I hope I scare the hell out of you *mischievous grin*
Crowded noises were everywhere around her, muffled and screaming but silent still. Emily never knew when she started moving, her steps felt like she was gravitating towards the door. The mother of one stood in the empty corridor, lonely, an easy target to whoever decided to have her.
For a brief moment, she wondered why there had no units outside, that natural chaos of a fresh crime scene was agonizingly blank. Hollow.
"Emily?" it was a question now, small drops of uneasiness almost too meticulous to be real "I know you're there, sweetheart"
But she couldn't speak, words never forming as emotions flooded every short pained breath. Her ever so cautious mind noticed his shifting behavior, realized a precise waver on his flat tone. Although the brunette wanted to listen to that messy, confused voice – trust her gut feeling, matter-of-factly – screaming for her to demand reasonable explanations, it was her husband still. The man whose child she happily delivered, whose surname she took without second guessing. Most of all, her best friend, someone she had trusted with her life many times before they even became so much more.
"Listen to me, sweetheart" she did, salty tears sprinkled her dark doe eyes "I'm sending the address to your phone, Scratch is out there and it's likely he's on the run to catch you"
"Aaron" her voice broke, stifled by honest despair gracing every falter "I-I… I can't… I can't take it. Not this time"
Confessions were more painful on the both of them, have always been. Weakness, fear, and all those natural human feelings they always averted in order to keep everything at bay, apparently at ease even amidst the greatest crisis. Years passed by, they learned how to rely on each other, open up to each other about those issues. Being a couple worked as a way to learn everything anew when it came to trust.
"Meet me at this place as soon as you can" his dry words made her flinch, tremble slightly in utter worry about whatever they were at this point.
Usually, he would reassure her. Even during their darkest momentums, when light seemed to never appear and the longest of the nights perpetuated for such a long, uncontrollable time, the father of two would find a way to soothe his partner. Maybe a couple of words, a rough palm caressing her back or just a long, bottomless pair of hazel eyes bored into her exhausted form.
The new leader could almost see him after that Mexican restaurant less than one year ago. They found a way to silently leave – unsuspicious – therefore he could take her where she really wanted to be. Between Jack and him on his large bed, one small fracture of their equation missing.
A helpless young boy draped her body in an attempt to feel warmth, to preserve the mother he gained from life, while a set of strong masculine arms enveloped her narrow waist. His mouth pressed gentle kisses to her scalp, buried in those beautiful black locks she straightened up every single morning.
"I know you blame yourself" a vibration near the nape of her neck caused shudders throughout her body, down her spine, her long arms "I've been in this same place many times before, you know that"
"Yes…" but this is different, she wanted to add, but he understood it right away.
"Sometimes, there are no words or actions able to heal this sort of thing…" his voice disappeared and the younger agent knew where his musings were leading him to, almost unwillingly "It does get better, I swear"
It was something, comfort hidden within that careful sentence, relished by how he pulled her closer to his clad torso. Of course, Emily never expected Hotch to be one for great demonstrations, explosive bouts of affection or those unnecessary romantic arrangements in great novels. Both were grown up adults whose lives had been everything but kind to them. And probably that was the greatest reason to what they built together.
"I hope to see you soon" nearly smug, he hung up the line with what she considered to be a worried, long intake of air.
Immediately, the younger woman was briefed with her next destiny. Looking back inside, though holding her spot by the poorly lightened corridor, she connected her gaze to big, curious eyes that remained nestled on their couch.
However a flicking shade reflected in their resident genius' irises – almost like he heard everything they had talked -, Emily spun on her heels and headed down the hall to where stairs gave access to a posh entrance. She was aware there were too many things at stake, she was aware something else was missing in that quirky puzzle. But there was something bigger than any other making her move, start the SUV in a hurry.
It was family, the definition of it, and Emily Hotchner wouldn't let this go.
She was near the place, heart thumping heard against her chest and a vicious grip to the steering wheel. Short nails dug into the material, maneuvering through an empty road leading to a cozy, family-like house with a slim tree trunk graced with vivid green leaves and a small fountain across it. It was dark out there, no bulbs illuminating the façade or emanating from inside. Even curtains were closed.
Holstering her Glock just for safety, Emily hit the brake in front of the grey cemented entrance. It was the right number. 1985. And a shiver ran down her form, past images of that specific year stole every rational thought. Her eyes roamed to the surroundings, scanned every crevice, collected all that rest of courage residing within. It was enough to keep her moving, heading towards where three of them were safe. For a brief second, she considered calling for back up or letting them aware of where she was.
Yet, this was witness security and she wouldn't be the one to put those she loved in danger, she had never been. Besides, she couldn't contain herself as her hands knocked twice on a cold wooden surface, anxiety building on the pit of her stomach and a tiny smile appearing. Perhaps Lewis wouldn't be a disaster, perhaps now they would be able to sustain themselves as a real family, to live together. Maybe Aaron would finally accept to move to London with her. Maybe.
Minutes passed by without an answer, cold breeze embraced her while she attempted to twist the knob until she found it was unlocked. Out on an instinct, the mother of one reached for her gun, swinging the door open with her chest constricted until a fully darkened hall formed in front of her eyes. Silence or call them?
She wasn't taught how to proceed when on the verge of a panic attack with a serial killer hunting down her beloved ones and apparently getting to them first. She chose, though, rarely thoughtful.
"Hotch!" professional, not personal, although so far Peter probably knew about them "It's me Emily! Where are you?!"
It felt much like Boston all over again. It felt like she was entering his apartment to find his carpet stained in crimson. Given the proper circumstances, the abysmal difference between what they were then and what they turned out to be now, of course. In the back of her mind, Emily realized she made Lewis her own Foyet. And she also was aware of what it brought along.
Fear flew her veins as no replies came to her, ethereal silence propagated until it was dominated by an unmistakable sound.
"Emily! I'm at the kitchen, sweetheart!" an excruciating weight lifted from her shoulders, clenched jaw relaxing as she headed to where he awaited.
Halting with every step, an awkward burning sensation couldn't leave her lungs even as she sucked in as much oxygen as she was able to. Small black spots formed behind her eyes, nixed her plans to gather with him. Within seconds, her hands were upon a clean table she supposed to be a dining one, decorated and large and certainly a place for a family.
"It took you a lifetime, I thought I might need to kidnap you too" her head tilted quickly, stunned her further into a sensation of near numbness "Well, looks like the family is all back together"
An image, somber and dim with a drained glass of scotch sitting quietly across him, molded to one large chair. His perfectly ironed dress shirt was crumpled; tie remained in place, a completely unsettling disheveled but neat picture. More burn, more ache, more fog conveying her to stumble towards him limply.
"You shouldn't walk, sweetheart" he was beside her in a blink, she wasn't quite sure how so "I'm sorry for making you go through this, I'm so sorry"
Rough palm enveloped her forearm, steadied her for a while longer and with a firmer grip than necessary. It was hopeless to try eye contact; she needn't confirmation to what she was witnessing. Albeit, when brown eyes looked into dark emotionless ones, it was different from anything she could have predicted. A lump choked her, suffocated every lasting breath she had without a single physical action.
"Wha-what..." the brunette managed, dark pupils holding their sight, craving to watch some flicker in those hazel orbs she so long admired "Kids... where…"
"Oh, do you want me to tell you what I did to them or you'd rather make up your own mind?"
Nothing. Nothing was what she saw on his expression as he uttered those vile words. It was deadly empty, cold. Ever since they first met, Emily made sure to experience every and each possible feeling towards the man whose fingers dug onto the flesh of her - now - upper arm. But never, had she thought fear would be one of those.
Swallowing her pride, and the tingling sensation on the nape of her neck, a weak feminine hand moved to cup his flushed cheek. Her thumb stroked a certain line age gave him, that same one she had drawn the pattern every single night since their first time. He didn't flinch, didn't blink whilst she desperately looked for a whiff of life.
"Aaron" she mumbled, tongue heavy resembling those drunken nights back to her wild years; the mother of one heard sharp cries torn from someone upstairs, a child-like voice. "Rosie"
Although the younger woman vaguely tried to act on it, his mere touch stopped her from moving forward. He was in front of her as she stood with the back of her hips leaned on the table's edge, his movements were fast, silent, almost like he had materialized in another place.
"There's no one crying" his sentence was demanding, strong enough to subdue any thoughts that someone else with blood running their veins existed in that haunted house.
"There was" she whispered, whit and black points bleeding into her eye line.
"They're dead, sweetheart" he was in the shadows now, hidden somewhere she couldn't see him; at the same time, confusingly so, she sensed he was everywhere, she sensed he was nowhere "I killed them" surging forward until she could brace herself to the door's frame that connected kitchen and dining room, Emily doubted her sanity as his voice was muttered near her earlobe, his hot breath suddenly against it "And you're next"
Right above Doyle's. It was pretty much all she could think as a blade cut sharp through her upper abdomen, pain dismantling every other possible sensation as she was the one gripping his biceps this time. She watched his eyes never change as he laid her slowly to the white tiles which seemed much more comfortable than those she recollected from her old apartment.
Inside his orbs, wide and scary but void, Emily felt a taste she recognized as her own blood as it painted her depths. It was all becoming comfortably dark. Never light. And she wondered idly if she'd ever see it once. Just once.
A flash caught her attention, a noise whilst lids covered disturbed beautiful irises. She wasn't quite sure why… why she was glad it seemed as much as morning had arrived through the corner of her eyes, why a baritone voice now urgently called her, why another set of crashes were heard from the backside… lights blinded her, lights confused her, lights made her unquietly quiet for a brief while…
"Emily! Emily, talk to me!" it was a grip on her shoulders, shaking her "Emily, honey, talk to me"
Hazel eyes. Concerned hazel eyes which she loved to gaze at were staring down at her. It was morning now. It was a strange place that smelled like mold despite the apparent good illumination. It was her husband. But this was not Emily anymore. Not anymore.
Are you confused? Having a panic attack? Beacuse I totally wanna know! Leave me some words if you can, please :)