Thank you for the reviews. I haven't had chance to write review replies, however, I will be sending the sixth chapter to everyone who has reviewed all five chapters as soon as I get chance. If I haven't sent it you a couple of days after your review for this chapter then pm or email me.

If you're not a fanfic member then please pop your email address in the name bit when you review, not in the review itself as fanfic will wipe it; or encrypt it, eg, martin at yahoo dot com. Kim, I will send you the chapter via LJ.

When the Blue of the Night may be a little delayed. I have a rather huge interview on Wednesday for a management position at a special needs school. Not sure if I want it as I love where I am now, but I'm already nervous. I can't write when I'm preoccupied with something, and I also need to plan an observed lesson and a presentation. Argh! The first chapter of Blue is a recap chapter – I'll aim to put it up on Thursday, then the first proper chapter will go up Sunday.

Thank you to Chiroho for the beta, and for betaing the extra chapter as well.

Lake Erie Part V

Purple

"Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home."

- Edith Sitwell

The sofa he chose was a deep red, a warm and comforting colour, the same shade as a good merlot. It was made on site, a small shop just south of Pitodrie, where they had been to buy the wooden furniture, and the last chair in the suite had just been finished. They could deliver tomorrow, which was an unexpected surprise, given he thought he'd have been waiting until after Christmas for something to sit on in front of the fire.

Hotch glanced at Emily who had picked up Jack, pointing to a bird of prey that was circling overhead, telling him stories that he was sure she was making up, and doing a better job than he had earlier. She was upset because of what she had said, and because of his quiet reaction, but he didn't want guilt to be the reason she made her mind up over anything. He didn't want her to be a visitor at the lake house, although he'd never said that to her, not wanting to impose his own feelings on her. He wanted it to be hers as well as his and Jack's.

But did she want that?

He'd made an assumption and acted on it. Given Emily's temperament, she'd have told him an answer before four-thirty that afternoon, that was if he wasn't screwed, to use one of her adjectives.

"Am I allowed to jump on the sofa?" Jack said, pointing at it as Emily carried him past.

Hotch saw her giving him a quick glance, and then she whispered something into Jack's ear that made him giggle and squirm out of her grasp. He smiled at her, feeling the muscles in his face soften. Maybe he should have confessed how he felt a long time ago, but he'd always thought she knew.

They stopped at a local farm stand on the way back, picking up vegetables and meat, plus some local wine. The shores of the lake were spotted with vineyards, the climate ideal for grape growing. Hotch had received an hour's lecture from Rossi after he'd told him the location of his new retreat, and now felt as if he knew everything there was about winemaking in that area. Emily was still quiet with him, her eyes glancing his way every now and again, but she seemed to be sharing her words with only Jack.

When they returned to the lake house, she'd retreated immediately to the kitchen, preparing the vegetables and meat for a stew, leaving Hotch to decide where he wanted his purchases to go. When he looked around the doorway into the kitchen, he saw her staring out of the window onto the overgrown garden.

"Em," he said. "You think you can leave those for a second? I'd like your opinion." She turned around and gave him a watery smile. He quavered inside briefly, wishing he could be objective enough to read her mind, but right now he couldn't.

He led the way to the master bedroom, the large, oak-framed bed piled with the bedding that had just been purchased. He'd have liked to have washed it first, but buying a washing machine and a tumble dryer were on tomorrow's list. "Where do you think the wardrobes should go?"

She looked at him, raising her eyebrows. "Wardrobes as in plural?"

He nodded. "And the big chest of drawers."

She turned around, a three hundred and sixty degree circle. "I'd put one wardrobe in each corner. If you put them together it might be a bit overwhelming. The drawers I'd put under the side window."

He looked at her, holding his breath, and then gulping it down. "What about the dresser?"

Emily opened her mouth to speak and then closed it. Twice. He figured that was a good thing; she hadn't walked out or yelled at him yet. Then she sat on the unmade bed.

He didn't move towards her. "I'm sorry if I did the wrong thing. I saw that you liked it, and I liked it as well. I'm not trying to chain you to us with a piece of furniture, but I want you to feel that this is your place too." He could have told her that when he saw her looking into the mirror he'd been reminded of that first time he'd watched her put on her make-up, back in Utah, that first morning together.

She crossed her legs on the bed and looked up at him, doe-eyed. "I'm sorry for the way I reacted in the furniture store," she said. "I hurt your feelings, and I didn't mean to. I was trying to not interfere – I didn't want to presume that this place was for anyone other than you and Jack."

His feet echoed as they crossed the floorboards to her. He sat down next to her on the bed, pushing the bedding to one side. "I guess I should have discussed this with you, instead of assuming that the message had been conveyed in ways other than words. This place was meant to be for you as well, if you wanted it to be. That's why I asked you to come here with me when I came to make an offer." He watched her reaction.

Emily nodded. "I don't want to bind you," she said. "I don't want you to have to take decisions you don't want because of me."

"What if that's what I want to do?" he said. "What if I don't mind putting myself second on the rare occasions I need to if it makes you happy?"

He saw her bite her lip, and knew she was holding back tears. He would have liked to have put an arm around her, to have drawn her into his chest, but he knew that would have made her feel worse, and the tears would definitely have come.

"You know, you were there for me, whenever I've needed it. You're there for Jack – you never complain about having him around, and unless you don't want to continue that - and I could perfectly understand why – then I want this place to be as much yours as it is mine." He kept his voice low and quiet, not wanting to draw his son's attention.

"You need those purple patterned curtains in here," she said, not looking at him. "And the matching comforter. There were two thick woollen rugs as well, that would match and stop the floor from being as cold..."

He now moved his arm, pulling her close and smelling her perfume. It had the same effect on him that it always did. "Okay. I can go with the purple. But you're paying."

She smiled, closing her eyes, nuzzling his neck. "Happy to."

He shifted his position, enabling him to move her hair off her face and kiss her. It deepened quickly, the tension of the day abated by the touch, the feel of her skin against his.

They broke away without speaking, both knowing that any longer and they were likely to find themselves in a position whereby they wouldn't want Jack to be coming in. It could be saved for later. "You go finish the vegetables," she said, her lips stung red, her eyes dark and bright. The caveman feeling he got sometimes hit him then, it was he who'd done that to her. "I'll make the bed."

It was then he really noticed the colour of the bedding; it was a deep plum, the same as the curtains and the rugs. He stood, eyeing her curiously. "Did you know I'd bought the dresser?" he said.

She laughed, her fingers smoothing down the pillowcase she was now holding. "I thought we might be going back for it. Did you order the matching stool?"

He raised his eyebrows. "The one with the purple seat? I did. Funny how you encouraged me to get these." He pointed to the bedding.

Her eyes filled again, and he wondered at the meaning behind the tears this time.

"I love you." She said it simply, with enough heat to warm the lake after it had frozen.

Hotch nodded, knowing how difficult the words were to say, to even contemplate saying. Now was not the time for him to echo them, for they shouldn't be echoed.

He moved back to her and kissed her once more; pushing back urges to christen the bed right there and then. "I'll go finish dinner. If the furniture arrives, can you show them where to put everything?"

She nodded, standing up with him, and beginning to make their bed.

She wondered what they would do when the sofa and chairs did arrive.

It was late, almost midnight, but that didn't matter because there was no set time for them to get up the following day. Things needed to be done around the place, and more furnishings needed to be purchased, but there was no team meeting pressing, no alarm to wake them, apart from Jack, and no work to worry about.

Emily took another sip of the wine and rested her head back against Hotch's chest. He was leaning against the new coffee table, facing the wood burning stove, and she was sitting between his legs, listening to the stillness of their surroundings.

"Are we going to get a television?" she said, the wine making her a little light headed.

"I don't think so. It'll do Jack good to rely on his imagination and toys instead. I might get a record player instead," he said, his tone deadpan.

She turned to be able to see his face, smiling broadly. "Are you serious?" He nodded. "Aaron!" She drew out the two syllables of his name. "Enter the twenty first century. Get a docking station for your iPod – or my iPod at least!"

She felt his laugh come from his chest as she settled back down. His hand was resting on her stomach, under her shirt. It made her feel small and feminine, the size of his palm almost covering it.

"What else do you intend to make me buy?" he said. "I know we need kitchen utensils."

"Pictures," she said. "We need pictures. I saw flyers today for a couple of local galleries. It would be nice to have something of the lake. We need cushions and throws too." The novelty of saying 'we' had not yet worn off, and she wasn't sure when it would. If it would.

"I agree," he said, then she felt his lips on her neck and she put the wine glass down, out of the way of the new hearth rug. "Are you happy?" she heard him say, a quiet murmur that almost blended in with a rush of the waves.

They were lying face to face on the rug, the fire warming her back. "Uh-huh," she said, her hands undoing the buttons of his shirt. Jack was fast asleep; he was highly unlikely to wake, so there was no reason why his father couldn't lose a few layers. "You've made me very happy today."

"All by buying you that dresser," he said. She found her sweater being pulled up and over her head. "Anyone else would say you were cheap, Emily Prentiss."

She kept her laughter quiet, her fingers tracing her name across his chest. He pulled her closer, an arm around her back, the other propping up his head, mirroring hers. She felt her bra loosen and rolled her eyes at him. "I saw the price of that dresser, Aaron, and I know I'm not cheap." She paused, studying his face. He looked satisfied, and she understood. "Are you happy?"

He was quiet for longer than she wanted, his eyes trailing across her face as his hands worked their way across her back, across her body. "Yes," he said eventually. "How could I not be right now?"

She woke cold, just as the faintest light starting to creep in from uncurtained windows. Realising she was alone she stood up, noticing that the fire had gone out. They'd fallen asleep on the rug, sex and the warmth a lethal combination of soporifics.

Hotch stood at the window in just his jeans. She joined him, pulling his shirt around her. "We should go to bed," she said, the half light of late night glowing on the waves. "Jack will be up and bouncing in a couple of hours – if we're lucky."

She saw him smile, casting another look across the lake before turning to her. "I love you," he said. "And I'm not saying those words because you did. I'm saying them because I want to."

"Like I did," she said. He nodded. They understood.

Neither moved, still watching the lake, quiet in its greyness, the water teeming with life beneath the surface.

"You know," she said, the cold temperature having wakened her. "We could just have coffee."

"And then what?" he said, mild trepidation in his question.

"Clean the kitchen; unpack some clothes; walk to the farm down the road in an hour or so for some eggs for breakfast..." she looked up at him, her eyes dancing.

"Let's discuss it in bed," he said. "Where it's warm."

"But we're not going back to sleep..."

"I know that..." She followed him to the bedroom, the sight of the dresser greeting her as they pushed open the door, memories already ingrained in its wood.

Thank you all for reading and responding to this – I hope you enjoy the extra chapter – in which Emily may be slightly OOC as she takes Hotch shopping... I may well do the same – extra scenes – and send them to the reviewers of Blue, when it is posted. Let me know what you think.

Thanks for reading!

A very stressed Sarah x