As the weeks turned into months, and cases came and went, Amalya's bond with the team became stronger as she built rapport with each member. Hotch was right, she saw things differently, which more than once helped cut cases short, and decreased the death toll by a lot. More than once her theories seemed to be a bit farfetched, but were proven correct nonetheless. She wasn't perfect, nor was she by any means Sherlock Holmes, but she was the closest thing they had to him. The worse she could ever do was get a few details wrong. But if she sensed something off about the case, she was hardly ever wrong.
And Hotch had a blind trust in her that surprised even himself. After all, Emily had accused him of not trusting women as much as men during the Henkel case. And he had to admit that she was right at the time. He didn't know if it was a sense of gratitude that compelled him, or was it the parts of her file that he was sure only a handful of people had ever seen.
But there was one thing he was absolutely sure of; that file was not the full story. He knew with absolute certainty that Amalya was as mysterious as the ocean.
She still dragged him out of his office every chance she got, and it became a favorite entertainment for Rossi. He purposely waited each time for her to finish her report, before he made his exit. The murderous glare Hotch would send his way would only widen his smirk.
And he got a nice kick out of how the team reacted.
From Morgan's 'dear-in-a-headlight' expression and his 'What just happened?' when a look and a clearing of the throat out of Amalya got Hotch off his desk and into the elevator with her. To Garcia's 'Are we in a parallel universe?'; to Emily's 'I would've gotten fired for that!'; and finally, JJ's 'We must be dead, and this is the afterlife!'. Reid, of course, simply frowned at the interaction. Not quite sure what to make of it.
But Rossi was no fool. He wasn't just a veteran profiler; he was the one who started this unit, and a close friend of Hotch's. It would take a genius to escape his profiling skills. And as brilliant as Hotch was, and as good as his poker face was, he could never lie to Rossi.
Neither could he lie to himself. He was aware of the shift in his relationship with Amalya as opposed to his other team members. She had a power over him that not even Rossi had. She bore through him, but didn't intrude. Whatever she saw within him, she never spoke about nor tried to pry. Something about the way she looked at him disarmed him. And he guessed she knew that, but never abused it.
She provoked him in ways no one ever did. She stirred something in him that he did not quite understand yet. Or may have been in denial about. She titillated his brain, challenged his renowned ability to profile, kindled a curiosity he'd long buried. Whenever he thought he figured her out, she would throw him a curve ball, and he'd find himself back at square one. Just mystified by her.
He'd told Sam Cooper that she'd rival his hand-to-hand combat skills, and probably take him down despite her much smaller frame. Cooper had chuckled.
"Yeah, I heard about her. People spin quite the lore." He'd said.
"It's not all lore!" Hotch had countered. He'd seen her train, and he wished he never ended up on the wrong end of her wrath.
And Sam Cooper's mind had changed once he got the chance to work with her. He jokingly teased Hotch with, 'how upset would you be if I stole her away from your team?'. But Hotch's confident smirk, and even tone as he responded with 'would love to see you try' were a contrast to the slight worry within him that she might switch teams. A worry that surprised him.
But the same woman who shot Foyet without batting an eye; who would take down Sam Cooper in under a minute; who – despite being capable of the highest degrees of manipulation – lacked any and all forms of a 'diplomatic manner' in many situations, and he often found himself keeping skeptic cops away from her. That same woman stood by the ambulance cradling the baby of two serial killers until CPS arrived. The baby's wails had quieted down a few seconds after he was placed in her arms, and she simply stood there cooing softly to it and lulling him to sleep.
Maybe it was the mystery of her that made him not put up a fight as she bossed him out of his office day after day. Maybe it was gratitude.
But even he couldn't deny the change the case in Alaska brought.
Morgan's wolf-whistle when Amalya walked in that night was the only coherent thought he could think of as well. She'd been with them for almost six months, and while they'd seen her outside her work attire, the occasion never arose for her to end up in a black figure-hugging dress that stopped a couple of inches above her knees, with a draped neckline that stopped just before it revealed too much. Her smokey eye make-up, dark red lipstick, and hair styled in loose beach-waves all made her look more and more like something fresh out of a fantasy worthy of the famous A Thousand and One Nights.
"Sorry to ruin your night." Was his next coherent thought. Though he was not all that sorry.
What he did realize was how Rossi took advantage of the 'doubling-up' situation at the inn, and pounced on the only scenario where Amalya and Hotch would end up in the same room. He had a gut-feeling, and he saw no other way to prove it. So, when Morgan protested bunking with Reid, and Garcia immediately called dibs on Morgan. He graciously "volunteered" to bunk with Reid. Meaning JJ and Emily would bunk together, and Hotch and Amalya together.
When they got to the room, he thankfully saw two twin beds. He offered to let her use the shower first, but she graciously told him to go ahead, since she still needed to do a few things. He pulled a few things out of his go-bag, and rushed into the bathroom. He locked the door, and let out a long sigh. He knew what Rossi was trying to do, and he was going to kill him for it.
He was about to pull his sweater over his head, when he noticed he forgot something he needed. He cursed under his breath, and after rubbing his hand over his face a few times as he contemplated his next move, he cracked the door open just enough for him to be able to speak to her.
"Amalya, is it alright if I came out?" he asked.
"Yeah, you're good." Came her answer.
He pulled the door open all the way, and froze for a second in the doorway. She'd taken off her jacket, sweater and boots, and was in a white cotton t-shirt, her black leggings and socks. And despite the situation they were in, she seemed relaxed and was genuinely smiling at whatever it was she was reading off her phone.
"I forgot something." He explained, as he crossed the room towards his bag.
"You're fine, I need to run through a few emails before I shower." She said.
But alas, they were on a case, and serial killers rarely cared about the personal lives of the BAU. And so, the sweet moment was cut short by Garcia screaming for help, and they both ran out the door, guns drawn. It wasn't until they made sure Garcia was safe, and the man was unfortunately dead, did he realize that she was standing in the Alaskan May weather in her socks and cotton t-shirt.
"Are you sure you grew up in Egypt and not Antarctica?" he couldn't help but wonder jokingly later on the jet, and she couldn't help the chuckle.
Of course, later after catching the teenage killer, he allowed himself a little bit of relief for the interruption that night. Simply because he knew it ruined Rossi's plan.
He'd gotten so immersed in the report he was finishing on the plane, he didn't realize that his team had fallen asleep one by one, until a captivating scent caught his attention. It wasn't something familiar to him. It wasn't a simple perfume, no. It was something unique. He looked up from his notes, and saw Rossi reading.
It only took him seconds to realize it came from beside him, and when he looked to his left, he saw Amalya fast asleep with her head close to his legs, as she lay on the couch.
"She was the last to fall asleep, it was the only place." Rossi's snapped him from his trance of studying her. He'd always had the nose of a bloodhound, but when his brain was completely focused on something else, it took him a while to register anything else if he completely shut off his senses.
"Have a great night everyone." he called out as he headed for the elevator, once they landed in D.C.
"And exactly where do you think you're going?" Amalya inquired, one eyebrow raised. "Tomorrow's a weekend, Hotch. Paperwork is not going to go anywhere." She stated.
"I actually don't have to be home tonight." He confessed, and she frowned. "Haley and Jack moved back in with her parents a few weeks ago." He told her.
"So, you're free for the night?" she wondered, and he nodded. "Perfect. You're coming with me then." She said matter-of-factly.
"To where?" he asked.
"You'll see." She declared. "Rossi, you in?" she called out to him, since he was the only one still left.
"Does it involve good food?" he wondered.
Her only response was a Cheshire cat grin, as she disappeared into her car.
"Don't think I'm going to let what you did slide." Hotch warned Rossi, as he put his bag into the trunk.
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Rossi sing-songed.
It was a Turkish restaurant that neither Hotch nor Rossi even knew existed despite living most of their adult lives in D.C.
"How did you find this place?" Rossi wondered as they entered the establishment.
"First thing I do when I move into a new city is find the good Turkish, Lebanese/Syrian, and Egyptian restaurants. I mean, I can cook, but with our schedules, it's nice to get the hearty meal without the prep and clean-up." She stated. "Table or ottomans?" she asked.
"Ottomans." Rossi declared. "I've had my fill of chairs for the day." he quipped, and she chuckled.
They settled into a small booth around a table that was barely a foot off the ground with very comfortable ottomans around it. It wasn't long before an older woman – Rossi's age, although he'll thoroughly deny such a claim – approached them with a big smile on her face, and proceeded to place two smacking kisses on Amalya's cheeks, before they both chatted amicably between them. Though Amalya's tone suddenly became a warning one, as the older woman's eyes landed on Hotch. Amalya rolled her eyes in good-nature at whatever the woman was saying, and shook her head once she took her leave.
"I know that look," Rossi stated, pointing towards the woman. "And I don't need to understand Turkish to decipher that tone either." He finished, pointing at Amalya.
Amalya laughed. "It's a tale as old as time in every culture."
"And what am I? the matchmaker?" he quipped.
She didn't answer right away, as she tried to hide her smirk behind her glass of water. Hotch had worked out the scenario in his head, and realized just who the woman thought Rossi was, and he also knew that Rossi was not going to like it. He started to laugh, and Amalya buried her nose further into her glass.
"You go in any further, you're gonna need a snorkel!" Rossi pointed out, and at that, she burst out laughing.
"She thought you were my father." Hotch declared, thoroughly enjoying the indignant look on Rossi's face.
The evening was pleasant. More than pleasant. Amalya had ordered for them, with being the expert and all, and they both enjoyed the food very much. They laughed, and talked about things other than work. Hotch provided some funny stories about Rossi's ex-wives which sent Amalya into fits of laughter. She shared a few stories from her life as well, broke a few stereotypes while she was at it.
They were enjoying a very sweet and delicious desert, when Rossi finally decided to broach a subject he'd been meaning to ask her about.
"So, I want to ask you something, but you're allowed to ignore me if it's none of my business." He started, and she nodded at him to continue. "I've known Erin Strauss for years, and she's not the kind to accept outside help easily, let alone ask for it," he hinted, and she nodded.
"So why me?" she finished for him, but he shook his head.
"No, I've seen enough to know the answer to that." He pointed out. "But in my experience, people with your kind of skill set are hardly this amicable. They don't know how to have fun like that. Hell, even I wasn't able to reach that balance till much later." He explained.
"When I graduated with honors, it was quite obvious the path I wanted to take. My father sat me down, and said that he realized my ability to understand human behavior from an early age. And the older I got, the better at it I became, and I started acting on it. He knew that with this ability came a freighting mastery of manipulation. That I could either end up doing what I'm doing now, or I will be one of the worst nightmares the world has ever known. He said he saw that teaching me compassion, empathy, sympathy…. basically nurturing my heart and soul as much as my brain would be the only way to balance that. And he said if I ever stop doing that, that I will be consumed by the darkness I'll see until I'm a shell of my former self. He said I needed to learn how to break free from the darkness we see, because it's a never-ending game. This is Earth, not Eden. And humanity is capable of the worst kind of evil. So, I either learn how to walk away at the end of the day, or I walk away for good." She recounted.
Rossi smiled, his eyes briefly flickering over to Hotch who was studying Amalya as she spoke, almost in a trance. "He was a very wise man." Rossi stated.
She smiled wistfully, and they both saw the sadness in her eyes. "Yeah, he was."
"What if you don't have enough of a good foundation of memories to ground you?" the question rolled off Hotch's tongue before he had the mental ability to filter it. Rossi was taken aback that the usually private Hotch asked that question. Rossi knew of Hotch's father, but he doubted Amalya did. Although with her profiling skills, who knew for sure?
Rossi studied Amalya more than Hotch. Hotch's poker face had immediately hardened when he realized what he'd said. The evening was pleasant, and it was up to Amalya to either ruin the rapport she had with Hotch, or to build on it.
"You create new ones, and hold on to them. Put the effort in." She answered simply, her eyes holding nothing but understanding without any patronizing or misplaced victimizing. She drank the rest of her wine, just as the older woman from before made an announcement.
"We would like to invite our guests to join us on the dance floor for a little bit of traditional dancing." She announced.
"Like me teaching Rossi how to do a Turkish dance." Amalya declared, as she got to her feet.
"What makes you think I'll be any good?" Rossi protested.
"You're Italian!" she dead-panned, and he laughed with her as he got to his feet. He saw Hotch fishing for his phone in his pockets. "Aaron, I…." he tried to warn him, but Amalya pulled him towards the dance floor before he got a chance to finish.
Once they were close enough for her to hear him without the need to yell, he said. "Nicely done back there."
She simply smiled at him.
Hotch couldn't get her words out of his head, as he plopped down on his couch with some paperwork that night. He had the next day off, and he was going to spend it with Jack.
"You create new ones, and hold on to them. Put the effort in."
They were on a loop in his head.
It had been months since he and Haley sat down and made the conscious decision to move on from each other. They would always love each other, and he assured her that he'll always be at her beck and call. And she promised him that he'll always have her support, and she'll always have his back. They weren't right for each other anymore. They'd changed, evolved. The job was too much for her, but like she pointed out, he didn't change the rules of the game, she did. He was the same man she fell in love with, but they no longer made sense as a couple. They were hurting each other, and they both deserved better.
He supposed Amalya was right. He needed to create new memories. He had good ones with Haley, but holding on to them at the moment may not be the healthiest of choices. And he couldn't exactly use his childhood as grounds to keep his feet upon. Everything about his adulthood was to escape his childhood. He wasn't entirely sure how his inhibitions got so low that he blurted out the question that he did at dinner. Amalya was no ordinary profiler, and he was sure she knew there was more to the question than he let on, but he couldn't help but smile at how she handled it.
He grabbed his phone and pulled up the video of her teaching Rossi the dance, chuckling every time Rossi's protests sounded from the video at being filmed, and laughing every time Amalya's laugh rang out.
He heard the slow, almost torturing, clicking of heels before he saw her. The dress hugging each curve of her body perfectly; that draped neckline drawing your eyes to her chest but not revealing, leaving you to your own imagination; her hair bouncing as she walked towards him, her eyes mesmerizingly enchanting as they bore through him; her lipstick-covered lips curved into a bewitching smile as that spellbinding scent filled the air.
"Amalya!" he whispered in surprise. "How did you get in?" he asked, his breath hitching in his throat as bent one of her legs at the knee and put next to him on the couch.
"You know how I got in." she teased, as she put the other leg on his other side, straddling him, as her face hovered above his. Her hair falling on the sides of her face, overwhelming his senses with the unfamiliar scent with each breath he took.
The hem of her dress had rose up her thighs, and despite his surprise, he found his hands sliding up her thighs as well.
"We probably shouldn't be doing this." he breathed.
"Do you want me to stop?" her voice was husky with desire, and his eyes cut to her lips as she moved them closer to his.
Hotch shot up on the couch, his eyes scanning the room for any other occupants. He rubbed his face with his hands a few times to shake off the dream, and that's when he became aware of just how much Amalya had gotten inside his head, and the effect she had, not only on his brain, but his body as well.
He was simply glad that he was home alone rather than on the jet, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to explain the rather compromising position he was in at the moment.
He had no idea where that dream came from, but it didn't look like his body was all that opposed to the idea.
He looked down at his body, and only one thought was coherent enough in his brain. One thought that he had to get a grip on before it led to dangerous territories.
A bit of a filler, but necessary to move the storyline forward a bit.
Hope you're all staying safe and taking precautions.
Let me know what you think.