Drink You Wonderful [FanFic]
Title: Drink You Wonderful
Author: Tooks
Pairing: Hotch/Prentiss
Rating: FRM
Summary: While working a case involving kids, Prentiss must help Hotch deal with nightmares that lead to traumatic childhood memories.
Notes: This is the fifth of what I'm calling my "Suffer the Children" series. It's slightly AU (in line with my Hotch's 5 Stages pieces) but has Season 5 spoilers!
“All the information on the Bryer twins case is to be turned over to the local authorities,” Hotch spoke upon returning, with JJ, to the conference room the team had commandeered for the case.
“Wait, it’s no longer our case?” Reid questioned, expressing the general confusion of the team as a whole.
“Not that part of it, no,” Hotch answered simply before moving on, “Rossi, I’d still like you to help them, put them on the right track and keep them on it.”
Rossi nodded, “Not a problem.”
“JJ,” he turned to where the woman still stood beside him, “I’d like you to speak to the police captain, chief of police, the mayor, and whomever else you need to in order to ensure we remain on these cases as a whole. We can’t afford to be sent away because the Bryers simply want to hide their tracks.”
JJ nodded, “I’m on it now, Hotch.”
“Thank you,” the team’s leader replied simply as JJ swept out the door to do what she did best - grease those political wheels. Hotch then took a deep breath. He knew he should probably sit down but he couldn’t, not yet. His heart rate was still a little up from his interrogation (or maybe confrontation was a more suitable word?) and, as his mind continued to race, trying to ensure he covered every aspect of the case, the idea of sitting down was a virtual impossibility at the moment. “We need to discredit and start from scratch any part of the profile that brought Rachel and Zachary’s disappearance and murder into consideration. There’s still an UNSUB out there, he is still a threat, but he is not connected to those children.”
“Are you sure?” Morgan asked. He wasn’t calling into question Hotch’s position exactly, but after being team leader for the period he was he’d developed a habit of examining all things a little closer than he once had. “I mean, how can we be certain that the UNSUB’s M.O. hasn’t just,” he shrugged, “changed or that he didn’t simply panic once the Bryer’s had their press conference.”
Emily, who’d been quietly listening as she examined Hotch’s newest change in demeanor, finally straightened up in her chair, “Well, like I was saying earlier Hotch and I found a series of similar burns on the backs of all the previous victims, the only two that didn’t have these marks on them were Zachary and Rachel Bryer.”
“Again, how do we know it’s not just the UNSUB getting sloppy and having panicked?”
“Because it’s his signature,” Hotch answered with certainty, “Even if everything else changes, this won’t.”
That was good enough for Morgan who nodded, “Okay then,” he then picked up one of the photos where the burn mark was shown, let his fingers trail down the mark as if that would help him think, “Do we know what this is from yet?”
Emily almost opened her mouth, but then hesitated and looked to Hotch who answered, “No, not yet.”
“On, uh…the plus side,” Reid said slowly, warily, as he made a face that indicated he wasn’t quite comfortable with the turn of phrase even as he used it, “this does bring us back to the initial geographical profile. The children are taken from groups in public places and then dumped in locations far from the abduction site.”
“I spoke to Garcia some and there were differences between the Bryer twins and the other victims…there were also a number of similarities.” He waited for Hotch’s reaction, which was just a nod, before continuing, “There were signs that the Bryer twins were being abused -“
“They were,” Hotch corrected, before frowned, “at least Zachary was.”
Rossi continued as if Hotch never interrupted at all, “But there’s no evidence of that at all with the other children. If the parents’ purchases were any indications all these children were spoiled rotten.”
“Well, most kids who come from money are,” Prentiss pointed out before realizing the others were looking at her. She shrugged, “Even I was some.” Actually she was a lot; her mother always seemed to think that a nice new wardrobe, electronic, or even car would make up for the ambassador never putting her daughter first. It didn’t.
“Yes, but I’m sure you were never in and out of the principle’s office or otherwise written up for your attitude,” Rossi pointed out before continuing rather than giving Prentiss a chance to counter once more, “At least half of the victims seemed to take their parents positions for granted -“
Again Hotch cut the man off, “That doesn’t give the UNSUB an excuse to do what he’s doing to them.”
“You know that’s not what I’m saying, Aaron,” Rossi said almost gently, though still a touch defensively.
Hotch locked eyes with his teammate, his old friend, and took a deep breath that soon left his lungs in a huff as he looked back down, “Continue.”
Rossi considered speaking about Hotch’s outbursts, but then pressed on instead, “Some of these children went to the same prep schools, some were under the care of the same nanny services, and others had parents that used the same chauffer or security companies. The only problem is,” Rossi took what could’ve been seen as a dramatic pause, “There’s still no common thread. There are connections between two or three families or children but not all of them.”
“I can work with Garcia some to dig a little deeper,” Morgan offered, “See if there are any connections between the connections…shared employees or a buncha companies under the same, massive, corporation maybe?”
Hotch nodded some, “That’s a good idea.” He then turned to Prentiss, “You understand what it’s like to grow up in these kids’ world, I’d like for you to work on the victimology, specifically what would and wouldn’t get these children to leave with the UNSUB. Can you do that?” Emily was the first person he took the time to speak to without an edge in his voice.
Emily smiled, “Of course, Hotch.”
“Thank you,” he didn’t smile, but his eyes showed his gratitude. “I’m going to see how JJ’s doing and if she needs any help. Rossi, you can come with me and get started on helping the local police, and probably the DA, on the Bryer case.”
Rossi got up, files and papers in hand, to follow Hotch.
JJ was speaking to the captain of the police station as the two men approached; she addressed them when they were close enough, “Good news and bad news. Good news is we’re still welcome on both cases, bad news is another child went missing.” And therefore the locals knew the serial killer was still very much on the loose and the BAU’s help was still required.
Hotch wanted to scream, growl, throw things, bang his fists, and storm out. He found more effort was required to gain his next breaths as his mind formed a ticking clock. They were kept for one week, seven days, 168 hours…his mind wasn’t able to calculate any farther as it seemed to freeze. He couldn’t even speak, Rossi had to.
“Are we sure it’s our guy?” Rossi asked.
“It fits the pattern,” JJ responded, “Bethany Holt, 10, was at the Odyssey 1 for a birthday party. She went into the laser tag arena and never came out.”
“Never came out?” the words caught Hotch so that he had to repeat them.
“Not that anyone saw,” JJ replied with a small shake of her head, “I’m going to call the place and ask for any surveillance tapes they might have.”
Hotch shook his head, “Don’t bother, you can do it in person when we arrive.” Rossi and JJ both gave a surprised look at Hotch before looking at each other. “Rossi, stay here with the captain and help with the Bryer case.” With that he simply turned to head out, leaving JJ to follow.
***
Emily approached the bar and sat next to Hotch without a word. She ordered whatever Hotch was having, a clever way of discovering he was drinking Scotch, and then turned to him, “JJ said it looked like Bethany was taken out a service door in the back of the laser tag area. Maybe the UNSUB worked there?” She didn’t have a better opener than the case itself at the moment, not in the least because she couldn’t quite tell what shape her friend was in.
“How’d you find me?” Hotch asked dully, maintain focus on his glass.
“JJ said you wanted some time to yourself, there were only so many places you could be.”
Hotch finally turned, “And the hotel bar was one of them?” he asked defensively.
“Actually I was going to head to your room first but thought I’d have a drink myself first.”
“You’re lying.”
Emily waited until her drink came and she was able to take a sip. It burned almost painfully on its way down; she hadn’t drunk anything this hard in years. “I’m lying,” she confessed before taking a deep breath, “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” Hotch took another sip himself. The burning for him had stopped some time ago, “How are you?”
“Oh, so we’re going that route are we?” The closed-off one Hotch clung to so often. She smiled softly, “I’m worried.”
“What about?”
“About you,” Emily said before taking another sip from her glass, “About the case, about the children that are being hunted in and around this city, and specifically about Bethany at the moment.”
Hotch sighed, “She’s got less than seven days.”
“I know,” Emily said sympathetically, quickly going to take a healthy sip of the Scotch despite the continued burn. She then switched the topic, “You know, you never explained how it was you knew that Mrs. Bryer was the one that killed her children.”
“I didn’t,” Hotch lied, “not until I realized that they didn’t have the UNSUB’s signature.”
“Hotch, I asked you your read on the case in the very beginning and you said the children were already dead and the mother did it,” Emily pressed gently, hoping the drinks he’d had might make him a little more malleable.
The man shrugged some, “I’ve known other women like her,” he answered softly, almost like a boy might, as he stayed a little hunched from the shrug. He did not like talking about this. He didn’t like to think about it, to remember. But he did remember…he remembered his mother’s punishments dealt out for the smallest infractions and her clear, calm, cold, voice as she told him exactly what she thought of him each and every day. It was the voice that haunted him still, more than anything, and it was that same brutal tone he’d heard in Mrs. Byer. That was how he knew.
“Personally or professionally,” Emily asked, setting her hand carefully on Hotch’s forearm in hopes of both comforting and encouraging him.
Hotch cleared his throat and forced himself to sit up straight, “I don’t see how this is relevant anymore to…anything.”
Emily gave a sigh and pulled her hand from his arm, “It was just a question, Hotch. I thought, maybe, you might want to open up some.”
“Why?” Hotch saw no point in that at the moment. The things he was holding in at the moment weren’t exactly connected to the case and, well, he didn’t want to burden Emily with them. He was certain she’d dealt with enough pain in her own life, on this job, and he didn’t need to expose her to more. He didn’t need to tarnish her with his own darkness.
“Because it…” she stopped herself realizing she didn’t really have a good answer for him. It was what normal people did, but then it wasn’t generally something she did herself. She worried that, once she opened up, she would no longer be viewed the same…she would no longer be accepted, wanted, or loved. “Forget it,” she shook her head and finished her drink in one bitter gulp before setting the glass down, “we should get some sleep so we can start fresh in the morning.” She moved to get off the stool.
Hotch reached out and took hold of her hand almost without thinking, “Please stay,” he looked up at her, “I know if I go to my room now I’ll just be up all night pacing,” and trying to stave off sleep in fear of another nightmare, “just…stay for one more drink with me. Please?”
Emily paused when she felt his hand cover hers and looked down at their hands, together, as he spoke. She smiled a little and looked into his near pleading eyes, “Okay,” she went to sit again, moving her fingers carefully to interlock with his, “one more drink.”
***
They had, at least, three more each putting them far into the realm of tipsy but not yet outright drunkenness. It wasn’t the norm for either of them, to drink on a case (let alone as much as they did) but each of them were allowing for it this time. They needed to give themselves a few hours of simple happiness, time where there was no case - no ticking clock, no dead children, and no horrible memories - time where it was just them. Aaron and Emily. They needed joy, even if it was chemically enhanced.
Emily covered her mouth some to muffle her laugh as the two stepped off the elevator at their floor.
“You’re a rather giggly drunk,” Hotch said with a smile. Not that he minded; seeing Emily as delightfully carefree as she appeared at the moment improved his mood considerably. When the man drank there were always two options of how his mood was affected; either he grew increasingly serious until he bordered on depressive or he simply smiled more, gave off a lighter vibe overall. Emily’s mere presence put him into the second category.
“I’m sorry,” Emily grew a little embarrassed, afraid she was getting loud or annoying to him, “It was just a really funny joke.”
“I’ll be sure to pass that on to Jack. He taught it to me.” Hotch stated both amused and proud. The joke was lame, one of those that involved a simple play on words and things like tomatoes came to life, but it was cute and, clearly, amusing to his tipsy fellow agent.
Emily turned to face Hotch, walking backwards with impressive ability considering her current state, “That reminds me, have you called Jack yet?”
“No, not yet,” Hotch confessed. It was customary that he did, at least once, while away but with this case and his mindset lately he hadn’t been able to bring himself to.
“You should do that, Hotch, it might do you some good,” Emily pointed out before returning to her normal walking state, “Jack always does wonders for lifting your spirits, his voice might be just what you need.”
They reached Emily’s room and stopped. Hotch smiled, “Maybe in the morning I will.” Probably not though if he were honest, by then he’d be back to work-mode and that clock of little Bethany’s imminent demise would be foremost in his mind once more.
Emily nodded; then there was silence. “My room,” Emily finally said simply before letting out another small giggle, this one a little nervous.
“Your room,” Hotch repeated with a smile, unsure what else to say or do as well.
Emily gave another small laugh as she started to blush, “Good night, Hotch. Get some sleep.” She laughed again and went to kiss his cheek like she had the night before, only this time it didn’t quite work out as planned.
“Night Emily,” Hotch said softly back as he leaned forward having the same thought in mind she had, to kiss his friend’s cheek. But his lips didn’t land on her blushing cheek, they landed on her lips, full and soft and wonderful. His reason, his sense of duty, and his morals all said to pull back immediately and apologize but his body only obeyed his instincts, especially when she kissed him back.
Emily’s lips pressed into his the moment they touched. She knew it wasn’t intended, his kiss, he wasn’t the type no matter how many drinks he had, but she didn’t care. She’d wanted to kiss him for months now and it took all that time to build up the courage to peck his cheek, she wasn’t losing this opportunity that fell wonderfully into her path. She took his hand, worried he’d dash off or disappear or something, and held on for as long as she could.
“I’m sorry,” Hotch said immediately, his mind finally regaining control of his body and forcing him to pull his lips from Emily’s.
“I’m not,” Emily confessed with a mix of joy and sadness. He’d finally kissed her, something she’d only dared to dream of, only to regret it two seconds after.
Hotch looked down, his shame at his behavior taking over, “It was inappropriate.” She was his coworker, his teammate, his employee! He was her superior, he should’ve known better than to even consider kissing her cheek, let alone kiss her lips. Soft, sweet, but terribly forbidden lips.
“It was lovely,” Emily stood her ground. It was. The kiss was exactly what she’d imagined it could be and more. By denying it, the beauty of it, Hotch was destroying it.
“I’m your superior, I…” Hotch wasn’t even really listening to Emily, so caught up in his own guilt at breaking such a rule of conduct, “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Suddenly Emily’s eyes watered, “Well, I don’t care.” Because, for once, Hotch had expressed how he felt…something that she couldn’t ever seem to get him to do with words, no matter the topic.
It was the tone that caught Hotch and he looked back up at Emily. He saw the tears in her eyes threatening to release and sighed, “I’m sorry, Emily.” He meant for hurting her feelings now, though a small quiver in the woman’s lip showed that wasn’t how she interpreted the apology.
“Of course you are,” Emily forced a smile before taking a great big breath which she let out slowly to calm herself, “Night Hotch.” She kept the smile on her face with such force it began to almost hurt as she hurried into her room and closed the door on him. This time she covered her mouth not to muffle laughter but sobs as she finally let the tears flow.
Hotch stood at Emily’s door in utter confusion and conflict. How had he ruined that moment so sufficiently in a matter moments? In a few careless words, it seemed. The agent wanted to knock on her door so he could apologize, explain, but then a deep insecurity set in that told him she wouldn’t answer his knocks anyway. His mother had never heard him out in his attempts to apologize and, by the end, neither had Haley really, so why would Emily? Hotch sighed and turned to head into his room wishing he’d drunk just a little more to stop his mouth from doing anything but kissing Emily, telling her how wonderful it was. How wonderful she was.
"You can destroy your now by worrying about tomorrow." ~ Janis Joplin
Next Section:
The Spaces Between Us
Previous Sections:
Sleeping With Ghosts
Precious Aggression
Bruised Prince
Pure Mourning
Author: Tooks
Pairing: Hotch/Prentiss
Rating: FRM
Summary: While working a case involving kids, Prentiss must help Hotch deal with nightmares that lead to traumatic childhood memories.
Notes: This is the fifth of what I'm calling my "Suffer the Children" series. It's slightly AU (in line with my Hotch's 5 Stages pieces) but has Season 5 spoilers!
“All the information on the Bryer twins case is to be turned over to the local authorities,” Hotch spoke upon returning, with JJ, to the conference room the team had commandeered for the case.
“Wait, it’s no longer our case?” Reid questioned, expressing the general confusion of the team as a whole.
“Not that part of it, no,” Hotch answered simply before moving on, “Rossi, I’d still like you to help them, put them on the right track and keep them on it.”
Rossi nodded, “Not a problem.”
“JJ,” he turned to where the woman still stood beside him, “I’d like you to speak to the police captain, chief of police, the mayor, and whomever else you need to in order to ensure we remain on these cases as a whole. We can’t afford to be sent away because the Bryers simply want to hide their tracks.”
JJ nodded, “I’m on it now, Hotch.”
“Thank you,” the team’s leader replied simply as JJ swept out the door to do what she did best - grease those political wheels. Hotch then took a deep breath. He knew he should probably sit down but he couldn’t, not yet. His heart rate was still a little up from his interrogation (or maybe confrontation was a more suitable word?) and, as his mind continued to race, trying to ensure he covered every aspect of the case, the idea of sitting down was a virtual impossibility at the moment. “We need to discredit and start from scratch any part of the profile that brought Rachel and Zachary’s disappearance and murder into consideration. There’s still an UNSUB out there, he is still a threat, but he is not connected to those children.”
“Are you sure?” Morgan asked. He wasn’t calling into question Hotch’s position exactly, but after being team leader for the period he was he’d developed a habit of examining all things a little closer than he once had. “I mean, how can we be certain that the UNSUB’s M.O. hasn’t just,” he shrugged, “changed or that he didn’t simply panic once the Bryer’s had their press conference.”
Emily, who’d been quietly listening as she examined Hotch’s newest change in demeanor, finally straightened up in her chair, “Well, like I was saying earlier Hotch and I found a series of similar burns on the backs of all the previous victims, the only two that didn’t have these marks on them were Zachary and Rachel Bryer.”
“Again, how do we know it’s not just the UNSUB getting sloppy and having panicked?”
“Because it’s his signature,” Hotch answered with certainty, “Even if everything else changes, this won’t.”
That was good enough for Morgan who nodded, “Okay then,” he then picked up one of the photos where the burn mark was shown, let his fingers trail down the mark as if that would help him think, “Do we know what this is from yet?”
Emily almost opened her mouth, but then hesitated and looked to Hotch who answered, “No, not yet.”
“On, uh…the plus side,” Reid said slowly, warily, as he made a face that indicated he wasn’t quite comfortable with the turn of phrase even as he used it, “this does bring us back to the initial geographical profile. The children are taken from groups in public places and then dumped in locations far from the abduction site.”
“I spoke to Garcia some and there were differences between the Bryer twins and the other victims…there were also a number of similarities.” He waited for Hotch’s reaction, which was just a nod, before continuing, “There were signs that the Bryer twins were being abused -“
“They were,” Hotch corrected, before frowned, “at least Zachary was.”
Rossi continued as if Hotch never interrupted at all, “But there’s no evidence of that at all with the other children. If the parents’ purchases were any indications all these children were spoiled rotten.”
“Well, most kids who come from money are,” Prentiss pointed out before realizing the others were looking at her. She shrugged, “Even I was some.” Actually she was a lot; her mother always seemed to think that a nice new wardrobe, electronic, or even car would make up for the ambassador never putting her daughter first. It didn’t.
“Yes, but I’m sure you were never in and out of the principle’s office or otherwise written up for your attitude,” Rossi pointed out before continuing rather than giving Prentiss a chance to counter once more, “At least half of the victims seemed to take their parents positions for granted -“
Again Hotch cut the man off, “That doesn’t give the UNSUB an excuse to do what he’s doing to them.”
“You know that’s not what I’m saying, Aaron,” Rossi said almost gently, though still a touch defensively.
Hotch locked eyes with his teammate, his old friend, and took a deep breath that soon left his lungs in a huff as he looked back down, “Continue.”
Rossi considered speaking about Hotch’s outbursts, but then pressed on instead, “Some of these children went to the same prep schools, some were under the care of the same nanny services, and others had parents that used the same chauffer or security companies. The only problem is,” Rossi took what could’ve been seen as a dramatic pause, “There’s still no common thread. There are connections between two or three families or children but not all of them.”
“I can work with Garcia some to dig a little deeper,” Morgan offered, “See if there are any connections between the connections…shared employees or a buncha companies under the same, massive, corporation maybe?”
Hotch nodded some, “That’s a good idea.” He then turned to Prentiss, “You understand what it’s like to grow up in these kids’ world, I’d like for you to work on the victimology, specifically what would and wouldn’t get these children to leave with the UNSUB. Can you do that?” Emily was the first person he took the time to speak to without an edge in his voice.
Emily smiled, “Of course, Hotch.”
“Thank you,” he didn’t smile, but his eyes showed his gratitude. “I’m going to see how JJ’s doing and if she needs any help. Rossi, you can come with me and get started on helping the local police, and probably the DA, on the Bryer case.”
Rossi got up, files and papers in hand, to follow Hotch.
JJ was speaking to the captain of the police station as the two men approached; she addressed them when they were close enough, “Good news and bad news. Good news is we’re still welcome on both cases, bad news is another child went missing.” And therefore the locals knew the serial killer was still very much on the loose and the BAU’s help was still required.
Hotch wanted to scream, growl, throw things, bang his fists, and storm out. He found more effort was required to gain his next breaths as his mind formed a ticking clock. They were kept for one week, seven days, 168 hours…his mind wasn’t able to calculate any farther as it seemed to freeze. He couldn’t even speak, Rossi had to.
“Are we sure it’s our guy?” Rossi asked.
“It fits the pattern,” JJ responded, “Bethany Holt, 10, was at the Odyssey 1 for a birthday party. She went into the laser tag arena and never came out.”
“Never came out?” the words caught Hotch so that he had to repeat them.
“Not that anyone saw,” JJ replied with a small shake of her head, “I’m going to call the place and ask for any surveillance tapes they might have.”
Hotch shook his head, “Don’t bother, you can do it in person when we arrive.” Rossi and JJ both gave a surprised look at Hotch before looking at each other. “Rossi, stay here with the captain and help with the Bryer case.” With that he simply turned to head out, leaving JJ to follow.
***
Emily approached the bar and sat next to Hotch without a word. She ordered whatever Hotch was having, a clever way of discovering he was drinking Scotch, and then turned to him, “JJ said it looked like Bethany was taken out a service door in the back of the laser tag area. Maybe the UNSUB worked there?” She didn’t have a better opener than the case itself at the moment, not in the least because she couldn’t quite tell what shape her friend was in.
“How’d you find me?” Hotch asked dully, maintain focus on his glass.
“JJ said you wanted some time to yourself, there were only so many places you could be.”
Hotch finally turned, “And the hotel bar was one of them?” he asked defensively.
“Actually I was going to head to your room first but thought I’d have a drink myself first.”
“You’re lying.”
Emily waited until her drink came and she was able to take a sip. It burned almost painfully on its way down; she hadn’t drunk anything this hard in years. “I’m lying,” she confessed before taking a deep breath, “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” Hotch took another sip himself. The burning for him had stopped some time ago, “How are you?”
“Oh, so we’re going that route are we?” The closed-off one Hotch clung to so often. She smiled softly, “I’m worried.”
“What about?”
“About you,” Emily said before taking another sip from her glass, “About the case, about the children that are being hunted in and around this city, and specifically about Bethany at the moment.”
Hotch sighed, “She’s got less than seven days.”
“I know,” Emily said sympathetically, quickly going to take a healthy sip of the Scotch despite the continued burn. She then switched the topic, “You know, you never explained how it was you knew that Mrs. Bryer was the one that killed her children.”
“I didn’t,” Hotch lied, “not until I realized that they didn’t have the UNSUB’s signature.”
“Hotch, I asked you your read on the case in the very beginning and you said the children were already dead and the mother did it,” Emily pressed gently, hoping the drinks he’d had might make him a little more malleable.
The man shrugged some, “I’ve known other women like her,” he answered softly, almost like a boy might, as he stayed a little hunched from the shrug. He did not like talking about this. He didn’t like to think about it, to remember. But he did remember…he remembered his mother’s punishments dealt out for the smallest infractions and her clear, calm, cold, voice as she told him exactly what she thought of him each and every day. It was the voice that haunted him still, more than anything, and it was that same brutal tone he’d heard in Mrs. Byer. That was how he knew.
“Personally or professionally,” Emily asked, setting her hand carefully on Hotch’s forearm in hopes of both comforting and encouraging him.
Hotch cleared his throat and forced himself to sit up straight, “I don’t see how this is relevant anymore to…anything.”
Emily gave a sigh and pulled her hand from his arm, “It was just a question, Hotch. I thought, maybe, you might want to open up some.”
“Why?” Hotch saw no point in that at the moment. The things he was holding in at the moment weren’t exactly connected to the case and, well, he didn’t want to burden Emily with them. He was certain she’d dealt with enough pain in her own life, on this job, and he didn’t need to expose her to more. He didn’t need to tarnish her with his own darkness.
“Because it…” she stopped herself realizing she didn’t really have a good answer for him. It was what normal people did, but then it wasn’t generally something she did herself. She worried that, once she opened up, she would no longer be viewed the same…she would no longer be accepted, wanted, or loved. “Forget it,” she shook her head and finished her drink in one bitter gulp before setting the glass down, “we should get some sleep so we can start fresh in the morning.” She moved to get off the stool.
Hotch reached out and took hold of her hand almost without thinking, “Please stay,” he looked up at her, “I know if I go to my room now I’ll just be up all night pacing,” and trying to stave off sleep in fear of another nightmare, “just…stay for one more drink with me. Please?”
Emily paused when she felt his hand cover hers and looked down at their hands, together, as he spoke. She smiled a little and looked into his near pleading eyes, “Okay,” she went to sit again, moving her fingers carefully to interlock with his, “one more drink.”
***
They had, at least, three more each putting them far into the realm of tipsy but not yet outright drunkenness. It wasn’t the norm for either of them, to drink on a case (let alone as much as they did) but each of them were allowing for it this time. They needed to give themselves a few hours of simple happiness, time where there was no case - no ticking clock, no dead children, and no horrible memories - time where it was just them. Aaron and Emily. They needed joy, even if it was chemically enhanced.
Emily covered her mouth some to muffle her laugh as the two stepped off the elevator at their floor.
“You’re a rather giggly drunk,” Hotch said with a smile. Not that he minded; seeing Emily as delightfully carefree as she appeared at the moment improved his mood considerably. When the man drank there were always two options of how his mood was affected; either he grew increasingly serious until he bordered on depressive or he simply smiled more, gave off a lighter vibe overall. Emily’s mere presence put him into the second category.
“I’m sorry,” Emily grew a little embarrassed, afraid she was getting loud or annoying to him, “It was just a really funny joke.”
“I’ll be sure to pass that on to Jack. He taught it to me.” Hotch stated both amused and proud. The joke was lame, one of those that involved a simple play on words and things like tomatoes came to life, but it was cute and, clearly, amusing to his tipsy fellow agent.
Emily turned to face Hotch, walking backwards with impressive ability considering her current state, “That reminds me, have you called Jack yet?”
“No, not yet,” Hotch confessed. It was customary that he did, at least once, while away but with this case and his mindset lately he hadn’t been able to bring himself to.
“You should do that, Hotch, it might do you some good,” Emily pointed out before returning to her normal walking state, “Jack always does wonders for lifting your spirits, his voice might be just what you need.”
They reached Emily’s room and stopped. Hotch smiled, “Maybe in the morning I will.” Probably not though if he were honest, by then he’d be back to work-mode and that clock of little Bethany’s imminent demise would be foremost in his mind once more.
Emily nodded; then there was silence. “My room,” Emily finally said simply before letting out another small giggle, this one a little nervous.
“Your room,” Hotch repeated with a smile, unsure what else to say or do as well.
Emily gave another small laugh as she started to blush, “Good night, Hotch. Get some sleep.” She laughed again and went to kiss his cheek like she had the night before, only this time it didn’t quite work out as planned.
“Night Emily,” Hotch said softly back as he leaned forward having the same thought in mind she had, to kiss his friend’s cheek. But his lips didn’t land on her blushing cheek, they landed on her lips, full and soft and wonderful. His reason, his sense of duty, and his morals all said to pull back immediately and apologize but his body only obeyed his instincts, especially when she kissed him back.
Emily’s lips pressed into his the moment they touched. She knew it wasn’t intended, his kiss, he wasn’t the type no matter how many drinks he had, but she didn’t care. She’d wanted to kiss him for months now and it took all that time to build up the courage to peck his cheek, she wasn’t losing this opportunity that fell wonderfully into her path. She took his hand, worried he’d dash off or disappear or something, and held on for as long as she could.
“I’m sorry,” Hotch said immediately, his mind finally regaining control of his body and forcing him to pull his lips from Emily’s.
“I’m not,” Emily confessed with a mix of joy and sadness. He’d finally kissed her, something she’d only dared to dream of, only to regret it two seconds after.
Hotch looked down, his shame at his behavior taking over, “It was inappropriate.” She was his coworker, his teammate, his employee! He was her superior, he should’ve known better than to even consider kissing her cheek, let alone kiss her lips. Soft, sweet, but terribly forbidden lips.
“It was lovely,” Emily stood her ground. It was. The kiss was exactly what she’d imagined it could be and more. By denying it, the beauty of it, Hotch was destroying it.
“I’m your superior, I…” Hotch wasn’t even really listening to Emily, so caught up in his own guilt at breaking such a rule of conduct, “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Suddenly Emily’s eyes watered, “Well, I don’t care.” Because, for once, Hotch had expressed how he felt…something that she couldn’t ever seem to get him to do with words, no matter the topic.
It was the tone that caught Hotch and he looked back up at Emily. He saw the tears in her eyes threatening to release and sighed, “I’m sorry, Emily.” He meant for hurting her feelings now, though a small quiver in the woman’s lip showed that wasn’t how she interpreted the apology.
“Of course you are,” Emily forced a smile before taking a great big breath which she let out slowly to calm herself, “Night Hotch.” She kept the smile on her face with such force it began to almost hurt as she hurried into her room and closed the door on him. This time she covered her mouth not to muffle laughter but sobs as she finally let the tears flow.
Hotch stood at Emily’s door in utter confusion and conflict. How had he ruined that moment so sufficiently in a matter moments? In a few careless words, it seemed. The agent wanted to knock on her door so he could apologize, explain, but then a deep insecurity set in that told him she wouldn’t answer his knocks anyway. His mother had never heard him out in his attempts to apologize and, by the end, neither had Haley really, so why would Emily? Hotch sighed and turned to head into his room wishing he’d drunk just a little more to stop his mouth from doing anything but kissing Emily, telling her how wonderful it was. How wonderful she was.
"You can destroy your now by worrying about tomorrow." ~ Janis Joplin
Next Section:
The Spaces Between Us
Previous Sections:
Sleeping With Ghosts
Precious Aggression
Bruised Prince
Pure Mourning