It was brought to my attention that I hadn't been giving Hotch his fair share of conversations. Consider this a peace offering, Hotch fans.

It's tagged to the wonderful "Demonology" episode in season 4. This one has a few time jumps since it spans the entire episode.

Happy reading =)

"The soul, fortunately, has an interpreter – often an unconscious but still a faithful interpreter – in the eye." – Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

Every part of her appearance tells me something's wrong. She's soaked to the bone, and hasn't made any effort to fix her hair, or makeup. Her posture suggests an air of submission – which stands in stark contrast to the confident agent we'd all come to know in the last couple years. But most of all it's the look in her eyes. I know it well. I've seen it a couple thousand times throughout my career. It's a look that only those who have lost someone they loved have. It's a mixture of disbelief and sadness, with the added element of a loss of direction in life. It's the look that Emily is wearing as she stands in my office doorway. And while her look has already told me something is wrong – her words confirm it. Her voice, to the trained ear, is slightly shaky as she tells me her friend has died.

She blows out a breath after I ask her if she needs to take some time, and I know then that this has shaken her. Once she settled into the team and began to feel comfortable around us, she became our rock. She seemed to be able to remain calm and keep a cool head in almost any circumstance. She'd had her life threatened and was beaten badly by Benjamin Cyrus, and still she'd been able to stay in her role as agent. She'd been forced to shoot a young kid in New York – the kind of event I've seen end the careers of good cops and agents alike – and yet she kept her head in the game and profiled. Her mother had come to her for help, and despite a relationship between them that I knew was strained, she'd managed to work the case with the perfect mix of professionalism and personal involvement. Reid had been struggling with his addiction shortly after she joined the team, and she'd taken his rude and uncalled for remarks in stride, never letting them affect her performance or her relationships with the team.

But this…this has shaken her. It's made her drop her walls, and for the first time since she'd joined the team she looks vulnerable. The seemingly unshakeable Emily Prentiss has been shaken to her very core.

I give her the leeway to check it out, and offer her the team's help – we would do the same for anyone on the team after all. Her eyes find mine once more as she looks up and breathes out a shaky "thank you" before turning and leaving my office with hunched shoulders. I watch her make her way down the stairs and find myself wondering whether or not the outcome of our "investigation" will do her any good at all.

She'd looked shaken when she and Morgan had returned from the morgue, and Morgan's brief explanation of her behaviour hadn't exactly inspired confidence. I had my concerns with letting her be involved with our look into the cases, but I couldn't in good conscience deny her that chance – I know I would demand to be involved if it were me in her shoes. While I hadn't told Morgan to keep an eye on her, my intentions were clear when I'd asked him to accompany his partner. And he would've done it without being asked. He didn't need to be asked. None of us did. We're a team, a family some would say, and we look out for each other.

But she'd disappeared for 20 minutes, and had come back with her professional mask fully intact. She looked the part – her clothes wrinkle free and up to her usual standards, her makeup flawless and hair carefully styled. But again, her eyes told me the story I needed to hear. They were the one part of her that couldn't pretend nothing had happened.

The call came through and I'd listened carefully as the causes for complaint were outlined forcefully. My mind began putting pieces together, and I realized that Emily had taken it too far. In her quest to try and understand what had led to her friend's death, she'd abused her power as a law enforcement officer, and come down hard unnecessarily on the man's fiancée. Her frustrations and emotion had bubbled over, and led to the woman complaining to the police, who passed it along with their own frustrations onto me. If it had been any other case, I'd have brought her into my office and made sure she understood the rashness of her actions. But she was hurting too much – I couldn't pile on top of that, because I know that after the fact, when she's had time to reflect she'll feel bad about what she's done. She respects this team too much to not care. And so I let it go and walked away, because the woman who's been our rock deserved a bit of a break.

But her accusations and anger had reached that threshold where I could no longer let it slide. I watched portions of her interrogation with the priest and when I was forced to let him go, I could see the anger flare in her eyes. Those same eyes that had shown such sadness were now filled with anger, but this time it was directed at me.

"My office," I'd instructed. We'd walked the distance to my office in silence, her anger evident in her heavy footfalls.

We finally reach my office and I can tell that this is going to rank high on my list of heated conversations.

"Are you actually accusing the Italian government of authorizing this man's assassination list?"

"He admits he was present at every death," she fires back quickly, her eyes wide.

I shake my head, knowing that while her words have truth, our role in this case is done. "The case is over."

Her eyes widen in shock and dart around as she tries to process this new piece of information. "You said you'd give me leeway," she says quickly, when her mind catches up.

"And I did," I remind her. "I understand your frustration, there are some things we cannot control." When I see her expression shift I pre-emptively add "Take some time off" because I know she needs to cool off.

"What?" she says in partial contempt and partial surprise.

"I don't want to see you in the office for the next few days," I elaborate, even though I know she understood every word that I said.

I expect another retort, but am surprised when she doesn't respond. But my surprise shifts to worry when I catch her expression as she turns and exits the office. Unfiltered anger, frustration, and maybe even temporary hatred. I let out a breath quietly and rub the bridge of my nose as my eyes close. This case was turning out to be the thing that might break Emily Prentiss, and I hated that I had to be the one to deliver the final blow.

"If you want my gun and badge, I understand," she'd offered as she came to stand in front of me.

I had shaken my head immediately – her unwillingness to give up and follow my orders saved John Cooley's life. I couldn't justify taking away the thing that she cared most about, even if she technically deserved just that. That would've broken her. I knew that because she and I were very alike in that regard. We both put our complete selves into our work, and dedicated our whole lives to it, at the expense of any semblance of a personal life.

She had taken a few days off after that – at my request. Though I'm fairly certain she would have even if I hadn't asked – because she knew I wanted her to. When she came back she was greeted warmly by the team with hugs. I'd brought her into my office to make sure the days off had done what I'd intended them to – give her perspective and distance.

"Welcome back," I say as I scrutinize every inch of her face for clues.

"Thank you, sir," she replies as she meets my gaze. And as soon as she does, I know she's ready to come back. Her eyes are clear of the frustration, anger, confusion, and loss of direction. Instead I find some sadness, which is to be expected given the circumstances, but I also see determination. Agent Prentiss is back.

"I trust your time off gave you a chance to recharge?" We both know I'm asking if she had the chance to reflect on her actions, if she had gained any perspective on how her involvement and stubbornness with regard to certain aspects of the case had almost led to a blowup.

She nods. "It did. But I'm ready to get back to work."

"I thought you might be," I say, the smallest hint of a smile sneaking onto my face. She and I are cut of the same cloth. We both grow a little restless when we're away from work. It's not that we can't function outside of work, it's that it just feels strange not to have to slip on the work mask every day.

She offers a small, polite smile in reply.

"Here is your share of consults for the week," I say, handing over a stack of files. Her eyebrow rises as she scans the height of the stack, which is, admittedly, a little tall. "And I'll need your paperwork submitted by the end of the day for the Benton case."

"Yes, sir," she replies with a nod. "I'll make sure to get it to you before you leave."

"Good." I glance at my watch. "Briefing is starting in a few minutes, so I'll let you get settled and caught up on the office gossip with JJ and Garcia," I say, maintaining a straight face.

Her lips part ever so slightly in shock, but she turns it to a smile quickly. "Thanks, Hotch."

I nod and turn my attention to my desk, where my own paperwork sits, waiting to be completed.

"And Hotch?"

I look up. "I…appreciate what you did for me. I know I made it difficult to support me, but I do appreciate you making sure I didn't…you know…cross any lines I couldn't uncross."

"Don't do it again" is all I say in reply, the weight of my words hanging heavily in the air. We both know the seriousness of my request. We'd been fortunate with the case – it could have easily ended far differently, and far less peacefully – relatively speaking that is.

She nods seriously and then turns to return to the bullpen. I watch through the blinds as Garcia and JJ predictably whisk her away to the kitchenette and I find myself cracking a small smile. It's good to have things back to normal around here.

So...what did you think of Hotch's observations over the course of the episode? Did I get his voice right? Let me know.