the boredom of travelling for Jack. They were here for the next week or ten days, enough time to explore their new vacation home, and for Hotch to make some much needed repairs, source some new furniture locally, and possibly paint the interior.

He shook his fingers dry, the cold night air nipping at them. A fish jumped a few metres in front of him, a slight splash echoing across the calm water. He stood up, feeling his knees creak with the action, the dampness and age combining to form a new melody of noises in his body.

A tree dipped its naked branches in the lake, its trunk bowed by weight and time. It would be a good tree to climb, to walk up its tilted body, and then dive into the depths in summer. Old leaves had collected in the water around the bases of its branches, and they bobbed quietly with the motion of the water. It was as if nature was returning belongings, passing lost things back to those who weeped. Or at least providing a token of comfort.

Emily was due to join them tomorrow, taking a plane from Washington, where she had been visiting her mother, to Erie Airport. She'd not wanted him to pick her up, preferring to get a cab and leave him and Jack to carry on with their chores, and he figured she wanted to surprise them too. It would be the second time she had been here, having spent a weekend at a small town half an hour away when he'd been deciding whether or not to make an offer for the place.

A wave broke against the weeping tree, its foam catching the moonlight. He heard an animal call followed by a rustle, and the place felt less isolated. But that was part of the reason he'd been so taken with it in the first place. It was somewhere sacrosanct, somewhere without the din of a city or a town, somewhere he could take Jack, and Emily if she wanted. Somewhere he could block out what they saw during their job, and remember why he did it in the first place. He had wondered whether he was turning into Gideon, a though that most perturbed him. However, his kitchen was too sparsely equipped to seriously compare them. Yet.

A darker object than the waves caught his eye as it floated back and forth with the current. He figured it was a large branch, or a bit of driftwood, but found he couldn't take his eyes from its rhythmic movements. It brought him peace, respite.

Tomorrow Emily would be there, her laughter and chatter filling the place as well as the log burning stove that was still ablaze. He hadn't thought too much about her on the way there, his son taking his time, as he was entitled. But now, now that he had the silence and time, his thoughts moved to Emily, and he realised that he missed her.

It was an odd emotion.

It had been more than a year since Calverville Point, more than a year since his team were targeted. More than a year since he and Emily had began something that neither had ever labelled. A lot had happened in that time. He turned his back on the lake and looked at the house. The wooden steps from the beach needed treating, pots and tubs needed to be arranged on the balcony, and there were a thousand other little things he could do. He looked forward to all of them.

A wave hurried along the shore, whispering as it passed over pebbles deposited by its ancestors. Hotch stopped as it crept up to his feet, wetting the soles of his shoes. In a few weeks there would be snow here, and the lake, being shallow, would freeze.

Faint yellow beams of light filled a window. Jack was young enough to still sleep with a night light, something to chase away the monsters. Its warmth was reassuring, and for a moment he gazed into it as it pushed away the chill of the breeze that was whispering.

There would not be a great deal of light, even during the day, at this time of year. The sky would be a distant light grey, and a mist would veil the lake in the mornings. Weak yellow from the sun would barely break through the clouds, just a shrouded shining orb in the sky, and there would still be silence, except for the slow rush of the waves and Jack's voice.

Hotch felt the warmth of the stove burn inside him. He had no intention of mapping out any future, never had. Who knew what the tide would bring, and what it would take away.

He walked across the pebbly sand and back up the steps into the house, leaving his sandy shoes under the porch. The fire was burning low, and he threw another piece of wood into it, stoking it to make the flames rise again. Tomorrow Emily would be here, and they would spend the evening sitting in front of it, discussing whatever topics fell into their minds. One would be her mother, he knew. The rest were left to fate.

The click of the kettle seemed loud in the almost silence, and he hoped it didn't disturb Jack's sleep. Wood crackled and spat on the fire, and he sat close to it on the wooden floor as he drank his coffee, sweet and black. He did not want to sleep yet. He wanted to sit here and listen. To let the tides rush over him. To enjoy the night.

Please review!

The next chapter will be posted on Sunday!

Sarah x