Genre: Crime

Author: SussiRay


"Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?" Hotch said, taking another envelope from Emily's hand and pressing a stamp onto it. A few months ago he would have seen it fit to tease her mercilessly about this ridiculous idea. But after their (semi-) mutual decision to stay just friends, even though there was an obvious sexual attraction between them, the timing never felt completely right for joking and teasing anymore. They still hung out almost every single day, and they had a good even great time together but he couldn't deny the elephant in the room – he still wanted her – and it made an awkwardness creep into their time together.

"For the umpteenth time – yes!" Emily exclaimed, smacking Hotch's chest. She ignored the little butterfly flapping through her stomach at the brief body contact. Very little touching between them had happened over the last few weeks, only the odd hug here and there. "Why do you keep asking?"

"Because I didn't think this was something you'd be into," Hotch said, "Besides isn't it a little… corny?"

"Of course it's corny," Emily laughed, "that's what makes it so much fun. I'm doing this for you, you know. I want you to have one last fun day before you leave for Seattle and this way you get to meet a few of my friends and I get to meet yours."

"I know," Hotch said, "and it's really nice of you to want to do something, you really didn't have to. I just thought you didn't like big parties." He couldn't tell her how strange it felt that she was organizing a party on one of his last days in DC. He'd much rather stick his head in the sand and pretend like he wouldn't be leaving her in just a couple of weeks. But she had asked if he wanted to do one last really memorable thing the day before he left and he couldn't say no to her. He'd never been able to do it.

"Oh, stop being such a drag, Hotch," Emily sighed as she slid the last invitation into its envelope and handed it to Hotch, "it's not a big party, it's a couple of my closest friends from Yale and your friend from the Academy. Simon, the guy organizing it, is a really good friend of mine and he's a struggling actor and doing parties like this is his way of getting by."

"But a murder mystery party?"

"Oh, come on. It'll be fun. We'll get to dress up in fun forties outfits and drink dry martinis and you'll get to meet some of my other friends. I promise, it'll be awesome."


Hotch raised a reluctant hand and pressed the doorbell at the Prentiss mansion. Waiting for the hostess for the evening to arrive he awkwardly ran a hand across his hair. He felt silly, he'd never worn a tuxedo before, nor had his hair slicked back. He felt like he had a hundred pairs of eyes on him.

A few minutes later he could hear the faint sound of clicking heels behind the door and another few seconds later it was pushed open. The first thing he saw was her wide smile, blood red lips framing a set of impossibly white teeth, and her eyes twinkling at him under mile-long, jet-black, lashes. His jaw dropped and a familiar surge heated his insides. He couldn't stop looking at her. Her deep red dress was the second thing that grabbed him, the way it hugged her torso, showing a healthy amount of milky pale cleavage and the way it flowed around her lean legs.

"You look good, Hotch," Emily said, breaking the heavy silence.

"Oh," Hotch gasped, struggling to tear his eyes from her, "Thanks. You look beautiful, Emily." His eyes swept across her again, from her dark, gently curled, hair cascading over her shoulders along her soft curves to the tips of her toes. It felt… unreal that this would be their last night together. He wasn't sure if he really would be able to just let her go that easily.

"Come on," Emily said, taking Hotch's hand and tugging him along behind her, "you have to see the dining room, it looks amazing! And you'll get a chance to meet Simon before we start, maybe that'll get you to loosen up a bit," Emily said, mistaking Hotch's tensed posture as nerves about the party.

"Simon!" Emily called and a short blond man appeared at the back of the room. He was dressed in a trench coat, but with a brown wool suit underneath, not a tuxedo. Emily, who'd helped Hotch with his outfit, had convinced him to get the tuxedo. He looked down at his shiny shoes and sighed imperceptibly, he still felt silly.

"Agent Hotchner," Simon said, reaching out and shaking Hotch's hand, "Emily's told me about you."

"Please, it's Aaron," Hotch said, "or Hotch. Emily's told me about you as well. That you're an actor. That must be interesting."

"It can be," Simon said, giving Hotch a friendly smile, "right now though, this is what's keeping me busy. I hope you'll have a fun night, Aaron. Now I have to go help the others set up the last few things, I'll see you both a little while." He gave Emily a quick kiss on the cheek, shook Hotch's hand again, and disappeared into a back room.

Hotch felt relieved when he left. Not because he didn't like him, he thought he seemed like a nice enough guy, but because he'd get Emily to himself. At least until the other guests arrived. He carefully watched Emily as she crossed the room, pushing a chair to the side to make more free space. She looked just as good from the back, the dress hugging her rounded backside and her high heels enhancing the muscles in her strong legs. He felt another uncomfortable twinge, a little pinch in the pit of his stomach that somehow told him that he just couldn't leave their relationship as it were.

He watched Emily lean against the sill of one of the giant windows and look outside. "I can see Christine and Tracy, they'll be here any minute," she said, starting to walk towards the foyer. "When did you say Tom would get here?"

Hotch looked down at his watch. "Oh… Um. Any minute now, I'd suppose. His shift ends at seven, and it's nearly eight now so he should get here soon." Hotch said. Tom was his closest friend from the Academy and really the only one Hotch could see himself spending an entire night with except for Emily.

The doorbell rang and Hotch followed Emily to the grand entrance where he watched her open the door and let in two happily smiling women dressed just as Emily in figure hugging dresses and high heels. Standing a few feet away he watched them exchange hugs and kisses. His heart beat a little faster as he waited for them to notice him. His mind had time to wonder for a minute what she'd introduce him as, before rationality came back and told him that they were just friends, and that's what he'd be introduced as.

"Christine… Tracy," Emily said, leading them over to Hotch, "This is Aaron or Hotch as he was nice enough to let me rename him." She smiled at the memory, though all of a sudden it felt really distant. "Uhm, Hotch," she said, gathering her thoughts, "these are my best friends from Yale; Christine and Tracy."

He shook their hands, offering up the warmest smile he had in his arsenal. He really wanted Emily's friends to like him, he didn't know why since he'd be leaving the next day and he didn't even know if their friendship would continue after that. But still he felt like he needed their approval. He felt himself beginning to get lost in these musings when the doorbell, ringing a second time, saved him from himself. "That must be Tom," he said to Emily, "I can get it."

He walked over to the large oak door, pushing it open. "Hey, Tom," he said, opening the door wider, "come on in." Leading his friend, who'd fortunately also chosen to wear a tux, into the room and introducing him to Emily and her friends he noticed that the other man's eyes dropped for just a second when he met Emily. Possessiveness bubbled inside him, but he trampled it down.

As they entered the living room, Emily talking vividly with her two friends and Hotch exchanging a few words with Tom about Tom's latest case, they were greeted by tall man in a uniform. "Good evening," he said, "and welcome to my home. I am Colonel Winters and I hope that you will all enjoy this quiet, peaceful, soirée together. We are all friends here and I hope for a glorious night." He walked over to the two other new people in the room, one man and one woman, both dressed as waiters. "This is Ellen and John. They will attend to your every need so that your evening here at Winters Mansion will be as pleasant as possible."

With that the waitress, Ellen, walked over to each guest handing them each a Martini and a small set of cards. Hotch took a small sip and glanced at the first card. "Welcome to Murder Mansion," it said, "the rules of the game are as follows. On these cards you will receive information about your character, as well as clues as to who the murderer is. Every half hour, when the bell chimes, you will read a new card and disclose the information on it to your fellow players. You may also receive information that might be best if you keep to yourself." And at the very bottom of Hotch's card it said; "Your character is Sterling Macallen, you are a wealthy oil tycoon and one of Colonel Winter's closest friends."

Hotch arched an eyebrow at the card and his name for the night. It didn't seem too hard though, all he had to do was read off a card every now and then and the rest of the night he could spend with Emily.

"Please," Colonel Winters said, "Mingle! Have fun!"

Hotch walked over to Emily. He would have felt bad leaving Tom, but he had already made his way over to Christine and the two were in deep conversation. "Hello," he said, when he reached her, "Sterling Macallen," he said, taking Emily's hand in his.

"Hello, Sterling," Emily said, barely disguising the snigger, "I'm Betty LaFleur." She allowed him to bring her hand to his lips and press a soft kiss against her knuckles. "So, how do you know the Colonel?" she said.

"He's my closest friend," Hotch answered.

"Oh, well then we must have met before," Emily chuckled, "you see, the Colonel is my sweetheart."

Hotch didn't really know what else to say as his character once he had exhausted the information given to him by the card. So they stood silently next to each other sipping their drinks. And truthfully he didn't know what to say to her as himself either. Emily had been warm and sweet and funny all night, she was always those things, but there was a distance in her eyes that he'd been seeing there more and more over the last weeks and it worried him.

Pulling air into his lungs he was just about to ask a question he'd been wondering about for some time when the Colonel's booming voice filled the room again. "Friends!" he said, "I will take it upon myself to make sure that dinner is progressing as planned. Please, enjoy yourself while I am gone." He gave the room a wide smile and left.

As Hotch was about to return to his conversation, if you could call standing silent next to each other for almost ten minutes a conversation, when the waiter showed up in front of him. "Cocktail? Hors d'oeuvre?" He held out a tray in front of Hotch.

Accepting another drink with a smile, he almost dropped the glass as a shrill shriek shook the room. All conversation died. Everyone looked up, gasping, as Ellen the waitress ran into the room. "Call the police!" she yelled. "He's dead! The Colonel is dead! He's been murdered!"

The bell telling them that it was time to read their next card sounded. Hotch fished the stack from his pocket and read the words printed on the ivory paper; "You may let the room know that you and the Colonel were entering into business together, importing exotic fruits. It may however be best if you keep to yourself that you and Miss LaFleur, the Colonel's lady friend, have been having an affair for almost six months." He swallowed awkwardly, looking up at Emily. She had her back turned to him, her eyes still gliding across her card. Either she hadn't received the same information or she didn't even want to pretend that they were lovers.

Starting to walk towards her he was stopped once more as the door flew open and Simon, or whatever he was called when he was his character who apparently was a detective as he had a shiny badge, stepped inside. "Everyone, stop!" he shouted. "A man has been murdered here tonight and I have reason to believe that the murderer is in this very room."


Emily looked around the room. Hotch was talking to Tom, she didn't know if they were talking as friends or as their characters – Sterling Macallen and Lord Pickleton two business rivals trying to enter into the same market and both backed by the Colonel. On the other side of the room Simon, definitely in his character of Detective Plymouth, was grilling Christine and Tracy or Annette and Alexis the daughters to one of the Colonel's closest friends who'd died mysteriously a few months earlier leaving a big chunk of his fortune to the Colonel instead of his daughters.

Emily shook her head and sipped her drink. The information she had received over the last few hours was almost starting to jumble together into one big mess in her brain. But she was admittedly competitive and wanted to be the one to figure out who the murderer was. So far her top suspects were Hotch, well Sterling Macallen, and herself.

She glanced at Hotch again. She couldn't shake how incredibly handsome he looked. She knew he thought he looked silly, but the dark tuxedo made him look even taller than he was and she thought the way his hair was gelled back and parted at the side was cute. They hadn't spent much of the dinner together. They'd been seated at different ends of the table and, well frankly, she felt relieved. It was clear to her that Hotch wanted to talk to her about something, she didn't know exactly what, but she had her suspicions and she didn't know what she'd tell him. What she did know was that still, after weeks of being only friends, her heart still jumped every time he looked at her. That coated every interaction she had with him with tension. She smiled and she laughed but it never filled her whole body like it used to before she found out he would leave her. So she just couldn't go down that road, doing that would only lead to both their hearts breaking.

Her deep thoughts keeping her occupied, Emily didn't notice Hotch approach her until he was standing right beside her. She flinched when he said her name, her real name.

"Emily? Sorry," he said, "I thought you saw me."

"Lost in thought," Emily said, giving a small smile. "Trying to figure out who the killer might be," she fibbed, "but it's hard, we've had so much information thrown at us. How're you doing?"

"Okay, I guess," Hotch said, "I am a trained FBI agent, after all."

"Right," Emily smiled.

"Uhm, so," Hotch began, his voice quivering ever so slightly, "I've been meaning to ask you if you've decided your plans for fall yet?"

"No, not yet," Emily said, lying through her teeth. She'd decided a couple of weeks earlier that she wanted to look into the FBI. Hotch was her inspiration, the way he'd dealt with some of the situations they'd found themselves in took her breath away. But she didn't want to give him any false hope. Just because she wanted his career didn't mean she saw a future for them. "I'm still trying to figure out who I am," she said, after a few moments silence, "Who knows? Maybe I'll go to Europe."

"Oh." Hotch's disappointment was shining in his eyes.

"Uhm, yeah… So… Uh, I have to talk to Christine about something," Emily said, beginning to walk away, "We'll talk more later, okay?" As she turned her back to Hotch her eyes burned. She was just about to excuse herself and go to the restroom when the bell rang. Looking at the clock she realized that it was time for the final card, the one that would reveal to one participant that they were the killer and give the rest of the room their final information. After that all that was left was the truth coming out.

She opened her purse and pulled out the last card. "Announce to the room that you have been having an affair with Sterling Macallen for six months," it read, "and that's not all, you're also pregnant, but you don't know who the father is."

Detective Plymouth, Simon, came up behind her. "Miss LaFleur," he said, "I do believe you are the last one of this little merry group with some information left to disclose. Something that concerns Mr Macallen if I am not mistaken."

Emily took a step forward, trying to make every move as dramatic as she could. "I am with child," she said and looked at Hotch, "it could be the Colonel's, but it might also be Sterling's." She paused, letting the others digest the information, as the rules said that no one was allowed to guess who the killer was until every guest had all the pieces of the puzzle.

She stepped over to Hotch with determined strides. Remembering something Tom, Lord Pickleton, had said earlier about working with the Colonel, she pointed her finger at Hotch. "Murderer!" she exclaimed, "you killed the Colonel because you thought he was sabotaging your emerging business deal AND because you wanted to eliminate all competition for the market and for me!" When Hotch didn't answer she knew she was right.

"My deduction exactly!" Detective Plymouth said, "Very well done Miss LaFleur!" He smiled and walked over to Emily. "And very well done, Emily, you are the winner of tonight's game. I don't know if anyone has ever cracked it that quickly after receiving all the information. Let's have a big hand for Emily, everybody!"

Everyone clapped with Emily joining in as the 'dead' Colonel came back into the room together with Ellen the waitress and John waiter. With Simon leading them they took their bows and the game was over.


Half an hour later everyone had left but Hotch. Again Emily felt like he wanted to tell her something. She didn't believe all he wanted to ask her were her plans for fall. She felt torn into several little pieces. Tonight was possibly the last time she would ever see him again, and all she wanted was for him to leave without talking to her.

She sighed, turning to Hotch to tell him goodnight, when the door flew open and her mother stormed into the room.

"Emily!" she said, and Emily saw the tears rolling down her cheeks, "I need to talk to you. It's Grandfather."

A/N: Thanks for reading! This was seriously one of the most fun things to write and I want to know what you thought so I'd LOVE some feedback… purdy please…