I apologize yet again for the wait, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! =)

After months of living in solitude in upstate New York, Aaron Hotchner would be returning home to Quantico, Virginia. It was a surreal thought, and Emily could tell he was feeling odd about it. Since the moment he said yes, there was a faraway look in his eyes, and she wondered if he was having second thoughts about it. If he was, she wasn't letting him back out.

Garcia ensured that they had a second ticket for the flight home so they wouldn't have to worry about buying one. Hotch packed a small bag with some clothes and toiletries. No personal items would be making the journey with the exception of some old photos of Jack and the team. Other than those, he had nothing special to take.

They decided that while the team was hunting down Damian Finch, Hotch would stay with Emily at her apartment. His apartment was sold after he left, and it wouldn't be safe for him to find a place of his own. Jack would remain with Jessica.

Before they boarded, Emily snuck into the bathroom and called Rossi. She gave him the flight information so he'd be there to pick them up. She told him about Hotch's hesitance to come and how she was scared he was mad at her.

"He'll be fine," the older profiler assured her. "He just needs to adjust to everything."

Their flight was at three o'clock in the afternoon. Hotch was restless the whole time. He kept glancing out the window and fiddling with his fingers. Emily offered up the magazine she picked up at the airport, but he said he was fine.

Several times during the trip, Emily would look at Hotch out of the corner of her eye. The sunlight on his face brought attention to the lines around his eyes, making him seem much older than he really was. He looked like a man who had seen way too much in his life. It broke Emily's heart to know it was true.

She wanted to comfort him. To tell him everything would work out, that Finch would go to jail and everything would go back to normal. Emily truly believed that. She just wished Hotch could too.

An hour later, the plane touched down in Washington DC. Emily noticed how Hotch's shoulders tensed when the pilot announced their descent. She placed her left hand over his right, and he deflated slightly.

He kept his head down once they disembarked, leaving Emily to be the one searching for Rossi. Their only luggage could pass for carry-ons, so they didn't have to bother with baggage claim.

Emily led the way to the passenger drop-off area outside. Across the pavement was a parking lot. She scanned it quickly and spotted a head of salt and pepper hair leaning against a dark car. Glancing back at Hotch, she saw he had a strange expression on his face.

"What's wrong?"

He blinked, then looked at her. "Nothing." She shot him a pointed look, and he sighed. "It just feels weird to be back."

She nodded and offered a small smile. "I understand." She held out her right hand. "Come on."

He eyed it carefully before sliding his left hand into hers. She guided him across the road and into the parking lot, weaving in and out of cars. Eventually they reached Rossi.

He hugged Emily, then stood straight and stared at Hotch. Hotch returned the gaze, and Emily hastily dropped his hand. Rossi definitely noticed, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he let out a low whistle.

"Nice beard," he commented. Hotch was quiet, then a slow, tiny smile spread across his face. He stepped forward and hugged his best friend, closing his eyes as Rossi reciprocated. It was like when Rossi returned to the BAU, only more heartfelt. They'd grown much closer since then.

"It's good to see you," Rossi whispered. Hotch swallowed the lump in his throat.

"It's good to see you too."

Emily took the backseat on the way to her place, allowing Hotch to sit up front so he and Rossi could catch up, though it was more of Rossi filling the other man in on the happenings in the BAU. Hotch kept looking out the window as the familiar landscape raced by. Three months may not seem like a lot to some people, but for him it was a lifetime. He was soaking it all in.

Emily watched him closely, keeping her eyes out for any obvious signs of discomfort or resentment at being back. She wished he'd relax, but she knew he wouldn't until Finch was behind bars.

Rossi sensed his friend's unease as well, which is why he kept the conversation flowing. If it got too quiet, Hotch might begin to doubt himself for returning, and they couldn't have that.

After about a half hour, Rossi pulled into the parking lot of Emily's apartment complex. Because it was a Sunday afternoon approaching nighttime, there weren't any people walking on the sidewalks. Hotch looked at Rossi in confusion when the older man climbed out of the car with them.

"What are you doing?"

"I just want to see you get settled," Rossi said casually, but Emily saw the gleam in his eye. Her stomach dropped.

Hotch looked suspicious, but he shrugged and gestured for Emily to lead the way. He quickly fell behind her and Rossi, which she was grateful for at the moment.

"What are you up to?" she hissed as they entered the lobby of the building.

"Nothing," Rossi said innocently.

"I don't think Hotch is up for any surprises," she warned, jabbing the up button for the elevator with her thumb.

"He'll be up for this," Rossi muttered under his breath. Emily closed her eyes and shook her head, stepping into the elevator. Rossi and Hotch followed, the latter having not heard the conversation.

They reached Emily's floor and followed her down the hall to her door. Shooting Rossi another cautious look, she turned her key in the lock and entered the apartment. It only took her two seconds to realize what Rossi had meant.

The team was there. Morgan and Garcia were sitting on her couch, Garcia cuddling up against Morgan while he rubbed her arm. JJ was perched on the armchair, fiddling with her phone. Reid was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a book in his hand. His eyes flew down the page and every second he flipped to a new one.

They all looked up when they heard the door open, and Emily could practically feel their disappointment at seeing her first. With a sigh, she stepped aside so they could see the man behind her.

Hotch walked in, then froze at the sight of his former colleagues. He suddenly looked uncomfortable, no doubt because of all the eyes on him.

Garcia was the first one to move. She sprang off the couch and flew across the room so fast she was a colorful blur. She threw her arms around Hotch and squeezed him tight.

"Y-You're back!" she sobbed, tears beginning to soak Hotch's jacket.

"Garcia," he wheezed.

"Yes, sir?" When she noticed he couldn't breathe, she stepped back. "Sorry."

Hotch was silent for a moment before giving in and smiling warmly. That only made Garcia cry harder, and she gave him another hug, though a more gentle one.

JJ came next. She eagerly hugged the man she saw as a brother and whispered, "Thank God you're okay."

After JJ was Morgan. Hotch offered his hand, but Morgan shook his head and clapped Hotch on the back. Hotch rolled his eyes as he accepted the man-hug.

"It's great to see you, man," Morgan said.

Reid was last. He timidly walked forward, an uncertain look on his face. Hotch was the only father figure he really had left, since Gideon and his biological dad walked away. When Hotch had disappeared, Reid had never felt more alone.

Hotch knew exactly what was running through the younger man's head, and he gave Reid a hug with no hesitation. Reid broke down and cried at that point, and even Hotch felt some tears spring up in his eyes.

"So this is why you came inside," Emily murmured to Rossi over by the door. They were both watching Hotch embrace Reid while JJ and Garcia cried and Morgan grinned.

"They wanted to see him," Rossi replied with a shrug. "I wasn't going to stop them."

"He needed this," she agreed. "This probably erased any fears he had."

"Oh, no. He's still afraid, but at least now he knows he's not alone."

"He was never alone," Emily argued, looking over at Rossi.

"I know that," Rossi said. "But he didn't."

Emily just nodded before joining the team. Garcia gave her a hug and thanked her for bringing Hotch home, though Emily pointed out that Garcia got her the ticket. Eventually they all found themselves sitting in Emily's living room. Hotch was seated in the middle of the couch between JJ and Garcia, Rossi took the armchair, and Morgan, Emily, and Reid sat on barstools.

"So, how've you been, Hotch?" Morgan asked.

"Yeah, how are you?" Garcia asked concernedly. Hotch sighed warily.

"As well as can be expected with all this," he admitted. He looked around the room. "I'm happy to see all of you."

"We're glad to see you, too," JJ said.

Hotch looked at Morgan. "Heard you're Unit Chief."

"Yeah, but I'm not really made for the job. Your office is waiting for you," Morgan said.

"It'll have to wait a bit longer," Hotch said gravely. The team fell silent at the reminder. Yet another bad guy was tormenting their leader. Would the madness ever end?

"We'll get him," Rossi declared. Everyone nodded, except Hotch. He was staring at the coffee table in front of him.

After that the team tried to keep the good spirits alive, but they could see Hotch was fading fast. The speed at which things were moving was too rapid for him, and he looked overwhelmed. Pretty soon they said their goodbyes and promised to keep him posted on things at the office. Rossi said they would start hunting Finch that week.

Once the door closed on the last BAU member, Emily turned and eyed Hotch. He was sitting motionless on the couch, looking lost. Emily swallowed and dropped her gaze to the floor before looking up again and walking over to him. She lowered herself onto the couch and stared at him, but didn't reach out to touch him. She wanted to, but wasn't sure if he would want that right now.

For the longest time Hotch didn't speak, and it seemed like he wasn't going to. His brown eyes were vacant, and Emily thought he looked even older than he had on the plane. She quickly decided to take charge.

"Come on," she said, standing up. He remained silent, but thankfully turned his gaze to her. "You're exhausted," she explained. She walked over to the door and picked up his duffle bag from where they'd left it earlier. Hefting it onto her back, she moved back to Hotch and held out her hand. He remained motionless for a moment before reaching out and accepting her hand. Emily felt a surge of warmth when his smooth hand slid into hers.

Tugging gently, she led him up the stairs and to the right, moving down the hall. She reached the guest room at the end and nudged the door open with her foot. A simple, king-sized bed with no sheets stood in the center with a nightstand to the right. Against the wall across from the bed was a black bureau with a large mirror. The door to the bathroom was along the same wall as the door to the hallway.

"Sorry it's not made up," Emily apologized, dropping Hotch's hand and setting his bag on the bed. She instantly mourned the loss of contact. "I don't keep the sheets on it if no one's using it. Lemme get some."

As she left the room, she hoped Hotch would move around, maybe unpack his things. Something. Unfortunately, she was let down when she returned and saw her former boss hadn't moved from where he stood in the doorway.

Sighing, she scooted past him and set the folded sheets on the bed. Grabbing his bag, she briskly unzipped it and began putting away the pitiful amount of clothing it held. Sweaters and jeans were placed in the drawers. His toiletries she stuck in the bathroom. Her heart stopped for a second when she found the photos, but she hurriedly regained her composure and placed them on the nightstand.

Once everything was away, her stuffed the duffel under the bed and started to put the sheets on it. Somehow that snapped Hotch out of his reverie, for he suddenly said "I'll do that."

Emily looked over in surprise. "You sure? It's no problem."

"I've got it," he insisted. He looked embarrassed at his trance-like behavior a few moments ago. "You've done enough."

"Okay," she said slowly, drifting towards the door. She knew he needed his privacy, but she longed to stay with him and talk to him. To hold him and let him know it was okay to be afraid. Just 24 hours ago they had been doing just that, but that seemed worlds away now.

"I'll, uh, let you get some rest," she continued, leaving enough space between her and the door in case he wanted to call her back.

"Good night," he said instead, already dragging the pale green sheets across the mattress. Emily's heart sank, but she smiled bravely and said her own goodnight before walking down the hall.

What was I expecting? She silently berated herself. He's been through a major shock in the last few hours, he's not gonna run into your arms know that he's home. He needs time.

Still, that didn't mean it didn't hurt. The man she loved was struggling, and she felt so useless. She wished she knew what to do to help.

The thought came to her when she was brushing her teeth. It came so suddenly, like a flash of an image.

The pictures. The one she had retrieved from Hotch's bag. One had been of the team, but the other was of Jack. Hotch had already seen the team, but hadn't talked to Jack in months.

A small smile spread across her face as she picked up her cell phone and scrolled through her contacts. She needed to make phone call.

Down the hall, Hotch was laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He had put the sheets on the bed, put on his pajamas, and brushed his teeth. He was exhausted, yet couldn't fall asleep. He couldn't shut his brain off.

So much had happened in the past day. He'd gone from living alone in upstate New York to taking up residence in Emily Prentiss' apartment.

He knew he should be happy to be back. Thrilled, relieved, anything but how he felt, which was empty. He'd dreamed about this day for months, pictured what would happen. He always envisioned it as him stepping off the plane to find the team waiting for him at the gate. Rossi would tell him they'd caught Finch and that Hotch was cleared and that everything could go back to normal. They'd drive him to his apartment, where Jack would be waiting. He would have ran to the door and thrown his tiny arms around Hotch's legs. Sometimes, if Hotch thought hard enough, he could almost feel it.

But this wasn't his fantasies. Finch wasn't behind bars, and nothing was back to normal. He had to hide in Emily's apartment until that happened, forced to be a recluse.

And worst of all, Jack wasn't there with him.

Hotch could feel the tears threatening to reveal themselves, and he fiercely rubbed his eyes in an attempt to shoo them away.

Pull yourself together Aaron, he thought. He moaned and tilted his head back on the pillow even farther before slumping back into his original position.

Life sucks.

His only form of comfort at the moment was at the opposite end of the hall, where she went after he'd pushed her away. He knew she wanted to help and be there for him, but he'd been so caught up in his misery he had rebuffed her attempt at soothing him. Stupid Aaron.

Suddenly, as if his thoughts had called her, there was a soft knock on the door. He sat up and rubbed his eyes again to make sure no tears slipped out. "Come in."

Emily stepped in, wearing silk purple pajamas. The pants were more like capris, and the straps were thin on her shoulders. She looked beautiful.

"I had an idea," she said, moving toward the bed. She held out her cell phone and a slip of paper with a phone number scribbled on it.

"What's this?" he asked, staring at it in confusion.

"The way to get in contact with Jack," Emily said simply, holding the items out farther. Hotch's eyes widened.

"Emily… I can't."

"Why not?"

"If word gets out that I'm here…" His voice trailed off as he gazed at the phone. It was so tempting.

"He won't tell anyone," Emily assured him. "I just talked to Jessica, and she promised to make sure he stays quiet."

Hotch swallowed. "Really?"

"Really," she replied softly, smiling in encouragement. "C'mon, Hotch. Admit it. You need this."

His eyes never left the slightly crumpled piece of paper as he accepted it from her. She pressed her phone into his palm and made sure he had a firm grip before letting go. She paused at the door to look back.

"Just give me the phone in the morning, okay?" She offered him a kind smile, and Hotch felt his heart lift. He nodded his understanding, and she began to leave the room.

"Emily," he called. It still felt odd calling her by her first name, but he liked it. She turned back and raised her eyebrows in questioning.

"Thank you," he said hoarsely. Emily grinned and nodded before leaving.

He stared at the square of paper in his hand for ages. He flipped it over and over, trying to gather the courage to type the seven numbers in. Several times he began to do it before cancelling the call.

It was silly, what he was doing. He was afraid of talking to his own son.

Shaking his head, he cautiously thumbed each number, bringing the phone to his ear once he was done. The automated ringing sounded, and his heart thumped madly while he waited.

"Hello?" an impish voice asked carefully. Hotch's chest constricted.

"Hey, buddy," he croaked.

"DADDY!" Jack cried.

"Yeah, Jack, it's me. How's my little man?"

"I'm good, Daddy. I miss you."

Hotch closed his eyes against the wave of tears. "I know. I miss you too."

"When are you coming home?"

Hotch cleared his throat. "Not quite yet, Jack, but soon."

"You gotta fight the bad guys?" Jack asked. Hotch nodded even though his son couldn't see him.

"Yeah, I gotta fight the bad guys." He rubbed his forehead. "But when I'm done, I'll come home to you. I promise."

"You'll get them, Daddy," Jack declared, his voice as solemn as a five-year-old could be.

"I hope so," Hotch whispered. He shook his head before saying, "But let's not worry about that now. How's school?"

Jack regaled him with stories about his life for the last few months. He told his father all about his soccer games and his spelling bee. Hotch just smiled to himself and listened, soaking in the sound of his son's voice. Occasionally he said something like, "Oh, really?" and other words of encouragement. Sometime during the conversation he leaned back against the headboard.

Eventually Hotch could hear the wariness in Jack's voice. Glancing at the digital clock on the nightstand, he saw it was nearly ten o'clock. Way past Jack's bedtime.

"You need to get to sleep, buddy," Hotch said, wishing he didn't have to. He could already feel the loneliness return.

"Do I have to?"

"Yes, you do." He paused. "I'm sorry, Jack."

"It's okay. I have school tomorrow."

That wasn't why Hotch was saying sorry, but it didn't matter.

"I love you so much," Hotch said, gripping the phone tightly.

"I love you too, Daddy!" Jack chirped. "I can't wait to see you!"

"And I can't wait to see you too. But remember, no one can know we talked. It's our little secret."

"Of course," Jack whispered confidentially. "I'll be the bestest secret keeper ever."

"I know you will. Good night, Jack."

"Night, Daddy!"

Jack hung up, but Hotch kept the phone by his ear for a long time after that. Finally, he set it on the nightstand and slid down so he was no longer sitting. The tears came out now, faster and in greater numbers than earlier.

I'll get him, Jack. I'll get the bad guy.