Interrogation rooms had become something of a second home to Hotch. He had been in so many that every new one he entered had an air of familiarity to it. It was a comfortable place for him to be in, with the spare furnishings, the harsh lighting, they all seemed to have even the same smell; a mixture of fear, sweat, anxiety and justice. Yes, Aaron Hotchner was comfortable in interrogation rooms, until today.
Today was the first day that Hotch had been on the other side. He always walked into an interrogation room knowing it was his home court. Today was different. Kramer had allowed Hotch to get dressed and the FBI agent had thrown on a pair of jeans, t-shirt and a dress shirt. He realized now that he should have worn his suit. He knew clothing could give one a psychological boost, but never realized how dependent he himself was on it. His suit made him feel authoritative, trustworthy, confident, and it gave him that air of command, instant respect. Right now, he looked like any other suspect being questioned.
Kramer had been exceedingly polite. Perhaps the connection in law enforcement made him extend that extra effort at courtesy. He had gotten Hotch a bottle of water and some aspirins when it became clear the profiler had a headache. Both had helped and Hotch suspected dehydration might have played some part in his minor pain. He actually felt hung over, but he didn't remember drinking too much last night. In fact, he didn't remember much of last night at all.
Jack was away with Jessica this week and next. Hotch had been spending some late nights at the office, attempting to get through the mountain of paperwork he had on his desk so he would have more time to spend with his son when Jack returned from his trip. It also helped him to avoid Beth.
He had broken it off with the woman a few weeks earlier. She had grown increasingly demanding and resentful of the time Hotch was spending at work. While that was understandable and made him realize that this relationship would not work out, what was the final straw was when she began to suspect he was carrying on an affair with someone at work, namely Emily.
It was all completely innocent, but Beth had read too much into the situation. Although he had insisted that Emily tell him of her bad days and she had in one instance, she never confided in him again. However, he recognized when those days came. He always knew. When he suspected Emily was hiding those feelings, he had made it a point to truly study her and learned to read all of her tells.
She was still struggling and she wasn't telling him.
He let the matter slide the first two times, but when the third bad day occurred and she had said nothing to him, he had simply taken matters in to his own hands.
It was after a particularly gruesome case involving yet another serial rapist/killer. The case had taken its toll on all of them so the plane ride back to Quantico was very quiet. Emily's behavior would have gone unnoticed and had by everyone but Hotch. He knew when she was having a bad day when she took the single seat near the front of the plane. This prevented anyone from sitting nearby and engaging her in a conversation or even simply being near enough to see something was wrong. She would also allow the book she had brought with her sit idle on her lap and she would stare for hours out the window as the plane cut through the sky.
When they landed, and as everyone made their weary, separate ways, Hotch had grabbed her elbow, and ignoring her questions, steered her to his car. Despite her demands for an answer, he had simply shoved her into his vehicle, tossed, their bags into the back and drove to a little café he frequented.
The café was fairly empty this late at night. It stayed open 24 hours a day and at 11 pm, it only boasted a few patrons. Hotch found a quiet table in the corner and ordered coffee for himself and tea for Emily.
He remembered the irritated look that she gave him when he ordered their beverages. Before the waitress walked away, Emily stopped the woman and asked for a cheeseburger and fries. When the waitress went to fill their orders, his subordinate sat back in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest.
"If you're going to kidnap me, you're buying me dinner."
He had almost cracked a smile at that. Almost. He could see she was attempting to deflect again because though she looked irritated, he could see the faintest trace of anxiety in her eyes.
"You're breaking your promise to me," he began.
Emily raised an eyebrow at that. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Hotch smothered an annoyed sigh. With her it was always one step forward, two steps back. He glared at her. "Our deal. When you are having a bad day, you come to me."
"Oh that. Sorry, to disappoint you, Hotch, but I'm not having a bad day," she stated firmly.
She was so convincing Hotch momentarily doubted his assessment. Momentarily. He knew there was something else there.
So, he simply sat back and waited. He knew this was the fastest way to get her to blink first: overwhelm her with his stony silence.
They sat there in silence until their food came. They sat there as Emily ate her food. They sat there when the waitress came back and asked if they wanted dessert. When they had declined, Emily had had enough.
"Fine!" she said in exasperation. She looked at him with angry and wounded eyes. She didn't want to do this and he knew that. A part of him felt terrible for making her go through this, to lay herself bare, make herself vulnerable. He was the same way, but it had to be done. He had to know she was okay. He needed her to do this. For him.
"It's been a tough couple of weeks," she began quietly.
"I know."
"It's been tough on everyone, not just me," Emily continued. She looked curiously at him. "Are you checking in with the others?"
"I'm not interested in the others, I'm interested in you," Hotch replied without any hesitation. At Emily's raised eyebrows, he realized what he had just said and his cheeks began to burn. "Uh, I mean, I'm concerned about the impact it's had, considering everything you've gone through in the past year. I'm not interested in you. Well, I am, but not that way. Not that I wouldn't be. What man wouldn't be interested in you? Wait, er-"
Emily's amused chuckle stopped his babbling and he felt himself leveling her with a glare that only caused her to laugh even more.
"It's okay, Hotch, I knew what you meant," Emily grinned at him. "I know you're with, what's her name again? Beth? How's that going?"
"Its fine," he replied shortly and then sighed in apology when she raised an eyebrow at him. "She has issues with the job and the time I spend out of town."
Emily nodded sympathetically. "That's understandable. It might just take her some time to adjust."
"I'm not sure if I ca-," Hotch's jaw snapped shut when he realized she had managed to re-direct the conversation away from herself. He let out a sound that was a mixture of a growl and snort. "Nice try, but this isn't about me and Beth. It's about you."
It was her turn to sigh and sit back. "I'm fine. It's been a tough week, but I'm okay."
He raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. He looked down at her hands which were resting on top of the table. Unconsciously, she had begun to pick at her nails. Hotch placed a hand gently over hers to still her movements. Emily's eyes dropped down to their connected hands and he could see tears welling in her eyes.
"Talk to me, Em," he said softly.
He watched as she struggled for a few seconds, but slowly, she raised her head to look into his eyes. "I'm hav-"
"Aaron?"
The feminine voice was laced with irritation and anger. Neither Hotch nor Emily had realized that Beth had arrived and was standing next to their table. She looked suspiciously at the couple and directed her eyes to their joined hands.
"Beth?" Hotch asked in surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"I came looking for you," she said, the irritation and anger growing in her face and her tone. "You said this afternoon you would be back around ten o'clock. It's almost midnight right now. I've been waiting for you to come home and you haven't been answering your phone."
Hotch mentally slapped his hand to his forehead. Of course, he had spoken to Beth earlier in the day thinking he would go directly home after they landed, but Emily's state had him too worried and he completely forgot about Beth and his earlier conversation with her.
But Beth had not.
"I'm sorry, Beth, but something came up," Hotch began.
"Obviously," came the acidic reply. She glared pointedly at their joined hands.
Hotch made no move to remove his hand from Emily's, that would have implied they were doing something wrong and they weren't. Emily started to draw her hands back, but Hotch tightened his grip. She tugged a little more insistently and he reluctantly let her go. Emily placed her hands in her lap and looked embarrassedly between the arguing couple. "I think I should leave you two to talk," Emily murmured as she began to slide out of the booth.
"Emily-," Hotch began. He couldn't help but feel a flash of irritation towards Beth. It was always so difficult to get Prentiss to let down her guard and just when she was about to, they're interrupted. "You don't have to go."
The FBI agent glanced at the increasingly angry woman standing by their table. "Oh, I think I do," Emily muttered as she slid completely out of the booth. "Thanks for dinner, Hotch. Don't worry, everything is okay." She gave him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes though he knew she was making a valiant attempt to reassure him. She would have fooled any other person, but he knew her too well. She nodded politely at Beth and then hurried out of the café.
Hotch hesitated a moment and then he was standing up and hastily taking some money out of his wallet. Beth gaped at him.
"You're going after her? We're not finished here!" Beth spat out.
"I drove. She doesn't have a car and I still have her bag." He looked at Beth and sighed. "I'm sorry. It was inconsiderate of me to not let you know there was a change in plans, but Prentiss is going through a very tough time and as her supervisor, I need to know she's okay."
"You're doing far more than what a normal supervisor would be doing," came Beth's tart reply.
"We're friends, Beth. No, we're family. My whole team is family. When one of us is having a problem, we help that person out. That's something you have to realize and understand or-," his voice trailed off.
"Or what, Aaron?" she asked in a low, dangerous tone.
"Or it simply isn't going to work out between us," Hotch finished firmly. "We'll talk later." He hesitated a moment, wondering if he should reach out to her, but decided it would be best if he didn't. With one more apologetic look, he brushed past Beth and hurried out of the café to look for Emily.
Hotch rushed out into the parking lot and scanned the area. He didn't see Emily anywhere. He felt equal parts irritated and concerned. That woman simply insisted on doing everything on her own, with no help and likely in the hardest way possible.
Hotch let out a snort of frustration and hurried over to his car. Within seconds he was pulling out of the parking lot and heading in the direction he thought Emily would take. Unless a cab was in the parking lot of the café when Emily exited, she likely was heading to the nearest public transportation point which was a bus stop two blocks away. Sure enough, a minute later, Hotch could see her walking on the sidewalk about a block from the café. While it was by no means a dangerous neighborhood and Emily was an armed agent, it was still late and she was a woman walking the street alone. That was not going to happen while he was around.
He rolled down the passenger side window as he slowed the car down to a crawl. "Emily!" he called out. "Get into the car, I'll drive you home."
"I'm fine, Hotch," she replied as she continued walking. "I'll just catch a bus back to DC."
"It's almost midnight. The buses have stopped running," he reminded her. That caused Emily to stop and he braked the car.
"Crap," he heard her say and he had to smoother a smug smile of satisfaction.
"Just get in," he repeated. He saw her hesitate. "What? What is it?"
Emily sighed and moved over to the car. She leaned down to look through the rolled down window on the passenger side. "Look, Hotch, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I don't want to be the cause of any disagreements between you and Beth."
"Prentiss, trust me, you're not." He looked at the road before him for a few seconds before he continued. "It's just not right between us. I've been coming up with excuses to prolong the relationship, but I've known for a while we're just not in synch with each other. What you saw back there, it wasn't about you, it was about me and Beth and the fact we don't fit." He looked back at Emily who was regarding him thoughtfully. "She doesn't understand the job and that means she doesn't understand me. She doesn't understand what we do or that we're all friends. Family."
"Oh, Hotch, I'm sorry it's not working out," Emily murmured softly.
He thought for a moment and then said slowly, "You know what, I'm not. We just weren't meant for each other. She's a nice woman, but she's not the woman for me." He let out a sigh that indicated the discussion was over and then said in a crisp tone, "So get into the car, Prentiss. I'm wasting gas."
She gave him a small grin and opened the car door before she slid into the passenger seat. Hotch waited until she had fastened her seat belt before he said, "And don't think you've gotten out of telling me about your bad day."
She looked over at him in astonishment and dismay but his small grin forced her to give one of her own. Maybe telling him wouldn't be as hard as she thought.
It had been an uncomfortable, tense encounter with Beth, but for some reason, Hotch had fond memories of that night. Emily had opened up to him as he drove her home and then they sat there in his car as she continued to talk. And strangely, as Emily opened up to him, Aaron began to share a little more of himself with her. When he said he understood what she was going through, he truly did. Emily sat there quietly, listening to his every word and Hotch felt a weight that he had grown so accustomed to that he no longer noticed it until it started to lift off of him the more he talked with Emily.
They talked for hours until it was the wee hours of the morning. Emily insisted he spend the night in her guest room rather than make the long drive when he was tired. He had agreed and in her neat, clean guest room, Hotch had slept better than he had in years.
He had expected some awkwardness the next morning. After all, he had spent the night in his female subordinate's home, but there was none. He had woken to the delicious smells of the breakfast Emily was cooking. Their conversation was easy and comfortable and Hotch had never felt so relaxed and at ease before. He had regretfully said goodbye to her after breakfast. As he was leaving, Emily had grabbed his hand.
"Thank you," she said simply and if he hadn't felt rewarded before, those two words made him feel as if he had won the lottery.
"Anytime, Emily," he had smiled back at her.
That was a night that things had changed for Hotch. It was a small shift, but an important one.