After she agrees to come back to the BAU, he drives her back to his place, her hand settled over his on her thigh the whole silent way home. Jack's face lights up with shock and happiness when she comes through the door and after a couple of seconds of hesitation he runs to her – she picks him up, buries her face in him and they hug hard.
Jack sits in her lap and Hotch holds her hand as they do their best to explain where she's been and why. He waits on the sofa while she takes Jack upstairs.
When she gets back, there are tears on her cheeks – she sits down beside him, settles her legs over his. "I thought I'd never…" she begins softly, then stops, chewing her lip. In the time she was somebody else, she tried not to think about them. But it didn't work out.
He shakes his head and slides his hand up her back, spreading his palm over the silk of her blouse –she is everything he remembers. Strong and lean and soft and warm and something that's justher. His hand finds her hair, her neck, and she closes her eyes and leans back into his touch, her hands sliding up his arms and settling on his shoulders. She's beautiful – pale skin and dark, glistening lashes, her head tilted back, her bottom lip caught between her teeth to keep it from trembling… His fingertips trace over the curve of her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. She's here, really here, alive and safe. He hears himself whisper her name and her eyes open, dark and fathomless and shining with an expression he tried not to resign himself to never seeing again. They flicker over his face, studying him. "I love you," she says softly, for the first time since the hospital, and he wraps his arms around her and pulls her as close as he can get her.
Their mouths meet like she never left – she slides her fingers into his hair and feels the tension drain from her body. There's nothing hungry about it – she knows that will come later, the reaffirmation, but for now his mouth is soft on hers, caressing. She feels tears rise behind her eyes, feels the heat in his cheeks that means he feels the same, and holds him as close as she can without breaking contact with his lips. She brings her hands around to rest on his face, wiping away a tear that drops to her thumb, brushes her tongue over his lip.
It's the heat of his breath, she thinks, as his mouth opens further to her and his hands start trailing down her sides, his fingers tracing every curve, remembering her. The way kissing him is so warm, so safe, the way she can't tell if it's his breath or hers… She has missed this, everything but especially this. She wraps her arms around his back, spreads a hand over his shoulder blade, keeping her kisses soft and gentle and reassuring. She realises she's crying now, her lips trembling against his, and he nuzzles her face gently. "Okay?" he whispers.
"I'm good," she replies, and feeling the loss of contact already she threads her hand into his hair, pulls him back to her. He starts whispering against her mouth but she can't concentrate on the words – just the feel of his breath meeting hers as she holds him against her.