Hotch laid in bed staring at his own ceiling; his brain swaying between euphoria at finally getting a much-needed release, and his insecurities - suspiciously sounding like his father - admonishing him for it. Reminding him that she was his colleague, his subordinate, the one who saved his son, stopped Foyet…how could he betray her like that?

The voice reminded him that this was why she would never go for him; it wasn't the different backgrounds, or his son, or whatever else he was telling himself as to why he can't let her know of his feelings. It was because he was a creep who dreamed of sleeping with her when she was nothing but professional, civil, understanding and honest with him.

He angrily threw the covers off himself, and barreled into his ensuite bathroom, taking his clothes off as he stalked towards the shower and turned the very cold stream on at full force. He stood under the stream, letting the cold attach his nerves, numb his brain, stop the flood of images that were still refusing to perish from his mind, quiet the voices that were only getting louder the more vivid the images became.

After a too-long-of-a-shower, by his standards, he finally walked back into his room, drying his hair with a towel, while another wrapped around his waist. His phone pinged, and he pulled back the towel to look down at the screen, expecting it to be JJ telling him about a case.

He scowled at the name flashing before him, at the request. He knew he wouldn't be able to refuse her, and as much as it annoyed him, he found that he was unable to lie to her. Even over text.

And it didn't matter how much he'd convinced himself he'd use the ride to Quantico to box his feelings back where they belonged, he knew that at the first smile from her, he was done.

But an elevator ride with the promise of his office's upcoming sanctuary was one thing.

"Can you give me a ride to Quantico?"

Amalya's text read.

A lengthy car ride with no one else around was another.

Well, there goes his plan.

Less than an hour later, he found himself pulling up in front of the building from the address she texted him. He texted her that he arrived, as he prepared himself to be stuck with her inside a car for the better part of an hour with the images from his dream still invading his conscious thought.

He tried all the breathing exercises he knew to calm his nerves, but none of them seemed to be working. He tried to box his father's voice away like he'd done most of his adult life, to squash away the mental tear-down like he'd done when Haley left, when Foyet attacked, or when he decided to go back to work instead of taking Strauss's offer of early retirement. But it wasn't working. Something else inside of him was refusing to let him quash those voices, but it wasn't listening to them either. That voice was defending him, standing up to the onslaught of accusations, arguing for him.

He hadn't heard from that side in a while, since his divorce. Since that voice — which sounded like Haley — had lost the ground it stood on when he lost Haley.

But now it was back with a vengeance, and a resolve that was unparalleled. It was never this strong, not even during the best years of his relationship with Haley. It was timid, soft, encouraging; a lot like Haley.

But this, this was a ferocious storm, a force to be reckoned with: firm, unwavering, strong-willed; a lot like a certain brunette. But he wasn't ready to admit that just yet.

He saw her exit her building, in a cream knee-length body-con dress with the sleeves slightly bunched up her forearms, a sleeveless tanned coat, and ankle-boots. Her go-bag was slung over one shoulder, her purse over another, and two styrofoam cups in her hands. Her sunglasses-clad eyes quickly scanning the street until it landed on his car, and she offered him a small smile that — much to his chagrin — made his heart beat faster. Good thing he had a good poker face.

She quickly made her way across the street, and his brain jolted into action once it realized that with her hands full, she won't be able to open the door for herself. He met her at the passenger side, and she extended one of the cups towards him, and he caught whiff of the delicious Turkish coffee she's famous for.

"A bribe/thank you for doing this," she quipped, as he took the offered cup.

"I would love to tell you you didn't have to, but this smells amazing," he bemused as he took a deep whiff from it.

She laughed softly as he hummed in appreciation as the first sip warmed him to his very core….and momentarily distracted his brain from indulging in last night's fantasy. He watched her open the back door and dump her go-bag on the seat, before she got into the passenger seat.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked, after they were now on the highway, both enjoying their coffees.

"To Selim!" She groaned in frustration.

He looked questioningly at her.

"He has a few things he needs to do. We were supposed to get them done before I head to work, but I couldn't get up early enough. So, he's taking my car then either leaving it in Quantico if we catch a case or picking me up end of day if we don't." She explained.

He smiled. "So, I take it he didn't stick to his 90-minutes-tops promise?" He asked, and she scoffed.

"More like three hours, and 4 threats later!" She countered, and he laughed…genuinely laughed.

"Is that part of "the deal" you two have with each other?" He wondered.

"Being each other's arm-candy when we don't feel like being hit on? That's how it started," she joked.

"I would assume it was using the other for cover stories," he pointed out.

"That came later, actually. He used me to cover for something on a job, and it gave us both a way to explain things away when we get cornered, especially when there's no chance someone would try to verify said stories," she explained.

"Do you let each other know when it happens?" He inquired, and she realized what he was worried about.

"Not when it means revealing someone else's story," she assured him.

The car had come to a compete stop in morning traffic.

"Aaron." She called.

Neither of them was sure when it it became a norm for them for her to use his given name at certain times, but neither of them wanted to address it.

He looked over at her, she'd raised her sunglasses to rest atop her head, her warm brown eyes watching him closely as she reached over and pulled his away. They locked eyes; he simultaneously hated and loved how raw he felt when they held each other's gazes.

"Unless keeping whatever it is will put your life in danger; nothing that I will ever know will be repeated to anyone. I don't share stories that aren't mine to tell, and I don't crack under torture either, believe me." She assured him.

He saw the sincerity in her eyes; the promise; the remnants of past trauma when she spoke of torture; the safety that disarmed all of his defenses and made him fall faster and harder for her.

He owed Selim a gift!

A few days later...

It was a rough case; they'd breached the UNSUB's lair in the nick of time, less than a second before he slit the throat of his latest victim. Two shots had echoed off the concrete walls of the abandoned cannery; one from his gun that lodged into the UNSUB's heart from behind, and one from Amalya's hitting the pulley system the UNSUB was using to hang the victim from her hands, causing her to fall to the floor in a weeping heap. On the flight back, they sat opposite each other, she was staring out the window, and he was pretending to look at the file in front of him but was stealing looks at her.

He was falling for her…. or rather fell for her…. that much he knew. There was no sense in denying it…or fighting it. But he knew he had to reign it in, to come to terms with the fact that those stolen glances, fleeting touches, sparse moments of just them, and rare genuine smiles they shared would have to be enough. He can't ask more of her, can't expect more…. can't even dream of more.

That the fantasies his brain unleashes each night in his sleep would have to suffice.

There was no way she felt the same about him, and he can't be the one to take the first step. He's her boss, it would be an abuse of power. The team can't lose her…. he can't lose her. He was content to have her in his life in any capacity.

He was a few blocks away from Quantico, when he realized he was humming a song that was a telltale sign she was lost in her own head when she hummed it. He had no idea what the actual song was, but it seemed that he knew the melody by heart, for he was humming it quite well. The shrilling sound of his ringtone pulled him out of whatever daydream he'd momentarily lost himself in, and he murmured a prayer that it's not a case as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He frowned when he saw Haley's name lighting up the screen.

The next morning….

He stood by the coffee machine, watching the liquid slowly fill the pot as he fought hard to keep his eyelids from closing. He was exhausted enough that he knew if he closed them, he'll sleep standing up, and it was Haley's turn to get some rest.

They both had a rough night with Jack, who was refusing to sleep or tell them why he was scared out of his mind. Haley had called him after Jack had cried for him all day, which was unusual for the five-year-old, and he rushed to them immediately. And despite assuring Jack that he won't leave if he slept, the little boy refused to close his eyes and sleep. He'd lose the battle against his exhaustion and doze off for a few minutes, only to wake up in sweat screaming and crying. And nothing they did was helping.

Hotch knew what the day marked, and it made sense that Haley would react to the anniversary of Foyet's attack. But Jack was too young to really comprehend what had happened, let alone realize the significance of the day. And they made sure not to say a word of it around him. He'd offered to take him off of Haley's hands for the night, but she told him that it won't help her own anxiety with the approaching anniversary. He'd been letting Jack stay with her even on his days because of the approaching anniversary. They both weren't sure if they should bring it up with Jack, or not put the idea in his mind if that's not what was upsetting him. He doubted it was. But he could not think of anything that might be the cause.

And then his son added to their wonder with his unusual request. They tried to coax him to elaborate, but he refused. Demanding they make it happen and refusing any other solution. Hotch managed to buy them some time until the morning and bought himself some more when he called Rossi and requested a few days for himself.

The beep of the coffee machine was drowned out by Jack's voice. "Daddy."

Hotch turned around immediately at the sound of his son and saw him shuffling over to him. He opened his arms for him, and Jack walked straight into them, wrapping his arms around Hotch's neck, and pulling his weight up signaling his desire to be picked up. Hotch immediately obliged and held his son tightly against his chest, the five-year-old burrowing into Hotch's broad chest.

"Did you call yet?" Jack mumbled sleepily.

"No, buddy, not yet. You still don't want to tell me why you want me to?" Hotch asked.

"You said you'd do it in the morning," Jack accused, pulling back from the embrace, his face red, his lips already quivering as the tears pooled into his eyes.

"Can't even keep a promise that simple, huh?" An angry voice sounded from the general direction of the living room, which made Jack cry even harder.

"Aaron, there's no harm in asking." Haley said in a resigned voice, as she now appeared in the kitchen.

Hotch pulled his phone from his pocket, and quickly found the number he wanted. He was about to second guess himself, when Jack sniffled into his neck, and he pressed the call button before he could think about it for too long.

Before the third ring sounded, the call was picked up.

"Missed me already?" The voice quipped teasingly.

But before he could think of how he was ever going to explain his request, Jack grabbed the phone out of his hand.

"Can you please come over?" He hiccuped into the phone.

"Jack!" She said in shock. "Are you alright?" She asked in worry.

"Please come over," the boy repeated in tears.

Hotch took the phone back from his son. "I…." He didn't know what to say.

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

Fifteen minutes later…

Hotch and Haley were both already on their second cups of coffee for that morning, since they had no idea how many they actually drank throughout the night. Jack had glued himself by the window where he could see people coming up their footpath.

They saw Jack perk up a bit, then slump back against the couch, before Jessica — Haley's sister — opened the front door, and walked in.

"Hey, kiddo." She greeted affectionately.

"Hi." Came Jack's unenthusiastic reply.

She frowned at him, before she made her way towards the kitchen table, where her sister, and former brother-in-law were sitting.

"Is he waiting for someone?" She inquired.

Hotch sighed audibly; still not entirely sure he did the right thing. "I made the call." He told her.

Jessica bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smirking, as she shared an expectant look with Haley…that went unnoticed by Hotch.

"She's here, she's here!" Jack announced excitedly, as he sprung from the couch, ran to the front door, flung it open and sprinted outside.

Haley and Hotch both shot off their seats when he flung the door open, and quickly made it over to the door, with Jessica hot on their heels.

Hotch saw Jack sprinting down their footpath, as she walked towards him. He saw her face shift from confusion to worry as she opened her arms to a sprinting-Jack — who promptly barreled into her — picked him up, and cradled him close to her chest, as he buried his face in her neck.

Her questioning eyes locked with Hotch's exhausted, and pained ones as she continued down the footpath.

"How did you explain this to Dave?" Haley asked.

"It's her day off." Hotch told her.

Jessica was in shock. She'd heard tales, saw the effects she had on Hotch, knew how much Jack adored her; but she couldn't believe that the five-foot four woman in a pair of Converse, skinny jeans, a grey sweater with her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail was the infamous Amalya.

"Thanks for coming," Hotch said sincerely. "Come on in," he invited.

She'd barely set foot inside the house, when Jack threw out both his arms to pull them back out of the house by the doorframe, screaming "NO!"

The sudden movement, with Jack's added weight in her arms, almost had her tumbling backwards. Her hand shot out to grab onto something, and Hotch quickly reached out and took a hold of her outstretched hand.

She quickly found her footing, her hand leaving Hotch's to rub Jack's back soothingly.

"Hey, buddy, it's okay. I've got you." She soothed.

"Your son doesn't feel safe enough with you, so he called in for back-up." The angry voice barked from a couch behind Hotch.

That one sentence caught Amalya up quickly to the situation at hand; one simple sentence elicited so many silent reactions that she was able to figure out — at least partially — why Hotch called her.

Haley had closed her eyes in defeat; Hotch's pained eyes told her he believed that statement; and Jack stiffening in her arms at the sound of the voice told her what Jack was really afraid of.

"Why don't you and I go grab my iPod from my bag in the car, hm?" She cooed softly in Jack's ear, her eyes silently asking permission from his parents who both nodded their approval.

They heard her talking softly with Jack about the new songs she added, how she lined them up so he can listen to them after each other, as she made her way back to her car.

She opened the passenger side, balanced Jack on her bent knee, and quickly rummaged through her purse until she located the desired item.

"That's her?" She whispered to Haley, who nodded. "I don't see it." She remarked.

"Hold that thought." Haley shot back, as Amalya started to detangle the earphones.

She helped Jack put the earphones in, made sure the songs were playing, as she made her way back towards the house.

"Now, you're going to keep those in and listen to the songs in your room until I come, okay?" She instructed.

He looked at her skeptically. "Sweetheart, I won't leave without coming upstairs and talking to you. I won't leave until you tell me it's okay to leave." She assured him.

When he nodded, she added. "Now put them in."

He did as instructed, she hit play, and he gave her a thumbs up. She walked into the house, towards the stairs, and climbed the first few steps, before setting him down. He scrambled up the remaining steps and she waited until she heard his door close.

She descended the few steps she's climbed and was finally able to take a closer look at the source of the earlier sentence. He was and old man, late sixties, early seventies if she had to guess. She guessed Haley's father since she knew Hotch's was dead, and they were at Haley's house. He was in a blue robe with pale blue stripped pajama set under.

And despite the anger and pain she saw in his features and swirling in his brown eyes; the kindness that's part of his true nature was there as well, if you look close enough.

"So you're the big guns my grandson been crying for all night?" He spat.

She walked over and perched herself on the coffee table in front of him, her eyes holding his challenging gaze steady.

"What's the diagnosis?" She deadpanned.

The shock of her statement made them all speechless. Ray Brooks's features didn't hide his shock, but his anger was stronger. "Excuse me!" He snarled.

"The way I see it; there are two scenarios here," she held up one finger, "first scenario; you were given a terminal diagnosis of sort and for whatever reason decided that Hotch was the bad guy and you're unleashing all your anger on him. And because of how much he cares about this family, he's silently letting you." She raised another finger, "second scenario; you're as much of a jackass as you're pretending to be, have no regard for your grandson or how much you're scaring him." She paused, her eyes softening a little when she saw the vulnerability that's masquerading as anger shine through his eyes. "So, I'll ask again, what's the diagnosis?" She repeated her question in a softer tone.

"Alzheimer's." Haley's voice came from behind her.

They had received the diagnosis a couple of weeks ago, and her father had been on a tirade ever since. The doctor had told them it was quite common for patients to be angry with their diagnosis, lash out at loved ones, and even flat out deny it all together.

And at first, they thought it was that. But it became apparent that the focus of his anger was Hotch. Every time Haley would mention him, or Jack, would trigger a rant about what a terrible husband and father he was. He would tell Haley to sue for full custody, to deny him visitation, to deny overnight stays, or when he'd ask to swing by after a difficult case just to hold Jack for a bit. Those in particular seemed to trigger him the most.

At first, he didn't do it with Jack around. He'd mind what he's saying if Jack was in the room. But when the anniversary of Foyet's attack approached, and Haley started to have nightmares; he seemed to throw caution to the wind and would to on those tirades in front of Jack. Sometimes even direct some of the talk towards him, albeit it being coyly.

The worst of it had been last night, when Jack had cried for Hotch all day, and nothing Haley did could placate him. She hadn't been in a good space to let Jack out of her sight, and Hotch had been understanding, so she asked him if he could spend the night, since Jack wanted him, and she wasn't in any position to not have him with her.

Hotch hadn't hesitated to accept the offer, but that seemed to have sent her father off the deep end.

And when Jack started asking for Amalya, that simply added fuel to the fire. And nothing she or Jessica did calmed Ray; and nothing she or Hotch did soothed Jack.

And that's when they threw in the towel and called Amalya. Hoping to at least help their son, so she can help her father.

Amalya saw Ray flinch slightly at the mention of the disease, and she could more or less understand his anger at the situation. But she was still lost as to why he wrote Hotch as the villain in that story.

"I'm sorry," she said sincerely, and Ray scoffed. "I truly am. I watched my own grandfather wither away from it," she shared, and Haley immediately looked over at Hotch, questioning why he wouldn't tell her so she could get some support from Amalya. She was sure she won't mind. But judging by the look on his face, he didn't know.

"And I understand the pain and anger that come from receiving such a diagnosis," she continued, "but what I don't understand is; why would you want to leave your grandson with memories of someone so angry and scary? He doesn't understand what this disease means, and he won't for a very long time, but unless you leave him with fond memories to reflect back on…when he understands, he won't remember you with fondness, he may not remember you at all by that point. So why would you want that?"

"This isn't about my diagnosis," he shot back angrily, "this is about the deal your boss refused to make that nearly got my daughter killed." He snarled angrily.

"Deal?" Amalya repeated questioningly, before it clicked what he meant. "This is about Foyet?" She asked incredulously.

"If he'd taken that deal, they never would have been in danger, and I never would have lost that time with them." His anger was starting to give way to hopeless resignation. It made sense to her why he would focus his anger on Hotch, and the incident with Foyet. It gave him something — someone — tangible to blame and be angry at, instead of a faceless demon that he can't fight.

"Okay, I'll bite." She started, crossing her legs, and resting her arms on top of her knee, to support her weight as she leaned forward. "He kills Haley, and the FBI agrees to make that deal with him; they won't hunt him, if he stops killing people," she saw him flinch, "how would that have made you feel?" She asked.

"If he had gotten away with killing my daughter, I would've killed your boss myself." He sneered, and she chuckled.

"I have no doubt." She said matter-of-factly. "But if the mere thought, the possibility that it could have happened is making you this angry…to the point you're threatening Hotch," she uncrossed her legs, put her hands on either side of her body before she leaned forward again, a gleam in her eyes that made Ray Brooks realize that her looks don't do her justice. "Then how do you think the families of those who did die felt when he went unpunished for ten years? How do you think they would have felt if Hotch agreed to that deal and let him go unpunished for however long this time?" She asked him.

"It's different." He defended.

"Why? Because this time your daughter would have been one of the victims?" She pushed.

"She almost died!" He barked.

"Almost! The keyword here is almost," she shot back, "she's not dead, and neither is Jack." She reminded him.

"He couldn't guarantee that!" He snapped.

"The deal was 'never stop hunting me or I'll hunt your family'. There was no way of knowing that he'd come after them, no one would have seen that coming. And if Foyet had been properly profiled and hunted ten years ago, he never would've had the time to meticulously plan what he would do when Hotch refused to make that deal. The only reason why he was leaps and bounds ahead of everyone was because he was left alone for ten years to plan for every hiccup that might come in his way. And if another deal had been made, then chances are he never would've been caught and none of the families would've had closure."

The room was silent, Hotch could feel whatever fight he had left in him leave him the more Ray Brooks pilled on the accusation that he'd brought this on…mostly because that's how he felt himself. He didn't defend himself to Ray and stopped Haley from trying to dissuade her father because he believed he was right. If he had simply taken the deal, Haley and Jack never would have been in danger. He'd tried rationalizing it for the past year, but Ray Brooks beat it all down. Until Amalya broke it down better than he ever could, and in a way that even his own insecurities and his tendency to self-blame had to agree with her.

He was exhausted, he just wanted to lay down and get some proper sleep without Jack waking up screaming, or his own brain conjuring any images that plagued his dreams and made it restless.

Haley had never blamed Hotch for what happened. She understood that as good as the team was, they weren't psychics, and human nature was complex, and people can still surprise the best of profilers. She knew that Hotch was stopping her from arguing with her father because he blamed himself and believed what he said to be true. And she knew that with the anniversary coming, they were both due for another talk about it. But she couldn't find the time or energy to do it. So, when Amalya broke the situation down like she did, she watched Hotch's reaction to her words. She knew that despite his protests, her words held great value to him, and she was the one person he can't argue against. She sighed in relief when she saw belief creep into his tortured eyes, and some of the tension leave his shoulders. She knew he still needed a good night sleep to hopefully shake it off, but…baby-steps.

Jessica was simply enamored by Amalya. She'd heard the tales, but now she was seeing the woman in the flesh. And despite her initial disbelief, she was starting to see what they all meant.

And her sister was right; Hotch was completely, madly in love with her.

"So how about you let go of the anger over something that could've happened, focus on the now and leave your grandson with enough good memories that he can look back on one day and remember how much you loved him? Stop wasting the time you have left with your family over hypotheticals that didn't happen — and won't happen — and just spend time with them?" She suggested softly.

They remained silent for a while, her eyes now holding nothing but understanding and warmth to calm his scared and pained ones. He finally gave her a crooked grin. "You're the one who shot him, aren't you?" He asked.

"Who knew all I had to do was think of a way to convince him to make a new deal?" She stated calmly, and he chuckled.

"Thank you." He said sincerely, extending a hand towards her.

"My absolute pleasure." She replied truthfully, taking his offered hand and giving it a squeeze.

With one final smile, she got to her feet, and walked back towards the Haley and Hotch.

"How did you know?" Haley asked.

"Neither of you would've let Jack be around him otherwise," Amalya replied simply.

"I'm Jessica, Haley's sister, and thoroughly impressed." Jessica stated, extending a hand, which Amalya shook, laughing.

"I'll take you to Jack," Hotch announced, gesturing towards the stairs. She nodded at the two blondes and followed Hotch.

"You did not do her justice," Jessica jabbed Haley, who laughed.

"What did I tell you? She's the textbook definition of 'looks are deceiving'," Haley stated.

Just then, Hotch's approaching footsteps made them look back towards the stairs, just as he appeared.

"She said he had ten years to plan what he would do when you turned down the deal," Ray started, and Hotch nodded. "How would he have known you would turn it down?" He asked.

"Psychopaths are profilers by nature. He knew chances are I wouldn't take it; and I'm sure he had a plan for what to do if I did." Hotch answered truthfully.

"Remind me never to get on her bad side," Ray told him, and they all chuckled.

This chapter has a part II with Hotch, Jack and Amalya spending the day together that was supposed to be part of this chapter but that would have made it super long.

Excuse any mistakes as it is very late and I didn't proof read it. Will do tomorrow. Reviews are truly appreciated.