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aubreyprc · 3 years

Text

four hands bloody

summary - entropy but, its hotch and emily. and they’re in love. that’s it.

part seven of my sour series

‘all the things I did,

just so I could call you mine,

all the things you did,

well i hope i was your favourite crime’

Ten Years Ago

One year, five months and four days. That's how long they had been together when she announced she had been offered a job in Europe. Interpol, to be exact, and that she was leaving for Brussels in less than two months. There was no argument, nor was there a discussion, he simply takes her out for dinner, a celebration on her success so fresh out of college and they spend their last two months preparing for their separation. They pack up her apartment, they place certain things in storage and other things in her Mother's house in D.C, one that was empty for most of the year anyway and they enjoy their last few weeks together. Confessing love under the sheets, whispers of promises they know neither are going to be able to keep and they pretend as though there's a chance they'll meet again, even though in reality, they know its unlikely. Her love for Europe one he's very well aware of, and he knows once she's there she will never leave and he wouldn't want her to, and she's aware that he would never move, too fond of the city, his heart set on a job in the FBI, and she wouldn't ask him to give that up, just like he'd never ask her.

He takes her to the airport, cupping her face, wiping her tears with a sad smile as he holds back his own when they stand at her gate, parting way's for the first and final time.

"I love you." he whispers to her, and the happy laugh she lets out as she sniffles has his own small laugh escaping his chest. She hooks her hands to the back of his neck as she kisses him softly, the cold of her tears latching onto his skin as he pulls her closer.

"I love you, too." she whispers as she pulls away, gently resting her forehead on his, closing her eyes while she takes a small breath. "I—" she says but she stops herself, opening her eyes as she pulls away from him, her eyes on his as they stand there, feeling as though they were the only two people in the area.

"You're going to miss your flight." he tells her gently as the last calling for her plane echo's through the airport.

"I can't say goodbye to you." she whispers sadly, lacing her fingers through his as they rest in the middle of them.

"Then don't." He says, squeezing her hand as he entwines it with his, wiping her tears with the other, and she leans her face into it with a sad smile. "Think of it more as an... I'll see you later." he smiles to her and she laughs.

"Okay." she nods, "I'll see you later." she smirks.

"Go," he tells her, nodding as she slowly backs away, "I'm a phone call away."

"I love you." she tells him again as she steps back.

"I know," he says, "I love you too."

And just like that, with one last smile, she turns, her dark hair moving further out of focus until she is just a memory he can look back on, a woman he loved once.

Had he known just who that woman who turn into, he would have never let her get on the plane. Would have kept her in his arms, and then maybe none of this would have happened.

JJ runs into the briefing room, relief running through her veins as she finally has an ID on the killer they had been chasing for four months, a woman, who had a signature that matches one of an International terrorist, Ian Doyle, their first suspect as soon as the first two body's dropped, two Interpol agents, Clyde Easter and Sean McAllister, until he was found dead, and had been dead, a week longer than the two Agents, as well as his entire inner circle. His son still a missing person.

"I have an ID on her," JJ says as she rushes in, dropping the files on the table as she grabs the attention of the team. "All the Agent's who worked The Valhalla case last year have all been killed, apart from three who have been placed into witsec, using the the same signature Ian Doyle used," she tells them as she clicks on the screen. "Which made me think that it had to be someone Ian knew, right? Someone he trusted."

"What are you getting at?"

"Ian had a fiancé," JJ says, "Which we already knew, I know, however this is where it got interesting." she tells them as she clicks on the screen, "Ian, had a son, Declan, and everyone in Interpol had come to the conclusion that he and his inner circle were killed by another terrorist group and that his Fiancée would have taken Declan at his orders. But," she stops, “His Fiancée was a CIA agent, deep undercover, the Agents on the case just assumed he had killed her the moment she was made, her cover blown just the day before he was killed but there has been no record of her death anywhere."

"Who was she?" Morgan asks, looking through the files.

"Her cover name was Lauren Reynolds, and all files, pictures… everything was completely wiped when the case agents were found dead so its been impossible to find her real identify, to know if she had been found, dead or alive. So, I had Garcia work her magic..."

"Yes," The blonde says, standing up, clicking a few buttons on her computer as she pulls up the files she had recovered. "Lauren Reynolds, arms dealer, you know, everything that would be needed in a fake identify to get into the big leagues, but after searching around and doing several face recognitions, the same woman appeared, and its her. There is no doubt." Penelope tells the team.

"Who?"

"CIA Agent, Emily Prentiss." JJ says and the room goes silent as they stare at her picture on the right of Lauren Reynolds, the similarity leaving no questions, the only difference being in hair colour.

"She's the killer?" Reid asks.

"She's the only one from JTF-12 who's still alive, has the training, knows how to vanish, would have intimate knowledge of Ian, which is why the kills are exactly the same as his were."

"Do we think she's killed other people apart from the Agents?" Morgan questions

"She's vendetta driven, she'd kill anyone who came under that vendetta." JJ answers, "She fits the profile."

"Prentiss..." Rossi mumbles, "Why does that sound familiar?"

The room is silent, neither noticing Aaron pale as he stares at the picture in front of him. His mind running wild with questions.

"You worked for Ambassador Prentiss, right?" Dave asks Hotch, "Before you worked here?"

Hotch just nods, unable to trust his voice as his eye's move from the picture of her to the descriptions of her crime.

"Did you ever meet her?" Morgan asks, but Aaron doesn't answer, just simply stands.

"Excuse me." he says, before basically rushing from the briefing room and to his office, the sound of his door shutting echoing into the room.

"I'll take that as a yes." Morgan says, looking back at the picture on the screen. "That's her, huh."

"That's her."

"Now what?" Reid asks, and Rossi stands.

"I guess that all depends on what Aaron knows about her."

Slamming his office door shut behind him, he closes his eyes, taking deep breathes as his stomach turns to the point where he thinks he might be sick, the image of her on their board making his head spin with reasons, questions, but mostly, it just shows him flashes of the woman he knew, all those years ago, the woman who would smile at him from under his covers when he brought them back breakfast from his morning run, the woman who would kiss him so gently he theorised right there that she could never hurt anyone, the young woman he loved so much and who he knew loved him back just as equally now painted as a murderer, profiled, as a murderer, probably a murderer and he can't wrap his head around it, how someone so innocent and full of joy and happiness could switch so drastically and become of the most notorious and well known killers the BAU had looked for, how someone so light and full of life could become someone who took it from others, killing higher commanding agents from all sorts of government positions, leaving no trace except an M.O that leads back to a man he realises she knew well, probably even loved and he can't understand it.

"Aaron." Dave says as he opens the door, "I gather you knew her, back when you worked security?" he asks almost gently. He closes the door behind him, heading further into the office while Aaron stood at the window, staring out of it while he caught his breath, forcing the sick feeling to vanish.

"Something like that..." he mumbles, looking down to the floor as his heart rate lowers, his breaths evening out.

"How well did you know her?" Dave asks, taking a seat; Aaron turns, looking at his oldest friend with a face that tells him all he needs to know and the older man just looks at him with shock, before nodding his head. "Very well, it seems."

"Dave—" he begins but the older man shakes his head.

"This was years ago, the woman she is now wouldn't have been the woman you knew, there's no reason for explanations, not to me."

Aaron just nods, "So, what now?"

"Now, we come up with a plan of how to get her out of hiding, she hasn't been seen by anyone, that were aware of but she has to be somewhere, right?"

"She's CIA. She could be anywhere, she knows how to work the system better than anyone."

"Then we use something personal, give her a reason to show up, let her play her game."

"She never got on well with her mother I doubt anything like that would bring her out—" he stops when the older man looks at him, "What? Me?"

"Do you think it would work? Were you involved enough to have you be someone she'd want to see?"

"Dave, it was ten years ago."

"Yes," he tells him, "Which is why I'm asking how involved you were..."

"We were— It was..." Aaron says, before sighing, "Using me as bait might not work, she could be—"

"Did she love you?"

"What?"

"Emily, back then, did she love you?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then using you as bait will work." Dave says, standing up, "Trust me."

"You have a plan?"

"Sort of, but we have to tell the rest. All of it."

Aaron rolls his eyes, turning again to look out of the window.

"She needs catching, Aaron, she will find the last three, and she will kill them. We need to know why."

"I know," Hotch tells him, "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

He explains it to them, how he and Emily had dated ten years ago, before she got offered a job at Interpol, he explains that he hasn't heard from her in years and that he isn't even sure the plan will work, but they have to try. Said plan, being putting out their first press conference since they got the case, with Aaron, who will explain they have an ID on the killer and that they are close to catching them, their hope being that Emily will see it and reach out to him, knowing that with her ties to the CIA, she would have no issue finding his number.

"And if she reaches out?" Morgan asks, "Then what?"

"We let her set the terms, but we'll get her. If she calls, if this works, we'll get her. We would have found a weak spot." Reid tells them, "Love."

It does work, it take's a few days, but it works.

He's in his office, running through some reports when his phone rings.

"Hotchner."

"You have my attention," The voice on the other line says and he tenses, before he stands, clicking to the team as they follow him to the briefing room. "If I knew you were the Agent on the case I would have called sooner. I always did love it when I was the centre of your attention." she tells him just before he puts the phone on speaker.

"So you know we've figured it out? That it's you who's killing these agents?"

"I'm not worried." she says easily, they can hear her walking around somewhere, as though they were having a causal conversation, as though she wasn't an international killer, an assassin.

"Why's that?"

"Because, if I hadn't have called now, you would never have found me. I'm still two steps ahead." she says with a smirk. "That was the plan, right? For me to call?"

"It was." he says, looking at Garcia as she tries to trace the call.

"How about dinner?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Dinner, you know? Two people at a restauran—"

"I know what dinner is." he grumbles, hates that he can envision the smirk on her face, hates that it gives him butterflies. “What's your game?"

"No game," she tells him, "but, I figured if I'm going to be interrogated it might as well be over a nice three course meal."

"How do you know you won't be arrested on the scene?"

"Because if there was any evidence against me at all, I'd already be in your interrogation room." she tells him, "All you have is Ian's M.O, the death of my old team, and the fact that I was undercover... I'm CIA, Aaron, I know everything."

"So, you want to get dinner?"

"Sure," she says, as though she was accepting an invitation. "How does Saturday fit in with your schedule?"

The team nod at him, so he accepts.

"I have one condition." she tells him, "It's just you. No wire. No team."

"You know we can't do that.”

"Not even if were just two old friends catching up?" she teases, "Where's your sense of adventure, Aaron?"

"It's a wire or my team."

"Dealers choice," she teases, “if I get away don't feel too bad about it, I just don't think orange is my colour." she tells him, before the line goes dead.

"Anything?" Morgan asks Garcia, who shakes her head.

"Somewhere in Italy, no pin point location."

His phone beeps on the table then, and Rossi gently turns the screen to him.

"The name of the Restaurant and a time."

"Do you think this will work?"

"I think it's the best chance we've got."

His phone beeps again.

"Your team or a wire, not both, and if I find out you lied, someone will die, Aaron. I don't play games." Morgan reads aloud.

"You have to have both."

"You read the message—"

"No wire and there's no recorded confession, and we lose her, no back up and she could do anything." JJ tells him.

"We'll figure something out." Dave says, clasping the man on the back. "We're this close."

Aaron nods, but something tells him this wont be as easy as they predict.

Despite his protests, he's told he has to wear a wire, explanations of needing both eyes and ears on him (them) at at times. He steps into the restaurant, noticing JJ and Morgan sat at the table three away from his, sending them a nod as he sits down, he then notices Reid sat at the bar, then Dave sat at the table on the other side.

"You ready sir?" Penelope says down his ear piece from the unmarked van out front, "She's on her way in."

His heart hammers in his chest as he prepares himself, nerves racing through his body as he see's her for the first time in ten years and its nothing like he thought he would. He always imagined they'd get called to a case in Europe and she'd be there, or she would move back to the US and they'd bump into each other in the supermarket. But this? Meeting her in a restaurant because she's killed more than ten people in the span of a year? This he never imagined, because who would?

She's smirking as she walks over, the slit of her dress showing of her left leg and it almost leaves him breathless. She reaches the table in what feels like slow motion, every head in the place turned to face her as her heels clack on the hard floor, each one entranced by her. Even members of the team. Even him.

He stands once she's a few inches from him and soon she's right there, it’s then he realises he's just as enthralled by her as he was ten years ago, it has his stomach tightening. He nods at her as she smiles at him with the tilt of her head and a twinkle in her eye that he's seen before and suddenly it's ten years ago and there's no FBI, no dead Interpol and CIA agents, just them.

"No hug?" she teases, but he just stares, watching as her eyes move around the restaurant before back at him. "I see you went for team. Good choice." she says, taking a seat in the booth. "That mean's no wire, correct?"

"Correct." he lies, taking a seat across from her, watching as she grabs the wine menu.

"Good." she says casually as her eyes cast over the menu. "The one at the bar looks ten, are you sure he's qualified?"

It takes all of him not to laugh, her humour unchanged, the one thing that caught his attention in the first place all those years ago.

"I'm sure." he nods, looking down at his own menu as he rolls his lips.

"You can laugh, you know." Penelope tells him, "She's funny."

He simply clears his throat.

The waiter come over, she orders them a bottle of wine, before looking right back at him.

"It's been awhile." she tells him, "It seems we have a lot to catch up on."

He raises an eyebrow at her, "Yeah, I'd say so."

"Tell me about your life, Aaron." she smirks, knowing full well it's a game he isn't interested in playing.

"You want to have small talk?"

She just smiles, thanking the waiter as he places the wine on the table.

"Like you said, we have a lot to catch up on."

"That's not why were here."

"Then why are we?"

"Emily—" he says and her eyes catch his, her name coming off his tongue catching her off guard; she clears her throat as she picks up the glass.

"You have a tan line on your ring finger," she points out while bringing the glass to her lips, "either you took it off for my benefit, or you're recently divorced." she smirks, raising an eyebrow as he clenches his fist at the table, running his thumb over where his ring used to be, "Does it make me a bad person to hope its the latter?" she whispers to him, leaning over the table to trance her finger across his arms, laughing when he slowly pulls away, bringing her hand back to rest around the glass. "Divorced or game playing, Agent Hotchner?"

"Why?" he asks, "Does it make a difference."

"Yes." she tells him, "Either you're divorced, or you thought you could flirt your way into getting me into the back of a SWAT van, which just insults both our intelligence at this point." she says, before looking at him, "I'm not a toy, Aaron, you cant play with me till I give you want you want."

"I never planned to." he tells her, "Divorced."

"Kids?"

"Yes."

She nods, leaning back on the chair as she throws her eyes over to the blonde woman, an agent, she knows, and waves, raising an eyebrow in her direction.

"Your team aren't very good at blending in, Agent Hotchner." she mumbles, looking back at him, "Aren't you supposed to be profilers?"

"You already knew they were coming, why hide them?"

"Hm," she shrugs, "A challenge, maybe."

"Is that why you killed your old team? A challenge?"

"Really keen on getting down to business aren't we..." she chuckles, leaning her chin in her hand as she rests her elbow on the table. "No small talk?"

"Isn't that what we've been doing for the last half an hour?"

"Here I thought we were just reacquainting."

"Why did you do it?"

"I have my reasons."

"Then share them." he says, "You called me, Emily. You came here, why?"

"Maybe I just missed you." she muses, "Would that be so bad?"

"Not if it was the truth, but it's not."

"How do you know?"

"Because I don't think you're capable of those feelings anymore." he tells her, watches as her face falls for a moment before she smirks, her mask back in place, "You were, but something happened and it changed you. You've killed eleven people, five of which you considered friends... I don't think anyone is capable of feeling anything after that, how could they be?"

"Maybe I can compartmentalise." she offers with a smirk.

"Not this well." Aaron sighs, "Why come out of hiding? Why come here knowing there's a chance you could go to jail, why risk it.. If it wasn't to talk?"

Emily looks at her glass, rolling her lips as she sits straighter and clears her throat.

"Like I said," she tells him, "Maybe I just missed you." her voice is more soft as she says it this time, a voice that brings back memories from ten years ago, when she was the woman he loved, when they were happy.

"What happened to you?" he asks gently, looking at her as she catches his eyes, her mask falling and a look of pain staring back at him. She lifts up her glass, brining it to her lips.

"They got me in too deep and left me to die," she tells him, "Karma's a bitch."

"Undercover? As Lauren?"

She sighs, dropping her glass, looking around the restaurant at the other Agents slyly looking in her direction.

"I said no wire," she mutters under her breath and he tenses, "I said you could have your team but no wire. Those were my conditions."

"I'm not—"

"Don't lie to me, Aaron." she tells him, watching as the Agents in the room start to move, another hint that he is in fact wearing one. She looks at him with a head tilt, "I said no wire."

"Rules are rules—" he starts, and she nods, dragging her tongue across her front teeth before she looks him dead in the eye, yet this time it isn't pain that looks back at him, it's something else entirely, something he has never seen from her before and it has terror climbing through him.

"They sure are," she agrees, "Do you remember mine?"

And he does, they all do, if i find out you lied, tricked me in anyway, someone will die, Aaron. I don't play games. Her words running wild in everyone's head as she looks around the restaurant.

"Emily—" he tries but she's already standing as is the rest of his team, their guns aimed at her and she laughs almost viciously once she's on her feet, the team surrounding her at all angles.

"No one shoot." Aaron tells them as they stand, gun's aimed at her.

"You should listen to your boss." she smirks, pulling her own gun from her inner thigh from a slit in her dress, clicking it as she grabs a man from the table behind her, gun to his head as she smiles.

"Now," Emily sighs, "Are you going to let an innocent man die because you couldn't follow my simple instructions?"

"Emily, just, everyone out their guns down." he says, "Now." he orders and the team lower their weapons cautiously. "You want the wire gone the wire can be gone."

"Too little too late for that I'm afraid."

“You wanted to talk, right? You came all this way. You risked a lot.” he tries, “I’ll remove the wire and we can talk. Just us.”

Emily stares at him, catching her eyes on his before she pushes the man down, placing the gun back on the strap on her tigh before she takes small steps towards him, smirking as she the others agents watch her carefully.

She places her hand on his chest, feels the wire and before he knows it she’s yanking it from him, the device falling to the floor and everyone in the room jumps as she slams her heel into it.

“You broke my trust.” she tells him, their eyes meeting. “You want to talk?”

“Yes.” he nods.

“Then come with me,” she smiles, “No team. No wire. And I’ll tell you whatever you want.”

“Emily. You know I can’t do that.”

“Why?” she asks with the tilt of her head, “You're going to act like there wasn't a plan B? I'm sure there's a voice recorder...” she stops, raising an eyebrow as if to challenge him, before she rolls her eyes, pulling the voice recorder from the back of the booth and throws it at him.

"Shall we?" she smirks.

He’s silent for a moment, before he accepts and she smiles, holding her hand out for him to take and he sighs before placing his own in it.

They walk out of the restaurant, as they pass Morgan and Reid she smiles.

“Don’t wait up.” she winks, and they’re out of the building.

“I’ll drive,” she smiles, pulling his car keys from his back pocket with a wink.

He doesn’t dare look back as they get into his car, and as they speed down the road, something tells him this won’t end well. He doesn’t see how it could.

She parks the car on the streets, turning the engine off before she looks at him.

"Do you know where we are?"

He turns to face her, his expression soft as he nods.

"Of course." he tells her, "We're a few blocks from-"

"The car has a tracker," she smirks, "Come on."

She jumps out of the car, all but slamming the door before she ventures down the street, a carefree stride as her heels click against the floor, he follows suite.

As they reach the old building she stops, turns to face him.

"Its a shame they closed it down." she muses, "We used to hide out here all the time."

"It was out of town."

She laughs, before she heads towards the ladder to the roof, ignoring his clear detest to the idea.

Once she's on the floor she inhales, looking up, listening as Aaron came up next to her.

"How long do you think we have?"

"Half an hour, tops."

"That'll do." she smiles, walking aimlessly. "Ask away, I know you want to."

"I want to understand..." he tells her, "Why you did it?"

"I told you."

"Tell me again."

"They— All of them," she starts, "They left me to get killed."

"What do you mean?"

She turns, facing him as she sighs.

"I'd been under for...just over two years and Ian started...asking questions. Normal ones, about kids, and marriage." she explains, "And when I couldn't answer he got suspicious, starting asking around if they knew me, and he was... I don't know but I knew I needed to be pulled out before he found out anything."

"They wouldn't pull you out?"

"Worse," she laughs, "Clyde refused to pull me out, Sean was planning on having the whole organisation Ian was running killed, me along with them."

"Thats—" he stops, "They can't do that."

"They can if they lie to higher ups, claim I've started working against them."

"Why would they do that?"

"I don't know. I don't care." she tells him, "Tsia, who I thought was my friend was the one who came up with it, the whole plan to have them all taken down, Jeremy helped her."

"So you... Killed them?"

She smiles as she looks at him, "Yes."

"And the higher up's who let it happen?"

"Everyone." she tells him, "Apart from three, who by the way, I was on my way to when I heard your press release."

"You—" he says but stops, shaking his head. "And you... Don't feel any guilt?"

"Why should I? They were going to kill me." she answers, sitting on the edge of the roof, her legs dangling as she lays back, looking at him with a head tilt as it lays on the floor. "Join me."

He sighs, before dropping next to her, the both of them staring at the stars.

"I heard you got stabbed." she says softy, turning to face him as he turns to face her with a frown.

"How?" he asks but she raises an eyebrow and she just chuckles. "I did." he answers.

"The reaper, right? George?"

"You know him?" he asks with wide eyes and she laughs, looking back up at the sky.

"No." she tells him, "I'm sorry about your family."

"Me too." he sighs, and before he can say anything else the surrounding area is lit with blue flashing lights, sounds of sirens echoing in their ears.

"That was quick." she laughs, sitting up. "What's it going to be, Aaron?"

"What?" he asks as they both stand, "You're going to jail."

"No," she says, slowly moving towards him and he want's to move, he should move, but he can't. She reaches out to cup his face, before kissing him, grabbing a needle from her pocket before jabbing him in the shoulder and he goes instantly, falling into a hump in her arms. She lowers him, resting his head gently on the ground before grabbing the voice recording and stroking his cheek.

"I'll come back for you." she whispers, before quickly standing, rushing off the roof and down the streets before the FBI even figure out where she and Aaron were.

Once they find him, once he's given the all clear by the medics, he's asked questions about what happened and he says only that he can't remember, that she'd said something about her team leaving her to be killed and the rest is a blur. It isn't true, and he refuses to think about whether or not they believe him.

His lips feel hot with the pressure of her own lingers on them, the ghost of her hand on his cheek feeing like a burn. He lays awake that night and wonders if he’d never see her again, and he hates that he hopes he does.

Over the course of the next three weeks, she remains on his mind constantly, a mixture of what they used to be, the time they spent together feeling like a life time ago and yesterday all at the same time, but what she became, who she became, reminds him that meeting her again, being reminded how much he had loved her, means nothing. There is no more them, no more hopes for a future with her, no more wonders about her life, just the facts. And the facts are that she’s a murderer, an international serial killer and makes him hate himself more than he is ever thought he could when he realises that he doesn’t even blame her, that he understands why she became who she did, why she did what she did, and it has him unable to look at himself in the mirror, leaves him wondering that maybe he’s just as bad as she is, that if he was given the opportunity to kill the person who had ruined his life, taken his family, he wouldn’t even hesitate to put a bullet through his head makes him her equal, rather than someone who had the right to arrest her.

He doesn’t expect to hear her, when he’s on the phone begging for Foyet to spare his family, racing back to his family home with prayers that he makes it, in fact it’s the first time she’s been off his mind since their reunion, so when the gun shot echos down his ears, the silence on the other end defending as he hits his fists against the dash, it takes a new moments for her voice to even process, to even hit his ears, but when it does his broken heart hammers in his chest.

“Hello George.” she says, and he can see the smirk on her face, can imagine the startled look on his.

“who are you—“ he starts, before there’s a crash, and he’s left with the dial tone, the incessant ringing sounding like a siren as he speeds down the road.

He arrives at the house not twenty minutes later, not even turning the engine off as he rushes into his old home, the home where he ex wife, the mother of his child, lays dead, murdered by a man he brought into her life. He expects there to be shouts, screams, raised voices from the two of them but the house is silent as he walks through it, the only thing he can hear is the sound of his heartbeat as it races in his chest, his whole body on edge, his hand on his gun.

"It's over." her voice say's from across the living room and he turns quickly, his eyes meeting hers from across the room and it takes a few seconds for him to notice the blood on her hands and her shirt, the knife more red than silver as she twists around in her hand, her eyes staring right back at him, a twinkle of something in them that he just can’t describe.

“Where’s my son?” he asks, “what did you do?”

“I didn’t touch your son, Aaron. I have no idea where he is.” she tells him, sitting up, “I did however get into a little bit of a brawl with the man who—” she stops, “I was about three seconds too late. She was dead when I got here…” she says, an almost sadness to her tone that catches him off guard. He's stood in shock, trying to work out his next move, looking around the living room in a sort of haze as he tries to piece together what the hell he's supposed to do now, when she stands, the sound of her heeled boot on the hard floor making his head snap towards her, the sight of her covered in someone else's blood one he never thought he would have imprinted in his brain, and he wants to yell, he wants to scream at her, but he can't because he's grateful. Grateful that she got here in time to stop him from killing his son, grateful that she put an end to his torment, killing the man he would have spent the rest of his life hunting for if he got away, grateful that she took it upon herself, to end the man's life, leaving him free of the burden of taking one, no matter how much he would have been justified, no matter how much it would have been deserved. But then she's walking towards the front door and even though he is grateful, even though he wants to let her go, whisper a small thank you to her as she leaves, he can't because he has a duty, a duty he has sacrificed too much for to let her slip away now, and he find's himself grabbing her wrist as she sips passed him, and is taken aback when she freezes, her eyes snapping up to his.

"I can't let you leave." he tells her, his eyes burning into hers, regret filling them because this is the last thing he wants to do. "I'm sorry."

"Me too," she whispers, and her words have him tensing, unsure of what exactly she could do, knowing far too well what she was capable of, knowing she does not deal well with betrayal, he starts to think that she never really has, even then. He feels her go to pull from his grip and before he knows it, he has her pinned to the door, a gasp leaving her lips as her back knocks into it harshly, his side pf his arm resting on her chest, keeping her pinned as he looks at her. "Ouch." she tells him, smirking as he meets her eye, his face inches from hers.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks her softly, "How did you even know?"

"I was in the area." she tells him, a lie, he knows, and he simply just stares at her. "I was... doing you a favour." she whispers, hating that her mask was slipping, that he still had this hold on her.

"A favour?"

"You've been worried about your family, I thought if I could give you some... If I could insure you that they were okay that you'd, I don't know, stop beating yourself up about it."

"You were with them?"

"Haley didn't hate you, Aaron." she whispers, "If anything she was grateful that they had the option of witsec at all."

"Stop." he growls at her, pinning her to the door more harshly, letting his anger take over. "How did you—"

"I saw him talking to them and I knew... every single one of us are the same, Aaron. I knew. I was just too late." she whispers, lifting a hand to his cheek to wipe the tears she's sure he isn't even aware has fallen. "Go and get your son." she tells him gently, smiling sadly at him as he looks at her.

"You saved his life," he whispers to her, "getting here when you did." he says, "you weren't too late."

Emily smiles softly, running her thumb across his cheek, "Go and find your son, your team will be here soon."

"I—" he says, conflicted between his duty and his love. "If I let you go... you have to promise me that you're done. That you will settle down in a small country and that you will be done." he tells her, "the anger that you're holding, the killing... it won't do what you think it will. If I let you go you have to promise me you will stop, and let yourself be happy."

"I don't think happy is in the cards for me," she whispers, "But I promise." she tells him.

He looks at her, seeing the woman he loved all those years ago, the woman he knows he does and never will stop loving and he tells himself that if this is the last time he ever see's her this will not be how it ends, and he kisses her, his arm moving from across her chest to around her waist, pulling her into him gently as her arm hooks around the back of his neck.

"Go," he whispers against her lips when she pulls away slowly. She meets his lips once again for a chaste kiss, before she drips out of the door, the sound of another one slamming a few yards away making him jump before he heads for his son, the sound of the team arriving outside echoing through the walls.

She walks right passed the team, watching as they rush into the house and she wonder's what he will tell them. She sits in the empty house across the street, looking out of the window as she sips on a glass of whatever wine she had found in their pantry and she watches. Watches him leaving the house with his son in his arms, watches him pass the little boy to the blonde agent, watches as he speaks to officers, lets her mind ponder about just what story he's spinning to them and she's caught completely off guard when he looks up at the window of the house across the street, like he knew if he looked she would be there, and as their eyes meet, he just nods slightly, and looks away, following the older agent into the back of an SUV, he son reaching out for him, and then they're gone.

He tells the team how she slipped right passed him when he went to get his son, that he has no idea what her game is or where she went. He lies because he has to, he lies because he can, he lies because he can not find it in himself to care anymore, and he thinks maybe if he sees her again, he might just run off with her.

Two months and eight days, that how long she waits until she calls him, hidden away in a small city in Paris, her heart hammering in her chest every time she remembers that fateful day. Every time she remembers that kiss.

"Hotchner," he says, half distracted by the paperwork he's filling out on his desk, she remains silent for a few moments, wondering what to say, wondering if he'd even want to speak to her.

"Hey," she says simply, and the silence that follows makes her stomach turn.

He leans back on his chair, the sound of her voice through the phone filling him with something like comfort and he cant' help but smile, even now.

"Hi," he says, "It's been awhile."

"I had a few things to sort out." she teases, smiling to herself. "How have you been?"

"It's been hard but, I think we're through the worst of it." he tells her, "it seems as though you kept your promise."

"Only for you." she jokes, "I needed a break anyway."

"Hm, sure. " he plays, the sound of her easy laughter on the other end making his heart flutter, "where are you?"

"That depends," she says.

"On what?"

"On who's side your on." she whispers, he can hear the pain in her voice, the hurt, and it makes him want to throw up that someone who used to be so free, and kind, has been made into this, forced into this, and he speaks before he even realises he wants to.

"Yours," he tells her, "always" he adds quietly, and the small breath she takes on the other end makes him smile.

"I'll call you again when I can," she whispers, "There's one more part of the promise I need to keep."

"I look forward to it." he smiles, and the line goes dead.

He knows he should feel guilty, dirty, for feeling like this for her, for hiding her like this but he just can't. He loves her, and why shouldn't he?

He hears of Emily Prentiss' death through JJ as she closes the file, and it has his heart snapping in his chest for a moment, until he finds himself thinking that maybe she just created the best get out of jail free card he'd ever seen.

"I heard you died." he tells her over the phone when she calls a few days later, a small smile on his lips. Her laugh sends waves through him.

She calls again two weeks later, it's a short conversation as he sits in a hotel room, whispering soft words of how he’s growing to hate the job he works, missing his son, wishing for a new life, one where his failure doesn't follow him around and she listens, soft words of advice falling from her lips that make his heart warm.

They talk for hours, days, weeks, months and soon enough he breaks.

“I can’t stay here anymore." he confesses as he watches his son play in the living room.

“Then move,” she tells him.

“Where?”

“Where do you want to go?"

“Where are you?" he asks softly, and he can feel the smile on her lips.

"A small town... somewhere in France." she whispers.

"Maybe I'll move there." he offers, a smile on his lips as he listens to her try and hold down her nerves.

“I...suppose that’s always an option,” she agrees after a few moments of silence.

“Are you an option?” he whispers, his true connotation not lost on her, and the question has her heart thudding against her ribs.

“Yes.” she tells him softly, and he knows its the right decision when his heart flutters.

He and Jack move three weeks later, a soft apology to Jessica, who promises to visit once they are settled, a conversation with the team on his last case, a simple explanation that he's moving for Jack, for a better life, and everyone stands in shock when they realise he never did tell them where he was going.

He follows the directions on his phone to a small little town outside of Nice, the sound of Jack's laughter as he steps out of the car and into the sun a sound he'd been wishing to hear for months. He reaches up as they're walking and he scoops the boy into his arms. They're just at the gate of her home when she steps out, leaving agasint the door. He walks, unable to hold back his smile as he heads towards her.

"Hey," she smiles when he reaches her.

"Hi," he smiles back, "Jack, this is Emily." he tells his son, who looks at the new woman with wide eyes, "can you say hello"?

"Hi." the boy smiles, his hand coming out in a small wave and she laughs.

"Hi." she says back, "Come on." she says, opening the door further to let them through. He stops at the side of her, before kissing her softly, the feel of her smile making his heart jump. He smile when he pulls away, before heading into the house, whispering to Jack as the boy points to things around the new surroundings.

Emily walks beside him as they reach the overly large garden and he looks at her.

"Nice place," he smirks and she shrugs.

"I killed the owners." she says nonchalantly, before heading off towards the large garden furniture in the middle of it, the feel of his eyes on her back making her laugh. "Are you coming?" she says, holding out her hand and he takes three steps, grabbing her hand in hers as they walk.

"You didn't really.." he whispers and she holds back a smirk as she looks at him.

"A lady never tells." she answers, and the sound of Jacks happy laughter as he jumps into the pool has the questions dying on his tongue.

She lets him ponder about her words for two weeks before she whispers in the dark that it was her mothers home, one she visited frequently when they were in France, and that after her mother passed it was sold, to her, but the name she put it under is one she'll never share.

fin

#hotchniss sour series #hotchniss fic #hotchniss #the thought of hotch and emily being cat and reid would ? not leave me alone #and so here this is <3 #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #this will be on ao3 when i finish work lololololololol

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