Episode: Hit
A job offer. Emily stepped out of the room, shaking as she told JJ and Reid she needed to go to the washroom. A job offer from Clyde. Interpol.
Shaking her head as she pushed her way into the washroom, Emily ran her hand under the faucet, splashing cold water onto her face. Was this really happening? Was she even considering it? They had just finished moving into the new house that morning, too.
That morning. It seemed so long ago that Emily barely remembered it. Jack had wanted to play. Emily had been going back and forth between him and Hotch. Busy. She had been busy. But now, she was calm. She was in the eye of the storm, in her element. And she'd be even more in her element if she were running the Interpol office.
But she couldn't think about that now. Maybe not ever. Rubbing her face dry, Emily stepped out of the bathroom, finding a Kevlar vest sitting outside the door. With a sigh, she picked it up and strapped it on.
This was the job. She needed to know that she could do it.
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Emily stepped forward, making her way inside the building. For a moment, it was just another mission, then, with a slight twitch of her nose, everything changed.
"STOP, EVERYBODY GET OUT!"
Fear surged through her, emotions peaking and suddenly Emily's mind fixated on Hotch. But it was too late. Glass flexed and metal thrummed and suddenly fire filled the air.
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"Sir, I've seen Morgan and JJ but I haven't seen Emily."
Fear. His first emotion was completely and utter dread, the adrenaline running through his body spiking as his head whipped to the side and he tried to run towards the bank.
"No, sir, wait!" Garcia reached out and grabbed at his sleeve, Hotch whipping around, seething as Garcia drew her arm back. "Morgan's already in there and so is JJ. They'll find her, sir. They. Will. Find. Her."
Hotch turned, frantically searching every inch of the building that he could see. Every instinct he had was to run but something kept him rooted in place. Years on the job, maybe. Or just the simple fact that it was pointless to go in there if Morgan and JJ were already searching.
"Garcia if you see her then you come and find me right away, do you understand?"
The blonde nodded, her ponytail bobbing along with her motion.
"Yes, sir," She whispered, dashing off as Hotch scanned the building once more, dread pooling in his stomach.
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"He's my love of 66 years," The woman stared up at Emily, her gaze penetrating. "My story."
All Emily could do was nod, trying to smile at the couple. Suddenly her mind was back on Hotch. She tried not to think about how much he was probably worrying about her, how panicked he must have been, how distracted. The distracted part was what scared her. She knew his eyes wouldn't leave the building until she was out and safe and god, she knew he'd be phoning Jessica or Jack right now, telling them they were safe and trying to reassure them, even though he was scared himself. Maybe he was even talking to Jack, explaining that he had work to do. 'Important work,' he'd say, and Jack would wonder if he was a superhero and would draw a picture of Hotch all dressed up in a superhero costume. When they got home, it would join the tens of other pictures, all of Hotch and some of Emily, flying, running, even lifting things high above their heads. But most of all, saving people.
And that was what she did best. And that was what she was doing now. And that was what she'd be able to do more of at Interpol.
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"Come on, Emily, don't you miss this? Think about it."
"Yeah, I will."
She swallowed thickly, looking around and jogging quickly towards the van. She shook the confusion out of her head and entered the van. Immediately moving to Hotch's side, brushing against him in a moment of trying to calm the two of them down. It almost didn't work, the tension in the room mounting ever higher, but his hand lowered, brushing hers and twining their fingers for just a second before pulling away, continuing as if nothing had happened.
It wasn't much, but at the time, it was enough.
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"Aaron, a word," Hotch turned to see Strauss leaving the van and growled in his throat. Couldn't she see they had serious issues right now? He followed her out, about to give her a piece of his mind when she whirled on him, eyes narrowing.
"Are you in a romantic relationship with SSA Prentiss?"
Ah. The can of worms opens.
"Yes, ma'am, I am." Hotch figured he couldn't—wouldn't—lie his way out of this one.
"And you didn't think to inform me of this? How long has it been going on?"
Hotch shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. There were countless hostages being endangered and she was bringing up his love life?
"Since the end of the Doyle case, I suppose," He replied, pressing his lips together.
"You suppose?"
"I know." Good god, he definitely couldn't bring up the years before when he'd pined for her like a lovesick teen.
Strauss eyed him, almost seeing through his lie. "So you've had almost 10 or so months to inform me?"
"Yes, but I thought that if I could prove to you that we could do our job despite our relationship, it would count in our favour."
"I suppose it does, but you will be getting regular reports done on how you two work together in the field done by SSA Rossi and SSA Morgan. All paperwork you do about or for Agent Prentiss will go through me first to be screened for bias."
Hotch dipped his head and turned back to the van, stopped by a hand touching his arm. He turned and saw Strauss looking momentarily conflicted. "But—" she paused, lowering her arm. "—Congratulations, Aaron."
"Thank you, Chief Strauss."
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"I found Will." Hotch's head swivelled and he scanned the area. Where was she?
"Is he mobile?"
"Negative, he's got... six transmitters on him. This whole place is gonna blow."
"Alright, where are you, I'm on my way." More fear filled him, and Hotch was trying not to think about how scared he was for her. This is the job, this is the job, this is the job. He listened closely as his radio crackled and Emily spoke again.
"No, you've gotta get everyone out, is the bomb squad here yet?"
"It's three minutes away."
"Copy."
Ever building fear was coursing through Hotch as he began making his way through the crowds. Emily was somewhere in the building and with Will, who was strapped to six transmitters. By the sound of her voice, they didn't have the three minutes that it would take the bomb squad to get there, and as far as he knew, it was all up to Emily.
Emily. Emily who had been drifting away, tugging at the strings that held them together. On the surface, she was fine. Picture perfect and all that. But underneath he could tell, something was wrong. Something that only she could fix. Did she want to leave? Did she just want to leave him? It would take more time than he had to figure out and with a resolute push forward, retracing Morgan's steps as he ran down the sidewalk, Hotch knew that the only thing he had to focus on right now was either putting these people behind bars or putting them down.
In My Place - Coldplay
