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Emily is barely in the house when her cell phone starts ringing. The sound is loud in the seemingly empty house, and it makes her already pounding head ache.
She groans as she drops her bag onto the floor and she grabs the phone out of her pocket. For a moment she’s grateful it isn’t JJ ringing, not sure she could take another case so soon, but then she frowns at the withheld number.
“Hello?” She says as she answers it, making her way further into her home as she does. She looks around, surprised to see Aaron isn’t home yet.
“Am I speaking to Emily Prentiss?”
“Yes…” she says, coming to a standstill, the unmistakable sound of a busy hospital in the background. Her throat goes dry and she swallows thickly, “Who’s calling?”
“My name is Sally, I’m calling from George Washington hospital. It’s about your fiancée, Aaron Hotchner.”
She drops to the couch, scrambling for the tv remote as the nurse fills her in. She gives her a rushed description of a shooting at the pharmacy where Aaron had gone to pick up her medication. She listens carefully, her brain only taking note of the important details, like where he was, and the fact he was somehow still alive but in surgery, as she sees the CVS on the news on TV.
She calls JJ, and she doesn’t remember much else after that.
___
She’s staring at the floor. Counting the tiles in the waiting room over and over again so she could do something other than think about a life without him, or the grim look on the doctor’s face when they provided her with an update on Aaron’s surgery.
“Em?”
She looks up, her hands tightly clasped in her lap as JJ holds a cup of coffee up to her, one in her other hand for herself. Emily flashes her a quick, grateful, smile before she takes the coffee being offered to her, holding it between her hands. It’s almost a little too hot, but it’s grounding, something she can feel other than the overwhelming fear she’s trying to choke down. Worried that if she acknowledged it, if she allowed herself to fully feel it, it would be like admitting she had already lost him.
“I can’t promise it’s good coffee,” JJ says, sitting back down next to her, “But it’s hot, and I put extra Splenda in it for you, for the shock.”
“Thanks,” Emily replies, making no move to drink the coffee, her eyes fixed back on the floor.
“Em-”
“Don’t,” says, her voice stronger than before, and she looks at her friend, doesn’t miss, or particularly care about, the hurt that flits across her face, “Don’t tell me everything will be ok. We don’t know that,” she shakes her head, “It’s absurd if you think about it.”
“What is?” JJ asks, as patient as ever. Well aware that Emily’s frustration was nothing to do with her, but a coping mechanism to deal with what was happening.
“He’s done all kinds of dangerous shit throughout his life. Look what he did for a living for fuck sake. And not one, but two serial killers became obsessed with him and tried to kill him. And he gets shot and almost dies, and could still die, going to the fucking pharmacy,” she chokes out, her words shuddering around a sob she wouldn’t let loose, “It’s fucking absurd.” She closes her eyes tightly, fighting off the tears she knows are inevitable, that have been threatening to fall since she found out. “I can’t lose him JJ.”
JJ doesn’t say anything, and they both know it’s because there is nothing she can say. She simply reaches out for her hand, lifting it to link their fingers. It reminds Emily of a moment from what felt like a lifetime ago when Penelope had been shot.
Two moments in time crashing into each other and merging, like waves on the high sea.
___
His hand is cold.
It’s normal, according to the nurse, Louise, who she’d asked twice, because of the amount of blood he’d lost. She wants to scream that it isn’t normal, not for him, that his hands were always warm. That the simple press of his palm into her lower back was enough to warm her entire body, the closest thing to home she’d ever known. She keeps his hand in hers, hoping her skin can warm his up.
Her focus is on the rhythmic beeping of the machine showing that his heart was still beating, her eyes closed as listens. Taking some comfort in the steady beat despite the way it makes her headache worse, her sinus infection battling with her torrent emotions to see what would be victorious in making her snap.
She has no idea how much time passes, minutes and hours blurring into one as she sits there, frozen in place until he wakes up. She runs her thumb back and forth over his wrist, his pulse reassuring, something she would know the feel of anywhere. As familiar to her as his smile, his love.
“I’ve lived without you before,” she says out loud, the words escaping before she realises she’s going to speak, “And…I have no interest in going back to that, in living in a world that you don’t exist in,” she clears her throat, her vision going blurry as tears gather at her lashline but don’t fall. “So I need you to be ok.”
There’s a knock at the door, and the nurse, Louise, walks in, a plastic bag in her hands.
“I just need to do some checkups,” she explains, and Emily forces a tight smile, standing up so she is no longer in the way. She immediately finds herself playing with her engagement ring, twisting it around her finger. Louise walks up to her and passes her the bag, “These are some of his belongings,” she says as Emily takes the bag, “In all of the chaos earlier they were mixed up with someone else's.”
“Thanks,” Emily says, walking over to the small loveseat in the corner of Aaron’s room, taking a seat to busy herself with going through the bag. A lacklustre attempt to distract herself from watching Louise take Aaron’s stats, her skills as a profiler enough for her to immediately recognise if things were good or not.
She grabs his wallet first, her thumb rubbing against the soft leather, a gift she’d bought him last Christmas. His old one had been worn out, almost falling to pieces, and it was only when he opened his new one, a smile on his face as he spotted the monogram on the front, that he admitted Haley had bought him his last one.
They still had it, safely stored in the desk in their shared home office.
She puts the wallet to one side and frowns as she pulls bags of candy out next. She freezes at the sight of the orange bottle in the bottom of the bag before she reaches in to grab it. She can’t ignore the shake of her hand as she holds it, the white label that bore her name and prescription stained dark red.
Blood she knew was his dried over their address.
___
The pain was familiar. Greeting him like an old friend as he wakes up, his breath seizing in his chest as it briefly overwhelms him, all of his senses returning at once.
The first thing that makes it through the fog, the haze of the pain, is her.
“You’re ok, sweetheart,” Emily says, her hand squeezing his tightly, “You’re ok.”
Aaron opens his eyes, the lights bright in his hospital room, and it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust.
“Em?”
“I’m right here,” she leans over so he can see her, reaching past him to press the call button for the nurse.
He tries to squeeze her hand, but can’t control his limbs quite yet, his whole body aching and heavy. She notices, because she never missed anything when it came to him, and she smiles at him. She leans down to kiss his forehead and then rests hers against it, her eyes screwed closed as she feels his breath skip across her face.
“I love you,” she says, the words rushed, almost merging into one, saying them in a panic because she was worried he’d never hear her say them again.
“Love you too,” he replies, his voice breathless, and weak, but it makes her smile anyway, “what…what happened?”
“You were shot,” she says, the words tasting bitter. It was only the second time she’d said it, the first having been to JJ on the phone. She hears the door open, an indicator they are no longer alone, and she sees that he’s tired. Bound to fall back asleep within the next few minutes, “But you’re ok. We’ll talk about everything later.”
“Ah Mr Hotchner, it’s lovely to see you awake,” Louise says as she approaches, “Your fiancée was very worried about you.”
Emily smiles at her before stepping back to allow room for Louise to check on Aaron.
She keeps her hand tight around his, not wanting to lose the connection for even a moment.
___
“Are you ok?”
The question surprises her, partially because she wasn’t aware he was awake, but mostly because it seems absurd. Ridiculous that he’s asking how she is when he’s been stitched back together this evening, his breathing laboured from where a bullet had skipped through his chest. The damage left in its wake enough to have killed him.
She looks up from where her gaze had been focused on their joint hands, and the concern in his eyes makes her ache.
“I’m as ok as I can be,” she replies, squeezing his hand.
“No,” he says, blinking as he tries to clear his vision, the pain and the medication making him slower than usual, “I mean, have you taken your antibiotics? For your sinus infection.”
For a reason she can’t explain, that’s what breaks her. His gentle attempt to make sure she’d taken the medication he almost died getting for her enough to make the tears she’d been holding back for hours escape. Burning twin tracks down her skin in a way she’s sure will leave permanent marks behind.
“Yes,” she chokes out, a noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh catching in her chest, “I took the fucking antibiotics.”
He wants to reach out for her, pull her into his arms and comfort her, but he can’t. Even the simple act of shifting in his bed was enough to make pain snap throughout his body. Instead, he grips her hand as tight as he can, and he tries to smile at her.
“Good,” he says, wanting nothing more than to make her smile, “otherwise I got shot for nothing.”
It takes a second for his words to register, and her mouth falls open in outrage, her cheeks warm with something other than her tears.
“Aaron.”
“What? Too soon?”
She shakes her head at him, any desire to shout at him gone as soon as it had appears. She stands up and sits on the edge of his bed, careful not to hurt him, and she leans in. She pushes his hair from his forehead, and can’t help but smile at the slightly glazed look in his eyes, the medication he’d been given doing its job.
He’s looking at her in the same way he did when he had been drinking. She’d never seen him drunk, but when he was tipsy he was handsy, and he’d look at her like she’d hung the stars herself. It was as if the alcohol, and in this case the pain medication, took away any control he had on expressing how he felt about her. His love for her clear for everyone to see.
“I think it might always be too soon for this one, honey,” she replies, leaning down and kissing him, the cannula delivering him oxygen scratching at her skin.
He smiles apologetically at her, and furrows his brow, “What time is it?”
She pulls back to look at her watch, sighing as she does so.
“3 am,” she replies, “I shouldn’t even be here, but the nurse let me stay,” he raises an eyebrow at her and she clears her throat, avoiding his gaze, “I may have made it clear what I do for a living.”
He laughs and it hurts, his hand pressing into his chest as he catches his breath. She apologises, and he shakes his head at her, his grip on her hand tight as the wave of pain washes over him, ebbing away bit by bit.
“3 am?” He asks when he can talk again, and she nods. “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.”
She chokes out a laugh, resting her forehead against his. It occurs to her again that she could have lost him, that her birthday would have been her first full day without him, and the tears start again. Falling from her cheeks to his.
“Yeah,” she sniffs, her chin trembling with the force of her emotions, “Happy Birthday to me.”
____
Aaron groans as he gets to the top of the stairs, pausing as he leans against the wall to catch his breath. It was frustrating, his recovery slower than he remembered it being when he was attached by Foyet. Emily kept reminding him that it had only been three weeks since he’d been shot, and she’d smile when she pointed out that he was older now, that these things took more time.
He sees the light streaming out from under the door to the spare room, and he walks towards it, seeking her out so he could order their dinner. He pushes the door open and finds her standing in front of the closet in there, mostly used to store her vast number of coats, staring at a white dress hanging on the front of it. He registers what he’s looking at and turns around.
“Shit, Em, sorry,” he says, aware that from the start the one tradition she had wanted to keep was him not seeing her dress before they got married, “I didn’t realise what you were doing in here.”
“It’s ok, Aaron,” she replies, and he turns back to look at her, his gaze fixed solely on her face, “I think we’ve had our share of bad luck.”
He searches her face for a sign she’s lying, that she’s just saying it to make him feel better. That this wasn’t another thing he’d taken from her, but he sees nothing but her smile, a small sparkle in her eyes that never failed to draw him in. He walks over and wraps his arms around her, wincing slightly at the pull at his chest, before he kisses her. Stamping his lips against hers twice before he pulls back and looks at the dress in front of them.
“It’s beautiful,” he says, kissing her hairline, “You’ll look incredible in it.”
She hums, her arms wrapping around his waist as she rests her head on his shoulder, “Just not today.”
“No,” he replies, holding her a little tighter, pushing past the pain that thrums through his abdomen, “Not today.”
It was something they’d decided when he was still in the hospital. Postponing the wedding was the only sensible choice, and they both knew that, but it didn’t make it any easier.
Especially on the day that was supposed to be their wedding day.
“I’m sorry,” he says, shifting so he can look at her, “I know how much it meant to you.”
She frowns and pulls away, “Aaron, you mean a lot to me. Not some day we randomly chose, or a dress. You. If you’d…” she swallows thickly, “If you’d died…I’d be standing here alone,” she tries to smile at him but it shakes, and he cups her cheek. The warmth of his skin against hers was enough to make her heart stutter in her chest. “Plus, I need you on top form for our wedding night,” she says, her smile widening, “So you can be winded for another reason than just walking up the stairs.”
He shakes his head at her, joining in on her laughter, and he leans in to kiss her. They stand there as they both lose track of time, but not each other.
___
They get married on New Year's Day, just the two of them and Jack at the courthouse. It was perfect, and Emily can’t picture it happening in any other way.
She doesn’t wear the dress, opting for something simpler instead.
___
The knock on the door almost as soon as she gets home surprises her. She checks her watch as she wonders where Aaron is, knowing he should have made it home just before her. Her sinuses felt like they were about to burst and she wanted to get started on the antibiotics as soon as she could.
She opens the door to see who police officers stood on her porch. “Hi, we’re here to speak to Ms Emily Prentiss?”
Emily’s throat goes dry. “That’s me.” She makes no move to let them in. “How can I help?”
“I think it’s best we come in ma’am, and that you sit down.” The female officer says, a smile on her face that seemed fake.
Emily nods and lets them past her, closing the door behind them. She doesn’t sit, instead she crosses her arms across her chest and clears her throat. “What’s going on?”
“Ma’am-”
“Please.” She says, fear she doesn’t fully understand filling her chest. “Just tell me.”
The officers exchange a look before the male one looks back at her. “We believe Aaron Hotchner lives here?”
“Yes, he does.” She stutters out. “He’s my fiancée.”
“I’m sorry to inform you ma’am that he was killed earlier this evening in an attempted robbery of the CVS on Columbia Pike,”
___
She shoots up in bed, gasping to pull air into her lungs, misplaced grief stuffed into them instead.
“Em?”
She jumps at the feel of a hand on her shoulder, and she turns to look at him, placing her hand over his, her fingers digging into his skin.
“Aaron?”
“Yes, sweetheart,” he says, his other hand reaching out for her thigh, gently squeezing against her skin, “It’s me. I’m here.” She launches herself at him, her arms tight around him as she does her best to all but crawl under his skin, her hands forming fists in his t-shirt, “You’re ok, baby, you’re ok.”
His words are muffled against the top of her head, his lips against her hairline, and she feels herself relax, the edges of her nightmare fading away as reality washes over her.
She hadn’t lost him. He was right here.
“Sorry,” she mumbles, pulling back to look at him.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he says, reaching out and cupping her cheek, the metal of his wedding ring cool against her skin as he wipes away her tears. “The pharmacy?” She nods, confirming what he already knew. It had been a pattern ever since he’d come home from the hospital, all the months that had passed since doing nothing to stop her subconscious from torturing her with what could have been. “Come here.”
She lets herself be pulled into his arms as he lays them back down, and she ends up practically laying on top of him, the feel of his embrace providing her with the same comfort it always did.
“I love you,” she says, as she always did when she woke up from one of these nightmares, aware of the fact she came close to never being able to say it to him again.
Aaron kisses the top of her head and runs his fingers through her hair, attempting to lull her to sleep.
“I love you too,” he replies, “You know what I’ve been thinking?” He asks, and she hums in response, her hand reaching for his so she can play with his wedding ring, twirling it around his finger to remind herself that she’d put it there. That she’d had the chance. “It’s about time we went on that honeymoon.”
___
She’d grumbled about it. Half-heartedly complaining about the honeymoon she said they were both too old for, but she can’t deny that she needs this. A break from home, from work. From the trial, which was now only weeks away, that would hopefully send the man who could have taken Aaron from her to prison.
She closes her eyes and blows out a breath, shaking her head an in attempt to get rid of those thoughts, of the memory of what she could have lost almost 8 months ago. She opens her eye again and takes in the view in front of her, once again getting lost in it.
She had no idea just how much he’d paid for this, but they had a view of the Eiffel Tower from their hotel room, and she had spent most of the time since they’d arrived that morning standing on the balcony looking at it.
Aaron had given her so much. Not just love she hadn’t thought was possible in real life, or the sense of home she’d always been searching for. But he’d given her this.
He’d made her love Paris again, something she had spent close to a decade now thinking was impossible.
She hears the balcony door slide open and she smiles as he joins her wrapping his arms around her from behind, pulling her back into his embrace. Emily leans against his back and smiles as he presses a kiss to the side of her head.
“Aren’t you glad I convinced you to do this?” He murmurs against her skin. He tangles their left hands together, their wedding rings hitting each other with the motion.
She tilts her head to look at him, and is unable to stop herself from kissing him, placing a hand on his cheek to keep him in place. She pulls back so their noses touch. “I’ll admit a honeymoon wasn’t the worst idea in the world.”
He kisses her again, smiling too widely against her lips for it to be more than a brush against her. “Where are you taking me first, tour guide?”
___
Guilty.
The word kept echoing around her head. She was no stranger to a courtroom, and she had given evidence at more trials than she could count, but this was different. She’d spent the whole trial sitting in the gallery along with the other victims or their relatives, listening to the details of the day that almost changed everything.
She’d watched the CCTV footage of the incident, of Aaron and other people getting shot, and it had almost been too much, her grip on her husband’s hand getting tighter as the days went on.
Guilty.
It was over.
“Em, you ok?”
She looks up to see Aaron standing in front of her, his hands on his hips. He was wearing a suit and a serious expression on his face, and for a moment it was like it’s almost 20 years ago and she was meeting him for the first time. She smiles at him and nods, and he joins her on the bench she’s sitting on, his arm around her shoulders.
“Are you ok?” She asks as she leans into him.
“I’m glad it’s over,” he replies, and she knows it’s all she’ll get for now.
“Me too,” she says, and she tilts her head to look up at him, smiling as she does so, “What do we do now?”
Aaron smiles and leans down to kiss her, his love and adoration washing over her before he pulls back, a soft smile on his face.
“Whatever we want.”
___
“Love was like the waves in the sea, gentle and good sometimes, rough and terrible at others, but that it was endless and stronger than the sky and earth and everything in between.” - Veronica Rossi