Thought it was time I did another Hotch conversation. This one is set in season 7, after "Unknown Subject" but before "Hit/Run".

Happy reading =)

"You can find peace amidst the storms that threaten you." – Joseph B. Wirthlin

"I understand…Yes…Thank you," I say politely before hanging up the call and turning around to find the team looking at me hopefully.

"So…? What's the word, Hotch?" Morgan asks, voicing what everyone is wondering.

"Nothing's getting out tonight for sure," I say apologetically. I know everyone had wanted to get out of this town as quickly as possible. The case had been gruesome enough to make us want to leave the town behind immediately, even if it meant a late night flight.

"The line of storms should pass overnight," Rossi says as he begins to eye the hotel's bar. "We'll be clear to fly in the morning."

"I was hoping to get out of here before then," JJ grumbles.

"I know," I say with a nod of sympathy. "I think we all were."

"You got that right," Morgan says as he lets out a frustrated sigh. "Well, I'm heading to the bar. If I can't get home to try and erase some of this…" he trails off, no doubt trying to find an appropriate descriptor for the horrors of the last 2 weeks, "…evil, then I'm going to at least do some drinking."

"I think I'll join you," Dave says. "Kid, you in?" he asks, swinging his gaze over to Reid, who's been quiet throughout this exchange so far.

Reid seems to consider the offer for a moment before he shakes his head. "I think I heard the staff at the desk mentioning a collection of books for guests."

"If they don't have a big enough collection for you, I brought my e-reader along with me," Prentiss says, also finally joining the discussion. She'd been especially quiet this trip, come to think of it.

Reid makes a face at the mention of the e-reader. "Thanks, but-"

"I know, you're a purist, you like the actual physical book. I get it. But you can't beat the convenience of having hundreds of books fitting into the size of one," she counters, interrupting him before he can voice his objections.

He grins sheepishly. "I suppose you're right," he concedes, and I see Prentiss and Morgan exchange a high five out of the corner of my eye. I suppress the laugh that threatens to escape at their antics.

"What about you, Princess? You in for some drinks?" Morgan says once Reid heads off toward the front desk.

"Not tonight," she answers, and I find myself scrutinizing her a little more closely. There's something in her tone that tells me something's up. "I don't want a repeat of Vegas," she finishes with a wry grin.

"Can't hold your liquor?" JJ teases.

"I think the problem is that I can hold it," Prentiss replies with a laugh. "You guys have fun though. I think I'm just going to head to bed early."

"Suit yourself," Morgan says with a shrug. "You in, JJ?"

"I'll be there in a little bit. I want to give Will a call first," she replies, holding up her cell phone.

"Aaron, care to join us?" Dave offers.

I shake my head. "I think I'm going to give Jack a call and then head to bed. Thanks, though."

I let out an exasperated sigh as I rub my tired eyes. Somehow, despite feeling tired enough to feel like I could tip over and fall asleep, I find myself awake at 2:30 in the morning and unable to sleep. With an early flight scheduled, I know that getting some rest is important, not to mention I'll need the energy if I'm going to make good on my promise to Jack to take him to the zoo.

After another 10 minutes of tossing and turning and cataloguing every discernible pattern in the wallpaper in the room, and then trying to let the sound of the rain on the window lull me to sleep, I decide to go for a short walk. Maybe getting the blood flowing will remind my body how tired I am and trigger an easy trip into sleep. Maybe. Optimistic, yes, but at this point, there's not much else to do…

Dressed in sweat pants and a comfortable t-shirt, I make my way down to the lobby, figuring the trip up and down the stairs should be sufficient to convince my mind and body that I need sleep. But when I reach the lobby, I'm surprised to find Prentiss curled up in one of the oversized leather chairs, staring out the front window at the impressive lightning show the storm had brought with it.

"Prentiss?"

Her head turns quickly, and she frowns for just a moment before her brows rise in surprise. "Hotch? What are you doing up? It's not time to leave yet, is it?" she says quickly, the words tumbling out of her mouth.

I can't help from smiling at her bleary-eyed confusion. It's not often you get to see a flustered Emily Prentiss. We've always been alike that way. "I hope not. I'm not quite dressed for the day," I quip, a small smile spreading. I don't need to be Unit Chief right now…right now I'm just a friend.

Her eyes quickly scan my outfit of sweatpants and a t-shirt and I see one eyebrow rise. "And here I thought you slept in an impeccably pressed suit," she remarks drily.

"Mind if I join you for a bit?" I ask, gesturing to the empty chair next to her.

"Suit yourself," she answers.

"Was that a pun?" I ask, another smile tugging at my mouth as I sit down in the chair next to hers.

"Maybe," she deadpans, before her face breaks into a grin and she chuckles.

Before either of us can say anything, a bright flash illuminates the lobby followed almost immediately by a long, loud crack of thunder. "Quite the storm out there," I say after the rolls of thunder pass.

"Yeah, it's been going strong like that for a while now," she agrees, her gaze staying fixed on the intermittent flashes of lightning.

"Reminds me of the storms I used to see as a kid when we visited my cousins in Florida," I say.

"I've seen some impressive storms in Europe, but none of them come close to the ones here in the States."

"Oh?" I admit I'm intrigued by her statement. While not the gossip that Garcia is, it's not often that Prentiss offers up something about herself, so when she does it's always met with intrigue.

"Yeah," she says, tearing her gaze from the storm to meet my own. "The storms here just seem so much fiercer."

I stay quiet, letting another roll of thunder to fill the silence. Her eyes have shifted back to the storm and I find myself scrutinizing her. She seems…contemplative about something. I know better than to ask her about it though. We're closer now than we'd been before Doyle, but we're not so close that sharing things like this is easy and expected.

"You ever stay up to watch and listen to a storm as a kid?" she asks after a few moments of silence punctuated only by the rolls of thunder and flashes of lightning.

"I used to sneak out to watch them from the porch," I admit, remembering hours spent huddled up against the house, watching the intricate zigzags of lightning light up the sky. "My mother was not happy with me when she caught me," I finish with a chuckle.

Prentiss smiles at my answer, but keeps her eyes glued to the dark sky.

"Something tells me you were an avid fan of thunderstorms as a child…" I prompt.

She laughs lightly. "You could say that, yeah."

"What is it about them that caught your eye?"

She doesn't respond right away, instead taking a moment to collect her thoughts. "The stark contrast between the calm before the storm and the chaos of the actual storm was fascinating to me."

It doesn't surprise me that even as a child, Emily Prentiss was looking for a deeper meaning in things. I think to some extent we all had done that prior to becoming profilers. Besides, she's always had a depth of mystery to her, so it's not shocking that she was the same as a child.

"I just liked the lightning," I say with a wry grin. She can't help but laugh, and I see the joy in her eyes as she does.

"You know, come to think of it, I always thought the thunder was quite impressive."

"I bet the thunder in the French Alps is something."

"You can't even imagine. I swear it echoes off of every mountain, and it makes it feel like you're surrounded by the sound."

"Sounds pretty impressive."

"It is. Words don't do it justice."

We fall silent again, letting the still fierce storm fill the silence with its cracks of thunder. I can't help but wonder what it is that's got her so contemplative, and is apparently keeping her up at night.

"Emily…" I begin. Her head turns immediately to meet my gaze, no doubt a consequence of my use of her first name. "Should I be worried about you?"

Her brow furrows, and she looks confused. And then it apparently clicks into place for her. "Because I'm up in the middle of the night?"

"Looking very contemplative," I add meaningfully.

"Should I be worried about you? You're up in the middle of the night too," she says cheekily. "And not dressed in a suit!" I recognize her words for what they really are. An effort to shift the spotlight from her.

I arch an eyebrow at her thinly veiled efforts to steer the conversation away from herself. She lets out a breathy laugh and shakes her head. "I'm good, Hotch. Honestly. Besides, we have a deal, remember?"

"Yes, we do," I say as I lean back and shift my gaze to the window. Maybe it's just because of everything with Doyle, but I can't help but worry a little bit about her. She's not the type to reach out and ask for help, so whatever it is that's obviously bugging her isn't something that she's going to let me or the team help her with. And I can only hope that it isn't something that's too much for her to handle.

I inhale and exhale a few times as I mull it over. Maybe I'm not giving her enough credit. She did tell me she was having a bad day after the Piano Man case… Maybe she's turned over a new leaf. Maybe I should respect her desire for privacy and trust her to work through things on her own.

But as I watch her gazing at the storm so intently, I can't help but feel that familiar feeling of worry for her. Any good leader worries about their team, right? Here's hoping it's nothing as serious as an international terrorist intent on torturing and killing her.

An especially loud roll of thunder rattles through the air and I let out an exhale, realizing how tired I am.

"I think I'm going to head up to bed," I say, breaking the silence that had settled in the air around us. "You should think about doing the same," I add as an afterthought.

"Yeah, you're right. I'll probably head up in a few minutes."

I nod and rise from the chair to head back upstairs. I pause and turn around when a thought occurs to me. "Hey Emily?"

"Yeah, Hotch?"

"We're all here for you. You know that, right?"

She smiles warmly. "Yeah, I do."

So...did you like the softer side of Hotch here? Like seeing him as less of a boss, and more of a friend? Can you see Emily as a fan of thunderstorms? What do you think had her so contemplative? Let me know what you think!

I'm optimistic that I'll be able to get back to a regular posting schedule soon! Thanks for sticking with me. :)