Archive of Our Own ^beta

His eyes opened the moment the sun broke through the clouds.

Warm, caressing his face as if to bring him back to the present. Hotch didn't often catch himself lost in thought. In fact, sometimes he wished he could power down more often; lose himself in the wind and focus on the present instead of being so tied to the past.

Rossi's yard was lush, green, sparkling with dew and laughter.

Hotch smiled. Watched Jack run, chest heaving for breath and eyes wide with excitement. Another boy, too, following in larger footsteps and glowing with happiness; white-blonde hair and probably close to a couple of years younger.

“You getting rest?”

Hotch looked up.

Rossi smiled and patted his shoulder, squeezing gently.

A chair scraped the stone patio on his other side, and Hotch was happy to see JJ. It made him want to glance at the younger boy with his son. Henry was growing fast.

The blonde smiled at him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he responded.

“How are you doing?” JJ's eyes scanned his face.

Hotch nodded as he thought. It wasn't often his team members slowed down enough to ask him that. He knew they talked about him amongst themselves, but the only one brave enough to ask him consistently had yet to appear.

He wondered where Emily was and returned JJ's soft smile, hoping it was convincing enough. “I'm doing well.”

“Good.” Her smile brightened, and her attention shifted down. “What about this cutie?”

Hotch looked down and flooded with love, arms curled around a tiny, perfect little thing. His current existence was filled with sleepless nights and uneventful days, and it was all more than worth it. “Sophie is doing great. Almost seven weeks now.”

“She is so adorable.” JJ brushed the back of her finger gently on the apple of her face. “Looks just like her mom.”

Hotch tilted the girl slightly, holding her up as he and JJ examined her features. Dark eyes, dark hair. Precious little nose.

“There she is!” Derek's voice made heads turn, including JJs, and there was a chorus of happy exclamations, alerting him to the rest of their team. All settled just out of his line of sight.

Hotch wished he could turn around and watch her descend the steps to the patio. See the sun in her dark hair.

“Hi, mama. You look beautiful.”

“Hey.” Her voice was like medicine.

Brought him a comfort that he coveted daily. Needed in order to function.

He listened to her talk with their friends, not particularly caring about the content. He imagined that the girl in his arms had her mother's voice, too. He couldn't wait to find out, but dreaded the passing of time, because he knew that there would never be enough of it.

Never enough time to watch their girl grow. It already felt like yesterday she was born and they'd missed all the time it took to get to here; to seeing her discover the world, dark eyes shifting, babbling noises, and wiggling happily.

Hotch felt Emily approach before he heard her. His eyes lifted as she stepped into his line of sight, a perfect vision. Hotch thought there wasn't a moment she wasn't beautiful, but this was the first time she had wanted to dress up since having Sophie. Curvier, curly hair, sparkling eyes framed with mascara, and a brilliant smile.

She held her arms out.

Hotch was not yet done taking in her presence, though, and inched his eyes down her front. It was obvious she had just had a baby. To him, at least. She was fuller, wider, perfectly shaped for motherhood, which drove him a little crazy, if he was honest.

Emily chuckled, and Hotch flicked his eyes back to her face just in time to see her eyes roll.

She shook her hands. A silent gesture, gimme.

Hotch didn’t want to let Sophie go.

Emily, again, snorted in amusement, but then she pinned him with a look that was teasing and frightening. “Give her to me! You've had her all day!”

He barely got a chance to respond, his own amusement swirling, mouth opening as she interrupted whatever he had to say.

“Give me my daughter.”

And because he was a smart man, Hotch did as he was told. He leaned up, kissed the baby's head, and passed her to her mother's arms.

“She's got you so wrapped around her little finger.”  Emily adjusted her, tucked her feet back into the blanket, brushed her nose against the smiling girl's, and rocked her gently. “Hi, baby,” she cooed.

Hotch rubbed his fingertips together. Didn't bother peeling his eyes off his new favorite scene as voices surrounded him. Emily was beaming with pride as she showed off the girl. It made his chest flutter with adoration, love for the woman. The mother of his child. His safety. His home.

Then, her eyes found his again, and she made her way back to him. “I know you can't stand not getting to hold her.”

Hotch weakly shrugged and didn’t bother defending himself.

“Don't worry,” Emily lifted her brows. “She'll be back in your arms soon enough.”

JJ’s arm bumped his as she lifted her hand to block the bright sun. “You know, there's a solution for that.” The blonde pointed at Emily when the brunette looked her way, and then pointed at his lap.

Emily’s brows pinched in apprehension. “Oh, I—"

Penelope appeared at JJ's side, smiling and nodding. “Sit, sugarplum!”

She glanced around behind him, presumably at their friends watching the interaction, visibly cringed, then scolded them all. “You have to be normal about this. I know it's new to you, but it's not to us.”

“Define normal,” Rossi said quietly.

“Just sit.” Derek teased her. “We promise to be normal.”

They had agreed not to show any PDA at work. It was why they were able to keep what happens between them, between them. Until she was showing, at least. Then, they were bombarded with questions and intrigue, and they had to sit their team down and let them know nothing was changing, despite everything changing.

So, Emily turning and sitting directly on his lap was not something he truly expected.

He adjusted them slightly and encouraged her to relax against his chest.

Emily peeked out of the corner of her eye at him, then turned slightly, presenting their daughter to him. “See? Now we can both hold her.”

Hotch slid his arms around her, under Sophie, to help hold her weight. Rested his chin on Emily's shoulder and nodded his agreement.

He couldn't make himself care that they were the center of attention right now. All he cared about was getting to hold his wife and his daughter. Hotch quickly swept his eyes around, catching soft, caring faces and love for their friends.

No one seemed all that surprised. Like this had been inevitable, maybe, or a reality that wasn't so impossible to consider, so it was normal.

To have gotten here.

To have had a baby.

To have married Emily, even if that part was still a secret.

“Hon?” Emily turned her head. “You okay?”

Hotch was more than okay. He brushed his fingers over hers, slipped his into the spaces between hers.

“Dad!”

Jack drew both of their attention up. Red-faced and breathing heavily, his eyes were only locked on the girl.

“Can I see her?”

Emily answered, “Of course, kiddo. Come here.”

Emotion, quicker than he could stop it, built in his chest as he watched his son approach. Jack leaned on Hotch’s knee, smiling down at the baby. “Hi, sissy.”

Hotch’s grip tightened, and he lifted his hand to Jack's arm, rubbing gently.

Emily was alerted to his touch immediately, turned to look at him again, studied the side of his face. “Hey.”

He looked at her, lifted his head to see her clearly.

“You sure you're okay?” Her brows dipped in concern.

He didn’t want to be the reason to ruin her smile today, so he nodded. “Yeah, I'm okay.”

Hotch looked at their daughter, and he swore his chest exploded with happiness. She was smiling brightly at Jack and kicking her legs.

Thankful, he pressed a kiss to the top of Emily's shoulder.

She was receptive, leaned her head against his, and rubbed her thumb on his hand. “We did good, didn't we?”

Better than he could have ever dreamed.

Emily snorted a soft laugh and lifted her head.

Hotch met her dark, loving eyes again.

“You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?”

There was mischief in her words. He arched his brow. “What's that?”

“We should make a few more of these.”

Hotch snorted softly, mostly in surprise, but, wow. Yeah. “As many as you want.”

Emily flashed her pearly whites, eyes scrunching with happiness, and leaned in like it was a reflex, pressing her lips gently to his.

It didn’t keep, because she kept smiling.

Plus— “Alright, you two. Get a room.”

“Aww! Let the happy couple enjoy their family leave!”

“It was one kiss. That’s hardly PDA.”

Hotch couldn't keep from kissing her again, making her laugh.

“Hotch!”

He kissed her cheek and her neck.

“Hotch!”

*

Hotch opened his eyes, chest and body aching, and a cold grey fog lingered in his brain. It lined the fluorescent lights, and a loud beeping announced his pumping heart rate.

“Hotch?”

He shook his head gently, eyes hard to keep open, heavy and weighed down by exhaustion.

“Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”

Wait.

Hotch lifted his hand and licked his lips, then cracked his eyes open, fishing through blurry vision for something other than lights and tiles.

Emily appeared at the edge, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

He didn't like to worry her. “I'm okay.”

The nurse, whoever was standing on his other side, didn't seem to agree. “I need you to leave, ma’am.”

Emily's eyes shifted up quickly, tongue brushing her pink lips as she backed up and nodded.

Hotch sighed and furrowed his brows again, trying to take deep breaths. It hurt.

A light flashed in his eyes.

His blood pressure was taken.

He still barely had the energy to move, let alone answer the few questions he was asked.

It was obvious he was in the hospital.

What for, he was still clueless about.

All he knew was that he wanted to go home. Wanted to hug his family.

The brief glances he spared at the window of his hospital room let him know Emily was waiting for him, too.

Medicine was pumped into him. Made it impossible to stay awake.

So, he slept.

*

The second time he woke up was less hectic.

The room was quiet. Darker, lights dimmed, and the curtains were pulled.

He blinked his eyes clear and shifted them around the room. Morgan was leaning in the doorway, eyes drawn down to his phone, the screen illuminating his face.

JJ and Reid were leaning against the windowsill. Her head was resting on his shoulder. They both looked tired, their clothes crumpled and hair messy.

Emily sat next to him. Her hand held her head, elbow on the edge of the bed. Her eyes were closed, but he was pretty sure she wasn't sleeping.

Looked like she hadn't in a while, too. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, bangs framing her forehead. Her lipstick was gone, probably chewed off, and lips peeling. Her collar was a little crooked, gold necklace hanging down the front of her chest, ending in a simple circle.

He didn't want to disturb her yet.

Hotch wished they could have a moment alone, but he knew the moment he made everyone aware he was awake, this peaceful moment would get exponentially louder.

Subtly, he shifted his arm. Bumped her elbow with the outside of his wrist.

Her eyes popped open, attention locked on his face. The moment her eyes met his, relief escaped her in a sigh. Then she stood, her chair scraping the floor.

“Hey, you're awake.”

He could feel heads turn, hear his visitors react in their breathing. He couldn't look away from her.

“I'm okay,” Hotch said, and cleared his throat. It was sore.

Derek’s voice quietly chimed in. “I'll get the nurse.”

Emily studied his face and swallowed. “How… How are you feeling?”

Hotch thought she looked nervous. Especially when she crossed her arms.

JJ and Reid approached, the blonde's soft voice timid and full of care. “Do you know what happened to you?”

Hotch, reluctantly, turned his head to look at the younger agents. He shook his head.

Reid frowned, voice small, “You fell. Hit your head.”

Emily moved towards him again, and he let it pull his attention back. She nodded minutely. “Chasing a suspect.”

“Penelope is working on locating him still, and Rossi has been trying to get the local cops and media on our side.” JJ sighed. “I should probably head back to help him.”

Emily smiled weakly in JJ's direction. “Sure. You too, Reid. Grab Morgan. We need to finish the case.” She turned to leave.

Hotch's heart rate hiked up a notch, and the loud beeping next to him gave it away. It made all three agents hesitate. He didn't want her to leave. “Em—"

Emily's head tilted, eyes widened slightly. Her eyes shifted to JJ and Reid, then back to him as she waited for him to say something, but he had nothing to say.

Hotch swallowed.

Emily’s mouth opened and closed as she looked for words. “Um, you guys go ahead. I'll stay here with him. Make sure he's okay.”

Reid seemed okay with this plan, humming approval. “Call us if you need anything.”

Emily shifted her weight, hand tucking under her chin as she nodded, eyes falling to the bed.

Just as they were leaving, the nurse appeared at the door. Hotch shook his head. He didn't want to go back to sleep. Even if he needed it.

Emily patted the edge of the bed, obviously anticipating the nurse's direction to leave, but before either could speak, Hotch made his wishes clear. “She can stay.”

The nurse nodded silently and began to check his vitals. Emily stood frozen for a moment, but then turned and shifted her shoulders back.

Only then was he able to relax again, let his head rest against the pillow and breathe deeply, hoping to slow his heart.

The nurse flashed a light in his eyes again. “Are you feeling any pressure behind the eyes? Headache?”

Hotch wasn't sure. “No.”

“Your pupils are still showing signs of concussion.”

Hm.

The nurse fussed with him for a little longer. Hotch tried not to let it embarrass him, even though he knew he had nothing to be embarrassed about. Emily was watching the woman work, arms crossed, serious but focused expression following hands and scanning screens.

As the nurse began to make her leave, Emily relaxed.

She sat, scooted her chair close to the bed again, set her elbows on the edge, and folded her forearms to tuck her hands. Her lips pursed. “You scared us for a bit there, when you didn't get up.”

Hotch frowned and looked at his hands in his lap. He didn't remember falling. Didn't remember chasing anyone, and actually… he didn't even remember what case they were working on. Where they were at.

Instead of admitting that, he rolled the sheet between his fingers to keep his hands occupied. “Tell me about the case?”

“You should rest, Hotch.” Emily shook her head.

“Please,” he said quietly. “I don't remember.”

Emily inhaled deeply, eyes flicking to his forehead, then his mouth, then back to his eyes. “Okay, well… what do you remember?”

Hotch closed his eyes as he thought. Unfortunately, all he could remember was the sun. Her bright smile. The press of her lips against his.

Hotch tilted to look at her, really look at her. She looked different. Her face was a little slimmer than he remembered, jaw sharp and cheeks dusted with blush. Her hair was different. These bangs were different.

Suited her well, but very obviously different than he remembered. A dull ache started to form at the base of his skull. “I don't…”

Emily frowned. “Relax. I really don't want to be responsible for sending you into a coma or something.”

Hotch snorted a soft, weak laugh. He always could count on her to do that. To lift spirits with harmless teasing or jokes. The precious moments she knew she needed to, he loved her for.

Needing some connection, something to let him know they were okay, he reached for her. Rested his hand on her arm.

She tensed, straightened her spine, and let air slip out between parted lips.

“I'm okay,” he said and brushed his thumb back and forth. “Just start at the beginning.”

“Um…” Emily looked at his hand, then back up, nodding slightly. “Okay, yeah. Well, Georgia State Police called for our help with an urgent case. Three women, all taken in the same week from campus.”

Hotch listened to her for a long time. Watched her use her hands to talk sometimes. Let her voice soothe him. Tried to place the words she said in his memory, especially when she told him his part in it all, but it wasn't there. Just foggy pain clouding his brain instead.

“Then I watched him shove you off a four-foot drop, which wouldn't have been that big of a deal except you went head first. Thankfully, the bush you half landed in saved you.”

Hotch blinked his tired eyes. “That explains why my entire body hurts.”

Emily exhaled and tried to hold her smile, her dimples deepening. Her smile didn't stay as she looked at him, though. “We didn't chase him. I,” she corrected, “let him get away because I couldn't leave you there.”

Hotch appreciated it. He wasn't so sure she knew that.

She continued, “I haven't gotten many updates from the team. Rossi had the precinct set up road blocks, just in case he tries to skip town, but Atlanta is huge, so if he decides to lay low, it might be weeks before we can find this guy.” She shook her head in frustration.

“Emily.”

She snapped out of her small rant, flashing wide, surprised eyes.

Hotch liked it when she made this expression. A lot was going through her head all the time; he knew this about her, but catching her off guard was easy to do, actually. He watched others do this to her all the time. Whether interrupting her thoughts or saying something outrageous enough to dumbfound her.

In this case, he wasn't sure why she seemed so… surprised by him.

Hotch flipped his hand, held it out.

Emily looked down at it and back up. She was confused by this action, tilted her head like a puppy would when trying to understand what was going on. Then, with hesitation, she lifted her hand.

Set it gently in his.

Hotch squeezed her cold fingertips and gently tugged. She leaned closer as he pulled her hand slowly to his mouth.

He kissed her knuckle. “Thank you for staying with me.”

Emily was frozen silent, jaw dropped. “Uh,” she coughed, blinked, and watched their hands lower slightly, “Yeah. Of course.”

“When do I get to leave?”

Emily pulled her hand out of his, scooted her chair out, and stood. “Oh, well, one of your pupils is still, like the size of the moon, and your brain is missing hours. Maybe more, so my guess would be not for a while.”

Hotch frowned as he watched her step backwards, hands waving as she spoke.

“I really should get back to the team. Try to help end this case so we can be ready to go when you get discharged.” She pointed her thumb over her shoulder. “I'll come back, though. Soon, okay?”

Hotch nodded. “Be safe.”

She pursed her lips again and nodded. “Thanks, Agent Hotchner.”

Then she was gone.

Hotch internally cringed. Something happened there that he was not aware of. A verbal push away from him, and he wasn't exactly sure why. It hurt his brain too much to think about.

Hotch took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

He could smell her perfume, feel the soft fabric of her shirt on his lips, the warmth of her skin on his nose.

*

“Listen, guys.” Emily spun and held her hand up, bringing their group to a halt in the hallway. “Hotch is, uh… Like experiencing some amnesia or something. He couldn't remember the case or anything that happened tin he past three days since we've been here, really. I let the nurses know when I left, but he's—"

“He'll be okay, though, right? Temporary?” JJ asked, concern lining her voice.

Emily shrugged. “I hope so. I haven't gotten any calls or anything saying otherwise. He seems okay. Just, confused.”

Explaining this was harder than she thought it would be. Especially because Hotch was staring at her like she held some answers he needed, and Emily wasn't sure why. It made her nervous.

Yeah, they spent a little more time together lately. Might have had the team guessing they were actually friends, but this had her fooled.

Maybe something happened that she hadn't picked up on yet. Maybe she sent a signal she hadn't meant to.

But Hotch was never one to misread her. Not once, really. She'd only gotten away with lying to him by omission, and even then, she knew it wasn't because he misread her. It was because he trusted her too much sometimes.

Emily arched her brow as Reid spouted some facts about amnesia, traumatic brain injuries, something, bummed she missed most of what he said. Interrupting, she got to the point. “So, anyway. Speak softly and try not to pressure him into remembering anything. Pretty sure it, like, stabs him in the brain when you do that. When I was trying to tell him about the case, his eye kept twitching, and he would grimace. It was very strange and unnerving.”

Rossi half rolled his eyes and continued towards Hotch's hospital room. “I'm sure everything will be fine.”

Turns out, nothing was fine. In fact, they walked into the room to find the bed empty. “I swear I left him right here.”

Rossi turned to look at Derek. “Go see if the nurses know where he is. And when we can take him home. DC probably has better specialists for his condition. We can put in a transfer, if we need to.”

Emily’s eyes skirted around the hospital room as she walked further in. Halfway there, the bathroom door opened, and she exhaled heavily.

Hotch stepped out of the bathroom, clearly not expecting visitors, and closed the door slowly behind him. Emily scanned her eyes down and back up. “Please tell me you weren't about to sneak out of here?”

His hand flattened over his tie, and instead of responding, he turned to the chair and picked up his suit jacket.

“Hotch, seriously. You should be lying down.”

“I'm fine.” He said, and Emily nodded when there was a chorus of apprehension behind her.

Rossi’s shoes clicked as he stepped closer. “Aaron, we can't let you leave until you're cleared.”

Hotch put his jacket on and looked at Rossi. Hotch’s absence of response was concerning. He was always intentional when he spoke, but never omitted a response when it was asked of him. He was being so weird. Way too many screws were knocked loose. Emily lowered her eyes to the floor when they shifted her way.

Rossi touched her arm. “Let me have a minute with him.”

Emily was fine with that. If Rossi wanted to be the one to fight their boss on staying in the hospital or not, she'd happily let him. Hotch was not okay with that, though, and weirdly enough, in a way that made her actually want to crawl in a hole and disappear, made it very apparent.

Hotch stepped towards them, set his hand on her arm just above Rossi's, and gently pulled, turning his back to the older Agent, effectively putting himself between her and the rest of their team.

“Actually, can you give us a minute?”

Emily swore she could hear a pin drop.

“Sure. I'll go make sure your transfer to DC gets approved asap.” Rossi’s eyes burned the side of her head.

He had yet to let go of her arm. She didn't bother glancing behind until the door clicked shut.

She met JJ's eyes through the blinds, but she turned, leaned her back against the window.

Then, all the air in the room was vacuumed out as she looked up at the man in front of her. He was looking back at her intently. His hand lowered from her arm.

“In the four hours you've been gone, I was diagnosed with retrograde amnesia, or preferably, transient global amnesia, though we won't know for a few days.”

Emily nodded slowly.

“You're not surprised to hear that.”

“No,” she said. “I'm not.”

“Are…” he started, but hesitated.

Emily frowned and searched his face. His pupil still wasn't back to normal. She prompted him, “Are… what?”

He took a deep breath. “Are we okay?”

Emily thought it looked almost painful, like he wasn't sure if he could ask.

Continuing in the silence she left, he looked down and shook his head gently. “I can feel you pulling away, and I'm not sure if that's normal right now or if I'm just not remembering something that happened, but…”

Hotch met her eyes again. Emily's stomach dropped. She was so confused, but he was hurting and trying to figure out why she was being weird, and she realized then that this trust he was putting in her, being completely vulnerable, was not something she planned to take for granted.

“I need you right now, Emily. So, I'm sorry if I said or did something to push you away.”

Emily shook her head. She was not sure why he thought that, let alone admit something as blatant as I need you. “You haven't done anything. We're okay, I promise. I…” she searched his face again, hoping to find some words that made even a little bit of sense, “I was just worried. About… well, everything.”

Hotch nodded and stepped a little closer.

Emily held her breath as she watched him. She wasn't sure they had ever really gotten this close, completely aware of it. Sure, they'd had some moments brushing elbows on the plane or shoulders in the break room.

He leaned down for her hand.

Emily was scared to react.

Hotch swallowed and lifted his chin slightly. “Can I… can I kiss you? I am not sure that it's okay anymore, but I’ve been wanting to since I woke up, and I feel like it'll fix everything.”

Emily's heart stopped. Brain malfunctioned for a moment. “You… you're not sure it's…” She mumbled as she tried to process. Then she turned, looked at the window, the frames of their friends, and turned back.

More was wrong with him than she realized. “That’s… No.” She pulled her hand away from him.

“Oh.” He stepped back, brows pulling down. “Sorry, I—"

“Not yet,” Emily winced as she lessened the blow with the exact wrong words. “I just mean…”

“I understand.” Hotch crossed his arms and nodded slowly. “Where are we at on the case?”

Emily almost hated how quickly he brushed over that, but she wasn't about to stop him to talk about what he'd just said in detail. Never mind the fact that he had amnesia. She had missed something huge. Hotch bumping his head and waking up thinking they kissed was so not on her bingo card.

“We got him. Police did, actually. With dogs. DNA matched the crime scenes, and he fits the profile. We came to see when we could bring you home.”

There was a soft knock on the door then, and Emily took the moment to escape Hotch's bubble, crossing the room quickly to pull it open. Rossi and Derek were there. “He's cleared for transfer. Lucky you. Get to ride the jet back to DC, but the moment we touch down, they are expecting you for more brain exams. Must be nice forgetting the horrors this week, huh?”

Hotch responded with a simple nod.

Emily watched him touch his pockets. “We have your things. Come on.”

*

“I texted Jessica. Let her know about the situation.” Emily mumbled behind him, the door closing, the lock shifting into place loudly.

Turns out his memories were mostly fine. Just the past case was gone, and maybe a day before that. What was different was that he had all these other memories out of nowhere. It seemed that way at least. The nurse didn't outright say they were misplaced, or wrong, or something, but Emily’s face told a story. Especially when her brows lifted into her hairline as he glanced her way after referring to being married.

To her.

Which… Hotch knew that was probably not right, considering the way she blanched.

And there were other signs that maybe he was acting a little crazy. Like before, on the plane home.

Rossi had called him out for staring at her. Hotch said that he shouldn't be so surprised, which, he figured was a strange thing to say. Especially if their relationship was still private. Derek suggested it was probably because she was the last face he spotted before blacking out, which could explain why he kept looking, trying to trigger memories.

JJ suggested it was because Emily kept giving him this sad puppy look, to which Reid made it blatantly clear that it was normal for someone who watched their boss almost die.

It was all entirely way too much. Then they all ditched as soon as they could. Except for Emily. She stayed the entire time. Shot many confused looks in his direction, but she stayed.

And with orders not to sleep and needing supervision, she was roped into driving him home. Insisted that he have someone to watch him. He felt fine.

Mostly.

“She'll keep Jack for the weekend,” Emily said.

Hotch shifted his shoulders back and removed his suit jacket. He hooked it over his arm as he turned. “Good.”

Emily crossed her arms and bobbled her head. “You should get comfortable. We have a long night ahead of us.”

He fought his immediate thought to ask her to come with him. To reach for her arm and tug her against his chest.

Despite knowing these thoughts were not normal between them, it felt like the most normal thing in the world to want her close. “Thanks again. For doing this.”

“No problem.” Her cheek pulled into a weak smirk. “I know you would do the same if it were reversed.”

He nodded. Yeah, he probably would. “I know it may be different to you, but what's mine is yours, okay? You take whatever you need.”

Her smile was sweet, and that nearly permanent twinge of uncertainty melted away for a moment. “Thank you. Go. Get clean. I'll meet you back here on the couch.”

It felt good to shower. Brush his teeth. Wash away the hospitals and forget for a moment that his nightmare even existed. When he emerged, he was greeted with the smell of pancakes. She looked comfortable, despite looking for something in the cabinets.

She stretched, moved a couple of things over. His eyes were drawn to her wet hair and pajamas. A t-shirt that rode up in the back, exposing a sliver of her skin. And neon pink underwear.

She stepped to the side and did the same in the next cabinet, shoving spices around until she hummed and pulled the brown sugar down.

“Pancakes?” Hotch questioned, and Emily whipped her head around quickly.

She bobbled her head. “Started that way. Then I saw you had bread. Pivoted to French toast. Do you want bacon?” Emily reached for the package on the counter and held it up.

He approached slowly, already eyeing the huge mess that was now taking up the majority of his counters. “Sure. Why not?” Hotch reached for a pan and rested it on the stove. Next to the one she already had out.

They cooked in silence for a long while. Emily in charge of French toast, Hotch watching the bacon.

He fought every urge he had to look at her until she turned and cleared her throat.

She arched her brow. “So… in your brain. Literally in your memories, we are married.”

It wasn’t necessarily a question. He wasn’t sure how to respond other than to nod.

“How does that happen?” She waved the spatula. “It makes me feel like I’m the one with amnesia. You remember us getting married, and I do not. Have no clue how we would ever even get there at all, actually. Like, how did we go from coworkers to… that?”

Hotch tried to remember, but it was all a little fuzzy. He shrugged. “I don’t remember an exact moment. It feels more like we’ve always been this way.”

Emily looked in her pan. “What way is that? Married?”

Hmm. Yeah, he supposed so. “That’s one way to explain it.”

“I just can’t really wrap my head around… I mean, we’ve hugged maybe twice. Married is hard to picture. How would you explain it?” She flipped toast and then leaned her hip against the counter.

Hotch furrowed his brows. “I think it may not be received well, knowing it’s just in my head.”

“You can tell me.” Her voice lowered, and suddenly it felt like they were sharing secrets.

“It’s not memories, really. It’s feelings. Like loving you had stuck with me forever, it’s not something I can pin to a specific moment in time. Feeling safe around you, enjoying the sound of your voice, it's all… second nature.” He peeled his eyes away from her and smirked. “I also don’t recall a single memory of you cooking, by the way.”

Emily gasped quietly, voice rising. “Hey! I cook! All sorts of things.”

“Right.”

“I do!” She laughed. “I just choose not to because of time, and cleaning, and stuff.”

Hotch picked up one of the pieces of bacon that had finished cooling. He took a bite of it. Chewed as he thought about her.

“Did we have a wedding?”

Hotch didn’t remember one of those, either. “Our relationship was not public, due to the nature of our jobs.”

Emily turned, leaned her weight into her hand, and poked at the cooking toast. “Makes sense.”

“There's no wedding in my memories. Well, besides mine and Haley's.” He could picture that one perfectly. Pink flowers, white dress, blonde hair.

Hotch held the bacon out to her. She examined it, then leaned and opened her mouth to take a bite.

“This is very strange.” Emily bobbled her head as she chewed. “If it wasn’t for the doctor literally diagnosing you, I’d actually wonder if I needed to call the cops. Though, honestly, I’d rather you than any other man in the BAU.”

Hotch smiled, watched her consider something, then shiver. “Would you ever marry Rossi?” He took another bite and set it back on the plate.

“Strictly for money,” Emily smirked. “No. Imagine it was Derek instead. He is so like a brother to me, it just gives me the heebie jeebies.”

Interesting. Hotch moved to pull the last of the bacon out of the pan. Emily either didn’t notice or didn’t care to help with cleaning up when he started to. Instead, she asked more questions. “So, no wedding. What other memories do you have then?”

“You mean in general, or milestones?”

“Anything.” Her eyes followed him around the kitchen. “What is being married to me like?”

Hotch took his time contemplating her question. Putting it all into words felt nearly impossible. He opened the dishwasher and moved next to it, hands resting on the edge of the sink.

He turned his head and regarded her. She was already looking at him, an arm across her stomach, and eyes full of so much that he wished he could read her mind.

“It’s…” Hotch searched for words. The more he realized that whatever dream world he was currently living in was not their reality, the more he started to realize that anything he had to say was revealing in a way that made him feel completely exposed. More vulnerable than he felt in the longest time.

Similar to how he felt losing Haley, showing that side of himself, even if it was to the people he could trust the most. And his memories from then, leaning on Emily for support when she extended a branch to him, seemed warped by these fake memories. Loving her in those moments, feeling the weight of the world lift. Was it all as profound as he remembered? Did those precious moments feel as precious to her?

Either way, he couldn’t lie to her. And his brain was supposed to fix itself. Memories would return in time. Healing would happen. Maybe he didn’t want to lose these feelings. Maybe the only way to keep them was to share them.

Hotch’s eyes dropped back into the sink. “Nothing’s different. It’s… it all feels exactly the same as I can remember. Like, imagining a world where we aren’t married now feels weirder than not to me, because we’re… different. Being with you is like… breathing.”

Hotch fought the urge to look at her for her reaction. Instead, he turned the water on and started cleaning dishes.

“What…” Emily hummed. “What do you mean that we’re different? What exactly is different about us?”

Hotch sighed softly. “We speak without words. We read each other’s body language like we were born to. We’re in tune with each other’s movements and work in tandem like no one else does on the team. We’re meant to be partners. Jack loves you. Sophie is—”

Right, Sophie.

Emily turned the stove off with a click, and once again, he felt the full force of her attention. “Who is Sophie?”

Hotch scrunched his face as he thought about it, then swept his eyes to her, an apology already at his lips. “Sorry, it’s evidently no one.”

Emily shook her head, brows furrowing despite the intrigued smirk there. “No, Sophie is definitely someone you remember.”

Hotch flicked his eyes to her stomach, then back up. “She’s our baby.”

Emily nearly laughed, head shifting back like it was an impossible thought. “Our baby?!”

His face heat, and all he could do to hide it was to turn and place the plate he’d soaped into the dishwasher.

“Jesus Christ, you were so deep in fantasy land.” She laughed again. “Married with a baby. I can’t… Hotch. There’s no way your brain just came up with all of this out of nowhere.”

Except. It did.

There was no point responding. And the flicker of hurt that ignited wasn’t unexpected, but he knew it was ridiculous to feel hurt over her rejection. Because she was right. His memories were just a fantasy. Nothing about them was real.

She backtracked, sort of. “I mean, it’s not completely unfathomable. The part you said about us working well together. I see that. Our brains work similarly. I just, I can’t even begin to wrap my head around… all of this. I can’t imagine how strange this all must feel for you. Oh, your head isn’t hurting or anything, right?”

Hotch gave up trying to do the dishes. He turned the water off.

“Because I’m supposed to be encouraging you to rest. Here, we should eat.”

He wasn’t sure he could stomach anything, but he would try.

*

Emily was scared to move. As comfortable as his couch was, sitting feet away from Hotch was making her heart rate spike through the roof.

The man was still. Quiet.

Obviously tired, but his eyes were glued to a case file. She wished they could turn on the TV, but the doctor said no screens, and now she was just sitting here in silence. It was a wonder she hadn’t passed out yet, but the adrenaline she felt in his presence was not going to stop any time soon.

It was nearing two AM. She had so many questions. Most of them were all sitting right behind her lips, and it was work to keep them contained.

Because how could she not?

The man truly thought they were married. She could see it clearly on his face every time as he so much as glanced in her direction. And a baby, too. He’d dreamt up the perfect little life for them and was sad to find out it wasn’t true.

His head hit the concrete and unlocked a part of his brain that was in love with her.

What were the odds of that?

There was something about the thought that her boss dreamt about her having his baby that unnerved her.

Hotch was not the kind of man to do that to a woman. In any sense. He wouldn’t have done that to her, wouldn’t have used his thoughts in any way to make her feel uncomfortable. Wouldn’t have even dared to dream up this scenario of his own volition. Hotch was a man who valued the respect he curated with his team members, especially the women.

Which meant he was completely serious about this whole thing.

It made her feel horrible about this whole situation. He loved her, and he couldn’t explain why, and here she was, completely baffled at the thought. Emily rested her head back and took a slow, deep breath.

Emily was drawn to him. Always had been, in a way. She respected the way he taught, the way he cared for his team members over everything else. There wasn’t a moment that she hadn’t felt supported by him, even when she was deep in the mess that resulted in Rossi and her defying his orders. He still was on her side, made phone calls through connections she never would have expected he had. Then, let her off the hook at the end of it all.

He cared about JJ, too. Reid more than he would ever admit, probably.

So, wanting to be a part of his team felt second nature to her. Emily worked for his approval every day of her career at the BAU. Felt satisfaction when he gave it to her.

She cursed the little teacher’s pet that lived inside her.

And yet, it urged her on all day. Made her want to prove that she was reliable. Trustworthy. Loyal. Even knowing his brain was scattered. He needed something solid right now. She could be that.

“You are supposed to keep me awake.”

Emily’s eyes opened, and she lifted her head. “I wasn’t sleeping.”

“Mhm.”

Well, she wasn’t, but she also hadn’t meant to close her eyes. She was getting too cozy under this blanket.

“Alright, you win. Sitting in silence in a dark room under a blanket.” Emily rolled her eyes. “Obviously, I’m going to want to sleep.”

Hotch’s eyes never met hers, but they shifted in her direction. The closest she’d gotten to eye contact in a couple of hours now. “You should sleep. You’ve been up for much longer than I have.”

“No, no.” Emily waved her hand. “I’d be the worst caretaker if I did that. Maybe we can talk, or I don’t know. Wanna play cards or something?”

Hotch lifted his head. Contemplated her offer. “Chess?”

Emily smiled. “Yes.”

She moved, sat on the floor across the coffee table from him. He wasn’t very practiced in chess, and was easy to beat in her opinion, but the silent game play was relaxing. Felt more normal than the past twenty-four hours, anyway.

“Emily, I’m sorry to burden you with all of this,” Hotch said quietly, eyes scanning the board. “I wish I knew why it happened, so I could fix it.”

Emily licked her lips and nodded slowly. “It’s fine. I’ve dealt with stranger things.” Worse men, too. This one loving her was like a piece of cake compared to some of the love she had attracted in the past. “It’s not the worst thing in the world.”

He exhaled audibly, brows lifted slightly. “No, it’s not.”

She half shrugged. “I mean, you could be dead. That would suck. Majorly.”

“Yeah,” Hotch smirked. “That would suck.”

Emily squinted her eyes as she watched him play. Because she couldn’t get her mind off of it, she admitted, “It feels illegal to me, to think about having a baby with you. I mean, you’re my boss.”

“Illegal?”

“Well, close enough to it.” Emily sat forward, moved a piece, and rested her hands back in her lap. “Like dating your college professor. Or your dad’s friend. Just, kinda wrong. Maybe worse. Pretty sure people already think I slept my way onto the BAU.”

Hotch’s jaw shifted and finally, for the first time in ages, he met her eyes. “Who thinks that?”

Emily snorted in amusement. Of course, he would ignore the rest of what she said. “No one. Just a vibe I get from the B team sometimes.”

“I’ll have a word with them.”

“No, you will not.” Emily wished she could say his offer was because of his brain injury, but she was pretty sure he would have gotten protective anyway.

“You worked hard for your position on this team. Suggesting that the only way you made it was by sleeping with me is insulting to not only your character, but to mine and the rest of the BAU’s.”

Emily gestured to the board. “It’s your turn.”

He eyed her, but relented, focus lowering to the board.

Hm. It made her wonder. “What if we had slept together, though?”

“You think that lowly of me?” His question wasn’t serious, she could hear it in his voice, but he wanted an answer. That was for sure. Especially when he shifted a piece, leaned his weight on his elbows, and pinned her with a look that made her feel a little bad for asking.

“We did sleep together, though.” She tilted her head. “According to your brain. And you are my boss.”

Hotch didn’t budge. Barely reacted. Then he licked his lips and squinted his eyes. “According to my brain, I’m your husband.”

Emily pursed her lips. “So, it’s only okay because that came later. Getting hired, then getting married.”

“I did not hire you. Strauss did.” Hotch’s brows dipped minutely. “If you recall, I did not want you on my team, and sleeping with me was not an option for you at the time. I was married.”

“You’re making a defense here for something that didn’t, wouldn’t have happened.” Emily tilted her chin up. “You say that like I would have tried.”

“I didn’t say you would have.” Hotch shook his head slightly. “Us ending up together didn’t start with us sleeping together. It started with mutual respect, care, understanding. Supporting me through one of the hardest times of my life. Loving you for your expertise, trusting you more than anyone else because that’s what we built working together, built the foundation of our friendship on. Love has always been there. It was there before everything else. That I know, even if I can’t remember it all.”

“Our mutual love of respect, honesty, and trustworthiness has put us here, then?” Emily asked. “That whatever we felt for each other platonically could have possibly been mixed up in your head and read as romantic instead?”

Hotch’s eyes flicked around her face momentarily, and he shrugged, then pointed to the board. “Your turn.”

Emily sat forward and scanned the chessboard. “If I were to ever have a baby, I would want a girl.”

“I know,” Hotch said quietly. “She’s perfect. Tiny. Has your eyes and hair. Everyone is obsessed with her. You especially.”

Emily smiled and reached for a piece, pausing with her finger on the top of it. Hearing him speak as if this baby was alive and breathing made Emily’s stomach twist a little. “I’m not surprised. Sophie is an adorable name, too. What’s her middle name?”

“I don’t know.”

“Probably Sophie Renee. Sophie Anne.” It was weird to imagine, but not impossible. “I can see it.”

“The clearest, most recent memory I have is you scolding me for not letting anyone hold her all day.”

Emily liked the softness of his features as he pictured it, eyes focused somewhere between her and the chessboard.

He was happy to talk about her. Happy to have her.

Emily shifted her piece to its new spot and returned her arm to her lap again. She wondered if reality felt like loss. He’d had a whole lot of loss in his life, but this one was probably confusing to him. A mix of something that Emily was sure she would never understand.

“I don’t know if I would want a baby. Ideally, yes, but not with what we do. Not after everything we see.” Emily’s voice lowered.

“I…” Hotch blinked his eyes, focus returning to the present. “I agree. It’s not easy.”

Emily followed his hand as he shifted a piece on the board and removed one of hers. “Do you miss her?”

Instead of looking at him, Emily studied the board.

He answered just as quietly as she expected. “Yeah, I do. And, I miss you, too.”

The urge to look at him was strong, see what was written on his face, but she couldn’t get herself to. She tried to focus on the pieces, figure out her next move, but her brain blanked the moment he spoke.

Emily stayed perfectly still as he moved in her peripheral. His arm stretched across the table, hooked a piece of her messy hair, and tucked it behind her ear. The touch was foreign, made her cheek tingle.

Then she was forced to tilt up, his finger lifting her face.

“It’s the strangest feeling.” Hotch’s thumb brushed her chin. “Like I woke up with a piece of me missing, and it’s the closest thing to me, and the hardest thing to grasp.”

The pain behind his eyes was blatant. Searching her again, for answers she didn’t have.

Slowly and gently, Emily pushed it away. She swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry.”

His face fell slightly. He shook his head and shifted back, “No, don’t apologize. I’m sorry.”

Emily opened her mouth to protest as he stood and walked away, footsteps retreating down the hallway, but nothing came out. There was nothing to say anyway.

Emily sighed quietly and let her eyes rest shut for a moment.

Then she reached for a piece, shifted it, and mumbled to herself, “Checkmate.”

*

He could hear her pacing.

She’d been pacing for close to thirty minutes now.

Hotch knew leaving in the middle of a conversation wasn’t nice to do, especially because he could have gotten a much worse reaction from her, could have pushed her away so thoroughly and wound up with her leaving the BAU because of this, but no, she was here. In his home, making sure he was okay. Cooking for him. Trying to understand where his brain was at.

And all he could see was love. Love in the shape of her, the way she smiled and questioned him, and it hurt.

He missed his wife.

As crazy as it made him, it was true.

He probably wouldn’t have noticed she was pacing if he hadn’t been sitting on the floor with his back to his closed door. She’d approached twice and chickened out each time.

He didn’t blame her. Didn’t mean to make her feel bad for something way out of her control.

Hotch pushed himself up to standing and waited until she was next to his door to open it.

She nearly jumped out of her skin, leapt back a foot like a scared cat.

It made him smile. “Why are you pacing?”

Emily huffed, and when she started, she didn’t stop. “I’m supposed to be keeping you awake so you don’t fall into a concussion coma but then you closed the door and you clearly wanted space and I wasn’t sure what to do in this situation because you don’t like your boundaries crossed and I’ve never had to cross them really before until now, except…” She took a few breaths, “you opened the door.”

“Relax, Em.” He leaned his weight on the door frame and crossed his arms. “I’m fine. I promise I won’t go to sleep.”

“Good.” She crossed her arms, too. Looked at the floor. “That’s good.”

Hotch watched her nerves get the best of her, weight shifting, fingers digging into the skin at the edges of her thumbs. “What’s wrong?”

She huffed and looked up, sporting a frown. “Hotch, what if your brain goes back to normal like it’s supposed to? Are we just supposed to pretend you didn’t believe we were together? That you thought we had a baby? What—what am I’m I supposed to do with that information?”

Yeah, he was waiting for this reaction. He deserved it. “Nothing. There’s nothing to do about it.”

“Okay, well,” She shook her head, eyes darting all around him, to the wall, the door frame, his shoulder, the floor. “What if you never go back to normal? You pretend you’re fine? I just trust that you’re going to go back to work and treat me the same as before? I can’t just… forget that you’re in love with me.”

“I don’t know.” Hotch tried to soothe her with softness, kept his voice low and unassuming. “If that happens, maybe I'll put in for a transfer.”

Her eyes darted to his quickly, lips parted. “No. No. The BAU is your life, you can’t. This—” She dropped her face into her hands and huffed. “This isn’t fair to me. Why couldn’t you have just gotten regular memory loss like everyone else with a brain injury?”

Hotch could only watch her begin to lose it, because he knew that nothing he could say would help her process this. He couldn’t even process it, let alone begin to explain to her ways that would make this better, because he had no idea how to make this better.

“You can’t…” Emily’s hands shifted to her neck, threaded her fingers behind it, and let her arms weigh heavily and her head tilt back. “You’re like, probably one of my closest friends, closest coworker ever, and I never thought I would ever feel like I was losing you, but I don’t do…” Emily’s eyes blinked rapidly, and Hotch could see now that they were catching the low light more, beginning to shine. “I don’t do love. Never have. Never will. It doesn’t work for me, and I especially don’t date coworkers, and I wish it wasn’t you. Anyone but you.”

“Nothing has to change, Emily. Nothing about what we’ve both faced today changes anything about the way we work together. You’ve been the person I trust the most. My feelings or memories aren’t so different that I don’t know that. I wish this wasn’t how things are, but I can’t change what’s happened. I would have kept it all to myself if I’d known that it would hurt you like this.” If he could take it back, he would. But he couldn’t.

Opposite to the pulling away he thought surely she would do, Emily stepped forward, leaned, pressed her cheek to his clavicle, and wound her arms around his waist. Her breath fanned his neck. “I don’t want this to change us.”

He wrapped his arms around her slowly. Everything had to change. Everything already did. “Nothing has to change between us. Everything will be okay, but maybe you should go home. Get some sleep. Give me a few days to bounce back.”

She shook her head. Her hands tightened in the fabric of his shirt.

“Okay.” He wasn’t sure how to help her. He rubbed his hand back and forth on her shoulder blade. “Okay. Stay then.”

They both took quick, settling breaths. Hotch tried not to let his brain ruin this moment, but she was in his arms. Holding him tight. It was a balm to his soul. Hotch closed his eyes and tilted his chin down until he felt her forehead brush his jaw.

Emily’s breathing slowed exponentially, and she snuggled closer, which felt completely new in a way that was more than just a vague memory or feeling. It was real. Then she sniffled, and he couldn’t handle this. Couldn’t handle hurting her so much.

He shifted his hand, pressed her face to his chest, then tilted back and dipped his head, directing her away with nothing but the most caring touch he could muster. He tamed her hair, ran his thumbs under her eyes to make sure the tears she sported didn’t fall.

She let it happen. Her grip loosened, but her hands remained plastered to his sides. She watched his face with her big, brown, wet eyes and didn’t protest a moment while he fussed with her.

When he finally got the courage to meet those eyes, he held her jaw steady, scanned her for strength.

She whispered. “I think I’m a bad person.”

Hotch furrowed his brows. “You’re the furthest thing from a bad person. Why would you think that?”

“Because,” her eyes flicked down and back up. “I want you to kiss me.”

Hotch’s eyes widened, but he didn’t get a chance to respond.

“And that’s probably completely unethical considering your situation. It’s like, cruel, no? To want to be loved now, knowing you’ll stop soon?”

How he could ever stop loving her was still a mystery to Hotch. Even if his brain sorted itself out. Forgetting that he loved her felt damn near impossible. “You’re not a bad person for wanting to be loved, Emily. And you are so loved. Not just by me, okay? Our entire team. They all turn to you for guidance. JJ and Penelope light up when you’re around them. Reid looks up to you so much, you know that?”

She blinked a few times again, minutely nodded.

“Rossi has bonus daughter next to your name in his phone.”

A weak smile tugged at her cheeks, but her eyes filled more.

“Please don’t cry.” He caught a tear with his thumb, wiped it away with gentle swipes.

Her lip shook, but she was still smiling. “I am so tired.”

Hotch nodded, fondness filling his chest. “I can tell.”

“Just a little peck. Nothing major.”

Hotch rolled his eyes gently. “You don’t want to kiss me, Emily. You’re just confused.”

He was going to pull away, but her hands tightened and she pulled herself closer. “I’m not confused, Hotch. We can blame it on sleep deprivation and never talk about it again.”

The hardest thing he ever had to do was say no to her. It wasn’t any easier right now. “I can’t kiss you. I’m your boss.”

Emily pulled herself even closer, and it took a whole lot of his willpower not to look at where her chest lined his.

“You’re my husband.”

Hotch malfunctioned. Face, focus, brain-to-mouth connection all malfunctioned hard. He shook his head, blinked, sighed, and swallowed. That was not fair in the slightest. “I take it back. You are evil.”

“I’m sorry, I know.” Emily tucked her face down, pressed her forehead to his chest.

All he could do was hug her again. “Now… I’m confused. You should really head back home.”

“No, no,” She sniffled and finally released his sides, rubbing her face as she stepped back. “I promise I won’t ask again. Can I stay?” She nodded towards his room. “In there. With you.”

Hotch squinted and shifted his weight. He was always so weak against her. Even before thinking they were married. He stepped back and gestured her in. “No funny business. If I go back to work with an HR investigation against me, I’ll pull out some receipts that you cannot even deny.”

Emily laughed, sweet and melodic, and he was totally getting in over his head. “Don’t worry your pretty little, damaged head, Agent. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

*

Emily tried to stay awake. She really did. But his bed was so comfortable, and warm, and she let him turn on a movie on despite the no TV rule, and the next thing she knew, she was waking up to the sun streaming through the blinds.

With a gasp, she lifted her head. Turned it quick, and almost gave herself a crick. Hotch was sleeping. His head turned away from her. She wiggled to get closer and set her hand on his chest. “Don’t be dead.”

He didn’t move.

She wiggled more, got her knees under her, and shook him. “Hotch.”

He flinched and scrunched his face, tired eyes finding her and then her hand, and Emily exhaled finally. “Oh, thank god.”

“Hush.” Hotch groaned and pulled the sheet as he rolled away from her, hand pushing her wrist the opposite way.

“No, you’re not supposed to sleep.” She scooted closer on her knees and shook his side. “I let you fall asleep.”

“Pretty sure that’s only for the first six hours,” Hotch mumbled. “Go back to sleep.”

“I’m the worst concussion-sitter ever.” Emily flopped back onto her side. It took less than a second to sink back into the bed. “You have the world’s comfiest bed. How do you get up in the morning?”

He didn’t respond.

It made her a little nervous.

She was only able to sit in the silence a moment before her hand had a mind of its own, sliding to touch his back to make sure he was still breathing.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” Hotch said quietly. “I’m breathing.”

“Well, I know.” Emily frowned. His back was warm. Very alive. Would he hate her if she just…

Instead of pulling her hand and herself back to the other side of the bed, Emily scooted up behind him, crossed her arms, and leaned into the warmth.

She knew that stupid pillow wall was pointless.

Then a dreaded noise, a phone, started to ring in the other room. She was going to ignore it.

Hotch, on the other hand, inhaled deeply and, to her dismay, pushed himself up to sitting. “I’ll get it.”

Emily scooted into his spot.

The ringing got louder. It stopped just next to her. “It was yours. JJ.”

Emily held her hand up. Her phone was placed into it. Barely thinking, half blindly typing what she hoped was I’ll call back later unless it’s an emergency, Hotch’s hands slipped under her, scooted her over.

She dropped her phone on the bed and waited for him to settle. Then she looked over her shoulder and, embarrassingly, made eye contact. He was smiling sleepily. Watching her.

Emily ducked and groaned. “Go back to sleep, Hotch.”

“I thought you were worried about me slipping into a coma.”

“Actually,” she chuckled. “I think I’d prefer that right now.”

Her phone buzzed. She reached for it. Read: not an emergency. Everything okay? Haven’t heard from you or Hotch in a while.

She typed a quick response. All good. Hotch is finally sleeping.

“I’m not asleep,” Hotch said over her shoulder.

Emily dropped her phone again and closed her eyes. “It’s rude to look at someone else’s phone.”

“It’s rude to take up all of the bed.”

Emily sighed heavily and scooted forward slightly. Barely. “That’s all you get.”

Again, he didn’t respond. Moved a little, relaxed again, maybe.

She blinked her eyes and looked across the bed, to the way the curtain was just barely moving, lit by the sun. She wished she was delusional, too. Wished she was as dumb in love as he was. Or used to be, maybe, she hadn’t checked his brain yet this morning.

Emily thought about the previous night.

She really wasn’t fair to him. Asked him to kiss her. Slept in his bed knowing he was grieving the loss of love and toeing the line between being her boss and being more.

And still, there wasn’t a moment she felt unsafe. Not a moment she didn’t trust him enough to push this boundary because she knew that he cared. Truly cared.

Chewing her lip, Emily shuffled backwards. Not enough to touch him.

He didn’t say anything.

So, she did it again, felt his elbow at her shoulder, and shifted over it.

Before she made it all the way to him, she was getting scolded. “Emily.”

“Mhm?” She wiggled back more, until his chest lined her back.

“Don’t play with me.”

She tugged on his arm. “I’m not.” He straightened it, and she tugged on it again. “I’m just seeing what the fuss is about.”

“The fuss?” He didn’t let her pull his arm any closer to her, and she gave up trying.

“Yeah.” She let her body relax, dead weight on top of his arm, back resting against his chest. The man had more self-control than any other man she knew. “About the whole husband and wife thing.”

“Husband and wife thing?”

Emily could hear the surprise in his voice. Disbelief, maybe. “Yeah. I’ve never been someone’s wife before.”

“And you want to find out what it's like to be a wife, by being my wife?”

She hated how much that sentence intrigued her, the way it chased goosebumps down her spine, made her stomach flutter. Her heart stopped when his hand rested on her arm, squeezing gently.

“You want me to show you what it's like to have a husband?”

God, the temptation was getting to her. She was teasing. Hoped to get a little cuddling out of him because this was a side of him she knew she would never get again. But having him show her what it was like to be a wife, to have a husband. Her stomach clenched.

“Use your words, Emily.” His voice was low, gravelly, sent a wave of want straight to her groin.

Emily shakily inhaled, lifted her chin as his breath tickled her ear. This was never a possibility. She wasn't… turned on by Hotch. That would be ridiculous.

Hotch as a husband, though. She'd never seen that. Not really. She'd seen him as a father. A hell of a boss.

But—

Emily squeezed her eyes shut as his arms wound around her, folding over her stomach and squeezing her tightly.

His nose brushed her ear, back and forth. “Unfortunately, I don't know how to be the husband you deserve, Emily. The only husband I've been I failed at, and I won’t risk failing at it with you, too.”

Emily sighed and covered his arm with hers. She turned her head, surprised to be bumping his face with hers when she shouldn't have been.

He pulled away to look at her. “Nice try, though. I commend your effort in using my amnesia to get what you want. You know better.”

Hotch kissed her forehead. Planted one right on her brow and pulled away, slid his arm out from under her, exited the bed. Made her chest drop with dread because he was exactly the man she knew he'd be. She wasn't sure if she should curse him for it or bow to him, thank him like no tomorrow.

“It's time for you to go home.”

She rubbed her forehead, trying to get the tingles to stop. “Yeah. I know.”

*

Hotch was cleared for duty early Monday morning. The memories weren't all back, but the missing pieces came back in small bits. Sometimes triggered, sometimes random, and the more distance he got from his head injury, the more he got some perspective on what the hell happened.

A dream.

Must've been.

Something so vivid his injured brain latched on like it was real and integrated it. Knowing this was not helpful in the slightest. Didn't stop him from thinking about her the moment he opened his eyes. Didn't stop him from wondering if he needed to check on the baby before shaking the thought clear.

Didn't stop his chest from aching at the sight of her, deprived of her affection for two whole days now. He should never have let her into his room. Never let her get comfortable in his bed.

Emily sat stiffly at the round table, eyes flicking through evidence that had yet to be presented.

Penelope occupied the front of the room, a vision in bright pink and orange, pressing the power button on the remote.

She smiled as he approached. “Howdy, stranger. How's the head?”

Hotch smiled sweetly at the redhead. He'd missed her the past week or so. “Hi, Garcia. I'm okay. Got the all clear this morning.”

Despite fighting the reflex to glance at Emily, his eyes shifted without his control. Emily was sitting up straight, obviously checking him for honesty. When she was satisfied with whatever she saw, she nodded minutely and gave a weak smile. “Glad to see your pupils didn't get stuck different sizes.”

Same ol' Emily.

“Hey,” Rossi said happily. “Welcome back to work, boss.”

Derek followed the older agent in and pulled the chair next to him out. “Back so soon?”

Hotch nodded, sharing a smile with Reid as the man took his seat next to Emily. “All cleared.”

“Got that brain of yours all sorted?” Rossi teased.

Hotch bobbled his head playfully, “Hopefully.”

“Guess we will find out, huh?”

Heads turned to Emily. She was sitting, looking at him and sporting an innocent smile.

Hotch opened the folder in front of him and turned towards Penelope. “Guess we will.”

*

He felt watched. All day, by all members of the team.

It made sense. Obviously, Emily and everyone were serious about waiting to see if his brain was still broken or not, if they could tell just by looking at him or watching him for a slip-up.

Made the case difficult. For a multitude of reasons.

Firstly, because he had a headache the entire time. Something about flying increased the pressure in his skull, and it was hard to find privacy to take meds in peace without worrying everyone.

Secondly, because he was second-guessing himself. He had no reason to. Never out loud, of course, but he sat back. Let Rossi take some of the reins. Didn't join them on the chase when it was time.

He knew no one would expect him back in the saddle at 100%. Hell, his brain had bounced in his skull less than a week prior, but still, he hadn't been taking the backseat entirely by choice.

And thirdly. Emily. Shadowing him like it was her job. Which it wasn't. Especially because he insisted she go on assignment with anyone else and she would do as she was told, and would come back with information, mouth running a mile a second, eyes boring into him like she could read his mind. It was unnerving.

It really made him wonder why she was so determined sometimes, because this wasn't new behavior. She was always running back to him with information, documents, things she knew he needed to see, and was happy to be the one to deliver it.

She'd been doing that since the moment he met her. It was commendable, honestly. Part of the reason why he started out skeptical about her presence, but she showed him who she was through consistency. Showed him the kind of agent she wanted to be. He respected that.

Today, he found it a little overbearing.

Not because she was doing anything on purpose, but because he was still way too aware of her. Didn’t need to imagine what wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer felt like because it was seared into him now. His hands, his arms, and his brain.

She was right, though. Right to be mad at him.

He made her doubt herself, her judgment of him. Proved to her that maybe all men were the same, that maybe one of the ones she trusted the most not to betray her could, and every time he looked at her, it made his head hurt.

With guilt and love and more guilt, and he wasn’t sure what to do with all this.

Hotch pushed his thumb and forefinger into his eyes, hoping the pressure would fight back against his brain trying to explode.

He found a hallway darker than the rest. Slipped down it when he needed a break from the fluorescent lighting, and it helped, but it wasn’t doing enough now.

“Hotch?”

Hotch turned, meeting JJ’s concerned expression from the end of the hall. She looked small, a frown to match on her face.

“Everything okay?”

He grimaced. “Headache. It will go away soon. They never stick around for long.”

“Oh, okay.” Her blue eyes took him in. “Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m—”

“Do you want me to get Emily?”

“No.” He lifted his hand, keeping her from continuing, and quickly softened his demeanor. “No, I’m okay. I don’t need anything at the moment. Thank you.”

She pursed her lips and nodded. “Okay. We are packing up. What time do you want to head to the airstrip?”

“As soon as we can.” Hotch took one centering breath and moved to follow her out of the hallway. He fought reacting to the stabbing pain in his forehead, skirting his eyes around this small police precinct. His team glanced up at him and JJ as they entered the conference room, none the wiser, either still laughing at whatever joke was cracked or just taking notice.

Hotch barely got his hands on the folder in front of him when a figure appeared in the door behind him, eyes once again lifting that way. He turned, met the eyes of the chief officer.

“Agent Hotchner,” she smiled. “Could I have a word with you in my office?”

“Of course.” He nodded. “Give me a moment.”

“Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

Hotch watched her turn.

Then, there was a whistle from across the room. Derek was smiling brightly. “Okay, Officer Brantly.”

Hotch finished collecting papers, securing them in a folder as he was teased.

“Don’t keep her waiting, Aaron.” Rossi’s voice was almost accusatory. Lighthearted, but mischievous.

JJ joined, flashing him a bright smile. “Just remember we’ve got a plane to catch.”

He passed her the folder and lifted his brows. “I won’t be long.”

He turned and heard Derek pull out a set of keys, throwing him a look. “We will meet you there, boss-man.”

Reid nodded next to him, waving. “Take your time.”

Alright, that earned an eye roll. Hotch ambled, gathered his head, and put on a polite face that he hoped wasn’t overtly friendly.

He knocked gently and turned the knob when he heard a quiet agreement from inside.

Officer Brantly stood, all five foot two of her, hip tilting around the edge of her desk as she stuck her hand out.

“Agent Hotchner. I wanted to thank you for your time and dedication to this case. We wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.”

He shook it firmly. “My team and I were glad we could help.”

“I was wondering,” She smiled, bright white teeth on display once again. “Was there a more direct line I could reach you at? I know you’re in high demand, but if I ever need the FBI again, I know I’d want you on my team.”

Hotch reached for his wallet. Pulled out his business card. “JJ fields all of our calls, puts in requests for cases that need assistance, but my office phone is here if you need consulting.”

Hotch didn’t have to look at their hands to know she had touched his for a reason. It was all in her eyes. She took the card, flicked the edge, then looked down at it.

“Thank you. I’ll be sure to call.”

Hotch shifted his weight. “You did a good job out there. Trust your gut, lean into your knowledge. You didn’t need me, or anyone, approving every order before you made it.”

She blushed, nodded, and crossed her arms. “Right, yeah. I will. Thank you.”

“I should,” He nodded towards the door. “Get going. Don’t want to keep my team waiting. It was nice to meet you, Officer Brantly.”

“Emily.” She reached her hand out. “You can call me Emily.”

Hotch inhaled slightly, lifted his brows, and gently took her hand. “Emily then. Thank you.”

“Have a safe trip home.”

Hotch exhaled and shook his head gently as he walked back to the conference room. It wasn’t a possibility to begin with, but even if there was, that would always be an issue. He paused in the doorway, eyes meeting a remaining Agent’s.

Emily smiled, something cold behind her eyes. She let her feet fall from where they were propped up on the table. “I didn’t fit in the other car.”

She pushed her chair out.

He watched her stiffly grab the last box and brush right past him with a tossed come on, Agent Hotchner over her shoulder.

He turned on his heel and followed her.

Their team had kindly left them seats at the table, right next to each other. Hotch gestured her into the window seat.

It took them only a couple of minutes to settle. He looked up when JJ approached. She passed him a water.

“Thank you.” He held his hand out when she held hers up, and two pills were deposited.

He appreciated her so much.

“You’re welcome. Feel better, okay?”

Hotch nodded and cracked the water open, tossed back the pills.

Emily’s elbow bumped him.

He glanced at her and opened the folder he had set on the table.

“You okay?”

He nodded. “I’m okay. Just a persistent headache.”

“I’m sorry. Here,” Emily said, and leaned towards him.

Took him a moment to realize what was happening. She flicked the light above him off and grabbed the folder with her other hand, dragging it to her side of the table. “I’ll do this. You should rest your eyes.”

The rest of the cabin went dark, and the intercom sounded their departure.

He had no intention of fighting her on this. Closing his eyes was a good idea.

So, he took a peek at the side of her face and rested his head back.

Ouch. Too much brain power used this week.

*

Emily was having an extremely hard time reading him. From the moment he’d shown up to work bright and early Monday, through the next two cases. He was concealing things from her.

Not obviously, maybe not even consciously. Hiding headaches or pain, not keeping her in the loop regarding his location. Not that he owed her these things, but it really started to make this whole thing sink in.

She knew this was the only option. For him to go back to normal and pretend like it never happened. The one that made the most sense, at least. Kept them both out of trouble and was so much simpler than any of the other options.

Emily wanted it to work, wanted to be able to focus on her job and not care about the fact that he wasn’t looking at her, but she did care. She cared whether or not he was keeping tabs on her. Cared whether or not he paired them up, kept her informed, notified her of all of his movements because he wanted someone to know.

He wasn’t doing that now.

And it hurt. Made it hard to work with him.

Of course, they both did everything they could to keep things extremely professional, but Emily reached her breaking point when she watched him walk across the bullpen, practically wincing.

His meetings with Strauss never went well, but having a migraine on top of that probably made it one of the most unbearable meetings ever. She wished she could help.

Wished he would be receptive to it.

Emily tapped her pen on her desk, watched him shut his door, sit, open a folder, and lean his head in his hand.

Her feet moved her towards him before she really knew what she was doing. She stopped at his door, pulled herself together, and knocked.

“Come in.”

She pushed the door open and met his tired eyes. He was sitting up now.

“What can I do for you?”

Emily chewed her lip and closed the door gently with a click. It was too bright in here.

Hotch had looked back down, but when she didn’t respond, he tilted his head back and watched her.

Emily figured now was as good of a time as any to push some more boundaries. Even with the possibility that he’d gotten his wits about him and realized he wasn’t actually in love with her.

She cared about him. As a friend.

Instead of telling him why she was here, Emily walked to the window and pulled the blinds shut. Then she walked to the other window and pulled those shut too, darkening the room as they blocked the sun.

She flipped off the overhead light, approached slowly and with caution, because he hadn’t lost the grumpy little scrunch of his face yet.

She turned the lamp on.

“What are you doing?”

Emily half shrugged. “It’s not hard to see that you’re hurting.”

“I’m fine,” he protested and tucked his face down, resting his forehead in his hand again as he read words on paper.

Emily sighed and walked around him, behind his chair.

Braver than she felt in a while, she rested her hands on his shoulders. “Just a few minutes.”

Hotch didn’t react.

Not until she started to squeeze his muscles, thumbs pressing gently into his neck.

He exhaled, and his shoulders relaxed.

She showed him she cared, for a long few minutes, and he let her. When he was nearly fully relaxed, head tilted back against the headrest, she turned, sat on the edge of his desk, and slowly reached for his face. She pressed her pointer fingers into his temples softly.

“When is your next doctor’s appointment? You need to tell them about your headaches.”

“Thursday. They are going to do another scan. Make sure there’s no swelling.”

Emily reached further, fingertips pressing evenly along his scalp. He lifted his head, leaned into it.

“Make sure you go. No cases, okay?”

“I’ll try.”

“Please.” She said. “You are worrying me.”

Hotch’s eyes cracked open then, and Emily saw it all. The heavy lids, tired eyes that he couldn’t hide now. The small, pleased smile at her confirmation of worry.

He couldn’t pretend not to love her. All he could do was pull away from her, and she didn’t want that.

Emily massaged her way down his face, to his jaw, then gently forced him to nod. “Yes, Agent. I’ll go as soon as possible,” she answered for him.

His smile grew a little more. “Yes, Agent,” he mimicked. Then he leaned forward, resting his hand on her waist. “I’ll go as soon as possible.”

Emily tilted her head, more than happy to be receiving something. Affection. Attention. Plain old eye contact.

But his hand tightened, and his other one found her other side, and he pulled her off her seat and pushed her back a step. “Back to work, Agent Prentiss.”

Emily stood there in disbelief for a moment, then rolled her eyes. “Yes, sir.”

*

Hotch was on edge. Had been from the moment they arrived on scene. His eyes skirted around the brick building and its windows as he thought about their profile.

“He’s cornered. Reactive. Probably won’t go down without a fight.”

Derek nodded and pulled the straps of his vest tight. “He’s panicking. My guess is if you’re making eye contact, he’s shooting.”

Emily turned around the edge of the truck, holding her vest to her chest as she tightened the side. “What’s our marching order?”

Hotch pulled his last strap and pressed it flat as he thought. “Morgan, take half the agents and go around back, straight up the stairs. Clear the top floors and work your way down. Prentiss and I will start down here. Cover more space so he can’t escape if you end up pushing him to us.”

Without a second thought, he watched Emily reach for her shoulder strap and stepped forwards, grabbing it from her, pulling it tight.

She didn’t object and instead reached up to pull her hair into a ponytail.

“You’re our most reliable shot, right now. I want you in front,” he said to her, and reached for her other side, undoing and redoing her velcro.

Determination shined brightly in her eyes, and she nodded once. She gave herself away, though, tilting her head slightly. “You’ll be right behind me?”

He felt for his gun. “Right behind you.”

Hotch gave everyone one extra minute to gear up and mentally prepare, then rounded up the troops. Morgan expertly gave direction, nodded the moment Hotch gave the signal and was off, leading a trail around the edge of the building, Reid in his footsteps.

Then, everyone fell in line behind him. Emily moved in sync with him, every step, every breath, until he paused at the front door and looked back at her. They pulled their weapons.

Her eyes met his, her jaw flexed, and she nodded.

Hotch yanked the door open and lifted his gun. It was dark except for light streaming in through windows. Silent except for the quiet scuff of shoes.

They took turns clearing rooms and made it all the way back to the stairwell.

He followed her up and stepped past her, hand on the handle, and again, waited for her nod before pulling it open.

His eyes were drawn forward when it happened. Past her, as she turned to clear the first room. He heard the shot before anything, watched her fly backwards from the impact. Instinct moved him, then. Turned him and pulled the trigger before he ever really had an eye on the suspect, but he didn't care.

Hotch turned and dropped to his knees, spoke for the first time since entering the building. “I need an ambulance, officer down. Come on, Emily.” She had a pulse, but that was a shotgun, and he was praying it was a birdshot. Instead of clawing at her vest, her shirt, to see the damage, Hotch grabbed her hand, pulled her up, tucked his shoulder, and lifted.

The agents around him continued into the building, guns drawn, barking orders. All except a couple that led and followed him back the way they came.

Everything moved in slow motion. Lying her down, Rossi apprearing at his side to guide her to the ground, hands cradling her head. Velcro ripping apart as he pulled it from her. Buttons flying so he could get to her chest.

No blood, no immediately apparent broken ribs. He leaned down, pressed his ear to her mouth, listened for breathing.

He pulled back to look at her and gently patted her cheek. “I know you're in there. Come on, Em.”

Rossi pet her hair again, and Hotch shifted his hand down, pressed it hard against her chest, felt for her heart, her breathing lungs, and shook. “Come on!”

He didn't want to put pressure where she was hit, just below the band of her bra, if he was judging right, just in case she did have something broken.

Instead, he leaned down again, listened for her breathing because his blood was whooshing in his ears, and he didn't trust himself to get it right, right now, but he couldn't hear it. Couldn't… feel air.

He shook his head in frustration and scooted close, layered his hands, and prepared to push right where she had the most damage.

Before he could even get one in, she coughed, gasped for air, and he almost fainted with relief.

“Ho-ly fuck-ing shit,” Emily groaned, and Hotch had never been happier to hear her.

She attempted to sit up, curl, but Rossi reached for her head. “Lay down, bella.”

Hotch reached for her, too, directing her back down. “You took a slug directly to the chest.”

“Yeah,” she coughed again. “I can tell.”

Her eyes were still distant, squinting in the brightness. JJ was at her other side, hand brushing her hair back and leaning to block the sun. “Morgan got him. There were two.”

Hotch furrowed his brows as he looked up. Two.

Rossi sounded surprised to hear that. “There were two. We missed that in our profile.”

Emily panted a little harder. “I can't breathe.”

“Slow it down.” Hotch reached for her hand and squeezed. “You're winded. May even have a broken rib or two.”

Her dark eyes shifted around until they met his. She was fighting to breathe evenly, and he couldn't help but direct her, in and out. It worked. She squeezed his hand.

“Ambulance is thirty seconds away,” JJ reported.

“You're gonna be fine,” Hotch said quietly.

Emily nodded and lifted her head against Rossi’s orders. She looked down, probably to see the damage, but couldn't hold her head up for long, and let it fall back into the man's hands.

Hotch watched her huff out a breath quietly and find his eyes again. The corner of her mouth lifted. “Did you,” she huffed again, winced, but smiled, “Did you have to rip the buttons? This is my favorite shirt.”

Hotch sighed in relief and sat back on his heels. “I'll buy you a new one.”

EMTs took their places. Hotch watched them closely for the five minutes they kept her on the ground. A hand on his shoulder drew his focus.

“You should go with her. Morgan and I can wrap things up here.”

Hotch shook his head gently. “She's fine. She will be.”

“Don't be an idiot, Hotch,” Rossi said. “Your agent was shot. Escort her to the hospital.”

The man was probably right. He reached for his vest and started to pull it off. Rossi helped as much as he could and hooked it over his shoulder.

Instead of watching EMT work, Hotch sent a few final orders to the team. Made sure his gun was accounted for and attached to him again, grabbed his and Emily's things from the truck. He hopped in the back of the ambulance just before the door was shut.

“She's going to need an X-ray, but there doesn't seem to be any major damage to her lungs or other organs.”

She turned her head to watch him sit and held her hand out. He grabbed it, enveloped it completely as he leaned on his elbows, and rested his head on their knuckles. Hotch took a couple of centering breaths, then looked up at her. He held her hand against his cheek.

She watched him, then lowered her eyes. “I didn't even see him.”

“It’s okay.”

Emily didn't respond. Hotch knew she was trying to process, figure out how she had messed up.

“This wasn't your fault. There were two unsubs. None of us got this one right, and you suffered for it.” Hotch swallowed thickly, and Emily just blinked weakly.

“It hurts.” Her brows drew together, and she closed her eyes.

Hotch scooted closer, reached for her head. “I know. I wish I could help you. You're going to have a hell of a bruise.” He brushed her bangs to the side, comforted her the best he could with the swipe of a finger. “Rest. I'll be right here.”

She nodded and leaned her head towards his hand.

*

The hospital was less eventful than she expected.

Quicker than she expected. Hairline fracture on a rib and a bruise that was starting to form. Hurt to breathe still.

Hotch was there the whole time. Gave her and the doctors space, but his presence was required. For her sanity at least.

She appreciated his help sitting up. He even helped her pull his loose t-shirt over her head because she couldn't lift her arms without everything aching.

The plane home was just as uneventful. Morgan had to help her lie down. Made her laugh, too, which sucked majorly.

Before she could get too comfortable, Hotch was at her side, pulling a blanket over her. He laid an ice pack on her. Then he set the record straight with a quiet and serious order:

“You're staying at mine tonight.”

Emily relented, nodded subtly, and closed her eyes.

The attention after an injury was maybe the worst part of it, she was pretty sure. She could deal with the pain; that part was easy, but all the eyes. All the weird jokes or overly emotional well-wishes left a bad taste in her mouth.

She was glad that Hotch had no intention of staying to do paperwork. Packed it all up, hers too, and led her out to the truck. She couldn't wait to find privacy.

Emily waited patiently at the passenger door while he tossed their bags in the back. The door next to her was pulled open, and he held his hand out for support. She set hers in it heavily, held her breath as she stepped up and ducked, exhaling through the pain of bending, and sighed when she was in. He moved her leg even, took the work off her core for her as he made sure she was in and settled.

“Okay?”

Emily nodded. She half expected him to do her seatbelt for her. “No belt?”

“That pressure wouldn't feel very good.” He patted her leg. “I'll drive slow.”

Hotch was careful every step of the way. His apartment was dark. Emily wondered when he was supposed to have Jack, if she was cutting into his time, but refrained from asking.

He set their bags down and she turned towards him as he stepped closer. Then he knelt, reached for her boot. Emily smirked and rested her hand on his shoulder, helping as much as she could. He set them to the side and stood. Her hand slid down his arm, eyes lifting with him.

“How's your pain level? Are you ready for some more meds?”

She shook her head. “I'm okay.” Emily wanted to change, to shower, to rid her body and brain of this day, but that was all easier said than done.

“You should sit.”

“It actually feels better standing.”

He frowned. “How about a shower?”

She nodded.

“Okay, come on.”

Emily followed him through his room to his bathroom. It wasn't the first time she'd been in here, but he did all the work for her. Turned the water on, pulled towels out, told her to use whatever she wanted.

She glanced around and then realised he was just standing there in the doorway.

Looking at her.

Emily wished she was alone for this part, because her eyes watered before she could even figure out what was going on inside her head, and she felt her lip wobble. Crying was absolutely going to hurt.

Hotch approached her slowly, searched her eyes.

Emily nodded because she needed it and took the hug he opened up for her. His hand covered her head, touch gentle. She sniffled and winced.

“I've got you. You're okay.”

Her throat burned, and her voice pitched up out of her control. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize.” He kissed the top of her head. “It's okay.”

Emily groaned, let the tears fall because fighting it hurt worse, and wished he could hug her tighter. “I've been shot before. I don't know why this one is—"

“It was scary.” Hotch guided her head back, brushed her tears. “I was scared. I watched you fly from the impact. Thought I was going to have to break your ribs more doing chest compressions. I never want to hurt you, Emily, never.”

She weakly smiled her thanks. “I would have forgiven you if it saved me.”

“Yeah?” He snorted softly. “Good to know.”

Emily huffed and tilted her head back, closed her eyes as he wiped her tears more. “I can't wash my hair. Can't even get this stupid shirt off to shower.”

He didn't respond for a long moment. Long enough for her to tilt her head down and look at him.

“Do you trust me?”

Of course she did. “With my life.”

“Let me help you. I can wash your hair,” he offered quietly.

"You'll get in with me?"

He searched her face. "If it's okay."

She needed help. Trusted him to help. "Okay."

She wasn't a prude, but this made her nervous. She managed to mind her business as Hotch removed his suit, and wiggled out of her pants and underwear in way too long a time. Then, she got her arms in, started to lift the shirt, but he took over, hands drawing it up and over her head.

He carefully pulled her hair tie out and fluffed her hair. Her scalp was tender. It felt good.

Emily turned barely, caught a glimpse of her front in the mirror. A huge, ugly circle of bruising sat right in the center of her abdomen. She grimaced and followed it gently with her fingertips, checking out the damage.

His arm stretched across her, gently tugging her waist to turn her. Emily watched him do the same, brush her skin gently as he studied her wound.

It was clear to see he was processing, too. Face solemn, but jaw muscles twitching, and when he looked up, all the love and devastation he couldn't conceal anymore was there. He cupped her face, pulled her head to his lips.

She met his eyes again when he leaned back.

“Ready?”

She was. Ready to get this over with. Ready to be horizontal. She nodded.

“Come on then.”

*

Hotch kept dreaming about her.

Couldn't make his brain stop picturing her, seeing her skin, her wet, tired eyes. Asleep, he could get his hands on her, feel the warmth of her on his fingertips, all for it to get ripped away by a bullet, or a knife, or the universe tilting and their lives separating through arguments, lies, or secrets.

Reality drove the stake in harder, too. Like a bucket of cold water, shutting down all thoughts of her or them and what they could be.

It was hard.

He internalized every bit of it as much as he could because the thought of burdening her further filled him with dread.

And it worked. Sorta.

They worked. Like nothing ever happened, just like he knew they had to. Just like before his fall, and now after Emily's injury, they started to operate as something closer to friends again. She'd pick up takeout. He'd offer space on his office couch. They'd eat, finish paperwork, leave in separate cars.

In between the moments of strict professionalism, she watched him. Caught his eye contact frequently to silently check in. Rested her elbow against his on the plane. Found excuses to touch his arm or his back entering and exiting conversations.

It wasn't that he wasn't receptive to these things, but it took all his self-control not to react strongly. Not to want to do the same, but he could not let himself.

Couldn't let his feelings cloud his judgment as her boss.

But instead of setting boundaries, he let it happen. Tried not to make it too obvious he noticed.

Let her unacknowledged bids for something exist without reciprocation for the time being.

He needed these. To remind him she was okay, anyway. Even when he knew his dreams were just that, he needed that balm of her voice to soothe his delusive thoughts.

Despite his determination to keep this internal battle from her, she knew him.

Caught him by the coffee maker early one morning and asked, “Hey. Everything okay?”

He lifted his eyes from the coffee pot, stopped pouring, and set it back in the maker. “Hm?”

“I...” she said quietly, and tilted her head. “I feel like something's been bothering you or… I don't know. Wanted to check in. Make sure everything was okay.”

She rubbed her lips together.

He half shrugged. “I'm fine. You?”

A dark brow twitched, and she smirked skeptically. “Uh, yeah, except that you're acting different.”

He scanned her face. Figured she was being nice about it. With a quiet soft sigh, he lifted his coffee to take a sip and leaned against the counter. “Actually, I started a new medication to help with the swelling.”

“Oh.” Her weight shifted, but her face showed her honest surprise. “Any weird side effects the team should know? Dizziness or nausea?”

Hotch shook his head. “No, nothing severe. The worst of it is right after you take it, but I take it before bed.”

She nodded her approval, a weak smile softening. “Good. That's a good idea.”

“Mhm.” Hotch took another sip, peered at her over the edge of his mug the whole way. She didn't look away or attempt to continue the conversation.

So, he wasn't sure why he mentioned it. Probably something about not liking to lie to her, even by omission.

“There is one side effect.” He dropped his eyes to his mug and shifted his grip, heat almost too much to hold.

“What's that?”

“Vivid dreams.” He pursed his lips and glanced up.

Emily didn't move a muscle except to lift her brows slightly. “Yeah? What of?”

Steeling himself for her reaction, he shifted his weight, rested his mug on the counter, but didn’t release the handle. “You.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly again, like maybe she didn’t quite believe him, but she didn’t voice any thoughts.

“You dying, basically. Getting shot and not being able to save you,” he admitted quietly. “Various nightmares about losing you .”

The corners of her mouth pulled down, and to his surprise, her voice softened even further. “I’m okay, Hotch. My rib doesn’t even hurt anymore, see?”

Hotch watched her lift her arms straight up. As sweet the gesture was, it made the corner of his mouth lift.

“The bruise is basically gone, too. Here,” she gestured him to follow, but when he didn’t immediately, she waved again. “Let me show you, so you can stop ruminating.”

Hotch shook his head. “That’s not necessary.”

“It is.” She stepped back, grabbed his arm, tugged him gently to follow. “Come on.”

Reluctantly, Hotch followed her back to his office. Set his coffee down as she pulled the blinds for privacy, even though the bullpen was still 85% empty this morning.

He really couldn’t in good conscience let her do this. He shook his head when she turned to him. “Emily, really. I can't let you,” his eyes shifted down to her hands, working on the top button of her blouse, “do this.”

His words seemed to have zero effect on her. Fingers worked quickly down the buttons.

“It’s okay,” she reassured him.

And before he could protest again, she pulled her shirt wide into a deep V, still tucked into her slacks. White bra, with a tiny bow right in the middle.

Which was not at all what he was supposed to be noticing right now. Hotch blinked once and forced his gaze to lower. Her wound had yellowed, dulled in color a lot as opposed to the last time he saw it.

He nodded slightly. “It does look a lot better. Is it tender still?”

He had no intention of touching her, but she looked down when he got close to it, pointing around the edges. She bobbled her head. “Depends how hard you press.”

Hotch gently pushed her shirt wider on the right side, scanning the far edge of her bruising.

“See?” Emily’s voice softened a lot, almost all the way to a whisper. “I’m getting better.”

Her ribs were warm compared to his fingertips. He didn’t like any of his team members injured, especially if they insisted on working instead of taking time off, but seeing the proof that she was healing helped ease his mind.

He gently touched the center of her bruise, the near-perfect circle where the bullet had hit her. That little bow he’d noticed before sat right above it.

The contrast, the irony, was not lost on him.

Without thinking, he pressed the tiny tail down with his pointer finger, flattening it. The stitching drew his eyes across the almost sheer fabric.

Her breathing was visible, chest lifting and lowering slowly.

It made him ache. Made him wish he could feel the expansion and contraction of her ribs against his, feel the fan of her breath on his neck.

Gently and slowly, he dragged his knuckle across the swell of her breast, along the lace edge of her bra, and smooth skin.

Again, that soft voice broke the silence. “No more bad dreams about me.”

Hotch licked his lips, dropped his hand, and met her eyes. He nodded once.

Emily searched his face, eyes, and mouth. “Only good ones. From now on.”

The determination in her was a little amusing, endlessly kind, and entirely intriguing. Instead of thinking about it too hard, asking her why dreaming about her at all was encouraged, he smiled. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll try my best.”

Her cheeks dusted pink as she smiled, dimples flashing for a moment. “You’ll tell me? If you have good dreams instead?”

Because he was weak, his eyes dropped yet again, following the gold chain around her neck down for a final glance and back up.

Before words even had the chance to form, a knock sounded, and the door swung open.

“Hotch, we’ve got a…”

Hotch watched the words die on JJ’s lips as Emily turned away from the door, he turned towards it, and they both stepped into a line.

“Hm?” He prompted the blonde.

JJ’s brows lifted. Her eyes flicked over his shoulder, then back. She smiled, then incredulously blinked, tilted her head, and stepped back towards the door. “Hi. I’m sorry.”

Hotch shook his head and gestured for her to continue. “What do you have?”

She snapped out of her surprise quickly, opened the folder in her hand to look down at it briefly before responding. “Phoenix PD called. So far, we’ve got a pattern of missing children, ages fifteen to seventeen. Two have been found discarded near a local high school. They disappear in pairs. Three more pairs went missing this week.”

Emily touched his arm as she stepped around him, answering for him. “Need help setting up at the round table?”

JJ’s eyes flicked between Emily’s face and his twice before she nodded. “Yes, as long as Hotch approves.”

Halfway to the blonde, Emily turned, met his eyes. She smiled innocently, waiting for his direction.

Hotch nodded. “Notify the rest of the team. We are going to want to get in the air as soon as possible.”

Emily turned, hair flipping over her shoulder. “Yes, sir!”

She grabbed JJ’s wrist to drag her out of the room behind her.

Hotch sighed, dropped his face into his hands, and squeezed his forehead.

Jesus Christ.

*

Emily crossed her arms, shifted her weight, and scanned her eyes over the board that contained their case details.

Something was missing. Yeah, they’d found the three sets of kids, but they were tight-lipped, and Penelope couldn’t figure out how the unsub was getting in touch with them. How they all knew exactly what to do, when to do it, and how to do it without getting caught was still a mystery.

And maybe she would have an easier time figuring it out if she couldn’t feel blue eyes searing the side of her face.

JJ was watching her like a hawk. Closer than that, even. Wasn’t shy about it in the slightest. Would arch her brow or quirk the corner of her mouth up if Hotch so much as glanced in her direction.

Unfortunately for Emily, JJ got to witness Hotch touching her arm to get her attention, give her direction before leaving with the rest of the team to interview the high school’s staff members, and Emily’s reflexive and embarrassing when witnessed, return of affection.

Sorta. She just pulled a piece of lint off his chest. It was nothing. Maybe could have been seen as something else, which is probably what JJ saw, but the woman hadn’t said anything.

Just stared.

Emily ran her finger along her bottom lip, looking for something to do, something to nervously peel or mess with.

Then, she turned her head and swept her eyes over to JJ.

JJ was half sitting on the table, arm resting on her knee. She was smiling like she knew some secret.

Emily squinted. “What?”

JJ rolled her eyes. “Oh. Come. On.”

“What?” Emily flipped her hand, palm up.

The blonde’s shoulders shifted as she sat back slightly and tilted her head the other way, brows lifting.

Emily thought she looked more like a mom right now than she ever had. That was someone who was waiting for a kid to fess up to lying or stealing or worse.

Too bad Emily had nothing to confess. Emily looked back at the board, traced the marker Reid had drawn on their map with her eyes.

“Emily.”

“We need to focus on the case.”

The table creaked, and JJ responded firmly. “We can’t do anything until they call us back with how the interviews at the school go.”

Emily didn’t respond.

“We really aren’t going to talk about what I walked in on this morning?”

Emily closed her eyes. “You didn’t walk in on anything.”

“Right.” JJ stepped into her line of sight, blocking half her view of the board. “You both jumped out of your skin because of completely reasonable actions happening.”

With a roll of her eyes, Emily finally looked at JJ again. She wasn’t even sure how to defend herself here. There was no way JJ was going to understand that Hotch seeing her bra was nothing compared to the night she got shot.

JJ’s mouth twitched, and she smirked. “I’m not scolding or judging you, Emily, but can you blame me for asking? If you had walked in on Penelope and Morgan in a similar situation, you would not let it go until you had answers.”

Emily squinted. “Okay. Maybe I wouldn’t, but there really isn’t anything to talk about.”

JJ’s brows pinched, and the flash of sadness or pity or something there made Emily feel uneasy.

“You know you can trust me, right?”

Emily huffed quietly and nodded. “I do trust you, JJ.”

“It’s not just about what happened today.” JJ frowned. “We both know that.”

Emily furrowed her brows, playing dumb.

“Emily.” JJ, exasperated, crossed her arms. “Hotch has been like, different. Since his concussion. With you.”

Okay. Emily pursed her lips. Maybe she was too close to see what everything looked like from the outside. Maybe it was completely obvious he’d told her he loved her, thought he was married to her, dreamt she had his baby.

“I know you know exactly what I’m talking about.” JJ lowered her voice.

Emily swallowed and bobbled her head. “Maybe.”

JJ quietly groaned. “Then what’s happened? Or happening?”

She wasn’t sure why her reaction was embarrassment. It wasn’t like anything that happened was embarrassing, but her body was heating, and explaining it in terms that didn’t seem strange was nearly impossible. “Nothing is happening, but yeah, he woke up… delusional.”

JJ’s face fell. “Is he okay? He seems—”

Emily nodded. “Yeah, he’s okay. Got all his memories back, too, actually. He’s on a medication that—that’s beside the point.”

“We all saw the way he,” JJ searched for a word, shoulders lowering. “Asked for you. In the Hospital.”

Right. That.

Emily sighed and closed her eyes. “I can’t betray him like this. If I tell you what happened to him and then he finds out I blabbed, I think he would be really upset with me.”

“Then don’t tell me his side of things.” JJ stepped a little closer and pursed her lips. “Tell me your side of it. Because you’re different, too. You hide it well, but I can tell when you’ve got a lot on your mind.”

Hm. She wasn’t sure she could do that either. “JJ, I can’t—”

“He looks for you, you know?” JJ rested a hand on Emily’s shoulder. “Every time he enters a room, the first thing he does is look for you. When you turn to leave, he watches you go. And I know this doesn’t really mean anything, but I see it. And you do it, too. Just for the record.”

Emily’s lips parted, but again, she couldn’t even defend herself here. “I… I know.”

“Yeah?” JJ’s hand finally released her shoulder, and Emily took a deep inhale.

“He did that long before he got a concussion.” The words sighed out of her in a rush, and she scrunched her nose.

JJ smiled softly. “I know, but it is different post-concussion.”

Emily turned to glance at the door to the small conference room they were standing in. She wondered how much time she had to figure out how to explain her side of things before they had to lock back in on the case.

“He was diagnosed with amnesia. In Atlanta.” Emily watched JJ nod, shift her weight again as she settled in for the story. “And we know that. It didn’t take much talking to him to realize that. What we didn’t share was that he was also diagnosed with something else here in DC. Something called Confabulation—whatever. He had false memories, basically.”

JJ’s brows furrowed as she listened.

“And at first I would have never known, never would have talked to him and guessed this because he…” Emily clenched her hands, fingernails stabbing into her palms. Fuck it. She was just going to have to spill the beans because none of this was going to make sense if she tried to redact some major parts. “Hotch had memories of me. Us. Together. His brain drew up a little coma dream for him and integrated it straight to his memory bank.”

JJ’s jaw dropped as she listened.

Emily nodded slowly. “Yep. It freaked me out, which he noticed immediately, obviously, because pulling away when your husband kisses your hand is weird.”

“Uh.” JJ held her hand up. “Husband?”

“Husband and wife, yep. That’s what he dreamt after his skull slammed concrete.” Emily rubbed her palms together. “That we were married. He asked to kiss me. That was the moment I realized something worse had happened and it wasn’t just regular ‘ol amnesia.”

“So…” The corner of JJ's mouth quirked up. “Did you kiss him?”

Emily, frustrated, threw her hands up. “Of course I didn't kiss him, JJ! That would have been insane.”

JJ snorted softly but shrugged.

Emily, still frustrated at having to admit it, spilled the rest. “He couldn't be alone, since he had a severe concussion, and I went to his. We made food. He told me about our baby. Sophie. Mind you, at this point he was completley aware that these memories were not real, but he had a really hard time believing that because they felt real to him, so he let me ask questions, answered them cautiously since you know, he's my boss and everything and there's some huge red flags waving that say,” Emily lifted her hand and pictured it, “HR report incoming.” She scoffed and shook her head.

“Then… it hit me that he really believed we were in love. Like he was in love with me. For a few hours, at least. Probably more. And that was very upsetting because obviously, how am I supposed to just forget that he told me being with me was like breathing?” Emily’s voice shook. “You know what he said to me? He said to me that nothing had to be different. That once his brain healed, and figured out that we weren't the dream versions that he remembered, that everything was going to go back to normal, which is, frankly, bullshit. I knew that the moment he said it. He knew it. So, I told him that forcing me to deal with this wasn't fair, had a breakdown basically, because honestly, I felt like I was losing one of the most important relationships I've ever had. Hotch and I just work. I was comfortable following his lead, listening to his command, sharing takeout with him after a long case, but now he looks at me, and I feel it. I feel his thoughts. See in his eyes that nothing's changed. That the love he woke up with is all still right there, and he's scared to… I scared him away from telling me about it.”

JJ's hand snapped her out of it, wrapping around hers and squeezing tightly. “Woah. Okay. So,” She struggled to wrap her brain around it all, but looked up and spoke quietly. “He's in love with you, and you both know. That's…”

Emily squeezed her hand back. “He doesn't tell me he still loves me, but he shows me sometimes. He respects my space but lets me invade his like I belong there. He has never once made me feel like I owe him anything, or like I have to say or do anything I don't want to because he gets that I'm not the same person he remembers. Whatever dream me would have said or done doesn't matter to him.”

JJ smiled weakly and nodded. “Hotch is a good person.”

Emily weakly smiled, too. “When I got shot, he took care of me. Did everything. Cooked. Cleaned. JJ, he washed my hair for me. Shampooed, conditioned, and brushed it after.”

The blonde's smile grew. “Yeah. I get it now.”

Emily shifted JJ's hand and covered the back of it with her other hand. “What you saw this morning wasn't anything weird. I mean, it was weird, but Hotch has been having some recurring dreams of me getting shot, which is to be expected since he watched it happen. I thought showing him that my bruise is healing might help, because the last time he saw it, it wasn't pretty.”

JJ shook her head gently, blinked her eyes a few times to contain the wetness that formed. “Love. It's just love there. I get it.”

Emily nooded and exhaled shakily. “Yeah.”

“You should tell him.” JJ pulled her hand away slowly.

Right.

Tell him that…

She was not going to unpack that right now.

Emily looked down at her shoes and shrugged. “I need you to keep this between us. And I need you to let us figure this out. I don't want or need help.” She smirked. “I'll remember to lock the door the next time I decide to take my top off in his office.”

JJ laughed and swatted her arm playfully. “Emily!”

Emily caught her arm and pulled her in, wrapped her arms around her friend. “Thank you.”

JJ rubbed her back. “I'm always here for you.”

Footsteps drew their attention to the door, both women looking up just as Reid waltzed in, Hotch, Morgan, and Rossi just behind them.

Reid smiled sweetly at the sight, but looked a little confused at the seemingly random display of affection.

Emily and JJ met eyes.

They laughed.

*

Hotch rolled his shoulders, stretched his neck, and rubbed his hands on the tops of his thighs.

“Would you judge me if I drank an entire bottle of wine?”

He smiled. Emily's voice was muffled. He knew her head was in her refrigerator currently. “When have I ever judged you?” He looked over the back of the couch.

She stood up straight and threw a look back at him. “Like every time I eat a burger, you judge me. When I got Reid drunk that one time. Everyone judged me for that. Every time I reject my mother's calls, I can feel you judging me from miles away.”

Hotch rolled his eyes and scooted down on her couch. It wasn’t the first time he had been to Emily's apartment. The first time in a long time, but it was still mostly the same.

The lights were dimmed, most of them off. It left a warm, cozy glow around them. The TV was on and paused. They had not really been watching it, but the noise helped between conversation and eating dinner. It was a quick clean-up, too. They picked up take-out when he was dropping her off, and instead of leaving, she asked him to stay.

So, here he was. Making a potentially bad decision as a boss to stay.

Emily walked back, wine glasses tinkling gently together. She held one out, and sat heavily, folding her leg under her, and read the bottle. “Merlot?”

“Sure.” Just the one would be okay. Which seemed to fit nicely with Emily's plan to drink an entire bottle.

Emily twisted the cap, filled their glasses, and set the bottle on the coffee table.

Instead of reaching for the remote to unpause whatever reality TV she had put on while they ate, she pulled her other leg in, rested her elbow on the back of the couch, sipped, and looked at him.

Hotch took a sip and glanced at her.

“So,” she said over the edge of her glass. “Any dreams lately?”

He wondered when this topic was going to come back up. Relenting to the fact that she was no longer interested in TV, he turned and rested his glass on his knee. He nodded slowly. “Almost every night.”

“Good ones?”

He could hear what she wasn’t asking out loud, her curious eyes watching his face for a reaction. “Yeah. It’s better than it was.”

She was pleased to hear that, hugging her wine glass to her chest. “Really?”

He nodded. “Mostly.”

“The bruising is so much better now.” Emily looked down and reached for the edge of her shirt.

With a small surge of panic, Hotch stopped her. “No. No. You don’t need to show me. I believe you. I do not need another potential HR case. We are lucky JJ didn’t pry.”

Emily’s eyes widened and she relaxed back into her seat. “Yeah.”

Something about her answer made him think that maybe Emily wasn’t so lucky after all. He arched his brow.

She blushed. “Don’t worry. I reassured her that I will lock the door the next time I take off my top in your office.”

Hotch winced at the wording, amused by the way Emily laughed.

“I wish I could tell you I’m joking.” Emily smiled brightly. “But, your dreams. Still having bad ones?”

Hotch let her change the topic back instead of questioning her motives for saying that to JJ. “Every once in a while.”

“What are they about?”

Hotch shrugged as he thought. “Much of the same that I mentioned last time.” He sipped his wine.

Emily slowly nodded. “What about the good dreams? What are they like?”

“They’re,” Hotch bobbled his head. “Like this. Every day, mundane things. Sometimes about recent cases.”

It wasn’t a lie, but if he told her he sometimes dreamt about her white bra, or pink panties, or the way water follows the curve of her spine, he was fairly certain she’d give him that same look he got when he asked her if he could kiss her.

Emily’s smile tilted. “I would not consider dreaming about a case a good dream.”

Emily took a sip of her drink and then leaned to set it down next to the bottle. When she turned, she scooted in, touched his knee with hers, and folded her arm to rest her head on. “Do you still think or dream about baby Sophie?”

He was surprised she wanted to know. “Not very often.”

“Oh.” Emily’s eyes shifted back and forth. Her expression turned sheepish, face tilting down slightly. “Can you tell me about her again?”

Hotch wished he could. But the further he got from the accident, the more Sophie disappeared, and he honestly didn’t want to allow himself to entertain that idea anymore. Sadly, he frowned. “I don’t think I should. Everything that wasn’t supposed to be there is pretty much gone. I mean, my brain stopped categorizing them as memories and I can recognize a dream from reality. Talking about it could… I don’t know.”

Hotch watched her eyes lower as she thought about it. He almost felt bad for denying her, because the thoughtful look on her face strayed sad. He didn’t want to overthink it, though. Assuming anything was a bad idea.

“I think about her sometimes,” Emily whispered. “My mom said I was probably doomed to birth the biggest baby ever. I was over nine pounds.”

Hotch’s brows lifted, the corners of his mouth lifting. “Me too.”

Emily smiled and lifted her hand, gesturing towards him as if that gave her an answer. “See? We’re doomed to have a gigantic baby.”

Emily had been playing this game often. Kept sticking her toe in the water even though she couldn’t see in. Hotch saw how the idea of being more intrigued her and made her nervous. The you’re my husband response, the constant questions, the touching.

The touching.

He glanced down at their knees. She was doing lots of touching. Nothing that couldn’t be denied if asked about. Especially in the office. Emily was a relatively tactile person, and everyone on the team was a target.

Except for him. Until lately. The label of boss had always kept him out of her reach.

Then, of course, what they hadn’t talked about. Showering together. Not at all sexy, but it happened. Hands explored respectfully. Whatever that meant for coworkers.

“Oh,” she snorted softly. “And my grandma is a twin. So, odds are.” She tilted her head, widened her eyes in exasperation. “Pregnancy terrifies me.”

With all of that going for her, he could understand why. “I think you would excel in all aspects of motherhood. Even pregnancy.”

Emily didn’t seem so convinced, a grimace gracing her features. “No way. I would not be the cute kind of pregnant. I’d complain the entire time. And with my luck, I’d probably get all of the worst symptoms and baffle doctors with new impossible ones.”

He wanted to tell her that she was wrong, that she’d be beautiful and inspiring, and she’d do an amazing job carrying one or more babies. Instead, he settled on shrugging weakly. “Maybe.”

Emily narrowed her eyes slightly. “You don’t think I’m being dramatic?”

Hotch, interested in testing a theory, stretched his arm along the back of the couch casually. “I think you are being very dramatic.”

Her smile brightened. “We won’t know until it happens, though, so you can’t say I’m wrong.”

Playfully, he pointed in her direction and lifted his glass to his lips. He took a swig as she laughed quietly.

“Okay,” Emily shifted her weight, adjusting her legs slightly as she lifted and dropped. Her knee bumped the top of his, then relaxed there. “I have another question.”

It was impossible not to notice she was closer now. He nodded for her to ask it.

“Is getting remarried something that you want to do?”

Hotch was fairly certain that it was pretty obvious, but when he really thought about it. He wasn’t sure it was on the table. “I think if the right person sees what we do and understands why it's hard for me to walk away, gives me grace in that aspect, then maybe. Or…”

Emily lifted her arm again to set it on the back of the couch. Hotch had to move his hand. She was none the wiser. “Or what?”

Hotch hoped he didn’t sound disingenuous. “Maybe I’d leave. For the right person.”

“Yeah,” Emily said, nodding. “Me too.”

Hotch wondered if she ever had serious relationships while working at the BAU. She never talked about them. Not with him, at least, but it wouldn’t surprise him to find out she had and he never knew. I’ve never been a wife. “Were you ever close to being anyone’s wife?”

Emily’s face fell slightly, and instead of immediately responding, she took another sip. She transferred her glass to her other hand, and rested her arm, hand on her thigh. She looked down and then reached for his knee, scraping her nail over the sewn edge gently. “Once.” Her dark eyes flicked up and back down.  “I was young. Wrapped up in a situation, in way over my head. I thought I loved him, but it wasn’t… good. He was…” Emily sighed and rolled her eyes, took another sip. “Let’s just say that getting out of there saved my life, probably.”

He wasn’t surprised to hear this. Not entirely. This past, while never shared, was apparent in the way she profiled. The way she related to the women they saw and saved, the endless empathy that poured out of her, the fierceness she exhibited when someone needed protecting.

Hotch attempted to soothe the furrow of her brows. He rested his hand on her arm and squeezed gently. “Worse than Viper?”

It worked, she smiled. “Unfortunately, way worse than that guy.” She visually cringed then and shivered. “God. That guy gave me the creeps.”

“Don’t you know?” He teased her. “The things he could make you do.”

“Ugh,” Emily exclaimed, miming gagging. “Oh, gross.”

Hotch smiled.

Watched her dramatics as she shook her head, face scrunched, shifted her elbow, and reached to set her glass down again. She leaned back, tilted her head back. “Sometimes I hate being a woman in the BAU.”

It rested against his hand. He moved to flip it, and she lifted her head and rested it back heavily in his palm. “You never have to do anything you don’t want to, Emily.”

Her eyes flicked to his. “I know.”

Emily crossed her arms and closed her eyes.

Hotch took a moment to map her face, traced the profile of her in an attempt to memorize it. After a moment, her head turned towards him, cheek taking the space of his palm. She inhaled and sighed slowly.

Then her eyes fluttered open; dark, heavy, dusted with gray and accentuated with black.

She was so… Hotch flooded with feelings, chest fluttering under her stare. She was everything. Intelligent, brave, funny, kind. Everything he could ever want and still, the closest thing to him that he couldn’t have.

He brushed his thumb gently, a tiny little swipe as he licked his lips. His words came out in a whisper. “You deserve so much better than people worse than Viper. You deserve everything you could ever dream of, Emily.”

She smiled sweetly, all dimples and twinkly eyes. “You deserve that, too.”

If all he ever got was this—getting to see her smile, it would be more than he could ever ask for.

Her eyes drifted down his face, his chest, and landed in his lap.

Emily reached for his glass, pulled it gently from his grip, set it next to hers, then shifted forward, thigh draping over his knee, cheek landing in the crook of his elbow, her arms folded between them.

Hotch hadn’t moved a muscle, but his heart started to beat a little louder.

She took a moment to gather herself bravely and huffed through tight lips. Then she looked up at him, a pinch of nervousness just behind her timid smile.

Then, devastatingly, she asked, “Do you still love me?”

His air escaped him as his stomach dropped. “I…”

“Humor me.” She tilted her head back slightly, that hint of fear slipping away as it was replaced with an easy confidence. “Please.”

His shoulder dipped as he sat forwards slightly. He steeled himself for whatever happened next. “Yes.”

Her hand lifted. He stayed perfectly still as she touched his chest, her eyes dropping as her fingertips slid down and back up his tie. “Then if I die tomorrow,” Emily’s hand flattened on his peck. “I’ll die happy knowing I was loved by someone like you.”

Emily looked up at him again and tilted her head.

He was pretty sure he was having a heart attack, chest imploding, breath shallowing.

He hadn’t even realized her hand moved until fingers tugged the back of his head gently. Not hard enough to pull him closer, but enough to let him know she wanted him to be.

At his obvious hesitation, she leaned up, straightened her spine. “You’ve been showing me for a few weeks now what it’s like to be loved by you. I think it’s my turn to show you.”

She leaned even closer, her nose touched his and her hand slid to hold his face, pulling him a tiny bit closer. She smirked. “You heard me?”

Hotch barely had to nod.

“You gonna let me show you that I love you, too?” Emily closed her eyes, wiggled her face a centimeter closer. Her lips brushed his.

Hotch bent his elbow, slid his hand up the outside of her thigh to pull her further into his lap, and closed the distance between their mouths.

His world stopped. Brain quiet for the first time in weeks, everything fading away except for her. He nodded, kissed her harder. Felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders, like his universe just flipped right side up. He sighed, leaned, and wrapped his arm around her waist to hike her as close as he could. The weight of her on his lap was dizzying.

She pulled back slightly, breaking their kiss to breathe. Adjusting her arms around his neck, he covered the span of her back with spread fingers, smoothing them over her shirt.

Her nose brushed his. She kissed him again, but it didn’t keep because of her smile.

Hotch opened his eyes as she leaned back. She bit her bottom lip and blushed. He smirked and furrowed his brows playfully. “This is really going to set back my progress.”

She laughed, bright and happy, and it was music to his ears. Then she pushed off of him, stood, and grabbed his hand. “No. Showing you exactly how this wife takes care of her husband is.”

Hotch’s jaw went slack as he watched her wiggle her brows and tug on him.

He eagerly followed, noticed her hip sway as she dragged him towards the stairs. She knew exactly what she was doing to him.

He reached for the back of her thigh and pinched it gently. She barked another laugh, turned to keep from getting pinched again, but relented to him as he wrapped his arms around her hips and lifted as he ascended the stairs. She wrapped around him, giggles dying in his ear.

Oh, yeah.

He was ready to make some new memories with her.