Episode: Birthright

"Go."

Rossi glanced at Emily, who, up until then, had been staring at the door, wondering how much longer she had to stay to be polite.

"No, I still have 23 minutes remaining to enjoy my time with all of you," Emily replied cautiously, glancing at her watch.

"Emily, just leave. Go to him. He needs someone right now and I don't mean me," Emily's eyes wavered from the door to look over at Rossi, who nodded, trying to urge the younger woman to leave.

"Alright," Emily relented. "But you give the team a reason, I can't think of one right now."

Rossi chuckled, dipping his head quickly in agreement as Emily pulled her stuff together, leaving with a quick goodbye to the team, all of whom called out quick, puzzled goodbyes, their gazes falling on Rossi.

"You all know where she's going," Rossi spoke softly. The others glanced away, biting their lips and ducking their heads. All of them had wanted to comfort Hotch, but none of them had. Maybe it really was best that Emily did.

OoOoOoOoO

She drove quickly, road rules barely remembered, traffic lights going unnoticed. As she pulled up in front of Hotch's house, she stopped, parking the car and pausing for a moment to reflect on why she was there. Yes, she had feelings for him. Yes, those feelings were more than friendship. Was she here to comfort him? To break through to him and show him why he should choose her over Hayley? No.

Pushing these thoughts aside, Emily took a deep breath, exiting her car and walking over the grass on the front lawn, up to the door and then stopping. The lights were out, the street silent. Instinctively, her hand touched her gun, which perched on her hip. After a moment of consideration, Emily reached forward and pressed the doorbell, hearing a chime echoing eerily through the house.

She had never been good with haunted houses, and this one was full of old, dead memories.

The sound of footsteps overlapped the doorbell and then an angry growl as Hotch swung open the door.

"WHAT DO YOU- Oh... Emily," He paused in the doorway and Emily bit her lip. She had practically flinched when Hotch had yelled and had almost turned and ran. But the FBI agent in her would not back down.

"I came by to... see how you were doing,"

"Fine," Hotch replied flatly. "I'm great."

"Well you're obviously in need to get drunk, so why not come out with us?" Emily raised her eyebrow in question, leaving Hotch to shake his head and turn to walk into the house. Emily paused, and then followed him in.

"I can't... face the team right now."

"Hotch we're all here for you," Emily watched for a moment as he collapsed on a couch, his head in his hands. She sat down beside him, skimming her hand over his back.

It was dark in the house, eerie as it had seemed earlier. Emily noticed an empty tumbler of scotch on the table. He was breaking her heart without even saying a word.

"Yeah, which is why the whole team is here, cheering me on as I get back up and dust myself off. Face it, Emily; the only ones on the team I'm even remotely close to are you and Rossi."

"Because you don't let them in."

"Because I'm afraid that if I do they'll get hurt. Or it'll impair my ability to make tough calls. I'm the Unit Chief, I have to remain unbiased."

"So why am I here?"

The question hung there for a moment, neither of them speaking before Hotch turned to face Emily. "What do you mean?"

"If you're afraid of getting close to the team or being afraid of how it'll affect your abilities then why am I..." Emily pressed her lips together, her hand moving from his back to his shoulder. "Here?"

"Because you pity me."

"Because I'm worried about you."

"What's the difference?"

"Well, one of them I don't feel and one of them I do."

"Emily," Hotch sounded exasperated now, sick and tired of everything. "What do you want me to do? To say? Hey, I'm gonna be fine, I'll just take a day or two off, and then keep going?"

"No, Hotch," Emily whispered, her hand running all over his body now, along the edge of his ear, into his hair, down his neck. "Just tell me what you're thinking."

"What, so you want to know my feelings? You want to know what it's like for the one person you've loved your entire life to take your son away? To humiliate you by delivering you divorce papers at work? Because it feels pretty damn bad, Emily. Pretty. Damn. Bad." He had started pacing halfway through, but now he stopped, sitting back down beside Emily, slumped again with his head in his hands.

"Hotch, I really am here for you. You know that, right?" She prayed he'd say yes. At that second, it was all she wanted.

"I know," He breathed. "And I'm grateful, but I just... don't know what I can give you right now. I'm just a broken old man who has nothing." He looked up at her, eyes swimming with grief.

"Nothing."

"You have me, Hotch. You have the team and not one of them will think any less highly of you, no matter what you do."

"Emily..."

In answer, she reached up, pulling his head down to rest on her shoulder.

"Hotch, just close your eyes. Rest," She pulled a blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around him as she gently tugged his suit jacket off. "I won't leave you, I promise to stay right here."

"But..." She reached down, touching her finger to his lips as he closed his eyes. She could feel a single tear touch her shoulder as Hotch slowly drifted into sleep.

Emily closed her own eyes, listening to a slow tick-tick-tick of a clock somewhere in the house. She didn't feel scared. She felt... determined. Emily glanced down at the man who was resting against her now, wondering how long it would take for him to be ok again.

Wondering when he'd ever catch a break.

OoOoOoOoO

Sunlight filtered through the curtains as Emily awoke, lying on the couch. She frowned thoughtfully as she surveyed how she was sleeping. She was lying down, fully clothed (although her shoes appeared to have come off, which she was glad of), with Hotch lying on his side beside her, arm wrapped fiercely around her, their legs tangled together.

At first, Emily panicked. She tried to wriggle out of Hotch's grip, only to feel it tighten slightly, his voice soft with sleepiness.

"Shh, go back to sleep, it's early."

Emily paused. Was he dreaming? Was he thinking of Hayley?

"Hotch, I-"

"Emily, sleep," Hotch murmured. "It's alright."

She paused a moment, but relented, adjusting herself so she was comfortable on her side, listening to Hotch's sighs as she pressed slightly closer to him. She listened quietly to his heartbeat, to his breathing, to him. Her arms were around his waist and she didn't hide the fact that her hands were skimming the skin under his now-untucked dress shirt. Emily smiled at the loose tie around his neck. She'd never tell him, but sleepy-morning-Hotch was damn good looking.

There were no sudden epiphanies that morning. No declarations of love for the other. Just one friend comforting the other. Neither of them wanted to think about the fact that it couldn't happen, though. That this wouldn't happen. Not now.

Not yet.

I put my hand on your heartbeat, like I've been there before
It doesn't matter what my sense says
Cause I've been there before

Song: Been There Before – Ghost Beach