Season Six
I have these secrets that aren't my own
So take this how you want to
I'm not here to judge you
I just want to be in love with you
(Allison Crowe)
6.01
He comes to her too quickly, apologizes to readily.
She already knows he wants her. It's the rest of it she needs him to be sure of.
She's not surprised when he argues, but she doesn't cave. She loves him. She's just not sure she's willing to let him break her heart, because he's going to, inevitably. Repeatedly. She's going to give it over to him, because that's the only way she knows how to love.
It's a sort of stand-down she's imposed, forcing them both to reflect.
Even if she's painfully aware that her heart's already in his hands.
6.02
"I did everything I could to stop it."
She glances at him. "I know."
"It was over Strauss' head, not just mine."
"Hotch." Her lips part, eyes scanning his. "Do you have some twisted idea that I'd blame you for this? That it would influence the way I feel about you? Because if you do, god, you must think I have the emotional maturity of a basset hound."
He stands there, mute, knowing full well that his silence is only digging him deeper. But truthfully, he doesn't know what he's thinking.
He's too overwhelmed by the fear of losing her.
6.03
The Butcher casts a gloomy silence over them all on the flight back, the same thought rolling in their minds: who would they call with mere moments left?
Reid and Morgan picture their mothers as Rossi considers - Gideon, Carolyn, maybe his publicist. He could dictate an epilogue.
Back in the BAU, Garcia's on the same wavelength, torn between her boyfriend and best friend, as always.
Hotch is assaulted by Haley's memory and her words, and he knows that, like her, he'd never put the responsibility of finality on his son.
And Emily sits quietly, conceding to the truth: him.
6.04
She's honed her ability to lie from an early age, between the political sphere, the Bureau, and a rebellious youth.
The key is crafting a story that parallels the truth. The closer it is to home, the easier it is to play. And the master manipulator in her overtakes the profiler for a moment and she mentions her boyfriend.
Things unravel fast.
The upside is that truth, though - she does have an alpha male for a boyfriend, and he's watching her like a hawk. The moment things go south, he's there.
She's never doubted that he had her back.
6.05
They make a plan: six months. A real relationship, as real as they can get without disclosing anything to the Bureau. And then it's all or nothing.
Akron and Ellie remind them both that there's another sort of time constraint that they've yet to address. Age and biology complicate an already tangled situation and it's almost like a bubble blocking their path, very real and yet transparent enough to pretend it's not.
One touch, and it will burst.
They're trying so hard not to profile one another that they can't see the want that's reflected, iridescent, in both their eyes.
6.06
"Let's go get some candy, my little G-Man." He glances to Emily, hovering by the door, the Jack-o'-Lantern light dancing in her eyes and he knows she had a hand in putting together Jack's costume, even if she'll never admit it. "Ready?"
"For candy? Always."
They make a loop around the street, juggling Jack and the candy and the domesticity ought to feel strange, but it doesn't.
They work, the three of them. Kind of like the way she'd donned a suit and high-tops and explained she was "Dirty Harriet the Spy."
Divergent things coming together and ending up perfect.
6.07
It's one of those primal things, stashed deep in her DNA and hardwired, but still, she likes to think it's more than a biological imperative that makes him so unbelievably attractive when he's straddling the line between agent and parent.
Because he does keep them separate, usually, but now and then the line blurs, and there's just something about it that makes her want to jump him on the spot.
She sees him duck into the sheriff's office and sure enough, her biological responses kick in and she's awfully glad her self-control has evolved more than her instinct to propagate.
6.08
He doesn't mean to spill Penelope's secret. Except that he knows he must've meant to on some level, because he's better than that. He's been hiding a relationship with his subordinate for two years now and they've pulled it off, in plain sight of their team, because they're that good.
Maybe it's subconsciously selfish. Maybe he's testing the waters to see how they react to the revelation that Garcia's been playing what sure as hell seems like Emily judging from the wig.
Maybe they'll surprise him with how well they take it, and he'll have an idea of what's coming.
6.09
There's an unspoken certainty that it's going to be a bad night. With children, it's always bad, but knowing there's still a killer out there, even if it's only a matter of time until he's caught, that's like water on a grease fire.
It doesn't occur to her that the closer she gets to Jack, the more these cases are going to bother her.
She wakes in a cold sweat, startling him awake, and it only takes a second for him to register the look of terror.
It leaves him breathless, knowing that's how deep she's in this with him.
6.10
She pushes him on Seaver, and he can't not ask.
"Do you still think I trust women less than men?"
She considers a moment, because it's a complicated question now that she's in love with him. "I think it's harder for you to trust women than men, but once you do, it doesn't matter if they're a man or a woman. And I think you make a point of treating us equally in the field."
"I do trust you, Emily. More than anyone."
She tells him she knows, because she can't say it back when so much is still hidden.
6.11
He hates keeping things from her, but he doesn't have the heart to admit the truth: that after a spate of sleepless nights and ever-shortening fuses, he's gotten to the root of Jack's increasingly frequent temper tantrums.
He doesn't admit it outright, rather, Hotch figures it out when his son tells him through tears in the midst of a battle over bathtime that Emily doesn't tuck him in the way his mother had.
Jack misses his mother, and he's afraid she's being replaced.
He can't tell Emily, because he knows it will break her.
He lies because he loves her.
6.12
In Miami, he keeps Emily close. He's been careful to separate them as their relationship has intensified, because he has to stay objective and she's his Achilles heel. But now, he needs to test himself, prove he can handle it, because the six months are almost up and Jack's tantrums have decreased drastically.
And he's been looking at rings.
There's none of the nerves or uncertainty that he felt the last time he did this. Not a modicum of fear. Even with the risk of professional repercussions, of discord among the team, his resolve is unshakeable.
He wants her.
Endlessly.
6.13
She's pressed against him, safe and solid, his hands gripping her waist, and every time she moves, he pulls her closer.
(He's surprisingly smooth, and she's shocked that he's willing.)
He releases her, reluctantly, and lets her spin. She feels his eyes on her, lupine and lustful.
(There'd been a moment last night when she'd been sure he was going to take her right there in the club.)
When she spins back to face him, her blood goes frigid. It's not Hotch, anymore.
(She'd never expected she'd be happy enough that it would matter when Ian Doyle inevitably destroyed her.)
6.14
Something's off.
She's jumpy and exhausted, and when she picks up on the scent connection, he puts it together.
He thinks she's pregnant.
It will turn out to be precious, that brief time in which he believes it, when he's able to imagine her cradling a tiny amalgam of them in her arms. He thinks about stepping down as unit chief, a workable solution to fraternization and a guarantee he won't repeat the mistakes he's made in the past, when he missed so much with Jack.
When he realizes he's wrong, he won't let himself acknowledge the crush of disappointment.
6.15
He feels her pulling away before she comes to him, and it's like having the blankets ripped off in the dead of winter. He's so cold without her.
She says she needs space and needs him to not ask why, and he gives it. He doesn't have a choice, because Emily is a force of nature and he knows pushing will only create resistance.
He's can't lose her, because she's never been his. Never will be. She's her own.
Maybe that's why he couldn't find a ring. He can't bind her with metal.
All he can do is trust her.
6.16
She lies to Tsia when she says she doesn't trust anyone.
Despite Clyde's objection, she's still wavering, because she knows he's an asset (Clyde can't see that, but he's always had an issue with ego) and because there's no one else she'd want in the trenches, beside her, when it came down to it.
That Doyle doesn't go straight to them is a relief, but he knows her, knows she's ferociously loyal at her core, and when he mentions Jack, she makes her choice.
Doyle's singular blind spot is that there's nothing she won't do to protect a child.
Nothing.
6.17
She wonders if he has any idea how easily he can break her, how close she is every time she looks at him.
For days now, she's been carrying an envelope around with his name on the front. Inside is a hasty update to her will, naming Jack and Henry beneficiaries, and a letter that can't come close to explaining.
She's not sure there are words for any of it. It's not about apologies or making him understand why she did the things she did.
Mostly, it's her attempt to let him know that she never lied about loving him.
6.18
She wakes up two days post-op, and for a moment, she thinks it's the morphine.
He can't really be there.
Except he is.
There's barely any time, and he doesn't waste it on words. Everything she needs to know, he tells her without a sound. She's a tangle of tubes and wires but he gets his hands on her face and his forehead against hers, and she feels tears running down her face that aren't all hers.
She says his name and he just shakes his head. "Nothing's changed, Emily."
It's a lie, but in that moment, it doesn't matter.
6.19
He's still too numb to be angry, too bereft to question all of what's happened. He thinks it's for the best that they never told the team, because he couldn't take them looking at him and thinking he's been widowed again.
Even if that's exactly what it feels like.
JJ tells him her will makes them de facto executors, but it's not until he opens the letter that he realizes that she couldn't have known.
Two weeks after her funeral, Jack asks about Emily, and he doesn't think he's ever felt anything so acutely as the pain in that moment.
6.20
He's suspected for a while that Rossi knows, but his assessment leaves Hotch without a doubt. They'll never actually acknowledge it outright, and that's the way Hotch wants it to be. He's not going to spill the details over Scotch or get a supportive pat on the back when a case hits too close. The fact that Rossi knows - and that it's a secret he'll keep - is enough.
Somebody knowing the implications, knowing it's different for him - it unburdens him. He's keeping too many secrets as it is.
It helps not having to carry them all alone.
6.21
She finds a few regular cafés in Paris and circulates just enough that she's not a fixture and not unfamiliar. Being out of place raises more alarms than not, and it's good to see faces she recognizes, even if they're strangers. She reads whatever papers she can, for cover and to stay connected, and she trawls used bookstores for crime novels because it's the closest she can get to home.
In an Internet café one morning, she comes across a story about college students being murdered and a killer arrested, and she smiles because she knows they're okay without her.
6.22
All he's told Jack is that Emily had to go away for a while.
He's at a loss. He can't tell Jack she's dead when she's not, and he's not stupid enough to entrust classified information to a five-year-old.
More than that, he can't take her away from Jack, not after everything. The fear he'd had of Haley being replaced hadn't just been about missing his mother, it had been about loving Emily, too.
So when Jack asks him if Emily will come to see him play soccer one day, he says he hopes so.
At least it's the truth.
6.23
He tells them to go ahead once they've packed up, and turns as though he's going to speak to the local authorities. Instead, he takes off his shoes and socks, rolls up his pantlegs, and stands there in the surf for a moment.
For a moment, he's beside her as she dangles her feet off the edge of the pool, heels beside her, dress hiked up, black-polished toenails distorted by the water. She's gazing at him expectantly, and he hasn't got a choice but to join her.
Maybe she's looking at the ocean, wherever she is.
It's a big sea.
6.24
He's getting tired of being told to pick an option like the Bureau's doing him a favor. Really, he keeps getting stuck deciding between shit sandwiches on a silver platter.
He picks Pakistan because it involves screwing over the fewest members of his team.
It has nothing to do with how it's not getting any easier to walk past her empty desk in the morning or the way he feels her absence when they're in the field, like he's constantly walking around without his gun and vest.
Or that it's the only place that might not remind him of her.