jetaime-jespere

[jetaime-jespere]

And The Sun Will Shine Again

A/N: well ... this came to me earlier today and I promptly texted Vic with the idea and her response was "yes. yes you should write this." So eight hours later ... here were are. It's part 2 of Have Yourself Another Dream, so the same trigger warnings/mentions of infertility apply here. I hope you enjoy, and as always thank you for reading.

Her fears are confirmed when they sit on the opposite side of their doctor, perching on the edge of two chairs in a room subtly decorated with pineapple motifs amidst a sea of diplomas and accolades. There’s a brass pineapple on a shelf on the wall, a ceramic one on the heavy oak desk just close enough that she could reach out and smash it into pieces as the fear fuels through her veins like wildfire.  Emily learned quickly a few weeks ago that pineapples were a symbol within the infertility community thanks to another late night google search - and now it seems as if they came up everywhere she went. She learned some women battling infertility even got tattoos, proudly displaying their infertility warrior status. She’d always disliked pineapple, and now this turned her dislike to indifference. But she can't look away from the damn thing as the words soon became further away, as if someone pulled her underwater and she can only hear the voices around her, not understand them. 

Their doctor, Dr. Esposito, reminds Emily a little bit of Dave. Personable and easy to talk to, with a sense of humor and quick wit. She’d liked him right away - he’s a straight shooter and honest yet human, and it was his assurance that helped her feel okay with any of this at all. He keeps talking, taking them on a recap of the last month of their diagnostic testing - multiple rounds of hormonal blood tests, infectious disease blood tests, genetic testing -and those were the easy ones. Some brought emotions she hadn’t anticipated - the internal ultrasounds a surprising reminder of what happened in Italy and the baby she willingly chose not to have. Ironic, considering the situation they’re in now. Others were downright painful - her lip bit to blood during the procedure that evaluated her fallopian tubes -the sharp cramps that radiated through her abdomen were some of the worst she ever felt not only then but in the hours that followed. 

It’s Aaron who subtly brings her back to reality, gently nudging her knee with his own while nodding intently at whatever Dr. Esposito is saying. The doctor sounds almost impressed when discussing Aaron’s side of things - his testing coming back “optimal,” “all parameters within above average ranges for conception,” which makes all of this feel even more suffocating. That means I’m the problem, she thinks ruefully when his tone takes a different but inevitable turn - softer, more compassionate. The color drains from her face when he carefully explains the results and implications of her testing. He spends more time discussing the ultrasounds of her ovaries that suggested a diminished reserve - “not as many follicles as we’d like to see for someone within your age range,” confirmed by two different blood tests. It’s an entirely new language of acronyms and terminology - AFC, FSH, AMH to name a few of the many she’s learned over the weeks. She wishes she didn’t know any of it - that she could remain oblivious to the scientific side of this - the side that only the unlucky members of the infertility club get to learn.  It’s supposed to be easy. Easy and fun and a happy surprise. It’s not supposed to happen this way - in a laboratory, putting her body through hormonal hell. 

“What does that mean?” Aaron asks, shifting in his chair. Once again, Emily is reminded all of this is foreign to him. He never thought he’d be sitting here, that’s for damn sure, she thinks regretfully, reminded that Haley didn’t face these problems. 

“Women with diminished ovarian reserve respond less optimally to ovarian stimulation - the hormone injections,” Dr. Esposito explains. “Typically, less eggs are retrieved, which can lead to an unsuccessful IVF cycle if embryos aren’t created. We aren’t there yet,” he adds quickly when he sees the doubt start to shade their faces. “A lot can happen between now and then. We’ll know more about how Emily responds to the medication once we start a cycle.” 

“I’m only 37,” she says weakly, her throat dry and the back of her neck starting to sweat. I knew it. I knew it would be me with the issues. “I’m not that old. How does this happen?” 

“Fertility declines for women at different rates,” he says kindly. “For some it happens even before 35. Others get lucky and it’s a nonissue. There’s nothing you could have done to prevent this, nor anything you did to make it worse. A lot of factors are at play but all of them are out of your control.” He offers a warm yet sympathetic smile, and Emily wonders how many times he’s given the same speech to other women sitting in her very place. She can’t bring herself to ask how many women like her actually get to have a baby. 

“Not even the fact I terminated a pregnancy once?” 

“Not even that,” he says with a shake of his head. 

It does nothing to abate the guilt and something that feels a little too much like grief churning in her chest. Emily glances over at Aaron, who looks a shade paler than he did moments ago, his mouth pressed into a thin line. There’s worry all over his face and it crushes her more than she thought it ever could. He’d been the optimist throughout all of this, gently pulling her phone from her hands after one too many google searches. Aaron was the one who assured her in the dark it would work out, that they were doing everything possible to find answers, that soon they would be moving forward. 

“Day by day,” he’d murmured to her one particularly rough night before their appointment, when she’s buried in his embrace with tears drying on her cheeks. “That’s all we can do.” His rational logic infuriates her when it comes to this, despite the fact he’s right about it all. There’s nothing else they can do. Yet the waiting is excruciating, watching time tick by as everything else stands still. Each passing day is a reminder she’s not pregnant. Sometimes Emily thinks about the baby they could have had by now. They’d have a three month old, a baby with dark hair and eyes like theirs. A baby she could rock to sleep and watch Aaron snuggle with on lazy Saturday mornings with Jack close by. A picture-perfect family, not months of disappointment.

It hurts to think that might never be within their reach. 

“You have options,” Dr. Esposito’s voice brings her back to a reality she’d do anything to escape from. He explains with guarded optimism that given their diagnosis, IVF is their best option, the chances of a live birth from one IVF cycle is 25%, and Emily feels her world start to close in. She can’t bring herself to look at Aaron, who is nervously clearing his throat beside her. This very much feels like a worst case scenario. Of all that could be wrong, this feels the most daunting, unsurmountable even. “The chances increase to 55% with three full cycles.” 

“I don’t like those odds,” Emily says quietly. Her head is spinning, caught in a vicious cycle of wanting to run like hell out of Dr. Esposito’s office and never look back. But the desperate side of her clings to the sickening realization this might be their only chance. But for the first time since the news was delivered she makes eye contact with Aaron and nods her head, a confirmation of their decision to move forward unspoken.

“We want to do it,” Aaron finally tells him.

“We’ll give it our best shot,” Dr. Esposito says to them both.

______________

As they anticipated but didn’t fully prepare for, IVF wasn’t for the weak of heart. 

Each stage of the process had brought a new set of challenges. The first few weeks of birth control had made her almost unbearably anxious, and in a near constant depressed funk. It was quickly noticed by the team, which only made it worse as Emily uncharacteristically struggled to make it through each day without lashing out at someone. “I hate this,” she’d whispered to Aaron on the jet back to Quantico as a raging headache seared its way into her brain. 

“I know,” he’d said simply; there was little he could do to comfort her. They were fighting this battle together yet separately - the innate unfairness of her body being the one forced to do all the work that was out of both of their realms of control. And while it was hell, a part of her felt as if it was somehow what she deserved for being the reason they were in this situation in the first place.

Their bathroom soon turns itself into a mini pharmacy full of several thousand dollars of IVF medications. The counters are littered with boxes of medication, syringes, and icepacks to ease some of the bruising that came as a painful side effect of the regimen. A medication schedule taped to the mirror quickly becomes their lifeline, and Aaron takes on the role of administering each of the shots daily. He mixes each one with precision, the cap firmly in his teeth as he calmly counts to three before quickly sticking the needle under her skin as quickly as he can. He takes great care to be gentle - anything he could do to make it slightly less awful for her. “You aren’t half bad at this,” Emily finally says one night when her entire stomach is covered in bruises and she’s exceedingly sore. “Despite the fact I’m becoming a human pincushion.” 

“I doubt it,” Aaron tells her with a gentle smile, pushing her back against the pillows to press icepacks to the growing bruises. “But I’m glad you think so.” He frowns when he finds another one blooming, an angry dark purple splotch. These are getting worse.” He inspects them carefully, moving the icepacks to cover the discolored areas. 

“They hurt,” she winces as he hits a particularly tender spot. “They’re ugly too.” 

“The bruises are,” Aaron agrees. He brushes his fingers over her cheek and moves the icepacks before carefully laying down next to her and drawing her close. “But you aren’t. You better not forget that.” 

She scoffs and rolls her eyes but snuggles into him even closer. “You’re too good to me, Aaron.” 

“Because I love you,” he tells her simply, the honest truth.

The affirmation is supposed to make her feel better but it does the opposite. She goes rigid in his arms, the tension pulls at her bruises enough to make her wince. 

“What is it?” He murmurs, brushing her hair from her face. 

“What if this doesn’t work?” She whispers, soft enough that he can barely hear her. She has yet to say those words aloud - despite thinking them every day, multiple times a day. She hasn’t allowed herself to dull his hope - she can’t do that to him. 

Aaron shakes his head, presses his finger to her lips. “No,” he says firmly, cupping her face in his hands. “We aren’t going there. Not tonight.” She tries to look away, unable to hold his gaze. “Look at me, Sweetheart. Please.” 

Emily finally does, her lip pulled between her teeth. “I’m sorry. Sometimes this is all too much.” 

“I know,” he whispers, still holding her face in his hands. “But we’re going to make it through this, Em. Together.” 

If only she could believe him.

______________

The shots come with more side effects besides just bruising - fatigue and dizziness plague her for the entirety of the fourteen days of medication. The bloating starts not long after, rendering her uncomfortable and irritable from the sluggishness. “It’s only temporary,” Emily tries to reassure herself as she examines her changing body one morning in the mirror. Achy, tired, sluggish from the lack of normal workouts, completely vetoed by Dr. Esposito. “This won’t last forever.” Yet she feels unrecognizable, a shell of what she was before this journey started. Any remnants of hope she has are fragile, some days nonexistent. She still fears what will happen if they aren’t successful - if Aaron will be able to look at her over time - what if he grows resentful? What will Jack say if a sibling never joins them? The weight of it feels crushing, an intense pressure she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy. 

______________

By some miracle, they land on the right side of the less than promising statistics they were given that day with Dr. Esposito. “You are very lucky,” he tells them as he delivers the news their cycle was a success, culminating with three normal embryos - essentially giving them three chances at a successful pregnancy over the next few months. “I’ve seen couples with your stats get none.” It’s a sobering reminder just how lucky they got, for the alternative could have easily been their reality too, leaving them back at square one. 

A month later, in arguably the least complicated and painless part of the journey and the last step of the cycle, one of those embryos is transferred. Both Aaron and Emily watch, hands wrapped together and eyes transfixed on the screen that shows the entire process, the small speck on the screen the size of a poppyseed making its way into her womb. Pregnant until proven otherwise is their unofficial motto, the final hurdle being the twelve day wait until the first blood draw pregnancy test. 

And exactly five months to the day Emily had laid in his arms in a hotel in Princeton after yet another round of disappointment, they get the phone call they’d been waiting on - the transfer is a success and for the first time, they have a positive pregnancy test. “Congratulations,” the nurse says cheerfully, and for forty eight hours, everything feels like it finally settles into place, that it was meant to be after all. 

Until it isn’t. 

The second blood test is where it all falls apart before their own eyes. Emily knows something is wrong the moment she realizes it’s Dr. Esposito on the other end and not one of his nurses to relay the news. “No,” she breathes before he even gets a chance to speak, because she knows what he’s going to say. Aaron is beside her instantly, wrapping her into his arms before she dissolves into silent tears. His weight is steady beside her, the only thing keeping her upright as it all comes crashing down. 

“I’m so sorry, Emily,” he says softly, sounding almost as devastated as she feels. “I wish it was better news. Your HCG levels are only minimally higher, which is typically indicative of a nonviable pregnancy.” There’s a long pause of silence that feels agonizing, like a knife twisting itself into her heart and settling there. 

“What do you mean nonviable?” she croaks through tears, clinging to Aaron’s jacket and soaking the fabric of his shirt. 

“We’re going to need you to come in for another blood test and potentially confirm where your pregnancy is located and what steps need to be taken,” Dr. Esposito explains carefully. “If your levels don’t decrease there's a risk of an ectopic, which means the pregnancy is growing outside of your uterus.” 

She can’t bring herself to speak and she chokes back a sob that gets caught in her throat somewhere, making it hard to breathe, let alone think. This can’t be happening. Not now. We did everything right … Everything went perfectly. How is this happening? Aaron is the voice of reason, pulling himself together in time to ask about next steps, squeezing Emily a little tighter as their hearts continue to shatter into pieces.

______________

The third blood test, followed by an ultrasound a day later confirms an ectopic pregnancy in her fallopian tubes. If left untreated, it could kill her. Emily can’t bring herself to look at the images on the screen or even at Aaron, who has scarcely left her side in the last few days. Instead she stares at the ceiling and wills this miserable experience to be over. She’s sick to her stomach at the thought of it, lost in what feels like a trance or some terrible dream she can’t wake from. Beside her, Aaron looks despondent and exhausted - they’re both living the same nightmare yet experiencing it so differently, with seemingly little means to comfort the other.

“The best course of action is a methotrexate shot,” Dr. Esposito says from where he’s seated at the foot of the table Emily lays on, curled on her side. “It essentially terminates the pregnancy by stopping the cells from growing any further. By doing this, we won’t have to do surgery or remove your tube.” 

Emily stares at him, eyes full of unshed tears. She’s heard of Methotrexate before - powerful enough to be used as a cancer drug, one that comes with a slew of negative side effects and some potentially serious ones down the road. The thought of taking it is terrifying - the alternative almost seems like a better one - but Dr. Esposito has never steered her wrong before. He wouldn’t steer her wrong now. 

All she can do is nod, her entire body numb with grief. A small part of her is grateful someone else is telling her what to do.

“You should know,” he adds, his voice laced with sympathy. “After the shot is administered, you’ll have to wait three months before attempting pregnancy again to reduce the risk of birth defects. After three months, if you’re ready, we will talk about doing a second transfer.”

“Thank you,” Emily manages to whisper before the tears start again, the paper beneath her crunching loudly. 

“Take as long as you need,” he says before slipping out to give them some privacy to grieve.

______________

When he hears the news, Morgan immediately offers to take Jack for a few days, so the house is silent when Aaron and Emily finally make it home. It feels empty and lonely, in disarray after the last few days of chaos that descended down on them all. Dishes are left in the sink, crayons and paper strewn across the counter from earlier that morning. Jackets slung across chairs that aren’t fully pushed in. They stare at the mess, both too exhausted to think about tackling it. 

“I need to go lay down,” Emily mumbles, moving slowly towards the stairs as the cramps have already begun. “I feel like shit.” 

“I’ll help you -” 

“I don’t need help, Aaron,” she snaps a little too quickly. “I just want to be left alone.” She doesn’t mean to lash out at him but it comes out too fast, and she’s instantly regretful of her words. “I’m sorry,” she says almost immediately when the hurt bleeds across his face. “I - I don’t know what to do with myself right now.” 

“It’s okay,” he tells her calmly, reminding himself what the toll of grief can do to a person. He’s been there before. Instead, he helps her out of her jacket, watches her grimace with the movement. “Why don’t you go upstairs and start the shower? I’m going to clean up a bit and see what there is to eat.” He touches the side of her face, swiping at a tear that’s already started to gather under her eye. “I’ll be right up.” 

A shower sounds like a monumental amount of effort but it’s where Aaron finds Emily a short time later. She’s seated under the spray, legs curled to her chest and her head on her knees, rocking back and forth. He doesn’t bother getting undressed - just kicks off his shoes, leaving them next to her clothes on the ground before opening the double glass door. “Em,” he whispers, the scalding hot water hitting his skin like millions of tiny needles. “Sweetheart, it’s too hot.” 

“I didn’t notice.” She doesn’t look up. 

“Can I sit with you?” He asks, concern brewing in his chest. Emily doesn’t answer so he sits down beside her after adjusting the water, stretching his legs out. His clothes are soaked, the walls are fogged and the air is thick. Another five minutes of silence passes before he adds, “I made you a grilled cheese. It's in the bedroom when you're ready.” 

“I’m not hungry.” 

“You need to eat something,” he says firmly. “We can split it once we dry off.” It was a ritual they shared - sharing a grilled cheese in bed after a bad day - that started over two years ago following a terrible case in Houston - and he can almost sense a slight smile on her face that he remembered today.

She considers the offer for a few moments and swipes water out of her eyes.“Fine.” Emily slowly uncurls her legs, bringing them down to rest over his and lays her head on his shoulder. “I should have known we wouldn’t have gotten lucky.” Her voice is laden with sadness, an overwhelming sense of defeat. “It was stupid to be so hopeful on the first try.” 

“There’s nothing stupid about hope, Emily. Sometimes it's all we've got.” 

“This is the second pregnancy I ended, you know.” She shivers; the water is no longer as hot as it was before. “How’s that for odds? Do you think it’s a sign that maybe I’m not fit to do this?” 

“Em,” Aaron begins patiently. He’s unwilling to let her continue going down this path of blame. “This pregnancy could have killed you. What happened was not your fault.” He pauses, a thought crossing his mind. “Neither time was. You had to make two impossible choices. But they were the right choices for different reasons. 

“Doesn’t make me feel any better.” She takes a shaky breath, her head still on his shoulder as she whispers, “I’m bleeding already.” 

“They said that’s normal for a few days” Aaron reminds her as he reaches for her hand. “We’ll keep an eye on it.” He kisses her head, noticing the way she relaxes just a little bit when he does. “How are the cramps?” 

“Still there. I think I’m used to them at this point.” Emily laughs bitterly. “I’m so tired of this, Aaron. It’s so unfair that others don’t have to go through this. And it sucks.” 

“I know it does.” He shifts them both so that he can bring her into his arms, letting her lay against his chest as the spray hits them both. “We’re going to make it through this one day, Emily. Together. You and me.” 

She’s silent for a few moments, contemplating his words before she finally asks, “When do we know when to stop?” Her eyes bore into his, her body heavy with exhaustion settling in. “Do you ever wonder how far we’ll have to go … if we’ll be able to keep going with this? I don’t know if I can handle the heartbreak again and again.” 

He shakes his head. “I don’t know, Sweetheart. But I don’t think we need to make that decision today. One day at a time,” he reminds her. “Today it’s hard, tomorrow will be hard too. It might not get easier for a while, but it will one day, no matter what decision we make together. I need you to remember that.” He holds her against his chest, rocking her in his arms as the water starts to turn cold. 

His words give her the slightest bit of comfort, some of the first she’s felt since this nightmare began. “I promise, I will. As long as you promise you’ll always love me, even if we can’t have a baby.” 

“I promise I will,” he says without hesitation. 

It’s all she needs to hear. 

#aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #angst #aaron x emily #this is pure angst sorry but thats the vibe these days

[jetaime-jespere]

There might be a part 2 of Have Yourself Another Dream in progress … 🥹

[jetaime-jespere]

Are you gonna continue to write we miss your stories. Also sorry for the stupid anon you are amazing and we miss you

I miss you all too ♥️ I can’t make any formal promises but my hope is to continue when the motivation strikes me. I have a few things in mind but nothing concrete right now. As for the anon - I truly hope they learned something from my response. When we know better, we do better. Thank you - you made my day!😘

[jetaime-jespere]

Is it true you aren’t better at getting pregnant than you are at well anything else. It must be hard knowing your husband sleeps around cuz you are rotten inside and can’t give him kids. I am surprised he hasn’t left you yet. Loser you will never be a good mother anyway that’s why god won’t give you a kid

I wasn’t going to answer this because it’s quite literally one of the most vile, disgusting things I’ve seen on here but you know what? How dare you? Also, not that you are justified one bit of a response, but I’m going to educate you a bit because the more awareness I can bring to help others understand infertility and all it entails is more important than your gross behavior. Your comment shows just how ignorant you are in understanding the complexity of infertility, because quite often there is no clear cut and dry “reason” or someone to point the finger at. Couples can have a completely normal battery of tests and no success without ART (assisted reproductive technology). This is called unexplained infertility. Infertility can be entirely male factor related (meaning there are sperm deficits that can be due to a myriad of things, many out of that person’s control.) It can be a mix of both. Things like endometriosis and PCOS can contribute greatly to female factor infertility. Google those. It’s never someone’s “fault” and you suggesting such is appalling. Please know that while science and technology have helped MANY couples start families, fertility treatment is not a guarantee. It’s quite literally thousands of dollars and often not covered by insurance. If we need to, my husband and I will be paying over $30,000 out of our own pocket for the chance of a baby. We are extremely privileged to be able to do so. It’s not the case for many. Treatment is often not successful the first try (and many times the second, third, fourth). The procedures and testing are invasive, at times uncomfortable, and time consuming. And that’s if there are NO complications of any kind. I can almost guarantee you know someone who is walking through an infertility journey. I wish I could show that person your cowardly anonymous message, and I hope that one day you don’t find yourself in my (and millions of others) shoes.

(And to anyone who might be struggling, please reach out to me if you’d like to. I’m always here.)

#asks #anonymous #i don’t respond to hate but I was not about to ignore this

[jetaime-jespere]

Have Yourself Another Dream

A/N - Well hello, friends. It's been quite a while. Miss you all. This wasn't planned ... but somehow it just kind of found its way into creation. I'm rusty ... but I've been watching s5 all over again and dealing with some tough stuff so ... so here it is. All my love to Vic & Kirby for their unwavering support and dealing with me day in and day out. TW for discussions of and references to abortion and infertility themes throughout. I hope you enjoy - thank you for reading! 💓

It starts in the most inopportune of moments - in the middle of a police station in Princeton New Jersey, of all places. They’re giving a profile to two dozen weary police officers terrorized by an arsonist precisely every four days, and the clock is ticking close to the end of day two. They’ve been stretched thin by the case, running on little sleep and even fewer credible leads, yet Emily almost doesn’t mind the exhaustion this time around. It’s a distraction from the what if, and the countdown to the date she’d cemented in her mind, the one that might just mean it worked this time around - that yet another month of failure won’t pass them by. Enough time has passed that she can’t ignore the tiny voice in her head, the one that tells her something is wrong - something has to be wrong.

At first the pain is so subtle Emily wonders if she imagined it - but then it happens again -the all too familiar twinge of a single cramp somewhere too deep to reach that radiates through her abdomen before it’s gone - a fleeting moment, nothing more. And yet, she knows what’s to come now as the tentative, fragile hope she’d built over the last few days disintegrates into nothing within a matter of seconds. Of course. Emily fights the grimace that darkens her face, willing herself to keep up with the pace of the practiced back and forth they’ve mastered over the years. She wills herself not to look at Aaron, who is still speaking confidently only feet away from her. I can’t disappoint him again. The sound of his baritone voice reverberating through the room is enough to make her head spin. I was a fool to think this month might be it, she thinks as the same pain returns with a little more intensity this time, accompanied by the tell-tale sticky sensation of blood between her legs- a vicious proof that once again she failed.

_____________

It’s been 10 months since they started trying- the decision wasn’t been made lightly or without a lot of thought. But it feels like the next natural step, following a backyard wedding hosted by Dave a year ago, and a few innocent, yet inquisitive comments from Jack along the way. “I’d be a great big brother, Daddy. If Dylan can be a big brother, so can I.” Emily lets Aaron handle that one on his own one early morning before school. She smiles into her coffee mug as Aaron amusedly listens to Jack rattle off all the reasons he’d be a better big brother than his best friend in second grade. But she sees the look that passes over her now husband’s face - something she immediately recognized as longing - as if he had the same thoughts as his son, that he’d been thinking about it too. She would be lying if she hadn’t felt the same way. Her hope to one day be a mother was something she’d always kept safe in the back of her mind, something she’d quietly hoped for but it never felt right, a secret wish she could never quite vocalize. At least not until now. She knows the odds weren’t on her side - the likelihood of success steeply declining for women approaching 40 and even less afterward - but maybe they’d have a chance after all. Maybe, if they were lucky and the stars aligned.

“I want to try, Aaron,” Emily tells him later that night, only after she’d read the same page of her book three times, unable to concentrate on it any longer until she gets it off her chest. “I’ve been thinking about it and I want to start trying.”

“You mean -” He looks up from his own book, wide eyed. “You mean for a baby?” 

She rolls her eyes. “No, Aaron. To run a marathon.” For a moment, it looks like he believes her and she stares at him incredulously. “Yes for a baby.” Emily swats him on the shoulder with her book. “What the hell did you think I was talking about?” 

“I didn’t want to assume!” He laughs, feigning hurt and rubbing his shoulder. “You could take someone out with that thing.” But he’s smiling, it reaches his eyes and he looks so damn happy it makes her heart swell. It’s the only encouragement he needs; Emily grins as he moves them both so his body covers hers, her eyes closing as his lips find her neck, his hand deftly working the waistband of her yoga pants. 

Maybe this could work out after all. 

_____________

The first few months were actually fun, a giddy type of hopeful excitement new to them both. The possibility of pregnancy was never far from their thoughts. Haley had gotten pregnant almost too easily- a “first time unicorn,” as she’d joked to Aaron years ago - yet Emily’s negative tests didn’t feel alarming right away. “Next month,” they assured one another with an encouraging smile, the promise of what another four weeks might bring. Mentions of babies began to work their way into their daily conversations - weighing the pros and cons of a larger house to accommodate their growing family, discussions of how they’d tell Jack and then the team - and that hope carried them through the early days of unsuccessful trying. 

But six months brought a newfound frustration, shortly followed by the eight month mark with an overwhelming sense of defeat. It’s how Emily finds herself sobbing in the bathroom clutching a tiny stick with only one stark pink line one morning before work. It’s where Aaron finds her, still in the clothes she slept in the night before, uncharacteristically slumped against the bathtub with tear stained cheeks and red eyes. He quickly pulls her into his arms, his lips pressed to the top of her head. It only makes her cry harder. “You didn’t have to come up here.” 

“I could hear you from downstairs, Em,” he says, chest tightening at how she stiffens in his embrace, mortified at the thought someone might hear her break. “Jack left awhile ago.” 

“It’s like you can read my mind.” Her face flushes with shame, her cheek hot against the fabric of his shirt. “I didn’t want him to hear me … and I couldn’t bring myself to come downstairs like this.” 

“He’s excited for his field trip. He didn’t even notice. Dylan’s mom picked him up almost forty-five minutes ago. They had to be at school early.”

The moment he says it he regrets it - the mention of Jack’s friend’s mom, heavily pregnant with her third baby, brings a few more unspilled tears welling in her eyes and threatening to spill. Aaron curses himself inwardly for bringing it up. She chokes back a sob and shakes her head. 

“Talk to me, Emily. Please,” he murmurs to her, even though there was very little to say. A test was a cruel dichotomy - there were no what ifs today. Either she was pregnant, or she wasn’t. And today, she wasn’t. He swallows his own disappointment, at this point desperate to take some of the burden off of his wife and shoulder some of it himself. So far, all he’s done is make it worse. 

“It’s negative,” she coughs through tears, showing him the stick after giving it another glance as if a second line will miraculously appear, as if she missed it because she stared at it for too long. “I knew it would be.”  

“It could just be too early,” Aaron attempts with as much optimism as he can, but she shakes her head sadly. 

“14 days is pretty definitive, Aaron. We both know that by now. But I don’t understand what we’re doing wrong,” she sniffles into his chest, leaving mascara-streaked stains all over his white dress shirt. “I’m doing everything that stupid app tells me to do… logging everything, tracking my period and every other goddamn thing we do.” 

“It’s an app, sweetheart. It doesn’t actually know what’s going on in your body. Maybe we didn’t hit the right days this month. You never know.” He’s said all of this before and he’s running out of new things to say with each passing month. “We just have to keep trying.” 

“Well it’s all I’ve got right now,” she snaps, the frustration and pain is laced in her tone, raw and real, and there isn’t a single thing he can do or say to make any of this easier for her. “I’m tired of peeing on sticks and waking up to take my temperature at the same damn time every morning and planning sex around peeing on stupid sticks and all this bullshit.” Emily hiccups through tears, her fingers tightly wound around Aaron’s now very wrinkled suit jacket. “I don’t understand what we’re doing wrong. I know I’m older … but 37 isn’t that old. Some women get pregnant well into their forties.”   

“We’re not doing anything wrong, Em,” he says soothingly, tracing patterns on her back with his fingertips. “Sometimes it just … takes some time. Your doctor said -”

“I know what she said, Aaron. I was the one at the damn appointment, remember?. But I just have this feeling that something isn’t right.” Her body heaves with effort to take a full deep breath. 

He knows there’s more she isn’t saying - the way her lip is pulled between her teeth, the heaviness of her words, the classic roll of her eyes. 

“Tell me,” he coaxes, walking the razor-thin line of pushing her too far. He knows her too well by now what that would bring. 

“I’m worried that It’s me.” Her voice is cracked, fractured with the anxiety that’s settled itself deeply in her heart over the last few months. That I’m the reason it hasn’t happened yet… or maybe why it never will.” With that she jerks out of his embrace with an awkward shuffle, the admittance finally out in the open. She curls into a tight ball beside him, arms wrapping around her knees, pointedly looking away from him. 

“What do you mean, sweetheart?” He attempts to narrow the space between them, but Emily shifts even further away, practically burying herself into the corner of the bathroom. Aaron has to hide the hurt that wraps itself insidiously around his chest, so he settles for taking her hand in his and giving it a squeeze. It’s how they stay for a few long moments until the last of her tears cease and they’re left with the quiet disappointment of yet another month gone by. 

“I wonder,” she whispers almost inaudibly, still unable to make eye contact with him. “That this is what I get for what I did…” she trails off, already ashamed at her own admission.

“What you did?” He asks, genuinely confused, reaching over to gently lifting her chin with his thumb. “What are you talking about?” 

“In Rome, Aaron.” 

Rome. That’s when it clicks. 

Rome isn’t something they talk of often - but he knows immediately where her mind is going, the blame she’ll undoubtedly pin on herself for something that happened over twenty years ago when she was a teenager without another option. It was an impossible decision, one without an easy answer. He’s seen the lasting impact it had on her over the years, that no matter how much time passed, it was very much something she carried with her. He sees it in the way she interacted with Jack, with cases they had involving children. It was very much an unhealed wound, and this whole process has ripped it open, fresh and gaping and raw. “No, Em,” Aaron says softly, tucking pieces of her hair out of her eyes. “That has nothing to do with this.” 

“It’s karma, Aaron.” Emily sighs resignedly with an inelegant sniffle. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.” 

“No, sweetheart. It’s not.” He searches her eyes with his own, as if she might believe him. “Please don’t let yourself go down that slope. That’s not going to help you get pregnant.” He expects her to turn away from him completely, but instead she slides back closer to him, settling against him uneasily, exhausted from crying.  

“You don’t know that,” she says, and he hates the sound of despair in her voice. 

“You don’t know it either,” he quips. “Stop making chaos in your mind. It’s not going to make any of this easier.” 

She rests her head on his chest until most of the tears have dried and the congestion in her head started to loosen. She knows her face must be a swollen mess by now, puffy and red from all the tears. “There’s all kinds of things that can happen because of …complications with that. And it’s been so long …who knows what could be going wrong in there. Or if they did it right …” One tear slips out of her eye; Aaron swipes it away with his thumb.

“You can’t go down that path, Emily. You’re going to make yourself crazy if all you think of are what if’s and what’s going wrong. We have to take this day by day. There are no easy answers, no easy fixes.” 

“But what do we do, Aaron?” She whispers. “What do we do if this doesn’t work?” The truth is, she knows what they’ll have to do. She isn’t a fool to what comes next. She’s done the research late at night when he’s sound asleep beside her - chances and statistics, stories of successful outcomes and the ones of those who weren’t so lucky. An entire battery of invasive tests awaits her, hours consulting with a team of doctors vying for success rates, more procedures and decisions and the cruelty of waiting. Not to mention the thousands of dollars gone without a sure chance they’d take home a baby at the end. It’s more than overwhelming - it’s consuming, and terrifying. Thinking about it makes her stomach roil. Emily stares at her lap. 

“We have options, Em. Just because we haven’t taken any of them doesn’t mean they don’t exist. We aren’t the only ones dealing with this.”  

She sighs heavily, wiping at her face with a tissue. “I know that. But I’m not ready to go down that route yet, Aaron. I … I can’t explain it. But I’m just not ready.” 

“That’s fine, sweetheart. You don’t have to be ready, or explain anything,” he says patiently. “Do you want to keep trying? We can take a break this month, if that’s what you want.”

Emily shakes her head, weighing the lesser of two evils. The definition of insanity, she thinks, is doing the same thing over and over and expecting the same result. But what other choice did they have? “I want to keep trying,” she insists quietly as she sits upright, her head spinning. 

“Then let’s give it two more months,” Aaron says rationally.. “If you aren’t pregnant by then, we’ll make an appointment at the fertility clinic.” He pauses for a moment before adding, “Luckily there are at least 10 in a five mile radius of us.”

That elicits the smallest snort of acknowledgement. “I guess that’s one of the perks of living around here,” Emily complains as Aaron holds out a hand to pull her to her feet and into their bedroom. “And it’ll only take two hours in rush hour traffic to get there.” On their bed is the suit she laid out for that day, before any of this began. “I just need a few minutes.” 

He checks his watch, hiding his frown. “Be quick. We’re going to be late. Garcia will send a search party for us if we aren’t in on time. We were late twice last week,” he reminds her with a wink.

“If I remember correctly,” Emily laughs for the first time that morning, “That was your idea.” 

_____________

“Agent Prentiss will take it from here.”

Emily is somewhere far away from reality when she hears Aaron say her name, calling her back to the present. And when she catches his eye from the corner of her own, the look Aaron throws her way tells her immediately he knows something is wrong. He doesn’t take his eyes off her, his gaze piercing and concerned. Most days she hates that he knows her so well. 

Yet she doesn’t miss a beat, rattling off her contribution to their unsub’s lengthy profile with ease, as if discussing the motivations of an arsonist was second nature to her. After so many years, it might just be. Yet I can’t seem to do the one thing I’m biologically designed to do, Emily thinks with an overwhelming feeling of disdain as she outlines their carefully-drawn theories of motivation. She patiently answers a series of pressing questions from the officers before thankfully Morgan takes over a few long minutes later. She’s relieved to not have the attention of the entire room anymore, except now the pain has intensified quickly. It’s a reminder of the physical emptiness within her body, emptiness where something the size of a single poppyseed might be. She pushes it out of her mind and instead thinks longingly of the bottle of ibuprofen in her go-bag miles away at the hotel - she tossed it in on afterthought, just in case, fiercely hoping she wouldn’t need to use it.

It ended up being nothing but wishful thinking.

______________

It’s a long day that seemingly has no end until she’s alone again in yet another hotel room, day three looming ahead in a mere few hours. Aaron insisted they all retire for the night, with the intention of starting over again early in the morning with fresh eyes. He sends the team back first ahead of him, under the guise of meeting with the Princeton Police Chief one more time before calling it quits himself. 

Everyone is happy to oblige, but Emily knows him better than that by now - it’s also to give her a chance to settle in first, to give her space and some time to process her thoughts. Aaron didn’t have to ask what’d happened - somehow he just knew, like he always did. “I’ll be back in about an hour,” he’d told her before she got into the passenger side of an SUV Rossi was driving. “But I’ll text you when I leave.” He leaves it at that - no pushing, no questions. Nothing but a message less than five minutes later - I love you. It’s going to be okay. 

The hotel in Princeton is one of the nicer ones they’ve stayed at as of late, and she takes advantage of the fancy shower, letting the hot spray pour over her back, the steam alleviating some of the still persistent cramps that haven’t let up at all just yet. The water is tinged red at her feet; the sight of it makes her stomach churn. But once her hair is washed and toweled off and she’s changed into something a lot more comfortable than a suit, Emily feels a little bit more human. And when Aaron finally makes it back almost an hour after that, she’s nestled in bed, intensely focused on an episode of Love Island. Distraction at its finest.

“Do you even know what’s happening on this show?” Aaron asks when he sees what she’s watching, an amused grin on his face as he drapes his suit jacket over one of the chairs. “What is this show even about?” 

“I’m not entirely sure,” Emily ponders, eyes still glued to the television. “But it’s pretty entertaining nonetheless.” She can’t bring herself to tell him what’s on her mind - the disappointment of what’s past, the fear of what’s ahead. She wants to live in a bubble of oblivion for a few more minutes. 

“If you say so.” The next article of clothing to go is his tie, followed by his shoes and dress shirt. “I’m going to take a shower.” He drops a kiss on the top of her head on his way, a lingering touch of his hand against hers. 

______________

“I should tell the others one of your secret vices is trashy television.”“They’d get a kick out of it,” Aaron tells her as he gets into bed beside her. “Especially Dave.” He has to find a way to break the silence that’s fallen over them, a heaviness in the air that lingers. 

“They probably know already. I think JJ told them,” Emily says with a soft laugh and mutes the TV. “I’m glad you’re back.” She presses herself against him, his body still warm from the shower. “Everything went okay back there?” She gets a whiff of his soap, the woodsy scent that will always make her think of him. By now it calms her, reminds her that he’s there, that he’s not going anywhere.

“Yeah. Tomorrow will be a long day.” Aaron wraps an arm around her, pulls her close to his side. He’s not thinking at all about the case now, just his wife beside him. “Are you okay?” He rests the other hand on her abdomen, gently pressing where the cramps had been the worst. “Did the ibuprofen kick in?” 

Emily nods, sighing with relief into his chest as he applies light pressure with his hand. Of course he would know the exact spot that hurt the most. “Yeah. Took long enough. How’d you figure it out?” 

“Just had a feeling.” He kisses her temple. “I know you pretty well by now, you know.” 

“Well you are a profiler. I’d be concerned if you didn’t.” she retorts dryly, leaning into him. 

There’s thinly veiled anger and apprehension in her voice, a sense of bitterness coupled with loneliness she never anticipated. It’s too many emotions all at once - and none of them feel remotely good. “I’m tired of feeling so empty all the time, Aaron. I’m tired of constantly being upset about this.” 

“I think,” Aaron says slowly, calmly. “I think we should make the call when we get home, Em.” He cups her chin in his hand, gently thumbing her cheek. “We’ll go together.” 

“In a way,” Emily whispers. “I’m almost afraid to find out what could be wrong with me.” 

“It could be me,” Aaron muses back. “This process requires two of us, you know. I’m half of the equation.” 

She laughs, albeit bitterly. “I highly doubt that, Aaron.” 

“You never know,” he offers again, just as patient as before. “I very well could be. We don’t have all the answers, Emily. That’s what the doctors are for, you know.” 

“We might never have answers,” she says sadly, insecurity flooding her face. “Sometimes it just … doesn’t happen. There are couples who never conceive. Even with help. They try for years and it -” 

“Stop jumping to conclusions, Sweetheart.” Aaron says, clasping her hands in his. “You can’t make decisions about information you don’t have.” She opens her mouth to argue, but he presses a finger to her lips. “That’s it. No more negative talk for tonight.” He flips the light as if to prove a point and the room is flooded in darkness. 

Emily grumbles but obliges as she curls her body against him needing to be as close to him as possible. “I’m scared, Aaron” she finally admits. The truth makes her feel weak, as if saying it out loud relinquishes whatever semblance of control she had over all of this. She’s exhausted, but there’s one thing she hears as her body succumbs to sleep. 

“I know, sweetheart. But whatever happens, we will deal with it, and we’ll get through it.” He kisses her once more as her eyes flutter closed.

Emily has never loved him more than right now. 

#aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #hotchniss #angst #I forget how to tag things because it's been so damn long

[jetaime-jespere]

I adore you with every piece of my heart ♥️ thank you for being a wonderful friend everyday. I can’t imagine a world without my good morning texts, ridiculous grey hair texts (😅😚) and everything in between. You are a genius, an angel, and supremely talented 🥰

Magic

Aaron, Emily and their children go on the least relaxing vacation of all time.

-x-

Happy birthday to @jetaime-jespere!!! 🥳

You are a true bright spot in my life, and I genuinely don't know what I would do without you in it. I love you so much and hope you have the amazing day you deserve. I will forever be grateful that these idiots in love brought you into my life.

I hope you enjoy this pure, unadulterated fluff - with some GirlDad Aaron thrown in just for you <3

-x-

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: None

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut!

“We should have used the jet.” 

Aaron has to stop himself from smiling as he turns to face his wife, a grimace on her face as she adjusts their daughter on her hip, the four year old burying her face in her mother’s neck. He turns to see Jack standing next to him, the preteen yawning as he barely takes his eyes off of his handheld video game. 

It was early, the kids grumpy about being out of bed and on the move before the sun rose, any excitement they felt about going on vacation muted by how busy Dulles was even at this hour. Jack was somewhat placated by his game, and Isabella was content to snuggle against Emily for the time being. 

“I don’t think the bureau would have liked that, sweetheart.” 

She looks at him, briefly taking her eyes off the front of the line they’d found themselves in. Their boarding group announced despite the fact they still weren’t being allowed on the plane. The glare on her face is nothing short of adorable, not that he’d ever say that to her. 

“You’re the boss Aaron. I’m sure you could have figured something out.”

The kids clearly weren’t the only ones grumpy this morning. 

“I have a feeling DisneyWorld wouldn’t be on the list of places they are happy to fly to.” He says, leaning in to kiss her before she can reply. He puts his hand on the back of Isabella’s head as he pulls away, smiling as his little girl looks up at him, a sleepy look on her face that somehow made her look even more like Emily. “You excited to go to Disney, Issy?” 

She nods, smiling at him despite how tired she clearly was. She untucks herself from Emily and reaches her arms out for him, and Emily smiles as she passes her over, shaking her arms out slightly as Isabella’s weight transferred into his arms. 

“Tired.” Isabella says as she rests her head against Aaron, who exchanges a look with Emily, soft smiles on both of their faces. 

“You can sleep on the plane, sweetheart.” He replies, kissing the top of her head. 

“We regret to announce that Flight UA1460 to Orlando is delayed by 2 hours,” a voice says over the tannoy, making Emily and Aaron groan simultaneously. 

“I’ll go get coffee.” Emily sighs, already walking towards the Starbucks across from their gate.

___

“Are you sure you can’t come on the rides, Dad?” Jack asks, his eyebrows knitting together, shrugging Emily off as she readjusted the baseball cap on his head for the third time since they’d arrived in the park. 

Aaron smiles as he watches the interaction. Emily was very militant about sunscreen and protecting themselves from the sun, something that had kicked into high gear the second they arrived in Florida. Jack was on the precipice of becoming a teenager, just old enough to no longer find his parents cool, shying away from the affection he had sought out only a couple of years ago. 

“I wish I could Jack,” Aaron replies, “but I can’t because of my ears.” 

It was something he had learnt the hard way after Emily made him go on the New York, New York rollercoaster in Las Vegas when they eloped. If had left him with vertigo severe enough Emily had wanted to take him to the hospital, but he’d managed to talk her down from it. They instead spent what was essentially their honeymoon in their hotel suite, Emily running her fingers through his hair as he desperately wished for the dizziness and nausea to disappear. 

Jack’s frown deepens, his inquisitive nature taking over. “Surely they’d hurt when you fly then too?” 

“Oh they do hurt him,” Emily interrupts, looking down at her stepson, “but mostly just during landing. And it’s the movement of the ride that makes your dad feel sick. Besides, I’m going with you,” she tilts her head towards Aaron and Isabella, the little girl dutifully holding her father’s hand, watching in wonder at all the people and characters that were passing them by, “we’ll leave these two to the teacups.”

“You got sick on the carousel once,” Jack says, looking at her curiously, his rare argumentative side coming out, something both Emily and Aaron put down to the early start. 

“Hey,” Emily replies, mocking offence, “that was years ago, and I was pregnant with Issy. I’ve got a stomach of steel.” 

Jack nods, finally placated by the way the family was splitting up in the lead-up to dinnertime, and his frown is replaced by a smile. 

“I want to do Space Mountain first!” He exclaims and Emily nods in agreement. 

“Whatever you want, honey.” She closes the gap between her and Aaron and stamps a kiss on his lips before kneeling down to Isabella’s height. “You stay close to Daddy, ok?” The little girl nods enthusiastically and Emily kisses her cheek before standing upright again. “Remember the-”

“Sunscreen, I know,” Aaron says, a smile on his face as she rolls her eyes at him, “go have fun, we’ll meet you both for dinner.” 

He watches as Emily and Jack walk off together, his son already animately talking to Emily about something. Aaron looks down at Isabella and smiles, picking his little girl up and settling her on his hip.

“What do you want to do first, honey?” He asks, his smile widening at the look on her face as she thinks about it. 

“The princess castle!” She exclaims, pointing in the direction from where they had arrived at the park, as if they hadn’t already spent a fair amount of time in Magic Kingdom. 

He sighs but knows he couldn’t deny his daughter anything, already turning on his feet and walking in that direction.

“The princess castle it is.” 

___ 

Emily can’t bring herself to even try to hide her smile when she and Jack find Aaron and Isabella a few hours later. They are on the teacup ride, and she would bet money that it won’t be the first time they’ve been on it since they parted ways so Jack could go on the rollercoasters. 

Something about the sight of her husband wedged into one of the teacups, their daughter sitting next to him, makes her stomach flip. He makes a show of letting Isabella think she’s the one spinning the cup they are sitting in, managing to discretely spin the wheel in the middle himself when she’s not looking. But that’s not what makes her heart swell in her chest, nor is it the delighted scream her little girl lets out. 

It’s the matching, sparkling Mickey Ears on their heads. The ears themselves are entirely made out of sequins from what she can see and are rose gold in colour. She shakes her head when she thinks of how much they must have cost, but isn’t even the slightest bit annoyed, knowing there was no chance Aaron would have said no the moment the toddler saw the decorative headbands. 

The ride comes to a stop and Aaron gives her a short wave to let her know he’s seen her. He picks Isabella up, not wanting her to get lost in the crowd of people leaving the ride and carries her over to where Emily and Jack are standing. As soon as he’s close enough she takes her phone out of her pocket and takes a photo, the picture immediately one of her new favourites of the two of them. Isabella’s face giving away her excitement as she talks to Aaron about something Emily is just too far out of earshot to hear, as Aaron looks back at her intently. Their matching sparkly ears glinting in the Florida sunshine. 

Aaron spots her taking the photo, and raises an eyebrow at her as they finally make it to their side. 

“Well look at you two,” Emily says, pushing her phone back into her pocket as Isabella reaches out for her. She takes her out of Aaron’s arms and smiles when Jack takes the opportunity to immediately start telling his father about all of the rollercoasters they’d been on. 

“Mommy!” 

“Hi baby,” Emily exclaims, pressing a kiss to the side of her daughter’s head, “did you have fun with Daddy?” She smiles as the little girl nods. “I like your ears,” she looks up at Aaron, a smirk on her face as their eyes meet, Aaron focused on his conversation with Jack, “I like Daddy’s too.” 

“Dad, I’m hungry,” Jack says, an edge of drama to his voice that only a pre-teen could manage, acting as if he had never been fed in his life. 

“We should get something to eat,” Aaron replies, his hand on Emily’s lower back as he starts to guide his family in the right direction, “are you going to delete that photo?” 

“Oh, absolutely not.” She says, looking up at him as they walk. “Besides, I’ve already sent it to Pen.” 

___

Isabella barely takes off the Mickey Ears over the next few days. Emily is only able to convince her to take them off when she washes her hair, but they go straight back on afterwards, sitting on top of the little girl's unruly curls. Her and Aaron take it in turns removing them from the toddler's head when she falls asleep each night, approaching their light sleeping daughter like she was a bomb they were trying not to detonate. 

Aaron convinces Isabella that Emily needs to wear the other pair on their final full day in the parks, getting a playful glare from his wife as he places them on her head. Their daughter's delight in matching with her mother takes the sting out of the revenge photo Aaron takes of her, which she knows will have immediately been sent to Derek. 

It’s how she finds herself in line to meet Olaf, Isabella’s favourite character of all time, her daughter standing next to her and holding her hand, the sparkling ears on both of their heads. Aaron and Jack had gone off for some father-son time, the last thing Emily heard was her step-son trying to convince her husband to get into the front of the flume on Splash Mountain. 

“Are you excited to meet Olaf, baby?” Emily asks, squeezing her little girl's hand to get her attention. 

“So excited.” She replies, smiling up at her mother, the new dusting of freckles over her nose brought out by the sun making her look impossibly cuter. 

“Next please.” A cheerful voice sounds from next to them, and Emily smiles her thanks, stepping forward towards the giant Olaf in front of them. 

She feels her hand tug and looks back to see Isabella frozen on the spot, her dark eyes wide as she looks at the character standing in front of them. Emily sees what's about to happen the second before it does, managing to throw an apologetic look at the families behind them in line, who thankfully give her sympathetic looks in return, just as Isabella bursts into tears. 

“Oh sweet girl,” she says, kneeling on the ground next to her, the little girl's arms tight around her neck immediately as she burrows into her mother’s side, “what’s wrong?” 

“Olaf is scary.” Isabella cries, her words slightly muffled into Emily’s skin. 

Emily stands up, heaving her daughter onto her hip as she does, a move she was well practised at. 

“Olaf isn’t scary,” Emily says reassuringly, despite the fact she somewhat agreed with Isabella, her eyes flashing towards where he was standing, the person in the costume giving them a wave as she looks over, “he’s your favourite remember?” 

Isabella sniffs as she pulls back just enough to sneak another look over at Olaf, who waves at her again. 

“He’s big.” 

Emily has to cover her smile, biting on her bottom lip in an attempt to hide it from the little girl. 

“All the more to hug, right?” She says, proud of her ability to keep a straight face when Isabella suddenly looks serious. 

“Olaf likes hugs.”

“Exactly!” Emily replies, poking the end of Isabella’s nose, something that always made her smile. “Ready to go meet him?” 

Isabella looks at her, her eyebrows creasing together. “Momma stay?”

Emily feels her heart melt in that moment, the love for her daughter impossibly stronger every day, something she wouldn’t have thought possible after the first moment she was put on her chest years ago.

“Yes, sweetheart. Momma stay.” 

___

“I told you to put sunscreen on,” Emily says, wincing at the bright red skin on her husband's arms and the back of his neck.

“I did put it on,” he says, closing the door to their bedroom, closing them off from the rest of the hotel suite where the children were sleeping, “it just got washed off on Splash Mountain.” 

Emily raises an eyebrow at her husband as she tilts her head, indicating that he should come to stand near her as she puts some aloe gel in her hands. 

“And as much as I enjoyed seeing you in your wet polo shirt,” she says as she takes a closer look at the back of his neck before starting to rub the cooling gel into it, “you should have reapplied.” 

“Yes ma’am.” He says sarcastically, chuckling when she uses a little more force than necessary in response on the back of his neck. He watches as she puts more of the gel in her hands. “I can do my arms, love.” 

“Just shut up and let me help.” She replies, batting his hands away as she gets to work on his arms. “The kids seem to have had fun.” 

Aaron smiles at that, leaning forward to kiss the top of her head. 

“When I put Issy to bed she said she didn’t want to go home tomorrow.” 

Emily laughs, shaking her head. “I hope you didn’t promise her we’d stay, I’m exhausted.” 

She steps away from him as she finishes up her task of caring for his sunburn, clicking the cap back on the aloe gel. She stretches her arms above her head she yawns.

“I think this might have been the least relaxing vacation of all time,” Aaron says as he climbs into bed, pulling the covers back for them both.

Emily groans as she climbs in next to him. “You’re telling me,” she yawns again, “worth it though. For the look on their faces.” 

“Absolutely,” he looks at her and watches as she settles down, turning on her side away from him and he lays down too, snaking his arm over her waist as he pulls her back to him. 

“Aaron, ew,” she exclaims, her hand coming back to land on his arm, “you’re all slimy from the aloe.” 

He chuckles into the top of her head, one of his arms snaking under her pillow.

“Well,” he presses a kiss to her neck, “now you are too.” 

She shakes her head at him but turns just enough to kiss him, smiling as she pulls back.

“Go to sleep, Mr Hotchner,” she kisses him again, “we’ve got an early flight tomorrow.” She settles back down onto her pillow, pulling his arm against her chest despite her earlier protests. 

“Love you, Em.”

“Love you too.” 

___

Emily is not surprised when they return to the BAU the following week to find the pictures of them in the sparkling ears plastered all over her desk, and his office. More copies than she can count spread everywhere, all the coffee in the world not enough to force her brain online after a week away with the kids.

“Woah, Princess,” Derek exclaims, a shit-eating grin on his face that she swore God himself designed to wind her up, “you look like you need a vacation to get over your vacation.” 

“Shut it, Derek.” She says as she sits down, yawning as she takes a sip of her drink. 

“What?” He asks, sitting on the edge of her desk. “The happiest place on Earth not happy enough for you?” 

“Statistically, Finland is the happiest place on Earth,” Spencer says, appearing out of seemingly nowhere, a small confused frown on his face, “I thought you and Hotch took Issy and Jack to Disneyworld?” 

“We did, Reid,” she says, smiling at him, “that’s what Derek means.” 

Spencer’s frown deepens. “But Florida doesn’t even make the top ten list of happiest places.” 

“It’s their marketing slogan, genius,” Derek says, shaking his head at him before turning back to Emily. “So, that bad, huh?” 

“Not bad,” she says, smiling down at one of the photos Penelope had left on her desk of her and Isabella in their matching ears, already missing all the time with her children, “just tiring.” 

“I take it you’re not going again then?” He asks, and Emily looks up at her husband’s office, her eyes meeting his through the window. 

“Oh no,” she replies, winking at Aaron before turning back to her friend, “we’ve already booked next year.” 

-x-

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[jetaime-jespere]

I finally watched The Sound of Music and like I get it now, I get it. 

It’s a beautiful two hour love story of a strict man finally opening his heart again and then a fifty minute public service announcement to hate the nazis. Brilliant.

#the OG ship of mine since 1995 #and the OG dilf

[jetaime-jespere]

I wish this would have been my wedding🤣

“and how do you know the bride?” we’re mutuals on tumblr

#LOL #this would be Kirby Vic and Nicole at my wedding with all my relatives #relatives being like wtf is tumblr

[jetaime-jespere]

Showing people our writing makes me feel like a cat presenting someone a dead mouse.

“Yes, it’s a bit horrifying but I am very proud of it”

#accurate #me whenever I send things to vic

[jetaime-jespere]

the way they always just missed each other

maybe if one time they hadn't, they'd have seen it

[jetaime-jespere]

“It has been said, ‘time heals all wounds.’ I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.”

— Rose Kennedy

#Rose Kennedy #motivation #quotes #poetry #literature #relationship quotes #writing #original #words #love #relationship #thoughts #lit #prose #spilled ink #inspiring quotes #life quotes #quoteoftheday #love quotes #poem #aesthetic

[jetaime-jespere]

I cannot wait. How are we almost at the last chapter? And how is it almost March?!?

Love You in the Dark - Chapter 7 - Coming Soon

Thank you so much for the continued support!

Chapter 7 is coming Tuesday 1st March at the latest, I will try and get it up Monday 28th February <3

-x-

All previous chapters are on Ao3

Warnings: Canon typical violence, domestic violence, cheating, emotional affair

Snippet below the cut

It’s loud. Somehow louder than the shot Ian had fired at Aaron only minutes before it, the crack of it echoing around the small apartment. Filling the space with sudden noise, almost deafening.

Then there was silence.

[jetaime-jespere]

They always walked so in sync 🤍

[jetaime-jespere]

Excuse me but this is one of the most brilliant things I’ve ever read. The callbacks to Lauren//reid being the one to make the connection about ian not having a brother was perfect. And damn your Ian doyle is so perfectly in character. SMASH my keyboard I can’t help it. 😇😇😇

Love You in the Dark - Chapter 6

A Hotchniss AU fic, set in the 1960s.

-x-

Ok so I'm posting a day early. Sue me. (Please don't actually sue me I'm very small and have no money.)

-x-

*Please read the warnings before you read the fic. Sensitive themes throughout - this chapter especially*

Words: 8.2k

Warnings: Canon typical violence, domestic violence, cheating, emotional affair

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily holds it together as she walks back into the diner, closing the door a little harshly behind her and immediately gaining Penelope’s attention.

“You’re back sooner than I expected,” Penelope said, her eyebrows furrowed, “and where did our detective friend go? Jason is already making him pancakes.”

“He had to go, something at work needed his attention.” She lies easily, hopes that she doesn’t pick up on the shake in her voice. “I’ll be back in a second, I just need the bathroom.”

She is already walking away as Penelope replies, not hearing the gentle concern from her boss.

As soon as she makes it into the bathroom she locks the door behind her, exhaling a shuddering breath as she does. She walks over to the mirror and puts her shaking hands on the counter, making eye contact with her reflection.

The tears come immediately, sobs she has to cover her mouth to cover the sound, not wanting anyone to come check she was ok. Because she wasn’t, but would never be able to find the words to explain it.

“Damn it.” She says out loud, blowing out a slow breath to try and calm herself. The heels of her hands rough against her cheeks as she wipes away her tears, a sharp contrast to how Aaron had touched her only minutes ago.

He might think he’s falling in love with her but she knows she’s in love with him, and it was breaking her heart.

Aaron knew the ugliest parts of her and had still touched her, kissed her, like she was something precious. A feeling she wasn’t used to, a vague memory from the early days of her marriage when she still loved Ian and he was everything she thought he was.

It had torn down her last defences. Something her husband had chipped away at for years. His treatment of her taking it apart stone by stone. When Aaron kissed her he took it down with a sledgehammer. A flash of something she wanted every day, every second, for the rest of her life, but she couldn’t have.

She jumps when there’s a knock at the door, wiping her face again as she looks at herself in the mirror.

“Sorry, Em,” Penelope’s voice comes through the door, “but Ian’s here and it seems important.”

Emily closes her eyes and sighs. “He probably just wants money, I’ll be out in a minute.”

She hears Penelope’s heels clicking on the floor as she walks away.

She blows out a breath and straightens her back. Builds herself up in a way in seconds that even Elizabeth Prentiss would find impressive. She turns and hesitates at the door for a second, unlocking it as she leaves.

She walks back towards the main area of the diner, the barely restrained anger on her husband’s face not diminished by the pink lights.

“Is everything ok?” She asks, as she approaches him. He kisses her cheek and guilt unfurls in her belly. Not because she’d just kissed another man, but because she didn’t regret it, because she wanted to do it again. “We’ve got to go home, love.”

“What? Ian, there's still half of my shift to go.” She says, faking a smile. The one just for him. “Can’t it wait?”

“Sorry, it can’t.” He replies, his eyes fixed on hers. “My brother called, he’s sick. We need to go see him.” His gaze is hard, and she hears Penelope gasp.

“Emily, if you need to go it’s no problem.” She says, smiling reassuringly when Emily turns to look at her. “I can cope here.”

“Yes, love.” Ian says, closing the gap between them and putting his hand on her arm, his fingers digging in ever so slightly. “We’d best not create any more bother for Penelope.”

Emily’s eyes meet his and she nods slightly, seeing what he hasn’t said written all over his face. She was going with him if she liked it or not.

They leave, Ian’s hand still gripping her arm, with Penelope sending well wishes after them. The kindness in her voice lancing through Emily with every syllable.

As they settle into his car Emily looks straight ahead as she clicks her seatbelt into place. Ian starts the engine, the sound cutting through the tense silence between them. She glances at him quickly, and can see how tense he was. The firm set of his jaw, his grip on the steering wheel.

She didn’t believe in coincidences, it felt too close to accepting that things were fated, that there was little control in life. If fate was real, it was cruel. It had left her with a dead father when she still needed him, a mother who ignored her to cope with her own grief. A teen pregnancy that came to a quiet end on a strangers dining room table. A husband who wasn’t the man she thought he was, brutal in his own way. The control she had over her life was small, but it allowed her to keep the few people she had left safe from the man she was sitting next to. And that was enough for her.

She didn’t believe in coincidences. So she knew Ian showing up at the diner mere minutes after she had walked away from Aaron was anything but that. He’d seen them. Probably been watching them for weeks and she feels stupid for allowing herself something she knew she shouldn’t have, something she should have put a stop to the moment Aaron smiled at her and she felt a flicker of what she now knew was love in her chest.

“Ian.” She says, and he grunts in response. She swallows against the lump in her throat, fear climbing up from her chest. Despite everything, she hadn’t been afraid of him in a long time. “You don’t have a brother.”

He drives off without saying a word, the pink lighting of the diner fading into the distance.

____

Aaron thinks about not going. Their relationship, their friendship, was built on trust. He’d never gone against something she’d asked him to do, but something about this was different. He’d thought about it all day, ever since she’d walked away from him.

When Haley died his world stopped. Despite everything that had passed between them, all the arguments and the crossed wires, he still loved her. He still wanted to do right by her, make sure that she was happy. He knew that she had still loved him too, but it hadn’t been enough for them. At some point, they had stopped being right for each other.

Walking into the house he had owned with Haley, pushing past Dave as he tried to stop him from going in, and finding her body had shifted everything on its axis. Something he would never be able to forget. Everything in his life slowed down to that one moment, her unseeing eyes staring up at him from their living room floor.

If he closed his eyes he could still see her blood staining the rug they had picked out together, the same place that Jack had taken his first steps.

Something in Emily had brought him back to life in a way nothing else had been able to. Sparking something in his very being, his soul, that had been as unexpected as it was welcome. She’d intrigued him at first. Her obvious beauty being only part of it.

As he got to know her, peeling back the layers that made up the complicated woman who served him coffee, he felt the intrigue turning into something deeper.

When he kissed her, the softness of her lips against hers, he felt that same spark again. The final broken piece of him slipping back into place as he tasted coffee and cigarette smoke on her tongue. He could have kissed for forever, the ghost of her palm still soft against his cheek almost 24 hours later, the moment over all too soon as she pulled away, tears falling from her eyes.

He finds himself sitting at his desk, not focusing on anything other than her. He knew why she told him to stop, why she wanted him to leave her be, go back to his own life.

He looks down at the papers on his desk, a piece of paperwork that would return him to the day shift, requiring only his signature to make it official. He sighs, picking up his pen and holding it just above the document. He looks at the pen, the exact same as the one he’d gifted her on her birthday months ago. He tightens his grip on it, clenching his teeth as two distinct futures play out in front of him.

He could go back to his life, whatever that looked like now, with Haley gone and his son with him full time and move on. Penelope’s diner and the waitress who had enraptured him a mere memory, something he thought of when he saw the colour pink or a woman with dark eyes and a dazzling smile.

Or he could go back. Pick a different path, help her help herself and be there in whatever capacity she would accept.

“Screw it.” He says under his breath as he stands, noticing it was close to the usual time he would leave. For the first time, he couldn’t give her what she had asked for.

___

Ian doesn’t speak to her until the door to their apartment closes behind him, the deadbolt on before she can even turn to face him.

Emily swallows thickly, her chest constricting, her arms wrapped around her abdomen.

“Ian.”

“I saw you with him.” He says, turning to look at her, his eyes as cold as she’d ever seen them. She takes a step away from him as he moves towards her, but he’s quicker, has her against the wall before she can register it, his hand gripping her shoulder. “A cop? Is that the best you could do?”

“I’m sorry.” She says, not really sure what part of it she’s apologising for. “It was just one kiss. That’s it. And I’m never going to see him again so it’s over.” She says, tears flooding her eyes in a way she hates. “So please, just…leave him alone.”

“You aren’t just fucking him, are you?” He asks, pushing her further against the wall. “I’ve been watching you. You love him.” He spits out like its poison, his hand firm on her chin as he makes her look at him. “You are my wife. You belong to me.”

She can feel his breath on her cheek, can smell the alcohol on it, a whiff of cheap perfume coming off of his clothes. Rage bubbles up inside of her, something that had been simmering for months finally reaching full boil, and against her better judgement she scoffs at him.

“Are we going to pretend you haven’t been fucking the girl from behind the bar of O’Learys?” She says, wrenching herself free from him, rolling her shoulder as the ache already settles in. He looks shocked, and it makes her laugh. “What, you think I hadn’t noticed?” I do your laundry Ian. I’ve been to that bar with you. I’d recognise the smell of that cheap perfume anywhere.”

She turns back to look at him, shaking her head, ignoring the tears that fall from her lash line.

“We should just let each other go, Ian. You don’t love me.” She says, “I don’t think you ever really did. But that’s ok.” She can’t help herself as she huffs a laugh out of her nose. “I don’t think I ever loved you either, not really. We both used each other for what we needed and here we are.”

“Let each other go?” He shouts, still not moving any closer to her, his gaze intense. “So what, you can go to him. Play happy families with him and his son?”

His knowledge of Jack sends a chill down her spine, freezing her to the spot, her eyes wide. He smirks, walking towards her, coming to a stop just in front of her.

“That’s right love, I know all about little Jack Hotchner. Tragedy what happened to his mother, isn’t it?” He circles her, coming to stand behind her, his breath on her neck. “It would be a shame if something was to happen to his father too.”

“Ian.” She chokes out, a shaky breath leaving her as his hands come to rest on her shoulders, gripping her tightly. “Please. Just leave them out of this.”

“You’re going to do something for me,” he says, guiding her to the dining table, forcing her down into a seat as he places a piece of paper and a pencil in front of her, “and we’ll see about everything else later.”

She knows him, probably better than she knows herself, but for once it doesn’t help. She can’t see what he’s planning on doing and it terrifies her.

“What do you want me to do?” She asks, looking up at him, hoping she isn’t letting the fear shine through.

“I want you to write that little boyfriend of yours a note.” He says cooly, picking up the pencil and handing it to her.

“Ian.” She says, shaking her head. “I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll quit my job. There’s plenty of places I could work. Just leave him alone.”

He smirks at her before walking over to the kitchen cabinet, opening it and removing a box she’s never seen before. He places it on the table in front of her, and opens it, withdrawing a gun that she didn’t know they owned. He sits opposite her, gun in hand.

“You’re going to write that note.” He says conversationally, like he’s not threatening her, like they are simply discussing what to have for dinner. “And I’ll do the rest.”

The first thing she writes to Aaron is an apology, naively hoping it’s double meaning would never become clear.

____

The drive to the diner had become second nature, he barely registered the journey, hoping that he would come up with something, anything, to say to her when he walked in.

As Aaron walks in he sees Spencer in his usual seat, Penelope behind the counter. He can’t see Emily anywhere. He walks to his own booth, hoping to spot her walking back from the bathroom, or the stockroom, settling down as nervousness overtakes him.

“She’s not here.” Penelope says, making him jump slightly. He looks up at her and she smiles at him. “Sorry, Emily says I have this habit of sneaking up on people.”

“You certainly seem to.” He deadpans. “She’s not here?” He repeats her words back at her, his eyebrows furrowing.

Penelope nods. “Family emergency. She did drop by though, was here in the brief 5 minutes I wasn’t and we were closed between the day and the night shift.” She digs through the pocket of her uniform and hands him a slip of paper. “She left this, must have slid it under the door.”

He takes it, his name written on the front in an unfamiliar scrawl.

“It’s her handwriting.” Penelope explains, her eyes widening almost comically as he looks back up at her. “I didn’t read it. I promise.”

Aaron isn’t entirely sure he believes her, but nods anyway, and she walks away, giving him the privacy he felt it would have been rude to ask for. He runs his thumb over his name, the pencil smudging slightly as he does so, and unfolds the piece of paper

Aaron,

I’m sorry.

Come see me tonight. Our usual time. Penelope can give you the address.

Emily.

He stands immediately, almost walking straight into Penelope, who was holding out a piece of paper with an address written on it. A sheepish look on her face.

“Thanks.” He takes it without further comment, his mind already focused on seeing Emily, on what he could say, as he walks towards the entrance of the diner.

“Aaron.”

He turns around, the note still clasped in his hand, Penelope’s use of his given name for the first time ever making him pause.

“I wish you’d met her first.”

Aaron stares at the woman in front of him, and he nods. He leaves without another word.

____

Ian leaves her alone in the apartment, locking the door firmly behind him, leaving her no choice but to stay put. He left with nothing but his keys and the note he’d forced her to write twice, the first ruined by tears she hadn’t meant to fall in front of him. The concern of what he wanted to do to Aaron briefly overwhelming her, breaking her own rule of never letting Ian see anything close to fear on her face.

Apart from that one moment, paper and pencil scratchings blurred by her fleeting outward panic, she’d been stoic in the hours that had passed since he’d dragged her home. Staring straight ahead as he spoke at her, promises and threats about what their lives would be like after this. How her days at the diner were over, reminders that she was his. That she would only ever be his.

As soon as the door closes behind him, the lock clicking shut, Emily feels all of the energy drain out of her, her body physically wilting into the chair she was sitting in. Her elbows on the table and her head in her hands as she considers everything that had happened in her life that had led to this moment. She hated Ian, what he had become, what he had always been. But mostly she hated the small part of herself that missed the man she had met years ago, the man who she knew had never really existed.

She sighs as she stands up, her body feeling heavy, and she walks towards the bathroom. She avoids the mirror entirely, stripping off her uniform as she climbs into the shower, wincing as the heat of the water allows her to feel anything other than despair. She stands under the stream of almost blistering water for longer than she usually would. She purposely keeps her hair dry, not having the energy to deal with it, and eventually climbs out, knowing her time alone was limited.

She stands in front of the mirror, wiping the steam away from it so she can look at herself. Her eyes hone in on the two new marks over her left breast, perfectly round and bright red. Left by a cigarette only a couple of hours before. They hurt, the stinging of the water she had stood under making the pain slightly worse, and she can’t help but reach up to touch them, her fingers delicate over the damaged skin.

Ian had never left a permanent mark before. Always careful to ensure he was clever with the damage he left behind, skilful in his brutality. She hadn’t cried, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, show anything else after she’d let it slip with the note. Her fear for Aaron outweighing her concern for herself. She had clenched her teeth to stop herself from crying out as he burned her skin, the smell making her stomach roll.

She looks down at the burns, her vision blurring through the tears she would finally allow to fall and a sob tears itself from her throat. She covers her mouth, holding back the sound, knowing if she let go too much she’d never be able to pull it back. She blows out a breath and pulls the medicine cabinet open, taking out burn ointment she’d taken from work, her time as a nurse useful when Ian would come home with injuries she never asked too many questions about. It was out of date, but it was better than nothing.

He certainly wasn’t going to come back with anything when he got home.

She winces as she puts it on her skin, the stinging almost overwhelming. Tears returning to her eyes as she breathes through it. Her hands shake slightly as she puts the cap back on and she steps out of the bathroom into the bedroom. She changes quickly, pulling on a pair of slacks and a blouse, something loose against her chest so the material wouldn’t stick.

She’s just finished getting dressed when she hears the front door opening, her heart dropping into her stomach as she hears it lock again.

“Emily?”

Ian’s voice is hard, emotionless, and she has to ground herself for a moment before she calls back, well practised at making her voice sound even despite it feeling like the ground would swallow her whole any second.

“Coming.” She walks back into the kitchen, her arms tight across her chest as he comes into view.

“Sit.” He says, pointing at the chair he had left her in less than an hour ago when he walked out of the apartment. She complies, the gun he had waved in her face all day visible in his jacket.

“Ian-”

“You don’t get to talk love, you forfeited that right the moment you started fucking a cop.”

“I’m not fucking him,” she says, the desperation to her voice clear even to her, “I told you, it was just one kiss.” She knows apologies were pointless, that they wouldn’t get her anywhere, but she tries anyway, one last ditch attempt to undo something she had allowed to happen because she had dared to hope. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, you should have thought about that.” He replies, removing the gun from his pocket and putting it down on the table. “We’re going to wait for your boyfriend to get here, and then we’ll have a chat between the three of us.”

“I told him to leave me alone.” She says, biting her bottom lip to stop it from quivering, the look on Aaron’s face flashing in her head, devastation she hated that she’d put there. “He might not come.”

She knows he won’t do as she’s asked, that he’ll come to the diner anyway. Looking to talk to her as if they hadn’t broken each other's hearts on the sidewalk.

He won’t do as she’s asked, and it might get him killed. She’d never forgive herself if it did.

“Oh, he’ll come love.” Ian says, crossing his arms as he sits opposite her at the dining table, a place she used to pour him coffee in the morning. “You have a way about you, draws the suckers right in.” He leans forward on his elbows, his eyes boring into hers. “The poor bastard never stood a chance.”

She wasn’t sure what his plan was, where this day would lead her, but she knew one thing for certain.

She’d never be rid of him.

____

Aaron hesitates before he knocks on the door to her apartment. He’d checked the address twice when he pulled up outside, the slightly run down building not where he’d pictured her living.

There’s a slight commotion behind the door when he knocks, and seconds later it’s pulled open, just enough for her face to appear in the small crack between the wood of the door and the frame. She looks tired, like she hasn’t slept since she last saw him, bags under her eyes that he wants to soothe with his thumb, the memory of how soft her skin was making his fingers twitch, itching to reach out for her again. She wasn’t wearing her uniform, the only outfit he’d ever seen in her was replaced by a pair of black slacks and a dark shirt, the complete opposite to the bright colours Penelope had picked out to compliment the pinks of her diner.

It’s the first time he’s seen Emily with her hair down, her usual ponytail nowhere to be seen. It’s slightly longer than he expected, smooth and flowing down past her shoulders.

She looks like she's disappointed to see him, and it makes his heart sink. Something scratches at the back of his mind, the situation seeming off, his gun suddenly heavy on his hip.

“Hi.” He says, and he doesn’t miss how she pushes the door a little closer to him, as if she was trying to push him out. “I got your note.”

She stares at him for a second before she swallows thickly. “You should go.”

“What?” Em-”

He’s cut off by a grunt from her, how her head jerks backwards slightly and suddenly the door opens the entire way, Ian coming into view. He has his hand buried in Emily’s hair, pulling her towards him as he smirks at Aaron.

“Detective Hotchner.” He says coolly. “It’s good to see you again.” Ian looks down as Aaron’s hand reaches for his hip, fingers touching the gun in his holster. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

Aaron sees the gun in Ian’s hand as it comes into view. Ian points it against Emily’s head, the muzzle pressing into his wifes skin.

“I think it’s best if we all have a little chat, don’t you?” Ian says, stepping back, pulling Emily with him, her silence telling Aaron more than words ever could, allowing Aaron the room to walk into the apartment. He hesitates outside, knowing Ian would have all the power the moment the door closed behind him. “I think you probably know enough about me to know I’ll pull the trigger.”

Aaron stares at him, and he knows he’s not bluffing. He wonders if he can pull his own gun out quickly enough, if he could gun down the man holding Emily’s hair tight enough her eyes were watering before he could react. He doesn’t want to risk it. Ian and Emily were too close to each other, and Aaron didn’t want to hurt her. Not wanting to cause her more pain than he already had.

So he nods, stepping through the door and ignoring the way Emily’s eyes close in defeat, a tear slipping down her cheek.

As the door closes behind them, he hopes he hasn’t signed both of their death warrants.

____

“Are you sure this is the right place?”

Dave sighs as he turns to look at Derek, his eyebrow raised at the other man.

“This is where Anderson said he’s been coming.” He replies, turning his gaze back to the bright pink sign in front of them.

“It just…doesn’t seem very Hotch.” Derek says, his hands on his hips as he looks at the diner. “Do you think Penelope is the woman he’s been coming to see?”

Dave smiles at him. “Let's go find out.” He walks ahead of his partner, barely remembering to hold the door open for him as he steps inside the diner. Derek rolls his eyes at the back of Dave’s head, stepping in behind him.

“This better be worth getting up in the middle of the night.” Derek says under his breath, the door closing behind him.

There are only two people in the diner, a young looking man sitting in a booth, and a woman with a pot of coffee, leaning over and looking at the paper in the man’s hands.

“I really should get back to studying, Penelope.”

“Oh, shush. You need a break. Even if it is a crossword.” Penelope says as she pours him a coffee. “I’ll help.”

“I think I can do it by myself.”

“Ok then genius,” the woman says, a teasing tone to her voice, a quick acknowledgement of Dave and Derek thrown their way, her hand up showing she’d be over in a moment, “what's the clue?”

“11 down, first letter A, and the clue is ‘a moment of recognition, or discovery’.”

“Anagnorisis.” Dave says, drawing the attention of them both back towards him, both of them looking at him curiously. “Check it.”

Penelope looks down to the paper and smiles. “Well look at that Spence, he’s right.” She pats him on the shoulder, laughing when she leaves him sitting in his booth, a shocked look still on his face. She walks over to Dave and Derek. “Can I help you?”

“We’re here to-”

“Coffee.” Dave says, cutting off Derek, his eyes flashing at the other man. “Coffee would be great.”

Penelope looks between the two of them, her eyes narrowing slightly before she nods. “In that case, take a seat,” she says, pointing towards a booth, “I’ll be over in a moment.”

They slide into a booth, sitting opposite each other as they settle down. “What the hell, Rossi?”

“We’re just easing into it,” Dave replies, a smile on his face, “who knows, Aaron might show up yet.”

Derek shakes his head. “You enjoy this kind of thing far too much.” He clears his throat. “How did you know the answer to that clue?”

“I did it this morning.” Dave answers, a laugh peeling out of Derek in response. Penelope walks over, a cup of coffee in each hand that she places down for them.

“I’ve never seen you two here before,” She says, winking at Derek, “you have a face I wouldn’t forget.”

“We were hoping to see a friend.” Dave replies, smiling when her eyes widen.

“Well now you’ve got my interest piqued.” She slides into the booth next to Derek. “Who did you think you’d see?”

“Aaron Hotchner,” Dave says, not missing the recognition on her face, “he’s one of our colleagues. We heard he’s been coming here.”

“He’s one of my regulars, has been for months now.” she says excitedly, “he gets on well with one of my waitresses - Emily. They talk quite a lot.”

“I knew it was because of a woman.” Derek says, looking pleased with himself.

“Sorry, sugar,” Penelope replies, genuinely looking regretful “she’s married. They’re just friends.”

Dave hums in his throat. “That’s a shame.”

“You have no idea.” She says, “you should see the way he looks at her.” Penelope sighs, shaking her head slightly. “The way they look at each other.”

“Is she here tonight?” Dave asks, looking around, unable to see anyone else, desperate to catch a glance of the woman who had clearly enraptured his friend.

“No, she had a family emergency.” Penelope says. “Her husband’s brother got sick.”

“Ian doesn’t have a brother.”

They all turn to look at Spencer, still sitting in his booth with the paper in his hands.

“What?” Penelope asks, her eyes widening.

“He doesn’t have a brother. She said something about it once, that they were both only children.”

“That doesn’t make sense, she wouldn’t…oh no.” Penelope says, her hand coming up to cover her mouth.

“What is it, Baby Girl?” Derek asks, placing his hand on her arm.

“Ian, her husband. He’s the one who said it. She just went along with it.” She shakes her head at herself. “I should have seen it. He’s…not a nice man.”

“What do you mean he’s not a nice man?” Dave asks, his eyebrows furrowing.

“He hurts her.” Spencer says from behind them, his voice soft, sad. The weight of his words reverberating around the diner.

“And Aaron knows?” Dave asks, things starting to fall into place in his mind as Penelope nods in response. “Has he been here tonight?”

“Yes, a while ago but…”

She trails off and Derek and Dave make eye contact, both increasingly worried. “But what?”

“There was a note from her for him, asking him to go to her place.”

“Did she give it to you herself?” Dave asks, cursing under his breath when Penelope shakes her head. He stands up, leaving the booth quickly. “Do you have a phone here?”

“Yes, behind the counter.”

Dave strides over, picking up the phone and dialling a familiar number, the seconds that pass until it is answered feeling like an age. “Anderson, it’s Rossi. Is Hotch there?” He closes his eyes, shaking his head as he gets the answer he feared. “He hasn’t been back at all?” He looks over at Derek and their eyes meet, an unspoken understanding of what had to happen next. “Ok, thanks.”

He puts the phone back on the hook, his gaze falling on Penelope.

“We’re going to need that address.”

____

The apartment is small, one room with two other rooms off of it, what he can see is a bedroom and a bathroom. It reminds him of the very first place he’d lived with Haley, before they’d saved to buy their house.

Ian lets go of Emily as soon as the door is shut, and she steps away from him, putting distance between herself and her husband. She’s stoic in her silence, and he wonders if this is how she has survived her marriage to Ian this long, by staying quiet. Aaron watches as her eyes meet Ian’s and all it takes is the other man raising his eyebrows for her to turn and walk towards the small dining table, taking a seat.

Aaron can’t help but wonder what happened before he showed up, what has been said between the married couple in the 24 hours since he last saw Emily. He tears his eyes off of her and he looks to Ian who was staring at him, the gun in his hand still trained on his wife.

“She’s really something,” Ian says, taking a step towards Aaron, “say what you want about that wife of mine, but she’s a good fuck isn’t she?”

Aaron feels like all the breath has been stolen from his lungs, realisation like ice water in his veins as he looks past Ian and his eyes meet Emily’s.

He’d seen them.

“I’ve had better though.” Ian says, turning briefly to look at Emily before looking back at Aaron. “I’m going to need you to put your gun down.” Aaron stares at him, not moving, his hand still on the butt of his gun as it sits in it’s holster. Ian sighs, like he’s bored, before he tightens his hold on his own gun. “Put down your gun, or I will shoot her.”

It’s a silent standoff, an argument that Aaron knows he will not win. He silently takes his gun out of it’s holster, leaning down to lay it on the ground. Ian kicks it, sending it towards the kitchen counter, the metal skipping across the tiled floor.

He stands back to full height, his gaze stern as it meets Ian’s. “Let her go, and we’ll talk just between us.”

Ian acts as if he hasn’t spoken. “Sit on the floor,” his eyes move to Aaron’s belt, his cuffs on show, “handcuff yourself to the radiator.”

Aaron doesn’t move and he sees Ian’s jaw tense, his step towards Emily small but enough to set Aaron into motion, willing to do anything to protect her. Knowing he wasn’t fast enough to beat a bullet.

He does as asked, handcuffing one hand to what looks like the weakest bit of metal, hoping if needed he might be able to pull himself free.

“The key.” Ian says, his hand out, taking it from him before Aaron could hand it over. “Now,” he stands between the two of them, looking back and forth, “we’re going to have a little chat.” He moves towards Emily, his spare hand rough at the back of her neck. “But first, we’re going to do a little show and tell. Show him.” Ian says coldly, staring at her. Emily doesn’t move, doesn’t stop staring ahead, ignoring her husband and his demands. “Show him.” He repeats, shouting this time, droplets of spit landing on her cheek.

She still doesn’t move, her apparent resolve to simply ignore Ian holding strong.

“For fucks sake, I’ll do it myself.” Ian exclaims, the gun slammed down on the table in front of her. Aaron watches as Ian moves so he is standing behind Emily, his hands on her shoulders, moving towards the buttons of her shirt. Her only reaction is a slight tensing of her jaw, the way her eyes meet Aaron’s very briefly before she looks away, downcast at the table. Ian undoes the top three buttons of her shirt, pulling it apart enough for the white white material of her bra to come into view. Aaron wants to look away, give her the privacy that her husband was denying her, but then he sees them.

There are two round burn marks at the top of her left breast, clearly left by a cigarette. They looked fresh, painful and bright red. Although you wouldn’t know it from her face, her carefully constructed expression gives nothing away. Aaron’s whole body tenses, his fists clenching in a way that makes his handcuffs rattle against the metal of the radiator, the sound making Ian’s twisted smile appear on his face.

“Oh look at that ,” Ian says, a mocking tone to his voice, “I think he loves you.” He turns from his wife to look at Aaron, a smirk on his face. “Do you love her detective?” He asks, spitting out the final word, like it was poison in his mouth. “I did once, fat lot of good it did me.”

Aaron stays silent, knowing whatever he said would ultimately make it worse for Emily, and that was the last thing he wanted. He keeps trying to think of a way out of this for them, wondering if he pulled at the rusting metal of the radiator hard enough if it would snap, steam burns be damned. But Ian still has a gun in his hand, trained on Emily like she was some kind of wild animal who could escape any minute, and he didn’t want her to get hurt.

So he stays silent, keeps his mouth shut like he knows she’d want him to, fighting against his very instinct to escape his bindings and beat the life out of Ian with his bare hands. To tear his knuckles open against bone and teeth, giving the man a taste of his own medicine and more. But he doesn’t, he stays still.

If he dies here tonight, he doesn’t want her last memory of him to be a violent one.

Ian chuckles into the silence, the sound incongruent to the situation they were in. The sound is light, carefree, as if they were in a bar, chatting about anything and everything. Aaron’s eyes meet the other mans, and he sees a smile forming.

“She’s broken,” Ian says, his voice even. Emotionless. “All used up with nothing else to give.”

“Don’t talk about her like that.” Aaron says through his clenched teeth, reacting before he can stop himself. The metal bar of the radiator behind him creaks as he impulsively pulls at it, anger rising off of him like the steam that threatens to burn him.

“I will talk about my wife,” Ian seethes, shouting the last two words, “however I want to.”

“Aaron.” Emily says, and he looks over to her, her eyes pleading with him. “Please.”

“She loves you too, you know.” Ian chimes in as if Emily hasn’t spoken. “I’ve seen you two together, watched you for weeks. She used to look at me like that. It won’t last.” He walks over to Aaron, crouching down so their faces are level and smirks at him. “Are you going to tell him?” He directs at Emily, standing up straight, turning his head to look at her from where she was still sitting at the dining room table, hurriedly doing the buttons on her shirt back up.

“Ian.”

“I want to hear you say it.” He shouts, turning back to look at Aaron, his head tilting slightly at the man.

“No.” Emily says, knowing nothing good would come of it, not understanding what Ian’s end game was here beyond the fact there was no way all three of them were going to leave the apartment alive. “Just let him go, Ian. Please.”

“I want to hear you say it.” Ian bellows, his voice the loudest it had been all evening, the cool edge he had managed to maintain so far fading entirely. He is by her side in a second, his hand roughly grabbing her arm as he pulls her up, forcing her towards Aaron so she is standing in front of him. “Say it. Tell him you love him.”

The silence is tense, so thick Emily swears it will choke her, her lungs struggling to fill with anything other than the fear she refused to show. She sees Ian shake his head out of the corner of her eye, and his grip on her somehow tightens further, the all too familiar feeling of her skin bruising under his finger tips.

Ian sighs. “Ok then, we’ll do this another way.” He raises the gun still grasped in his other hand and points it directly at Aaron’s head. “Tell him.”

“Ian-” She chokes out, her eyes flitting between the gun and Aaron, panic threatening to claw its way out of her throat.

“Say it, before you never get the chance.” He says, looking at her, his blue eyes boring directly into her dark ones. She used to love his eyes. She used to get lost in them as if they were the depths of the ocean, drowning in his affection as he told her he loved her. Images of children they never had flitting through her mind with his eyes and her smile, a fantasy that was as damaged as they were. Now she saw nothing. His eyes were empty, cold. The thing she feared would be the last she would ever see. His finger moves towards the trigger as he turns to look back at Aaron.

“Ok, fuck, I love him.” She says, her voice surprisingly even. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“Don’t tell me. Tell him.” Ian says, his voice emotionless and his gun still pointing straight ahead.

Emily closes her eyes and looks down at Aaron, tears she had managed to hold back since he arrived swimming at her lash line, threatening to fall.

“I’m sorry.” She says, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry.” Ian’s grip on her arm tightens, an unspoken demand, and she sighs. “I love you.” Her voice cracks, her words ragged as they break free.

“See,” Ian says, pulling the gun away so it was no longer pointing at Aaron’s head, “that wasn’t that hard was it.”

For a moment, one agonising moment, she thinks he might actually let Aaron go, and that is all she cares about. Now she’s said it out loud, admitted how she feels about him, she can’t put it away. She doesn’t want to. She wanted to be with him, be happy. Live a life that she knew they had both earned. Enough heartache behind both of them that if life was fair would have been penance enough.

But life wasn’t fair. At least, it never had been to her.

It happens in slow motion, Ian looks at her, a smirk on his lips and his eyes cold, and he points the gun at Aaron’s chest, pulling the trigger without flinching, no second thought behind his actions.

Emily jumps, the sound startling her. She knows it was loud enough that it's likely woken everyone else in the building. Aaron slumps backwards when he’s been hit, a yelp of pain escaping him like he was a wounded animal. She gasps, staring at him for a moment as the shock wears off, everything briefly fading out to nothing, just the sight of Aaron bleeding onto the floor she had first walked on years ago as a starry eyed newlywed.

“Aaron.” She shouts, trying to wrench herself free of Ian’s hand, his hold on her impossibly tighter as every instinct in her tells her to scramble towards the injured man. She turns to Ian. “Let me go.”

“We’ve got to get out of here.” He says, the calmest he’s sounded all night, as if he hadn’t just shot the man his wife loved, a policeman in their living room. “Those nosey bastards across the hall will already be calling the damn cops.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” She says, successfully pulling her arm free before he grabs it again, his fist clenched around her wrist. “Just let me go.”

She can hear Aaron groaning on the floor, the scratch of the metal of the handcuffs on the radiator as he moves, clearly in pain.

“Yes you will, love.” Ian spits at her, pulling her closer. “If we leave now he might have a chance of surviving, get back to that little boy of his,” he smirks, the mention of Jack getting the exact reaction he was looking for, her body tensing, “if you don’t come quietly I’ll put another bullet between his eyes.”

She knows he’s serious, that it’s not an empty threat, and she swallows against the lump in her throat. “Okay.” She relents, clenching her teeth, she hears Aaron say her name, a gasp in between his increasingly harsh breaths. “Can I say goodbye? I’ll go with you. Just…please.”

She doesn’t think she’d ever begged him before this evening. Her pride never allowed it, even when he was at his worst, but she couldn’t just leave Aaron bleeding out on her kitchen floor. She sees a flash of something across her husband's face, something she mistakes for a moment of humanity, forcing her guard down a little.

“You have two minutes.” Ian says, letting her go, shoving her hard enough that she loses her footing, falling on the ground in front of Aaron. “And then we’re out of here.”

“Oh God.” She says, kneeling in front of Aaron, her world narrowing to just him. Her hands shake slightly as they hover over his chest, blood pouring from where Ian had shot him. “I’m so sorry.” She looks around and sees a dish towel at eye level, folded over the handle of one of the kitchen drawers. She grabs it, balling it up and pressing to his wound, shushing as he shouts out in pain. “I know, I know,” she says, holding his hand so she can move it, pressing it down on the towel, “I know it hurts. Hold that there.”

“Em-”

“You’ll be ok.” She says, trying to smile at him but failing. Tears cascading down her cheeks as she speaks. “Someone will be here soon, the neighbours will have heard the shot.”

“60 seconds.”

She freezes at the sound of Ian’s voice for a moment, suddenly reminded of his presence behind her, blowing out a breath as her eyes meet Aaron’s again.

“You’ll be ok.” She repeats, her hand coming up to briefly touch his face before removing it like she’d been burned, hyper aware of Ian standing behind her. “I’m so sorry you got caught up in this.”

“Emily, you can’t.” Aaron chokes out, his hand catching hers, using whatever strength he had to try and gain her attention. “You can’t go.”

She can’t help the shaky smile on her face at the realisation he was still trying to help her. Like the bullet hole in his chest and the fact he was handcuffed to the radiator wouldn’t stop him. She was starting to think nothing would, that he was as stubborn as she was.

“I’ll be fine.” She says, trying to reassure him. “I alway am.”

“Em-”

“Times up.” Ian says coldly. She expects him to haul her back off the floor but he doesn’t. She can’t bring herself to turn around, so she looks up and sees his reflection in the window behind Aaron.

Ian has the gun pointing at the back of her head. She heaves out a breath, something between a laugh and a sob in her throat, and looks at Aaron, grateful that he would be the last thing she saw. He tries to look away, to look up at Ian, but she doesn’t let him. She puts her hand back on his face, makes him look at her. She sees the same kindness he had shown her since the moment they met radiating off of him despite the situation and she runs her thumb over his cheek. She leans forward, hoping Ian doesn’t hear her this time, that this could be just for them.

“I love you.” She whispers, and his eyes widen, his mouth opening slightly and she shakes her head. “It’s ok. I know.”

She did know. She had felt his love and ignored it for months, pretending that it was nothing more than friendship so she could carry on allowing herself to see him. To spend time basking in his affection like she could afford to. She should have let him go, stopped it all the moment she realised he loved her when he bought her a pen for her birthday. That way he would have been able to go home to his son, and one day tell his future wife, any future children, about a waitress he once fell in love with. A page in the story of his life, one of his favourites to return to.

For a moment, a fleeting, selfish moment, she lets herself be grateful that he’s here. That, even for a short while, she knew how it felt to be loved like this.

Aaron’s eyes meet hers before flicking to his side and her gaze follows his, and she understands. Time slows down, the seconds stretching out for an age as she hears Ian disengage the safety on the gun.

She reaches for Aaron’s gun on the floor, the same spot it had been in since Ian had made him drop it upon his arrival, and she turns.

The gunshot is heard 3 streets away.

[jetaime-jespere]

Well now♥️ 🥺… to quote vic “it all started with a hook.” 😇🤩

Is there anything you can give us about the book? I'm so excited!@@

You know what I can give you? The very first page, and the only thing I'm 100% confident in.

(dontcrydontcrydontcrydontcry)

[jetaime-jespere]

Fallacy

summary: hotchniss. a detective flirts with aaron. emily is not a fan :// read on ao3

wc: 2,3k

tw: canon-typical violence but very mild. a bit of hurt/comfort. overall it’s just fluff

She wakes up in his arms that day. Despite the early hour, he’s already awake and watching her, one hand stroking her hip, the other propping his head up. Emily smiles as she watches his gaze sweep over her form, a thin white shirt the only thing covering her. Aaron leans down and kisses her, slow and full, lips moving down her neck and to her shoulder after they separate. She brings her hand to the back of his head as he kisses her collarbones, and her eyes flutter closed.

“Good morning,” she breathes, and Aaron lifts his head to gently kiss her lips again.

“Good indeed,” comes his raspy voice. He kisses her one last time. “I have to go.”

Emily nods, habitually covering the disappointment. She knows he has to return to his room before everyone else wakes up to shower and get dressed; she needs to get ready too. But all she wants is to stay like this, warm under the covers. Together.

“How long do you think until we catch him?” she asks, watching him get out of bed only in his boxers and put his slacks on.

“Not long,” he answers so confidently it sparks something deep in her stomach. “I actually think we might wrap this case up today.”

“Oh, I hope so,” Emily groans, her head falling back onto the pillow. “I want to sleep in my own bed. This one sucks.”

Aaron sits down next to her, the top three buttons on his shirt undone, his suit jacket thrown over his arm. He bends down, hovering over her for a second before giving her one slow kiss.

“I want to sleep in your bed too,” he mumbles against her lips and Emily laughs. She kisses him again and then he’s gone, leaving her with a smile on her face and a pair of beating wings in her belly that she wants but fails to ignore.

〰

He turns out to be right. They catch the bastard that evening, a small, sad man, almost pathetic in his hatred for the world that had not once wronged him before. His poor judgment makes him try and fight JJ, which he quickly regrets, but JJ still comes out of it with a split lip and a nosebleed. Aaron leaves Derek with her to make sure she lets EMTs do their jobs, Reid and Rossi handle the scene with the local cops, and Emily and he pack up at the precinct, the cold from the outside seeping through the thin walls and chilling them to the bone.

Emily hears someone approach them before she turns to look, having been stacking the lying around files into neat piles. The perfume hits her first, and Emily turns her head just as she hears the voice.

“Agent Hotchner, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Detective Brickner,” he nods politely. “What can I do for you?”

Emily can tell what’s coming before it even starts. Detective Brickner, a petite woman with blonde hair and fine features, has been eyeing Aaron for the entire week they’ve spent there, always looking for a chance to talk to him, to stand nearby. Now she’s standing in front of him, a relaxed, flirty smile on her face, her hand twirling a strand of hair. She’s changed out of her uniform into a pencil skirt and a silk blouse after her job was done, and Emily feels strange next to her in her still sweaty shirt from the takedown, her hair in an askew ponytail.

“Oh, please, call me Amanda,” the Detective says and steps closer to Aaron. “Can I call you Aaron?”

Emily’s hand tightens around a file as she turns back to the table, her task still unfinished. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Amanda brush her hand over the lapel of Aaron’s jacket and then give her a not-so-subtle once-over while making no move to step away from Emily, have some privacy for the conversation she wants to have. She’s doing it on purpose.

“As you please,” he answers after a brief hesitation and furrows his brows. “What can I do for you?”

Emily forces her hands to keep doing what they have been doing before, forces herself to breathe and not to react to the flirting, Aaron being painfully oblivious to it. She knows he won’t understand that Amanda’s flirting with him until she flat out says so, probably won’t act on it, but she still feels that burning jealousy in her chest and she wishes she could do something. But she can’t - they haven’t defined things, haven’t decided what they are to each other. Their relationship is not even a relationship, a series of hook-ups all over the country at best, and it makes her want to either scream or get drunk.

“I was just wondering,” Amanda says. “If you’d like to get coffee with me. Or a drink.” She winks at him. “We’re not working anymore, so I thought...”

She trails off, and Emily doesn’t need to look at her to imagine that saccharine sweet smile on her face, eyes wide and curious. She hates it and hates herself for it, even though she can’t help but wish for things to be different. It’s when she puts the pile into a box and looks for the lid, she hears a part of the conversation that she takes as her cue to leave.

“I...uh,” Aaron fumbles for an answer, never the one to be smooth in such situations. Amanda just smiles at him again and steps even closer.

“Is that a yes?” she asks. “Or maybe you have a girlfriend?”

The lid threatens to fall out of her hands, but Emily makes a conscious decision to hold it tighter. She purposefully looks only at the table and nowhere else, and that's when Aaron glances at her for the first time. He sees her freeze on the spot, her breath hitched in her throat, knuckles almost white around the cardboard. He’s so lost, doesn’t know what to say, his thoughts distracted by Emily and the way she’s trying to force her face to remain neutral, he only manages to get out a single word.

“Um, I...” he clears his throat. “No.”

He doesn’t know which question he’s answering, but Amanda seems to know exactly what he means. She beams at him, already talking a mile a minute about where they would go and not letting him say even a word, and Emily finally closes that box she’s been staring at the whole time. She straightens her back, makes fists out of her hands a couple of times, then blows out a breath and turns, ready to leave. Taking a few steps away from the table, she ensures her face is as unreadable as possible and catches Aaron’s gaze.

“Sir,” she starts, her tone cold but calm. “I packed everything up, so if you could just take the box to the storage room later it would be great. Have a good night.”

She turns to leave, keen to get out of there and pity herself in her hotel room, already chastising herself for letting herself fall this far. She and Aaron were never supposed to happen in the first place, and now she got the confirmation that she had been right all along in thinking it was all a huge mistake.

“Prentiss,” his satisfyingly panicked voice stops her. Emily turns around and sees that same panic on his face, taking great pleasure in the fact that only she could see it because she knew him so well. That same thought hurts, and she looks at the floor instead of his face. Aaron fumbles for something to say again. “The jet leaves at nine.”

Emily blinks after a second as if she can’t believe that that’s what he settled on. She knows he can probably see everything she’s thinking and feeling on her face because there’s no one who knows her better than him, and it makes her heart feel even heavier in her chest. With a nod, Emily finally leaves, pointedly ignoring Amanda’s triumphant gaze.

The SUV they were supposed to take back to the hotel stays like a silent accusation in the parking lot, and Emily hopes Aaron finds the keys she’d left on the table.

〰

A knock on her door comes not even an hour later, and Emily opens it without a second thought only to come face to face with Aaron. He hates how her face falls immediately, and she looks to the floor in an attempt to school her features, her arms crossing over her chest. When she looks up, her eyebrows are furrowed in a confused frown, a silent question on her face. Aaron can still see the hurt lingering behind her carefully constructed expression, and it feels like a punch to his gut.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure,” she says quietly and steps to the side to let him in. “What are you doing here? It’s only been an hour. Dates usually last longer.”

It comes out without even a hint of malice or anger in her voice, and Emily is proud of herself for that. It’s harder than she expected, but suddenly she’s grateful for all the years of political training. She has no right to feel angry, she reminds herself.

“There was no date, Emily.”

She looks up at him, eyebrows raised.

“Oh,” she says and clears her throat. “Well...I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” Aaron replies as if it's the simplest thing, and Emily’s breath catches in her throat. His simple answer managed to take down all the defenses she’s built around herself and set that pair of beating wings in her stomach free in a single moment. It’s hope, and she hates it. “I came to apologize.”

Emily frowns again, tightening her arms around herself.

“Apologize? For what?”

“For lying,” Aaron states, using that same light tone from before. “About having a girlfriend.”

It takes her aback. Emily turns away, unable to look at him for another moment, and crosses the room to stand by the window. The peaceful cold night outside the hotel makes her want to escape the tension in the room.

“You didn’t lie,” she says finally, her voice barely audible. “We’ve never discussed...this. Us. Technically-”

“I don’t care about technicalities, Emily.”

His voice is suddenly much closer to her than before, and she gives a full-body shiver when she feels his warmth directly behind her. She looks at their reflection in the window and watches him almost reach out for her. As their eyes meet in the glass, she gives him an almost imperceptible nod, and his hands land on her shoulders. Aaron feels the tension in her muscles under his palms, the little jump she gives at the contact, her eyes closing as she stops breathing for a second. His hands slide lower, rubbing up and down her arms, goosebumps following them on her skin.

“You’re cold,” he murmurs.

Emily turns to face him, shrugging his hands off of her shoulders. Uncertainty on her face makes his heart ache.

“What do you want from me, Aaron?” she asks. “Your apology is unnecessary, really. You’re a free man, you don’t have a girlfriend.”

She doesn’t look at him as she talks, staring at the floor instead until she feels the pressure of his hands on her shoulders once again. His face is serious when she looks up, something calm and reasonable radiating from him.

“But I want to,” he says and gives her shoulders a light squeeze. “And I want it to be you.”

Emily stares up at him for a long second, and he sees the hesitance she’s unwilling to let go of all over her features. But there’s also hope, so much hope in her eyes it makes him smile as he patiently awaits the answer.

“Why didn’t you say anything then?”

Aaron shrugs. “I didn’t have the right to call you mine until I asked properly. I wanted to, but I didn’t, and I’m sorry.”

Emily resists the urge to roll her eyes, affection for him threatening to burst out of her and set the whole room on fire. She looks at him and tries not to smile as they stand in silence.

Finally, “Okay.”

“Okay?” he repeats, wanting nothing more but to define everything, make sure there is nothing uncertain left between them. Emily’s smile tugs at all of his heartstrings, and she nods, finally closing the gap between them, her face buried in his chest. Aaron kisses her hair as his arms band around her back, the smile on his lips never fading. He feels more than hears her mumbling something, words muffled in his shirt.

“What did you say?”

“I said,” Emily replies, looking up. “That I’m tired and we should go to bed.” She cups his cheek, and he turns to kiss her palm. “And you’re staying in my bed tonight.”

“Bossy,” he comments with an amused smile, and Emily pinches the skin on his back in retaliation.

“Well,” she shrugs. “You’re stuck with me now.”

He smiles wider. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Emily beams at him as he bends down to kiss her, both of her hands on his cheeks, her joy infectious. Aaron pulls her impossibly closer, their chests flush to each other as he steals air from her lungs, leaving her breathless as they separate. Emily leans her forehead on his, panting against his lips as his hands roam her back, creep under her shirt, and make her shiver.

“Aaron?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

She opens her eyes to look at him.

“Bed. Now.”

Aaron smiles and thinks he’d want nothing more than to spend his life with her by his side. Something in the way her hands are tenderly caressing his face tells him she’s thinking the same.

“Lead the way.”

[jetaime-jespere]

Without making *any* promises…. I just titled a google doc “Old Times All Over Part 2” so…. 😌🙃 we might just be .. gasp… writing something.

( @sequinsmile-x has the proof ☺️)