Many many years ago, or so it feels, this story was published with the promise of a bonus chapter for those who reviewed each part. After a few months I changed computers and lost the chapter, although there were still a few requests. I had a dig about on my email and came across it, so I thought it was time to share. Thank you to all those who have read my stories, it's a thrill to know I've entertained even just one person. And you never know, I may finish Tread Softly at some point!

The Day Hotch Went Shopping and Realised Something About Words

"The quickest way to know a woman is to go shopping with her."

- Marceline Cox

Hotch lay back on the bed, looking at the top of the purple curtains that were now framingthe windows, the faintest traces of daylight loitering over the lake. A ball of small boy slept next to him, much needed sleep encapsulating his every muscle. In the background he could hear the clink of pots, and the sounds of a happy, singing woman.

The happiness had certainly come at an expense.

He'd never really been shopping before. When he and Haley had separated he'd had to get his own groceries, and had reverted back to buying his own shirts – things she had usually done. But that had been small scale. At least he knew that now. Today's shopping expedition had been epic.

They'd gone back to bed, or rather gone to bed at five thirty after waking on the rug – the skin on his knees could certainly tell the story – but hadn't gone back to sleep, conversation about nothing and the morning seeping through the widows keeping them awake. They'd discussed what furnishings they needed to buy, and Emily had slowly become more enthusiastic in her suggestions, beginning to feel as if the lake house was hers as much as his or Jack's. Seeing her become enthusiastic, laughing and teasing, had made his heart soar. So after breakfast, and fifteen minutes of Jack rocking on the horse he was still calling 'Dave' and pretending he was a cowboy, they had driven into Erie.

It was then that he had discovered a new way to suffer.

Hotch knew that Emily had never wanted for material things. She was never flash, or boastful, but the cuts of her suits, and the furnishings in her apartment suggested she liked nice things. However, what he hadn't realised was that shopping should be, in her opinion, an Olympic sport: one that focused on endurance.

By the end of the first hour, during which he'd compared four different types of bath towels from two separate shops, he'd needed an espresso. Jack had been quietly bemused, looking at Emily with wide eyes. Hotch knew that the process was going to scar him for life, so to make it sweeter, he'd found a candy store and bought supplies.

Then she'd found a place that sold homemade candles, and as much as he liked candles, forty minutes of deciding which ones to chose had resulted in him producing his credit card and telling the assistant to charge him for all the ones that were causing her indecision.

"Are you sure?" she'd said, eyeing him as if some nasty trick was behind it.

He'd nodded. "Yes. When we get home you can chose the ones you want out for now, and put the rest of them away for another time."

At which point he'd become silent. Not a cross silence or a frustrated one; not an angry one or a tired one, but a considering silence, when he thought about the words he'd just used.

He had very few recollections of the next place, which was where she'd chosen curtains and cushions, some of which were going to have to be made to order. Material and style had been selected, and he had to admit, when she'd shown him the swatches on their return, he could see she had an eye for interior design. But his mind was elsewhere.

He'd managed to tear her away from the shops for long enough to eat. Their conversation, apart from jointly telling Jack a made-up fairy story about the magic elf that lived by the lake, had focused on kitchen utensils and pans, and then a trip to the factory where the dinnerware she liked was made where Jack could paint his own mug or bowl.

That done, they'd managed to get back to the lake house, although there had been a slight detour to the gallery they'd passed on the way to Erie, where Emily had bought two pictures, one being of the lake, the other a rather abstract but soothing painting that was to go in their bedroom.

It was the language that he'd become more aware of than usual.

"Are you awake?" she said quietly.

He moved his gaze from the curtains to look at her. "Just about. I think you've broken me."

She smiled, that mischievous grin he knew meant trouble. "I have other ways to do that."

He stifled a laugh, aware that Jack was still sleeping soundly. "We're not leaving tomorrow," he said softly. "I want a day where we can relax and maybe do a few chores. The weather's picked up too." It was still cold, but the mist had cleared, leaving them with winter blue skies.

Emily sat down next to him. "That suits me," she said. "I've got to sort out all our new belongings."

The language caught his ear again, and something in his expression must have stirred her attention. She looked worried for a second. "I'm sorry about today. I should have gone on my own..."

He shook his head, his hand on her lower back. "No," he said. "I must admit, I don't want to repeat the experience for a while, but it was good to see that side to you."

"Shopzilla," she said playfully. "Then what's the matter?"

He pushed himself up so he was sitting against the headboard, checking on Jack who was still asleep. "How much can change in twenty-four hours," he said.

She sat back next to him. "Everything. But I don' t think you're asking a general question."

Hotch shook his head. "This time yesterday we didn't know what to say to each other. You'd refused to consider this place as being yours as well as mine, and..."

"Today I've totally taken over the furnishing of it," she nodded. "Way to go, Emily. Be domineering."

He pressed his fingers at pressure point on her spine. "No. I'm glad you did all that. I'd have chosen beige everything. I have no idea what goes and what doesn't." A quiet laugh sounded from her. "But I've used the word 'ours' a lot today, and, more importantly, 'home'."

"It's an easy way to refer to it," she said. He knew was she was doing, retreating into her shell in case he didn't say what she wanted him to, what he thought she wanted him to.

"No," he said, firmly. "While we're here, it is our home. At least it is for me, and I think it is for Jack too."

"I can go with that," she said, now leaning against his shoulder, relaxed, and, he guessed, on the verge of sleeping.

"How's it going to be when we get back to Virginia?"

She sat up straight, his words having stirred a reaction in her that he hadn't expected. "What do you mean?"

"It will seem strange when we get back and you're not there every night. Like coming here without you would now be strange when all the things you've chosen are everywhere," he said, his other hand gently stroking Jack's hair.

He noticed her expression change, as he'd expected it would. She was going to go into scared tortoise mode. "That's why I didn't want to chose stuff and inflict myself on you."

"But I wanted you to," he said. She wasn't going to win any argument unless he chose to let her. A very expensive education specialising in law would see to that. "And I wouldn't call you an infliction, although my knees are still sore from that rug."

He saw her smile even though she was trying not to.

"Okay. It will be strange when we get home and you're not there and all of that, but - " she turned to look at him. "Is this right for us? Because I think you're suggesting that I move in with you, and you need to correct me now if I'm wrong, because I could end up making a complete ass of myself if I haven't already done so." Her words came fast but clear, and he couldn't help but smile.

"I guess that's what I'm saying," he said. "I know this is fast, and we seem to have gone from step one to ten in less than a day, but I want you around. However, if you want to just do what we're doing for awhile longer, I'll only mention it at least once a day."

She lay back, looking at him with eyes that were glowing, and he hoped it was because of him. "I'll give you an answer," she said, tugging at his shirt. "After you've cooked dinner. All that shopping has tired me out."

He heard her laughing as he left the room, followed shortly by a cry of 'Daddy'. And with that, he knew he was home.