Thank you to those who reviewed the recap! Your thought and encouragement are much appreciated. If I haven't sent the extra chapter of Lake Erie to anyone who reviewed all 5 chapters then please PM me and let me know. I haven't gotten around to review replies yet – my grandfather's just been admitted to hospital, so I'm popping this up then probably driving to Wales. I'll try to get to them later.

Thank you to Chiroho for the beta!

Where the Blue of the Night

"Where the blue of the night,
Meets the gold of the day,
Someone waits for me.

And the gold of her hair
Crowns the blue of her eyes
Like a halo, tenderly."

- Bing Crosby

Chapter One

November 11th

"You owe me some answers."

There was no hint of light even flickering into the room. The one, naked light bulb hung on a long wire from the low ceiling, enough length on it for the heat of the bulb to be used as a weapon.

"I brought you here for answers. When are you going to give me some?"

There was a deep sigh. The coldness of the stone floor seemed to permeate the soles of shoes, sending shivers down spines. Then he began to pace back and forth, each footfall creating a soft noise that seemed malevolent given the circumstances.

"You need to ask me the questions first." It was a technique to buy time. The longer they stalled, the more chance there was of being found by the rest of the team.

He sat down, scraping the wooden chair back slightly, the sound echoing through the room. If it could be called a room. It was more like a large cell; soulless and anonymous. "You already know what the questions are."

"Then there are too many of them." It was surprising that the words came out without a stutter, from the coldness as well as the fear. "You need to tell me where to start."

He looked away, over at the wall, as he had done several times already. There could be some significance to the spot, although there seemed to be nothing out of place there. It would be worth investigating should he ever leave the room for any length of time.

"The beginning," he said. "That's where all stories should be started."

November 4th

She was too tired to sleep.

Rain pattered against the window, its gentle rhythm keeping sleep at bay. Emily could see raindrops trickle down through the gap in the curtain where she hadn't quite closed it properly, light fracturing as it shone through from the street light outside.

She was warm; the comforter swaddled around her, wrapped around bare shoulders and over an arm that was almost protecting her breasts. Hotch's arm.

Faint traces of his aftershave clung around him, and she moved her head a bit closer to his, willing herself to fall asleep. She could hear his breath, deep inhalations, as he revelled in whatever dreams he had been blessed with, and felt almost jealous of his unconscious state. Had she been alone, she would have risen, made herself a warm drink, and maybe read a few pages of a book – currently My Cousin Rachel by Daphne Du Maurier – taking her mind away from whatever it was dwelling on. But with someone else there, someone whose sleep she didn't want to disturb, she couldn't start turning on lights and boiling a kettle, although she doubted Hotch would mind.

The rain began to hit the window pane harder, and she let a sigh lose into the room. Hotch wouldn't mind. In fact, he'd be more bothered by the fact that she hadn't taken care of herself because of not wanting to wake him. Gently moving his arm, she slipped out from between the sheets and picked up her dressing gown from the floor, pulling it on. She'd left the heat on overnight, just on low, but it was still cool.

He hadn't woken; instead the arm that had been wrapped around her had been pushed under the pillow and he'd sprawled onto her side, a legacy of sleeping alone. It would now be harder to get back into bed than it was to get out of it.

A lamp was still on, a dim orange glow lighting the kitchen just enough for her to microwave some hot milk to make cocoa. All they'd done since arriving there late last night was to go to bed and what that had entailed. She'd been in the kitchen briefly to get some water, and had found fresh milk, eggs, and bread provided by her neighbour who looked after the place while she was away. Tomorrow she would have to shop for groceries, maybe take a trip to the mall and invest in some new clothes as a treat. She might even buy some of the pottery she was collecting. Then later, maybe, she and Hotch would be able to grab some dinner somewhere. Unless he had Jack. Unless he didn't want to.

Emily stopped the microwave from beeping, opening the door to find that the milk had become too hot and had boiled over. She cursed under her breath, taking out the plate and hurriedly sticking it in the sink as it was hot to the touch.

"I hope that's for me."

She turned around, someone else's voice in her apartment startling her for a millisecond. "Aaron," she said, his first name tripping easily off her tongue. "I'm sorry. I woke you."

He leaned against the breakfast bar looking completely unlike the Hotch she knew at work. His hair was mussed and unkempt by sleep, his chest bare, wearing just a pair of boxers. It was then she realised the significance of him staying there tonight; it had spilled over into their personal lives, it wasn't just a Utah thing. "You didn't. I just woke up," he said. "I feel like I should be getting up now anyway. Getting just a few hours sleep every night for the past however long has obviously interfered with my sleep patterns."

She nodded. "I just can't get to sleep," she said. "Over tired, I guess." Emily rinsed the glass plate from the microwave and dried it quickly. "You want a cocoa?"

"Coffee," he said. "I'll get it. You take your drink and sit down."

They swapped places, she taking a seat on one of the stools that had barely been used. With one hand on the hot mug, she watched Hotch as he found his way about her kitchen, querying the feelings that were making themselves known inside her. She was nervous, unsure, and just that little bit scared. This apartment was hers; it had never been shared. The brief relationships she'd had since joining the BAU had happened at the other person's place, not here.

"I can leave, if it would help you to sleep," he said, looking up at her as the microwave began its unhealthy whir.

She shook her head. "I don't think I want you to go. I just need to get my head around it. I'm so used to being on my own."

He nodded, passing her the cocoa and a spoon. "You forgot this," he said. "I was disorientated when I woke up. It wasn't my room, and yet it was nothing like a hotel room." He took out the instant coffee as the microwave beeped.

Her eyelids felt suddenly weighted and she groaned heavily. "Sometimes I think I sleep better in hotel rooms," she said. "You know," she looked at him stirring the granules into the milk. "I'm glad you're here, even if it's a little weird."

He raised his eyebrows, now adding sugar with the same spoon.

"When we get home after a case I have to check that everything's secure at least twice; make sure no one, apart from Mrs Dalloway from across the hall, has been in, and I usually fall asleep in front of the TV because I'm too strung out to go to bed where it's quiet," she paused momentarily. "Right now, I feel safe. Which is nice."

Hotch picked up his coffee. "I usually only make coffee at this time of day because we've been called out somewhere, so I never get the luxury of drinking it in bed. How about we take these back to bed, unless you have some rule about not messing your sheets?"

She gave him a coy smile. "I think we already messed them." Standing, she picked up the mug and followed him back to the bedroom, placing it down on the bedside table and slipping back under the now cold comforter.

He shifted their pillows so they could prop themselves up, and she wondered whether he was purposely trying to give her some space by not putting his arm around her. "It's strange how this feels so different now we're not on a case," he said after taking a sip of his coffee.

"It feels more real," she pulled the comforter around her chest, slackening the belt of her dressing gown. "Away from work, from having to get up. Maybe it's because I'm sharing more with you being here. We guard our private lives like dragons; not just from each other, but from most people."

Hotch slid down the bed, still holding the mug. "It's self protection. We know the harm people do to each other, and we try to protect ourselves from that."

"You think that's what Morgan's been trying to do?" she said, glad to change the topic of conversation.

"I think it's why he won't commit to any form of serious relationship. He's scared of being hurt himself as much as he's scared of doing the hurting."

"And he already has a source for emotional support in Garcia," Emily said. "Although that dynamic has changed since she started seeing Kevin."

Hotch drained the rest of the coffee. "I think Morgan's just started on a new learning curve," he said. "In the long term, it won't do him any harm. He's just going to find the next few days tough." He put the cup down and sunk into the bed. "Work's a safe topic, Emily," he said, the use of her first name sending shivers through her body. "Tell me what you're going to do tomorrow."

His black hair contrasted violently with the white pillowcase, and she wondered what it would be like to sleep on it tomorrow night when he wasn't there. Conflicting emotions ran through her like red wine and beer. "Shop," she said. "I'm going to start with a really long shower, then go to the mall, followed by getting some groceries. I might have lunch at Le Chat Blanc, and at some point I'll call my mother. After that, I'm not sure." She felt like adding that it depended on what he was doing, but she didn't have the authority to say that. His free time would be dominated by his son – not that she would argue against that – but she didn't want to come across as being clingy.

Maybe that was why she was finding it difficult, him being here, that she didn't want to get used to it. Not yet, not too soon.

"Sounds expensive," he said. "And well deserved."

"Will you get to see Jack tomorrow?" she said, lying down after rearranging the pillows.

He nodded, the action encumbered by the pillow. "He's going to stay tomorrow night. Haley sent me a message earlier."

She smiled, trying to push the anxiety away that she would sleep alone tomorrow for the first night in almost a week. Yet part of her was relieved that she would have that space, maybe the opportunity to go for a drink with friends. It was a bag of mixed emotions, and she couldn't quite make sense of it. "That's good. What will you do?"

"He likes building things at the moment. I bought him a model airplane kit a few weeks ago, so we might make a start on that. Then probably watch kids' TV and eat something sensible. I'll take him to preschool the next day, and then maybe have him for another night before Haley goes to Colorado with her sister for a week," Hotch said. "They've had it booked for months, so the fact that I will have a week or so off work doesn't really come into the equation. Haley can't run her life by my work patterns anymore."

Emily studied his face, looking for hurt she knew she wouldn't find. She knew that the relationship between Hotch and Haley was over; that it was amicable in many ways. Any pain was from the guilt caused by not playing as big a part in his son's life as he thought he should, and Emily knew that that guilt was never going to go. "Let's hope things stay quiet for a few weeks then," she said, although hope would be futile.

"I may take a few days leave," he said. "When Jack's back – if there's nothing urgent."

She felt his hand pushing up the gown she was still wearing, then resting on the side of her hip. Her body reacted to his touch, and she was reminded of what was there between them. It hadn't gone away, the rain hadn't drained it.

"Maybe we could do something on Wednesday," he said. "Get a late breakfast somewhere, head out into the mountains – make a day of it." His fingers were swirling patterns on her skin. She shifted closer to him, her own hands now running paths up and down his arm.

"That sounds good," she said. Maybe she would enjoy tomorrow, by herself. She would know that the following day they'd spend some time together, but she could still be herself, be independent, but not insecure about when she would see him next, whether he wanted to see her.

She tasted coffee as he kissed her, and wondered whether the residue of chocolate remained on her lips. His hands moved about her dominantly, moving her onto her back, and this time she didn't battle for power. She was too tired to fight for it, too happy with what he was doing right now, too happy to lose herself some place nice. More than nice.

"Can't sleep?"

JJ looked up as Will entered Henry's bedroom. She was sitting on the rocking chair where she had spent many a night cradling Henry to sleep, watching her son as he lay in his cot, listening to his breathing. She shook her head. "I slept a little," she said. "But now I'm wide awake. I just can't switch off yet."

Will sat down on the chair in the corner, inadvertently knocking off some of Henry's folded clothes. He was preoccupied. Had been since she'd returned home, and not for the first time she'd wondered about the strain that she wasn't seeing that she was placing on their relationship.

"I'm sorry I've been away again," she said. "I'm sorry you've had to do everything again, and I've not been here to be with Henry, and I don't know what to do..." The tears came silently, a quiet waterfall.

For a moment, Will said nothing, prompting more fears from JJ. "Come here, cher," he said, eventually breaking the silence. "You're tired, and not thinking straight, and you've every right to be."

She stood up and somehow made her way over to him, trying to stifle her sobs so as not to wake the baby. She was missing so much of him, of Henry, and of Will. She didn't know how Hotch could stand it. At least Henry was there when she finally got home.

Will pulled her onto his knee, and she fell against his shoulder in relief, taking his strength to calm her.

"I need to tell you something, but before I do," he said, "you need to know that I love you, and that Henry is well and happy and fine."

She nodded, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders as soon as she heard his first words.

"I don't think I'm allowed to tell you this," he said, his voice low and sultry; she still found his accent as sexy as hell. "I think some agent or other will be talking to you all about it; but while you were away a threat was sent, a nasty one. I took it to Penelope and she passed it on to an Agent Mansfield, who she said would deal with it."

JJ's eyes had dried now and she was no longer over tired. Instead she was awake and sitting upright. "What did it say?"

Will shook his head. "It made threats, to you and us, and the rest of the team. You weren't told because you were in Utah, and needed to stay focused, and I don't think Mansfield thought it was a high risk threat."

She nodded, putting her forehead against his shoulder. "And you've upped the security around the house?" She felt as if she was accusing him, suggesting that he wasn't capable.

But Will was good natured and merely gave a low laugh. "I've had new window locks and a new alarm fitted. I'll need to talk you through how to get in and out of Fort Knox tomorrow, but for now, I think you should come to bed with me and get some sleep. I'll see to Henry if he wakes. You need your sleep right now."

JJ looked at him, unsure how he would think she could sleep after the bomb he had just dropped. "Will – I should speak to the rest of the team, check in, make sure they're all okay."

"Mansfield was on it," he said. "And Garcia went to everyone's apartment or house and checked to see if any other letters had been sent. They hadn't. The chances are its some relation of someone you've put away trying to get revenge by scaring you. The best thing you can do is sleep."

Tiredness seeped through her, a mental exhaustion she hadn't felt so deeply before. "Okay," she said. "But can we bring Henry in with us? I think I'd feel better if he was in the same room."

There was another low chuckle. "I thought you'd say that. I don't suppose it'd hurt for once. Go get in bed, Jayje, and I'll put him in the portable cot and bring him in. You want something to help you sleep? A warm milk, or a brandy?"

She stood up, feeling dizzy with tiredness, the initial shock of his news wearing away. There had been threats made before; they had been investigated and had never come to anything. "A warm milk with a drop of brandy," she said, taking a few stumbled steps towards the door.

Will nodded. "Go get back into bed. I'll get everything and be there in a few minutes."

She went into their bedroom, heading to the window instead of the bedroom, and pulled back the curtains, looking out. The road was quiet and still, a clouded moon overhead, and silence reigned.

When we wake, we leave the world of our subconscious to step back into reality. Usually, that reality is a familiar one, one of mornings and coffee, of pressing shirts in a hurry, and cutting skin while shaving. When Aaron Hotchner woke up to the sound of his cell phone ripping into the silence of the night, he found himself having to force recollection of where he was, and that he wasn't actually still dreaming. Emily was curled into his chest, sleeping soundly. He remembered their early morning drink, followed by one of the best soporifics he knew, and then he remembered why he had woken up.

When Aaron Hotchner stretched his arm out to reach for his phone, he tried not to wake her, but she stirred anyway, looking up at him with bleary eyes. "Who is it?" she said.

He didn't recognize the number, or the voice as he answered, but he felt a familiar cold shiver travel through his body as he sat up, and looked at Emily.

The truth is, when we wake, we never really know what we have woken up into. In some cases, we leave our dreams behind, and walk into a waking nightmare.

Please review. This is going to be a rather traumatic story to write, so I do need all the encouragement I can get!!

Sarah x