A/N: As you know this story is, of course, AH, so I am taking some liberties here…you'll see…
Genre: Spiritual
Author: SussiRay
Hotch watched Emily carefully as they walked slowly side-by-side, down the small street in the heart of Washington. He stayed as close to her as he could without them actually touching. The want to interlace his fingers with hers was picking at the back of his mind, but he dutifully ignored it staying well inside 'friend territory'. The sun was shining, pleasantly warming his skin and casting a glow over Emily, making her raven hair dance and sparkle like diamonds. He just couldn't wrap his brain around just how looked beautiful she looked and the way it tugged at his heart.
Though despite the pleasant scene he felt a need to keep his eyes her, not to gaze at her beauty, but to try to figure out what was flickering so restlessly through her mind. The sun shone brightly but above her a cloud was lingering. It was obvious that something was bothering her. It showed in the way she carried herself and the way her eyes didn't twinkle like they always did.
He glanced at her again, his hands rolling into tight fists. It had been almost a week since they together had come closer to death than any man would ever consider comfortable. He himself still had trouble sleeping at night and he was trained for situations just like that. So he could only assume that Emily did as well. But she would not say, insisting that she was fine whenever he would ask her. He had thought, maybe foolishly he wondered now, that that day brought them closer; the kiss they had shared. But she had not mentioned their kiss since that night and he had refrained from bringing up the subject. But to be honest he was confused.
He would have understood her if she had said that she had just got caught up in the moment, that it had been a one-time thing. Even though that would have surprised him. If she had been embarrassed about it, or had just plain decided that she didn't have those deeper feelings for him, he would have expected her to tell him so. Emily was nothing if not straight forward; it was one of his favorite things about her. Then he would have expected her to be sweet and friendly and joke at her own expense to make him feel better. Another of the multitude of wonderful things about her; no one had a bigger heart than her. But she had been eerily quiet the last few days, seemingly always lost in thought. Well, he thought, it was time to walk out on that limb and find out what exactly was bugging her.
"Hey, Em," he said, giving her a smile as he met her eyes, "wanna sit down for a bit?" He pointed at a bench a few yards away, surrounded by leafy green trees.
"Sure." She allowed him to guide her over and sat down next to him, but still a part of her mind seemed to be a million miles away.
"Emily?" Hotch said, gently touching her elbow to catch her attention again. "Is there something you'd like to talk about? It really seems like something is bothering you," he said, deciding that the straight forward approach would be his best choice, "And before you say no and that everything's fine, I know that there is something wrong. What's wrong?"
Emily sighed, her eyes on her hands restlessly twitching in her lap. "It's what happened last week," she said, finally.
"I kinda figured as much," Hotch said, sliding his arm across her shoulders, smiling as he felt some of the tension leave her body, "Are you having nightmares?"
"Some," Emily said, nodding slowly and, to his relief, she leaned into him, "they're not that bad though, not anymore."
"Then what is it, sweetheart?" Hotch said, the endearment slipping past his lips without him noticing it.
"I just keep thinking about the people who weren't as lucky as us," Emily said, her voice wavering slightly, "about those innocent people that George killed."
Hotch felt his heart sink like a stone. Of course that was what had been bothering her. She hadn't been thinking about herself, about how close she had come to dying, but about the two couples that hadn't made it. He pulled her closer, wrapping his arm tighter around her, the need to protect her more present than ever before.
"I've taken both psychology and criminology at school," she said, her voice a bit steadier, "I know that people like him are out there, a lot of people like him, I get that." She sighed. "But I just can't seem understand how someone can just end someone's life like that. Just like that! Without any remorse."
Hotch stroked a hand over her head. He realized that this was something she needed to get off her chest so he didn't interrupt with any soothing words; he just let his hand glide gently over her hair as she sobbed quietly. Still he felt like he needed to do more for her and he wanted to do something for George's victims as well. He looked to his left down the road they had come and spotted what he was looking for immediately; a church they'd walked by earlier, demanding attention among the other buildings with its grand architecture, though still a source of solace. It wouldn't be much, a candle and a prayer, but it would be something.
"Emily, sweetheart," he said, giving her shoulders a squeeze, she had stopped crying but her eyes were still red and puffy as she looked up at him, "Would you like to go in there?" He glanced at the church and she followed his gaze with hers. "We could light candles for George's victims, maybe say a prayer." To his surprise he could feel her body stiffen under his arms again, as her eyes lingered on the wooden doors to the church.
He knew her family was Catholic and he had understood from at least her mother, that they were practicing Catholics. But the Ambassador had never said anything about her daughter and, well, he usually didn't work nights and weekends so he didn't know whether Emily was as devout as her mother seemed to be. Though this was certainly something more than just a lapsed Catholic wondering whether she should or shouldn't, she had visibly flinched when he had suggested lighting candles and saying prayers. Again he felt like he was going out on a limb, about to ask her something he probably had no business knowing. But something was so obviously wrong and he just couldn't stand to see her so upset.
"What is it, Emily?" he said, gently.
"Uh…It's nothing," she said, trying to scoot away from him but her held her tight, "I'd just rather not go in there, is all."
"Please don't shut me out, Emily," Hotch said, the hurt in his voice surprising even him, "I am your friend. Please let me help."
"It's really nothing," Emily said one more time, though with a lot less conviction.
"Emily, you became stiff as a board when I mentioned going into that church so I really don't believe that it's nothing. But I won't push you, just please know that I am here for you if you need anything. I hate to see you this upset." He drew in a breath and looked away, allowing her some space, though not releasing his hold on her shoulders.
Emily sighed. He was trying to help her. He had been trying to help her all week and she had shut him out. She felt awful. He was being a good friend, her best friend, and she was being a bitch. Though she didn't know if she could bear telling him the whole truth yet, she wanted to give him some explanation. "It's a long story," she said and he turned back to look her in the eyes, "I honestly don't know if I can share it all with you right now."
"That's okay," Hotch said, pulling her closer again, "You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to."
"I do want to, Hotch," Emily said, leaning into him, drawing strength from his warm body, "I need to. You are my closest friend and," she paused, a shadow of insecurity crossing her face, "I hope that we can be more than friends someday and I want to be honest with you."
Hotch smiled encouragingly as she drew a deep breath. "When I was fifteen," she said, "we were living in Rome, my mother was stationed there." Her eyes flickered across his face. "I did some things there that I shouldn't have. Nothing illegal or anything like that, just some things I'm not all too proud of."
Hotch nodded. He had an inkling as to what she meant but he kept it to himself, when she wanted him to know she would tell him.
"Well, I went to a priest when I'd gotten into trouble, hoping and believing that he would help me and guide me and tell me that God would forgive me." She sniffled softly, turning into Hotch's embrace. "Well, let's just say he didn't take very kindly to my problems and he didn't have anything to say to me other than that I wasn't welcome in his church anymore." She drew another deep breath. "I…uh…took care of my problems and I did go back to that church, once, but the whole experience scarred me and I have stayed away from it ever since." She grew silent, her hands wrung tightly together in her lap.
Hotch's heart ached. He could see in her eyes that this was something she had carried alone the last seven years. He didn't push, he assumed that there was more to the story but this was what she had been comfortable telling him and he was very grateful that she had such trust in him that she would allow him a glimpse of this secret room inside her mind. He twisted in his seat and enveloped her in a tight hug. She rested her cheek on his chest and he drew warm circles across her back. "You don't have to go in there if you're not ready," he whispered against her hair, "you don't have to do anything you don't want to."
"I want to do something for the men and women that George killed," Emily said.
"We can still do something," Hotch said, "We could do something out here. Would you like that?" A smile touched his lips as he felt her nod against his chest. "I think I saw a place up the street where we could get some candles, I could go get some and we could light them out here, in the sun."
"I'd like that," Emily said.
When Hotch came back five minutes later, Emily had left the bench. He found her thirty feet away by the foot of the tallest tree. He walked over. As he came up next to her he wrapped his arm around her waist, reveling in how natural it felt to do so. "Hey," he said, "I got these." He handed her the bag with four candles and a matchbox. "What do you want to do?"
"I thought we could put the candles here, on the ground by the tree," she said, "and just have a moment of silence for them."
"Alright," Hotch bent down, putting the candles on the ground, keeping a safe distance from the broad tree trunk, and watched as Emily then lit them one by one.
"Let's close our eyes," Emily said. He closed his and folded his hands together. As he stood there with his eyes closed, feeling the sun shine on his face, he sent a small prayer for each one of George's victims and finally one for Emily – he didn't think she would mind. After a minute he cracked one eye open and saw that Emily still had hers closed. He took the opportunity to watch her, feeling relief and joy as he took in her peaceful expression.
A/N: Thank you for reading! Please leave a review. :)
