Thanks must go to SussiRay here for the read through. This chapter could almost make this story M. It's not explicit smut, but it's far more detailed that what I've done before, so I really really need your opinions here. Is it okay, does it sound like a bad silhouette/Mills and Boon scene, do I fall into cliché etc? If you want to read really really good smut with a fantastic plot, please check out Sussi's story, The Train Ride - I'm gripped!
Thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter. I'm going to send a little extra HP piece to regular reviewers as a review reply to this chapter.
Next update possibly tomorrow, depending on how well received this is – ie, how many reviews come in so I know you're still interested!
If you want to read some really good HP oneshots that are excellently written, please check out TangledUpLies. We have links to her stories on my C2: Hiding from Strauss, which you can find through my profile page. They are really well written and certainly engross the reader!
Where the Blue of the Night
"Somewhere we know that without silence words lose their meaning, that without listening speaking no longer heals, that without distance closeness cannot cure."
- Henri Nouwen
Chapter Forty-One
November 9th/10th
They were back at the safe house just after sunset; the dark shadow of the building almost welcoming after a journey hampered by bad weather. No lights could be seen, but Emily knew that Garcia and Kevin were somewhere in there, as well as Will, who had arrived half an hour or so previously, relieving Garcia of her babysitting duties.
The rain was still heavy and cold, and she ached for a hot bath and a warm bed. But more than that, she ached for Hotch to be with her, a want that seemed likely to be granted. They'd said little on the way back, the fact that a remotely controlled explosive device had been discovered on their vehicle had rocked them slightly, taking away some of the joy of having finally caught up with Martha Moore. Llewellyn was now basing himself at the same place where Martha Moore was being questioned by Reid and Rossi, looking through surveillance tapes of the area, matching them up with the images they had of Daniel Clark.
Llewellyn had been busy; dealing not only with Boyd's actions, but arranging searches of properties held in Clark's name. They had their UnSub identified; it was now just a case of locating him, before he found them.
Emily's phone began to ring as Hotch put the car into park. She answered it quickly, seeing the caller was JJ, although she struggled to grip the phone securely, so cold were her hands.
"Emily, we've just found out that Rossi's cell phone had a GPS tracker put in place. He lost it while he was interviewing John Moore earlier, and a guy who seemed to be fixing the drinks machine at the station handed it to him. We've now identified that guy as Daniel Clark, so we definitely have a positive ID," JJ said, sounding anxious. "Neither you nor Hotch remember any of your belongings being out of your sight today?"
"No," Emily said. "Apart from the car, and that's been properly checked. He must have been planning to hit the safe house. I'll get inside and let Garcia know. Everything seems fine here from the outside, and Will's already made it back." Emily figured JJ was probably concerned about Henry, desperate to be with him.
"Will already called me. Everything's as it was left this morning, except for the mountain of Kevin's coffee cups. I suspect he will need decaffeinating when he gets back to Quantico," JJ said. "Rossi's cell is now out of use. Thankfully, the only person he called after was Hotch, and Llewellyn doubts that would have told Clark anything apart from information about John Moore."
"Any sign of Martha disclosing Alfie's whereabouts?" Emily said as Hotch glanced at her.
"None. Rossi came out of the interview room before. She's fascinated with Reid to the extent where she's making him feel uncomfortable, and refuses to speak about Alfie or any of the other three children. But Rossi seems to think that Reid's developing a good enough relationship with her for to begin talking within the next few hours," JJ said. "I think I'll be spending the night here at the station."
"That sucks," Emily said. "But hopefully Llewellyn and the rest of his team will have Clark locked up by the morning, so you might get to spend tomorrow night in your own bed."
There was a slight moan of anticipation. "Please," she said. "The thought of going home soon is the only thing that's getting me through. I keep thinking of poor Alfie, probably stuck somewhere cold and horrible on a night like this. On his own. It's awful, Em."
"I know. But remember there's a big search team out looking for him." Emily tried to reassure her. Before she and Hotch had left, several more officers had come back on shift, or turned up even when they were meant to be on a rest day, to help look for him. Several members of the public had joined in the search as well, and despite the weather conditions, they were carrying on throughout the night.
"Someone's bringing coffee," JJ said. "I'll speak to you later. Kiss Henry for me."
"Will do," Emily said, putting the phone away. She got out of the car at the same time as Hotch and walked the short distance to the front door, the rain soaking her completely even in just a few seconds, sticking her hair to her face and her shirt firmly to her skin.
"I'm going to go straight up and have a bath," she said to Hotch over the pounding of the rain. Then the seriousness of the day got to her and the devil in her made her smile. "You want to join me?" She felt as if she was going out on a limb, making the offer. They'd certainly been no discomfort between them during the journey back to the safe house, but she wasn't sure if he was ready to jump back into what they had, or whether he wanted to talk first. She didn't want to talk; she just needed him to be there. "I meant..."
The door opened to a peaceful silence and Hotch spoke deliberately quietly. "Leave your room unlocked and I'll grab a quick shower first and phone Jack. Then I'll bring us a drink."
She nodded, smiling as she met his eyes, seeing a smile inside them.
Hotch splashed on aftershave, feeling more human than he had done in days. Sophie was still missing, but Llewellyn had called half an hour ago to say that they had her on camera at the airport with someone who resembled Daniel Clark. It confirmed his worse fears, but at the same time it was reassuring; it would only be a matter of time before they had found Clark, and therefore Sophie.
He'd also spent a good twenty minutes talking to his son, who had seemed very jolly and well. He was in Canada still with Haley, staying at a farm house with a multitude of animals. Haley had asked him if Hotch wouldn't mind if they continued their stay there for a further two weeks, as there were various things going on with her family that she didn't want to miss out on.
No wasn't a possible answer. Although things were looking promising, they had no definite idea of how long they would have to remain in the safe house. Even if Clark was caught over night, their own houses and vehicles would have to be checked before they were allowed back into them. Even the bullpen back at Quantico would be combed for anything that could cause danger. That potentially put an extra two or three days on to their stay at the safe house, although they wouldn't have the same restrictions.
He closed the door to the room he had been sleeping in, and made his way downstairs to raid the stash of red wine Rossi had somehow managed to source. He'd given up questioning Dave, just raising his eyebrows instead and chuckling inwardly at the explanations.
Garcia was in the kitchen, compiling some atrocious looking sandwich that had pastrami and a hot dog on it. He looked at it worryingly, knowing that they could do without one of their technical analysts having food poisoning, or an upset stomach at least.
She smiled at his look. "It's for Kevin, and I admit, it's weird, but this is how he keeps his super powers, or so he says. How's the boss man?"
"A quarter of the way to being better. Any more footage of Sophie?" he said, pulling out a bottle of Chilean Merlot from '96 that looked to be reasonable.
"We think we have something from a traffic camera heading south from the airport. Clark has no known properties in that area, so we're starting to search deeper, looking at the rest of his family, and looking at potential pseudonyms also. It's going to be a long night, hence Kevin needs his sustenance. As do you and Emily," she said, eyeing his bottle and the two glasses he now held. "At least, I assume you aren't sharing that with Will."
"I should be working," he said, surprised at the words. He didn't usually speak to Garcia, not like this.
"Why? Your remit was to profile the UnSub. That's done, sir. The team brought in to find him are on the case. You're of no use right now on the Martha Moore case, unless you want to go back out in the rain to look for Alfie, but then you'd be putting yourself at risk in doing so. I'd say you were allowed to go and look after your agent," she said, sounding surprisingly serious. "And if you don't, I will find a way to feed you to the wild monkeys."
He shot her another look and left with the wine and glasses, which he realised was her intention.
Hotch knocked first, tucking the bottle of wine under his arm. He figured Emily would be in the bath, in which case he'd check his messages and wait for her to finish, maybe phone JJ and see if there was any progress with Martha Moore, but she answered, wearing a fluffy white dressing gown, her hair damp and slightly wavy. She'd just got out of the shower.
"The bath's still filling up. I figured I needed a shower too," she said, standing out of the way so he could get passed. "You going to join me?" She looked at him as if she expected him to say no.
He wasn't going to. Yes, he was good at punishing himself, but it didn't extend this far, he wasn't quite masochistic enough to turn down a viewing of the woman he found addictively attractive in more ways than just physical. "If that's what you want," he said, taking the corkscrew he'd remembered to bring up from the kitchen and opening the wine with a pop.
"What about what you want, Aaron?" she said, her arms folded, some of that feistiness back in her voice.
He began to pour the wine. "Emily, think about what you're asking. Morgan would call it a 'no brainer'."
"But I'm not asking Morgan, I'm asking you," she said, taking the glass he offered her. "Is this Rossi's?"
Hotch nodded. "He won't miss one bottle. Do you need to check the bath water; make sure it isn't over flowing?" He could hear it pouring rather rapidly, and the last thing he wanted was a flood. He had better ideas for the night that to be clearing that up.
She raised her chin and scuttled into the bathroom. He heard the water stop and there was a breath of silence before she came back out. For a moment, he wondered whether she had changed her mind about him being there.
Then she appeared, her eyes flickering with a spark he recognised well. "I don't blame you for what you did," she said, her words sincere but worried. "I understand why you needed that distance, and I'm sorry if I acted like a bitch because of it."
"You had every right to act that way," he said. "But I didn't mean to hurt you. I wouldn't do that Emily, not intentionally. I hate seeing you hurt; it's not easy to deal with."
She nodded. "I understand. After this afternoon I understand totally." She moved closer to him, putting the glass of wine down on the bedside cabinet. Then she raised her arms and put them round his neck, bringing herself towards him.
He closed the rest of the distance, meeting her lips with his own; his hands at her waist, gliding up and down the sides of her body, and then he started to become lost, his mind blurring, waylaid by the scent of her, her heat and the way she deepened the kiss.
"The bath water will get cold," she said, stepping away, leaving his hands grasping air. He watched, feeling powerless against her, as she slipped off the dressing gown, letting it fall to the floor in a fantastical heap. She stood there naked; her skin pale and perfect, a slender hour glass figure and he would have moved closer to her to touch, but his feet seemed to be frozen, awed at the sight. He wasn't sure if he'd ever get tired of looking at her, dressed or like this. Like this in particular.
Then she laughed, and he realised how much he had stared. She covered her breasts with her hands that could only conceal so much, a touch of embarrassment flushing her cheeks that were pink to start with. "That was supposed to be sexy," she said, still laughing. "But now I feel like an idiot!"
"You don't look like one," he said, glad that the words didn't sound like they were a struggle to get out. "It was as you intended." He wanted to tell her she was beautiful, perfect, but he knew she would only laugh and tell him that he sounded like a bad romance novel.
She smiled playfully. "I'll feel better when you're wearing less. I'll see you in the bath." She disappeared into the bathroom, and he heard the splash of the water as she climbed into it, clearly meaning for him to follow her in and join her.
He stripped, not bothering to pile up the t-shirt and sweat pants he'd been wearing. He then felt a little self-conscious as he caught sight of himself in the mirror. He knew he was in better physical condition than most men his age, visiting the gym at least every other day, usually first thing in the morning, and he still played squash once a week or more when they weren't away on a case and he didn't have Jack. But he wondered why she found him attractive. He had consoled himself that it was more than looks, which he knew it was on his part too. But still, her disrobing had reminded him of his luck. He just hoped she felt the same way.
Hotch went into the bathroom slowly, putting the wine down where they could both reach their glasses. Emily was lounging back in the bath, bubbles up to her shoulders, her face looking the most relaxed he had seen in days, although anxiety was still there. "Hey," he said, stepping up and over into the water. He felt her eyes run over his body, and he saw what he hoped was desire in them. she could see how he felt, it being somewhat obvious until the bubbles a welcome cover.
"Hey," she repeated, splashing the water gently towards him. The bath was overly long and wide, with a spa feature that had probably never been used. She smiled, then grinned. "You pleased to see me?" She shifted her foot to the answer and he closed his eyes momentarily.
He couldn't help but laugh at the cliché. "Surely you can come out with something more original than that?" he said, the outside of her thigh now sitting against his as they sat opposite from each other. The water just covered her breasts, and he found his eyes lingering there for longer than he wanted. He forced his gaze to her eyes and found her grinning again. It put him at ease, knowing he was forgiven.
"It's so much easier for women," she said, sinking further back into the water, the steam rising above them. "We can usually avoid staring."
"That's because women's bodies are better to look at than men's," he said. Her breasts were floating towards the top of the water, the bubbles separating with the water's movement and exposing them. He had a yearning to touch them, kiss them, but wanted this evening to be more than that. And if he started to touch now, things could be over way too soon. So instead, he let his hands grasp her legs, feeling them smooth under his touch. He began to run his thumbs up and down her skin, the softness of the water lessening any friction.
"Isn't that down to the beholder?" she said. He saw that she was now looking at her breasts, sitting up a little out of the water, and he wondered what she thought of them.
"What do you see?" he said, curious as well as just plain turned on.
"Things that get in the way. Things that grab a man's attention. A way to get attention. Something used to feed babies and a point of pleasure. I quite like them, but I prefer looking at you," she said, looking at him with an openness that made him feel raw. "What do you see?" She showed no sign of embarrassment now, letting him have full view of her. He'd seen her naked before, but not this exposed, not so he could look as much as he wanted. He felt as if she was handing herself to him, and it was pushing his excitement to Everest's peak.
"Something that drives me insane," he said, watching her hands now move over the topic of their conversation. He felt jealous of them, now at the edge of his resolve. "Curves. A typical man thing – I'll avoid the psychobabble. Why would you prefer looking at me?"
She knelt up in the water and moved towards him, straddling over his legs. One hand went to her waist, then a little higher, his thumb stroking the sides of her breasts then edging over to the nipple, which he brushed softly, watching it harden. His other hand rested on the top of her thigh, his thumb grazing the soft skin on the inside, edging closer to where he knew she wanted him to touch. He could sense her yearning; it burned quietly, rather than in the raging way it had done before. The atmosphere around them was thick with the heat they had caused, rather than the water. He shifted himself up a little, moving his mouth closer to her breasts and slowly touched his lips to her skin. Her heard her catch her breath, and then let his hand travel further up her thigh, pressing a finger into her warmth.
Her hands were on the tops of his arms, fingers walking over the muscle there. Then she moved them to his chest, her expression serious as she covered each inch there. "Because – I do," she said, quietly starting to answer the question he'd almost forgotten about. "I like your strength, your smell, the way your body reacts near mine. It's chemical, isn't it? But it's not always something you can understand from a chemistry book, or a psychology paper." He'd never heard the words 'chemistry' and 'psychology' before from someone who was naked. He smiled at her, loving her uniqueness and that it was his, just his.
He moved his hands up to cup her face, droplets of water splashing softly onto her chest, her skin, and he looked at her carefully. Her expression was almost sad, her eyes holding a tender look. Words went unspoken, for there was no need right now to complicate things further. He pulled her face down gently to his, then began to let his hands wander purposefully, cupping her breasts as the kiss became more demanding, an ache that was internal as well as physical needing release.
She pulled back, her lips swollen and cheeks flushed with more than just the heat from the water. Then she spoke quietly, hesitantly, as if she was unsure of her words. "I've never needed someone like this. I don't mean just lust, or wanting someone to have sex with, but the – I can't explain it – it feels like an addiction. It makes me ache; you make me ache. It's a good thing. Most of the time."
"When is it bad?" he said, needing to know yesterday.
"When you're not there when I wake up, or when I go to sleep. I know you can't always be there; that there's Jack, and the prospect of Strauss; but last night, when I thought this wouldn't happen again..."
He stopped her words by sitting up straight and bringing her mouth back to his, his heart pounding, threads of desire and need weaving through every sinew. He moved a hand to her hip, guiding her down towards him, and then he was inside of her, the water waving up the sides of the bath, creating a tsunami that grew in power as their movements became more voracious.
He didn't care; didn't care if the floor was soaked or anyone heard them. He needed this closeness; to be as close to her as he could get. Her nails pierced the skin on his shoulders as she came with her eyes open and looking at him, her body shaking, trembling as the orgasm continued, her muscles clenching him tighter. He held onto her hips, moving in deeper, harder, making hr cry out again, and eventually he gave in to the little death that racked his whole body as he came inside her.
Neither of them spoke until the water had stilled around them, the floor drenched. She sank her head onto his shoulder and he held her against him, both spent. He didn't want to move; didn't want to lose that closeness; didn't want this feeling to end.
Hotch looked at her as she moved an inch back from him, then her mouth met his again. There was satiated passion in her kiss, and they fought to keep their skin pressed together, her breasts against his chest. Then he stood, his legs strong enough to lift them both out of the water, his arms holding her to him, and he steadied them down until they were sat dripping on the towels she had left on the floor.
"Hey," she said, mimicking his greeting from before, her hand on his chest, over his heart.
"Hey. You okay?"
She nodded, smiling softly, her eyes narrowed with exhaustion. "We should go to bed."
He nodded. "We've done a good job of making sure the floor's clean," he said, his brain slowly working back to reality.
Her eyes shone. He recognised the look and braced himself for what she was about to say next.
"It's better than having to sleep in a wet spot."
He laughed, entangling her limbs from his, any embarrassment at her seeing him naked now well and truly dispersed. "Sleep sounds like a good thing," he said, giving her his hand to help her up.
"Agreed," she said, pulling out the plug and letting the water drain. "But we need to get dry first." She passed him a towel and a smile, her eyes telling him all he needed to know.
It was late and she was tired, exhausted in fact. A quick glance at her watch told her it was past midnight and she longed for her bed and a glance at Henry. Rossi and Reid were back interviewing Martha Moore, while she had been finalising a media statement that was now done. The interview had been delayed while a lawyer was found for Martha, and then she had demanded that she slept, winning the battle through what was basically blackmail.
And there was still no sign of Alfie.
JJ slumped down on a seat that had felt uncomfortable five hours ago, but now felt like a bed in a five star hotel. As soon as Reid and Rossi called it a night, which she hoped would be within the hour, they would travel back to the safe house, and she could see her son and Will, and put her head down on a pillow and sleep.
Her eyelids had just closed when her phone rang. She fumbled for it in her pocket and didn't bother to check the caller ID.
"Is that Agent Jareau?" a male voice said, sounding panicked.
"Speaking."
"Agent Llewellyn told me to ring you direct as he's busy with something else at the minute. I was taking my dog for a walk, and thought I'd have a look round for the missing boy – Agent Llewellyn mentioned him when I spoke with him outside the school – and well, I think I've found him." He sounded excited, almost uncontrolled. "He doesn't look too good though. He's in a wooden outhouse, a shed, on the community gardens near the river. I'm outside the police department right now – I can show you where!"
"Wait where you are, I'll be there in a minute!"
She was now fully awake. Grabbing her coat she walked to the interview room where Rossi and Reid still were, Officer Newton outside watching. "I need to you to interrupt them," she said. "Tell them to meet me outside immediately; there's a witness who says he's seen Alfie in a building in the community gardens."
She didn't think to wait for them. If it was the UnSub from their case she was sure she'd recognise him. They'd all seen his FBI photo, and a rather blurred picture of how he'd changed his appearance.
Keeping her hand on her weapon, she left the station and looked around, seeing no one. It was almost pitch black outside; the building the only one on this stretch of road and the trees concealed the street lamps. She looked around again, feeling on edge, a shiver running through her that had nothing to do with the cold.
Realisation that it was a rouse hit her just before she felt someone grab her from behind, a damp cloth pushed across her mouth; and she vaguely recognised the faint sweet taste of chloroform as her eyes closed.
Inane Sarah questions restart: When you read crime fiction, do you prefer it to be about the crime, or do you need to have detail about the lead detective, and have a sub plot involving their personal life? After I've done this mini fic (we're looking around 12 chapters for the next one, and Ireland is winning so far!) I'll be returning to writing original fiction, bar the odd one/two shot, and I'm trying to do a little 'research'!
Sarah x