Hotch/Prentiss fic: Our Eternity; 1/1
Title: Our Eternity
Author: flameturnedblue
Rating: PG
Warnings: Character death; not too traumatic, I hope, but perhaps needs noting, nonetheless.
Pairing: Hotch/Prentiss
Author’s note: Hotch and Prentiss’s most memorable anniversaries. Thanks, as always, to the splendid woodchoc_magnum for her beta help. Poetry and lyrics respectfully snagged from Eben E. Rexford, and Thomas Lynch.
‘True love stories never have endings’
~ Richard Bach
Year 1 ~ Paper
For once, he was not fazed when she made them both late for work, and promised to pick up where they left off when they got home later that evening.
She knew he had a table booked as a ‘surprise’ (20:00 hours at Marcel’s) but she allowed him the simple joy of thinking it was spontaneous and original.
It would be the same place where they’d had their first proper date; he had been so nervous that he kept clearing his throat, and tipped over a glass of Merlot when she tried to play footsie with him under the long tablecloth. She insisted on picking up the dry cleaning bill to salvage his favorite charcoal suit.
Emily privately vowed to use other means to get him out of that suit.
Somehow, they made it to date number two.
~
She looked up when he left a stack of folders on her desk later that afternoon - the bulk was slimmer than usual, his idea of rare favoritism on a special day.
‘Lots and lots of paper - how appropriate,’ she smirked, making sure to touch his hand before he left her.
To her surprise, he grasped hers lightly, his thumb fingering her wedding band. They usually avoided any displays of affection at work, but today was different. Today it could slide. He winked at her before reluctantly letting go and making his way back to his office.
Humming softly to herself (that always drove Reid nuts), she set to work organizing the folders into a logical order, poised to start some tedious note-taking.
A simple cream envelope slipped from the pile. It bore her name, printed unmistakably in his sober script. Underlined. Twice. Looking around cautiously before she did so, she opened it and found a three-page love letter.
Paper.
She’d bought him some embossed, personalized stationery.
He had spent hours writing in the den, lately; sleeves rolled up, pen in hand. Balls of scrunched up, discarded drafts slam dunked into the wastepaper basket. She had no idea it was all for her.
When she finished reading, she had to walk to the ladies room, hair shielding her face so that no one could see the tears and smudged mascara.
He met her en route. His anxious expression told her that he wanted some signal that his unexpected outpouring of emotion had been the right move. Even though he always made her feel loved and safe and wanted, he was emotionally reserved by nature.
She would never want to change any of the things that made Aaron Hotchner the person she knew by heart.
‘Hotch, Aaron, I…,’ she struggled to articulate what the letter meant to her.
He smiled knowingly and leaned a little closer; so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath tickling her skin. It still gave her goosebumps, and she had to remind herself that she was actually allowed to take him home for keeps, now.
‘You look like a panda with all that runny makeup, Prentiss.’
‘A very cute panda,’ he added.
The Alternate Anniversary
‘I remember the first day we met, Emily. You were going through some sort of Goth phase. Very cranky and sullen, I think. It was August, about this time of year, right? I don’t even know if you were happy about leaving for college - such a conformist institution.’
It had not been love at first sight. Neither of them believed in that kind of thing, anyway.
‘Well I remember that too,’ she sniffed, slightly miffed.
‘You were stuffy and eager to make an impression on the Ambassador. Stoic, yes, that’s it. Stoic. And very married.’
He arched an eyebrow. ‘Would you have even cared if I wasn’t - married, I mean.’
‘Probably not, but then, I didn’t know you, now did I? You were just another one of those security guys following Mother about.’
‘It wasn’t exactly a barrel of laughs for me either, just so you know. Your Mother is…demanding. Plus, you were technically still a teenager.’
Emily’s eyes widened. ‘You are such a cradle snatcher!’
‘Am not!’
‘Are too!’
‘Well I’m very glad I met you way back when, Emily Prentiss,’ he said, laughing as she tackled him with a sofa cushion.
Year 2 ~ Cotton
Together, they purchased a complete set of 1,500 thread Egyptian cotton sheets: fitted sheet, flat sheet, and pillowcases. He didn’t even complain (much) that a set of sheets cost almost four hundred dollars.
Emily merrily added a stack of towels, a le creuset casserole dish, and a dark blue paisley robe she thought he’d look ‘dapper’ in.
‘I’ll need to do more overtime, at the rate we’re wearing out our bed sheets,’ he muttered wryly as they left the store arm in arm.
Year 3 ~ Leather
‘I’m trying to take my mind out of the gutter, here.’
‘Well then you’re completely missing the point!’
‘So the official line is that we gave each other matching leather filofaxes?’
‘Uh huh. Do you trust me, Aaron?’
‘Always, Emily.’
His fingers entwined with hers.
Year 4 ~ Linen
She gave him a set of pure linen handkerchiefs embroidered with the initials A. H. He had loved the stationery she gave him for their first anniversary; he loved the handkerchiefs just as much. Aaron Hotchner was nothing if not practical. He hated gimmicky gifts that served no real purpose.
Emily would go on to develop the habit of lightly spritzing one of those freshly laundered kerchiefs with some of her perfume, before tucking it into his inside jacket pocket on a Sunday night. Finding it on Monday morning when he was on the plane, sitting in his office, or in a dreary meeting, always cheered him considerably.
And kind of turned him on, too.
He gave her his linen christening robe (his mother had kept it: Haley had insisted on a new robe for Jack’s ceremony). She marvelled at how beautiful and immaculate it was, fifty years on (though she kept the last bit to herself; he was sometimes sensitive about his age).
While she was admiring the robe and trying (unsuccessfully) to imagine what a tiny six-pound baby Aaron Hotchner might have been like, he busied himself with painting her toenails a shocking pink. He always did thoughtful little things like that. She was so big she couldn’t bend down and reach her feet anymore, and besides, her ankles were puffy and swollen.
Any day now…any day…
Year 5 ~ Wood
‘The front fence needs mending,’ she mentioned, handing him his morning coffee.
‘Yes, I know. I’ll get to it after I’ve mowed the lawn.’
‘It wouldn’t do to have our white picket fence broken, now would it?’
‘But it’s brown - a subtle shade of walnut, actually.’
‘You know what I mean, Aaron!’
‘Yes, honey.’
~
He gave her an ornate cherrywood gazebo (‘We can grow climbing roses up the sides and hide out in there when the kids drive us crazy’).
‘You really do think of everything,’ she said with a beaming smile. He was rewarded, as always, with a kiss, and an antique Amish rocking chair he’d been admiring for months in a Georgetown dealers. Emily put it in the den and he sat in it every day after work while he read the newspaper.
His blood pressure and cholesterol levels plummeted that year.
The Secret Anniversary (the one that wasn’t for sharing)
Emily made him French toast with cinnamon, eggs, fresh orange juice, and coffee.
‘Mmm smells good,’ he said, sniffing the air, then stifling a yawn.
‘Do you remember the first time I made you this exact breakfast?’ She snaked her arms around his waist, snuggling into him. He was toasty warm and muddled with sleep, having stumbled from their bed precisely five minutes before.
‘Now how am I supposed to remember that?’ He frowned at her in confusion.
She winked at him, slipping from his arms to pour herself another cup of coffee. She’d gotten up extra early and needed the fuel.
‘Oh!’ It suddenly hit him, ‘oh, boy, do I remember! Fifth date - dinner, the theater, then your place... I felt like I was seventeen again. In more ways than one, actually.’
Her smile widened as he began to recollect all the little details of the evening, right down to what she had been wearing (or not).
‘You make me feel so young, Mrs Hotchner…’
‘Don’t you dare sing, Aaron - it’s far too early. Save it for the shower and give me an anniversary kiss instead.’
He dutifully obliged.
Year 10 ~ Tin
The youngest Hotchner had colic and Hotch Sr. was pacing the floor with him. The other two were cranky and restless on this rainy Saturday afternoon. Cabin fever and boredom were not a good mix.
Jack was away for his first year at college, and when he was home the others were quieter; they adored their big brother.
‘Hey!’ Emily said, suddenly inspired, ‘Let’s watch the Wizard of Oz!’
Cue nods and screeches of approval from the munchkins.
‘The tin man - good call, Mom,’ Hotch said, giving her a tired smile.
He was ruffled and unkempt, walking around with no shoes on and a sick-stained rag thrown across his shoulder. He held the baby close to his chest in a sling. Emily had never recalled adoring him so much.
He sat down on the sofa beside her and she offered him a bite of her lukewarm pizza, followed by a kiss.
‘Ewww!’ the kids chorused in protest.
Best anniversary yet.
Year 15 ~ Crystal
A set of gold-rimmed crystal champagne flutes.
‘Not very original, I’m afraid,’ he offered apologetically as she opened the box.
‘They’re perfect, and hey, I got you a paperweight, so we’re even.’ She still stuck her tongue out at him when they joked around.
‘Now let’s make some cocktails, I think there’s some Prosecco in the fridge - you get to mush up the peaches, then we can hit the hot tub.’
Bellinis!
He loved it when she tasted of Italian wine.
Year 20 ~ China
‘Well, we can’t go to China.’
‘And we have cupboard full of china that we never use.’
‘Hmmm, yeah…’
They need not have worried: the kids surprised them with afternoon tea with all the trimmings: scones, cupcakes, muffins, earl grey tea, served out on the terrace while everyone wore their Sunday best.
Everything was served on an ancient Prentiss china dining set that Emily had inherited, but never used (it was Aunt Penelope’s idea).
Emily and Hotch didn’t even notice that the tea was too weak and the sponge cake was undercooked and grainy. Their sullen teens were having a ball, and that was what mattered.
Year 25 ~ Silver
He gave her a silver eternity band studded with small rubies, knowing just how splendidly red suited her.
She gave him a silver pocket watch, engraved with the date and the first line of a Robert Burns poem he had quoted at their small wedding, twenty-five years past now: ‘grow old with me, the best is yet to be.’
‘We both have enough silver as it stands,’ she laughed, flicking her fringe out of her eyes.
‘Silver threads among the gold,’ he murmured, fingering her graying hair with a wistful expression passing across his still-handsome features.
Darling, I am growing old,
Silver threads among the gold
Shine upon my brow today;
Life is fading fast away;
But, my darling, you will be, will be,
Always young and fair to me.
Year 30 ~ Pearls
He loved that her eyes crinkled and lit up when she smiled. Eyes that were still lively and sparkling, and full of passion, and love and rage. In them, he saw the best bits of his life: his children; the deepest secrets they shared; the quiet affection she had for him that never wavered, even now, when he was bent and white-haired, and unsteady on his feet.
‘It’s a pity,’ he sighed, ‘that these are outshone by their wearer. They look so dull in comparison to you.’ He was fixing a string of radiant pearls around her neck, gently closing the gold clasp with gnarled hands that shook a little.
She turned around to fix a simple pearl tiepin to the gray silk cravat he was wearing, lovingly smoothing her hands down the front of his shirt.
Then, she took his hand and they walked across the garden together, with the eyes of family and friends upon them, to renew their vows beside the cherrywood gazebo. Still standing. Still solid.
The roses were blooming and radiant.
When the party had quietened down and only a few people were left, Emily knew that he had shed a tear or two that evening - a potent mix of scotch and memories of Dave, who wasn’t around to resume his role as best man. Recollections of friends who had gone before were so bittersweet now, reminding him of his own mortality.
~ Year 31 ~
He left her in the fall.
He hadn’t wanted it to be the fall. The winter would have been preferable.
I want it cold.
I want the gray to inhabit the air,
Like wood does trees, as an essence, not a coincidence.
Yes, February.
With the cold behind you,
And the cold before you ,
With the darkness stubborn at the edges of the day.
And a wind to make the cold more bitter.
So that ever after it might be said that, ‘it was a sad old day, we did it, after all.
They were at his grandparent’s place in Manassas, Virigina - a solid, sprawling farmhouse he had inherited from his mother. They had spent most of their summers there over the past twenty years. Now, they spent each fall there too.
She had been bringing him a glass of scotch, and they were going to enjoy the sunset together on the front porch. The evening sky - almost dusk - was resplendent in crimson and gold, like the leaves on the trees. It had been raining earlier. The air smelled of the earth, heavy and cloying.
‘Here you go, sweetheart, on the rocks,’ she smiled, shaking him gently. He looked like he was napping, something he had been doing regularly, lately.
He didn’t stir as he usually did.
She knew.
Emily vaguely remembered dropping the glass, her hand going over her mouth to choke back a cry of shock. Disbelief. Nothing emerged; not a sound.
When she had composed herself (not much, but enough), she removed his reading glasses and kissed every inch of his face and hands; the hands that had done so much, wrinkled and arthritic now after a life of uncomplaining service.
His expression was so peaceful, as if he had been unburdened of all the grief he had never dealt with. He had remained larger than life, and handsome, and dignified.
‘Goodbye my love. Hotch. Thank you. Thank you.’
She’d hadn’t called him Hotch since his retirement, but he was Hotch when they first fell in love, and he was Hotch once again when it was time to let go.
She watched their last sunset alone.
Later on, they asked if she wanted to keep his wedding ring and wristwatch (a Cartier she had given him on a birthday many moons ago).
The hands were stalled at 6.15, as though he knew that he would never make it to the anniversary that celebrated the concept of time itself.
It was a month before their thirty-first year together.
Emily could allow herself a smile, thinking about what he might have said, if he knew this was going to be their final year. He would tell her that they’d been blessed with more time than either had ever thought possible; that it had been an excellent effort for a second chance - a resounding success. They had loved and lamented; laughed, and wept together. They’d raised their babies and lived to see them grow to be fine, generous-hearted young people. They had learned (finally) that work was often rewarding and certainly paid the bills, but that it was not everything. Not even almost.
Love conquered all.
Author: flameturnedblue
Rating: PG
Warnings: Character death; not too traumatic, I hope, but perhaps needs noting, nonetheless.
Pairing: Hotch/Prentiss
Author’s note: Hotch and Prentiss’s most memorable anniversaries. Thanks, as always, to the splendid woodchoc_magnum for her beta help. Poetry and lyrics respectfully snagged from Eben E. Rexford, and Thomas Lynch.
‘True love stories never have endings’
~ Richard Bach
Year 1 ~ Paper
For once, he was not fazed when she made them both late for work, and promised to pick up where they left off when they got home later that evening.
She knew he had a table booked as a ‘surprise’ (20:00 hours at Marcel’s) but she allowed him the simple joy of thinking it was spontaneous and original.
It would be the same place where they’d had their first proper date; he had been so nervous that he kept clearing his throat, and tipped over a glass of Merlot when she tried to play footsie with him under the long tablecloth. She insisted on picking up the dry cleaning bill to salvage his favorite charcoal suit.
Emily privately vowed to use other means to get him out of that suit.
Somehow, they made it to date number two.
~
She looked up when he left a stack of folders on her desk later that afternoon - the bulk was slimmer than usual, his idea of rare favoritism on a special day.
‘Lots and lots of paper - how appropriate,’ she smirked, making sure to touch his hand before he left her.
To her surprise, he grasped hers lightly, his thumb fingering her wedding band. They usually avoided any displays of affection at work, but today was different. Today it could slide. He winked at her before reluctantly letting go and making his way back to his office.
Humming softly to herself (that always drove Reid nuts), she set to work organizing the folders into a logical order, poised to start some tedious note-taking.
A simple cream envelope slipped from the pile. It bore her name, printed unmistakably in his sober script. Underlined. Twice. Looking around cautiously before she did so, she opened it and found a three-page love letter.
Paper.
She’d bought him some embossed, personalized stationery.
He had spent hours writing in the den, lately; sleeves rolled up, pen in hand. Balls of scrunched up, discarded drafts slam dunked into the wastepaper basket. She had no idea it was all for her.
When she finished reading, she had to walk to the ladies room, hair shielding her face so that no one could see the tears and smudged mascara.
He met her en route. His anxious expression told her that he wanted some signal that his unexpected outpouring of emotion had been the right move. Even though he always made her feel loved and safe and wanted, he was emotionally reserved by nature.
She would never want to change any of the things that made Aaron Hotchner the person she knew by heart.
‘Hotch, Aaron, I…,’ she struggled to articulate what the letter meant to her.
He smiled knowingly and leaned a little closer; so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath tickling her skin. It still gave her goosebumps, and she had to remind herself that she was actually allowed to take him home for keeps, now.
‘You look like a panda with all that runny makeup, Prentiss.’
‘A very cute panda,’ he added.
The Alternate Anniversary
‘I remember the first day we met, Emily. You were going through some sort of Goth phase. Very cranky and sullen, I think. It was August, about this time of year, right? I don’t even know if you were happy about leaving for college - such a conformist institution.’
It had not been love at first sight. Neither of them believed in that kind of thing, anyway.
‘Well I remember that too,’ she sniffed, slightly miffed.
‘You were stuffy and eager to make an impression on the Ambassador. Stoic, yes, that’s it. Stoic. And very married.’
He arched an eyebrow. ‘Would you have even cared if I wasn’t - married, I mean.’
‘Probably not, but then, I didn’t know you, now did I? You were just another one of those security guys following Mother about.’
‘It wasn’t exactly a barrel of laughs for me either, just so you know. Your Mother is…demanding. Plus, you were technically still a teenager.’
Emily’s eyes widened. ‘You are such a cradle snatcher!’
‘Am not!’
‘Are too!’
‘Well I’m very glad I met you way back when, Emily Prentiss,’ he said, laughing as she tackled him with a sofa cushion.
Year 2 ~ Cotton
Together, they purchased a complete set of 1,500 thread Egyptian cotton sheets: fitted sheet, flat sheet, and pillowcases. He didn’t even complain (much) that a set of sheets cost almost four hundred dollars.
Emily merrily added a stack of towels, a le creuset casserole dish, and a dark blue paisley robe she thought he’d look ‘dapper’ in.
‘I’ll need to do more overtime, at the rate we’re wearing out our bed sheets,’ he muttered wryly as they left the store arm in arm.
Year 3 ~ Leather
‘I’m trying to take my mind out of the gutter, here.’
‘Well then you’re completely missing the point!’
‘So the official line is that we gave each other matching leather filofaxes?’
‘Uh huh. Do you trust me, Aaron?’
‘Always, Emily.’
His fingers entwined with hers.
Year 4 ~ Linen
She gave him a set of pure linen handkerchiefs embroidered with the initials A. H. He had loved the stationery she gave him for their first anniversary; he loved the handkerchiefs just as much. Aaron Hotchner was nothing if not practical. He hated gimmicky gifts that served no real purpose.
Emily would go on to develop the habit of lightly spritzing one of those freshly laundered kerchiefs with some of her perfume, before tucking it into his inside jacket pocket on a Sunday night. Finding it on Monday morning when he was on the plane, sitting in his office, or in a dreary meeting, always cheered him considerably.
And kind of turned him on, too.
He gave her his linen christening robe (his mother had kept it: Haley had insisted on a new robe for Jack’s ceremony). She marvelled at how beautiful and immaculate it was, fifty years on (though she kept the last bit to herself; he was sometimes sensitive about his age).
While she was admiring the robe and trying (unsuccessfully) to imagine what a tiny six-pound baby Aaron Hotchner might have been like, he busied himself with painting her toenails a shocking pink. He always did thoughtful little things like that. She was so big she couldn’t bend down and reach her feet anymore, and besides, her ankles were puffy and swollen.
Any day now…any day…
Year 5 ~ Wood
‘The front fence needs mending,’ she mentioned, handing him his morning coffee.
‘Yes, I know. I’ll get to it after I’ve mowed the lawn.’
‘It wouldn’t do to have our white picket fence broken, now would it?’
‘But it’s brown - a subtle shade of walnut, actually.’
‘You know what I mean, Aaron!’
‘Yes, honey.’
~
He gave her an ornate cherrywood gazebo (‘We can grow climbing roses up the sides and hide out in there when the kids drive us crazy’).
‘You really do think of everything,’ she said with a beaming smile. He was rewarded, as always, with a kiss, and an antique Amish rocking chair he’d been admiring for months in a Georgetown dealers. Emily put it in the den and he sat in it every day after work while he read the newspaper.
His blood pressure and cholesterol levels plummeted that year.
The Secret Anniversary (the one that wasn’t for sharing)
Emily made him French toast with cinnamon, eggs, fresh orange juice, and coffee.
‘Mmm smells good,’ he said, sniffing the air, then stifling a yawn.
‘Do you remember the first time I made you this exact breakfast?’ She snaked her arms around his waist, snuggling into him. He was toasty warm and muddled with sleep, having stumbled from their bed precisely five minutes before.
‘Now how am I supposed to remember that?’ He frowned at her in confusion.
She winked at him, slipping from his arms to pour herself another cup of coffee. She’d gotten up extra early and needed the fuel.
‘Oh!’ It suddenly hit him, ‘oh, boy, do I remember! Fifth date - dinner, the theater, then your place... I felt like I was seventeen again. In more ways than one, actually.’
Her smile widened as he began to recollect all the little details of the evening, right down to what she had been wearing (or not).
‘You make me feel so young, Mrs Hotchner…’
‘Don’t you dare sing, Aaron - it’s far too early. Save it for the shower and give me an anniversary kiss instead.’
He dutifully obliged.
Year 10 ~ Tin
The youngest Hotchner had colic and Hotch Sr. was pacing the floor with him. The other two were cranky and restless on this rainy Saturday afternoon. Cabin fever and boredom were not a good mix.
Jack was away for his first year at college, and when he was home the others were quieter; they adored their big brother.
‘Hey!’ Emily said, suddenly inspired, ‘Let’s watch the Wizard of Oz!’
Cue nods and screeches of approval from the munchkins.
‘The tin man - good call, Mom,’ Hotch said, giving her a tired smile.
He was ruffled and unkempt, walking around with no shoes on and a sick-stained rag thrown across his shoulder. He held the baby close to his chest in a sling. Emily had never recalled adoring him so much.
He sat down on the sofa beside her and she offered him a bite of her lukewarm pizza, followed by a kiss.
‘Ewww!’ the kids chorused in protest.
Best anniversary yet.
Year 15 ~ Crystal
A set of gold-rimmed crystal champagne flutes.
‘Not very original, I’m afraid,’ he offered apologetically as she opened the box.
‘They’re perfect, and hey, I got you a paperweight, so we’re even.’ She still stuck her tongue out at him when they joked around.
‘Now let’s make some cocktails, I think there’s some Prosecco in the fridge - you get to mush up the peaches, then we can hit the hot tub.’
Bellinis!
He loved it when she tasted of Italian wine.
Year 20 ~ China
‘Well, we can’t go to China.’
‘And we have cupboard full of china that we never use.’
‘Hmmm, yeah…’
They need not have worried: the kids surprised them with afternoon tea with all the trimmings: scones, cupcakes, muffins, earl grey tea, served out on the terrace while everyone wore their Sunday best.
Everything was served on an ancient Prentiss china dining set that Emily had inherited, but never used (it was Aunt Penelope’s idea).
Emily and Hotch didn’t even notice that the tea was too weak and the sponge cake was undercooked and grainy. Their sullen teens were having a ball, and that was what mattered.
Year 25 ~ Silver
He gave her a silver eternity band studded with small rubies, knowing just how splendidly red suited her.
She gave him a silver pocket watch, engraved with the date and the first line of a Robert Burns poem he had quoted at their small wedding, twenty-five years past now: ‘grow old with me, the best is yet to be.’
‘We both have enough silver as it stands,’ she laughed, flicking her fringe out of her eyes.
‘Silver threads among the gold,’ he murmured, fingering her graying hair with a wistful expression passing across his still-handsome features.
Darling, I am growing old,
Silver threads among the gold
Shine upon my brow today;
Life is fading fast away;
But, my darling, you will be, will be,
Always young and fair to me.
Year 30 ~ Pearls
He loved that her eyes crinkled and lit up when she smiled. Eyes that were still lively and sparkling, and full of passion, and love and rage. In them, he saw the best bits of his life: his children; the deepest secrets they shared; the quiet affection she had for him that never wavered, even now, when he was bent and white-haired, and unsteady on his feet.
‘It’s a pity,’ he sighed, ‘that these are outshone by their wearer. They look so dull in comparison to you.’ He was fixing a string of radiant pearls around her neck, gently closing the gold clasp with gnarled hands that shook a little.
She turned around to fix a simple pearl tiepin to the gray silk cravat he was wearing, lovingly smoothing her hands down the front of his shirt.
Then, she took his hand and they walked across the garden together, with the eyes of family and friends upon them, to renew their vows beside the cherrywood gazebo. Still standing. Still solid.
The roses were blooming and radiant.
When the party had quietened down and only a few people were left, Emily knew that he had shed a tear or two that evening - a potent mix of scotch and memories of Dave, who wasn’t around to resume his role as best man. Recollections of friends who had gone before were so bittersweet now, reminding him of his own mortality.
~ Year 31 ~
He left her in the fall.
He hadn’t wanted it to be the fall. The winter would have been preferable.
I want it cold.
I want the gray to inhabit the air,
Like wood does trees, as an essence, not a coincidence.
Yes, February.
With the cold behind you,
And the cold before you ,
With the darkness stubborn at the edges of the day.
And a wind to make the cold more bitter.
So that ever after it might be said that, ‘it was a sad old day, we did it, after all.
They were at his grandparent’s place in Manassas, Virigina - a solid, sprawling farmhouse he had inherited from his mother. They had spent most of their summers there over the past twenty years. Now, they spent each fall there too.
She had been bringing him a glass of scotch, and they were going to enjoy the sunset together on the front porch. The evening sky - almost dusk - was resplendent in crimson and gold, like the leaves on the trees. It had been raining earlier. The air smelled of the earth, heavy and cloying.
‘Here you go, sweetheart, on the rocks,’ she smiled, shaking him gently. He looked like he was napping, something he had been doing regularly, lately.
He didn’t stir as he usually did.
She knew.
Emily vaguely remembered dropping the glass, her hand going over her mouth to choke back a cry of shock. Disbelief. Nothing emerged; not a sound.
When she had composed herself (not much, but enough), she removed his reading glasses and kissed every inch of his face and hands; the hands that had done so much, wrinkled and arthritic now after a life of uncomplaining service.
His expression was so peaceful, as if he had been unburdened of all the grief he had never dealt with. He had remained larger than life, and handsome, and dignified.
‘Goodbye my love. Hotch. Thank you. Thank you.’
She’d hadn’t called him Hotch since his retirement, but he was Hotch when they first fell in love, and he was Hotch once again when it was time to let go.
She watched their last sunset alone.
Later on, they asked if she wanted to keep his wedding ring and wristwatch (a Cartier she had given him on a birthday many moons ago).
The hands were stalled at 6.15, as though he knew that he would never make it to the anniversary that celebrated the concept of time itself.
It was a month before their thirty-first year together.
Emily could allow herself a smile, thinking about what he might have said, if he knew this was going to be their final year. He would tell her that they’d been blessed with more time than either had ever thought possible; that it had been an excellent effort for a second chance - a resounding success. They had loved and lamented; laughed, and wept together. They’d raised their babies and lived to see them grow to be fine, generous-hearted young people. They had learned (finally) that work was often rewarding and certainly paid the bills, but that it was not everything. Not even almost.
Love conquered all.