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He invites the team to the last game of the season, the group of them enthusiastically agreeing to make an appearance over the guaranteed long weekend. Emily hesitates though, making some excuse about having to meet her mother for brunch and not being sure she can make it to the game in time.
The rest of them know it's a lie, but no one other than the two of them know why she's turned him down.
"Hey, can we talk?" He asks later that night, the rest of the team long gone.
She stops on her way out of his office, having left her file on his desk without so much as a 'have a good night' in the hope that he'd let her leave without grilling her.
She's not quite so lucky.
"Sure, what's up?"
"Emily, come on. Are we really going to play this game?" He leans back in his chair, recognizing her defensive stance when she refuses to sit and crosses her arms across her chest.
"I don't know what you're talking about." She juts her chin out defiantly and he hates that she feels the need to protect herself, the need to put up as many walls between them as she can.
"Okay, have it your way. Why won't you come to the game? It's his last game of the season, he wants you there."
"I know you want me to integrate into the team again but I don't need to do that at a soccer game, we can get drinks if it's that important to you."
"Emily, Jack wants you there. He's been asking since you got back from Paris, I have to keep making excuses for why you aren't there when the rest of the team is."
Her brows pull together, her defenses slipping slightly. "He asks about me?"
His lips curve into a small smile. "Of course he does, you two spent quite a bit of time together before..."
He trails off, not needing to tell her what had put an end to those late nights spent at his apartment making dinners with sauces splattered across counters and flour in her hair because she was insistent that Jack should feel included even if dinner took twice as long to make for half the reward.
Her defenses slam back into place, but he refuses to let her leave without a real answer. "Emily, just talk-"
"I can't go, Aaron." Her voice cracks on his name and his chest aches at the sound of it, hating that he's somehow the cause of her pain. "I can't watch you with her, I can't watch her live the life we-" Emily cuts herself off, pressing her lips together, blinking away the tears gathering in her eyes.
He stands and makes his way around the desk, reaching out to her and almost flinching when she steps back from his hands. "Emily."
"Don't, please don't, you're only going to make it worse."
Up close he can see that a few tears had escaped after all, faint tracks on her cheeks and one that drops onto her shirt from her jaw.
"I don't blame you, really I don't. You deserve to be happy, I made my choices and those choices pushed you into another woman's arms and that's fine. But you can't ask me to watch that. You can't ask me to watch you hug her every time he scores a goal, you can't ask me to watch her with Jack, it's not fair."
Now he understands, understands that for her he's asking far too much. He presses his lips into a line, mirroring the wounded look that's on her face. "Okay, I'll come up with something to tell him."
She nods, stepping back toward the door. "Great, thank you. Have a good night, Hotch."
He watches her until she leaves through the glass doors, part of him itching to chase after her but a larger part of him too afraid of getting hurt to spring into action.
~~~~~~~~~~
He looks around, hopeful eyes scanning the crowd for the woman who's noticeably absent from his son's last soccer game of the season. He's gotten rather good, hitting a small growth spurt in the middle of the season that puts him almost a head taller than the rest of the team who can't quite catch up with Jack's longer stride. He's scored most of the goals this season and Hotch couldn't be prouder, couldn't smile harder than he does when his son kicks the ball into the net and turns around with a wild smile on his face - his cheeks still chubby and a few teeth missing in the front.
It's the end of the game and the boys are getting water while they pack up their bags and he uses the opportunity to look for the woman he'd invited. He tells himself it's nothing special, that he'd invited the entire team and now that she's back Emily is just as welcome as the rest of them.
He tells himself he's just looking for Jack, that he just wants Jack to see Emily after all the time she's spent away.
He flinches when Beth touches his arm, a curious smile on her face. "What are you looking for?"
A smile plastered on his face, he shakes his head. "No one, I think I'm just a little tired."
She presses herself into his arms, ignoring how many times he's told her he's not big on public displays of affection. Her arms wrap around his waist and he has to fight the urge to pull back, not uncomfortable with her but the knowledge that she's chosen to once again ignore his boundaries.
It's a frequent argument between the two of them.
"Well with all the hours you work I'm not surprised, maybe-"
"Beth, we've talked about this." Her resentment of his job is nothing like Haley's had been, but a part of him wonders how long he'll be able to say that. He thinks maybe nobody outside of the Bureau can really understand their job, the demands and the guilt that comes with stepping away from it.
She definitely doesn't understand the part of him that enjoys the job, although he thinks maybe that's the wrong word. He can't explain it, but the others on his team understand well enough.
Emily understands.
He blinks hard, forcing that thought from his head.
"I know, I'm sorry." She can't say anything else before Jack barrels into his legs, a happy squeal escaping his lips.
"Daddy! Did you see all the points I scored?" He bends down to Jack's level, giving an enthusiastic high-five to his son who's bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet.
"I did, you did great, buddy!" He taps the sticker on his cheek, a big bright yellow star that reads 'SOCCER SUPERSTAR' covering most of his cheek. "It looks like your coach thinks you did a good job too, hmm?"
Jack laughs and shakes his head. "No daddy, Emmy gave it to me!"
His brows furrow. "Emily? No buddy, she couldn't make it today. We talked about it, remember?"
Jack shakes his head and points to the fence, deserted now that about half the team is gone. "No daddy, she was over there! She came over when we were getting water and gave me the sticker! She said I was the best player on the whole team!"
Hotch fights the urge to run to the parking lot in the hopes of catching her, giving his son a smile. "Well she's right, you are a soccer superstar!"
Jack giggles and Beth bends down, the rest of the team coming over with their drinks in hand to congratulate the younger Hotchner. "Here, let me take that." Beth tugs the sticker off, crumpling it in her hand and tossing it into the trash closest to them. Jack looks almost as wounded as he had when he'd discovered the class pet - a guinea pig named Cecil - had died. Luckily Morgan comes over and sweeps Jack off his feet, running around with him tossed upside-down over his shoulder, and it distracts him enough to keep the tears from falling down his cheek.
"Beth," Hotch grabs her hand, pulling her a few feet away, "what was that about?"
She shrugs, shakes her head and tugs her purse over her shoulder. "What? The adhesive might give him a breakout." She joins the team and Jack before he can answer, Hotch left staring after her while they head toward the parking lot.
He lags behind a few feet, subtly scanning the groups of parents and small children huddled by minivans and SUVs. He feels a pang of disappointment that he doesn't find Emily, but a feeling of fondness warms him from the chest down to his fingers and toes.
She'd shown up for Jack.
~~~~~~~~~~
"Here, you look like you need it." Two weeks later she passes him a cup of coffee on the jet, what she believes to be his fourth cup of the four hour flight that the rest of the team have decided is the perfect opportunity for a nap.
She'd normally take up the seat next to J.J., blonde hair splayed across Emily's shoulder while they both slept soundly.
Tonight though she's been unable to find the comfort of sleep and joins her boss, knowing him well enough to know he wouldn't be getting any more rest than she is.
She doesn't tell him the coffee is decaf, and he pretends he doesn't know.
Her concern over his caffeine consumption had been a topic of conversation too many times to count.
"Thank you." He gives her a smile, sipping from the cup while she takes the seat across from him. "What are you still doing up?"
She shrugs, both her hands wrapped around her own mug on the table. She tries to appear casual, like she doesn't spend her free time thinking about him. "I figured you could use the company."
The case had been brutal, a lot of dead boys the same age as Jack that they hadn't been able to return to their parents alive.
She knows he'd seen Jack's face in every crime scene photo, knows that he'd called Jessica instead of eating lunch.
"I don't want to talk about it." He almost bristles at the idea of talking it out, the act of putting his fears into words always somehow amping up his anxiety instead of tamping it down. But he's been talking more lately, putting Beth at ease when he lets it all out. She tells him bottling it up isn't healthy, that he's bound to have a heart attack if he keeps it up.
He doesn't want to talk, doesn't want to share, doesn't want to-
"I didn't ask you to talk about it."
Oh.
She seems to read his surprise as exactly that and gives him an almost sad smile. "I know you, Aaron." She slips out of her own seat and moves to the seat beside him plopping down and bumping her shoulder against his. "You're not a sharer, but it doesn't mean you want to wallow alone."
He watches her flip open her book, her feet propped up in the chair she'd vacated. She keeps their shoulders pressed together, a silent show of support that he'd always relied on. She's right, he's not a sharer but he can't bear the thought of facing his own fear by himself.
He'd grown used to the flights home with her pressed against him, sometimes a hand on his thigh and other times just her foot tapping against his under the table to the beat of whatever music she was playing through her headphones. She'd never pushed him to share, only listened if he decided to open up.
He misses that.
They'd only just been starting out when things had fallen apart, but they'd been building up to something more than friendship for years.
The first sparks had flown shortly after his divorce was finalized, Emily staying far later than the rest of the team to help him finish paperwork over a bottle of bourbon he wasn't supposed to have on the premise.
Those nights had turned into late dinners, Emily bringing in to-go boxes so he could get home sooner or an occasional night out when they'd returned home too late for him to see Jack before bed.
Shared dinners turned into share lunches, sometimes in the quart yard outside the building and sometimes in his office in complete silence when he was too busy to leave his desk.
And then Foyet had shown up and any possibility of something more was trashed.
He'd told her with a trembling voice that he couldn't put her at risk too, that he'd never forgive himself for putting her in the crosshairs where he Haley and Jack were stuck.
So she'd kept her distance, probably just as sure as he was that they could pick up where they left off when Foyet was dead or behind bars.
But Haley had died with Foyet and his attention turned to Jack, needing to support his son in the absence of a second parent.
They'd only just been getting back to each other when J.J. had been pulled from the team, Emily's sadness pushing them together in an attempt to fill the void her best friend had left.
Their first date came only days after J.J.'s departure. He finally gathered the courage to ask her on a real date, the silence only slightly awkward on the drive to a restaurant she'd mentioned she frequented in college.
Her eyes had lit up, saying she didn't even recall mentioning it.
He'd been a gentleman, walking her to her door and stopping her from pulling him inside when her hand slipped around his waist and the other around his neck. He'd said something about not having sex on a first date, that he wanted to do things right. He wanted to woo her the way she deserved. His lips twitch, recalling her joke about them having been on dozens of unofficial dates already. He wasn't having it, giving her one last peck on the lips with a reminder to put her flowers in water before she went to bed.
He knows she has those flowers in resin, framed and probably pushed into a closet so she doesn't have the constant reminder of what they'd almost been.
~~~~~~~~~~
A knock on Emily's door has her stumbling down the hall at a little past two in the morning, eyes still clouded from sleep and she's still trying to rub the bleariness away when she pulls the front door open to reveal her boss.
"Hotch?"
"Emily, can I come in?"
"Um," she pulls her robe tighter around her body, tying it at the waist and stepping aside so he can come in, "yeah, come inside."
She follows him into her apartment, his familiarity with her space a reminder of how much time they'd spent together here. "What's going on, is it Jack?"
"Jack is fine, this isn't about him." He turns to her and stops, brows furrowing. "You still have them."
She follows his line of sight to the flowers framed on her wall. She can't meet his eyes, looking down instead at the floor between them when she answers. "Yeah. I couldn't make myself get rid of them."
"Why?"
"Aaron-"
"Why?"
"I couldn't throw out something that reminds me of you, of us." She swallows hard, not bothering to blink away the tears that are starting to sting behind her eyes. "You met Beth and you fell in love, but I never fell out of it. I can't just shut that off, you know that."
He nods, lips pressed together until he answers. "Neither can I."
Her head snaps up, dark eyes meeting his honey brown in the dim light from the lamp on the table. "What?"
"I tried, god I tried, but she isn't you." He answers, a humorless laugh leaving his lips. "I was terrified of what would come next, when I had to send you away. I couldn't do it, I couldn't be the one you blamed for killing you."
"You did what you had to do, you did what you had to do to keep me safe. I could never blame you for that."
"I know, but I was so sure you would. So I met Beth, and I let myself find comfort with her so it wouldn't hurt as bad when you blamed me for taking you from everything you care about." He shakes his head, looking at the sad state of his nails. It's a habit he picked up from her, one that he hates because every time he does it Beth tells him to knock it off - that there's bacteria on his nails and it's gross.
When Emily bit her nails he'd grab her hand, pulling her fingers from her lips and pressing a kiss to each fingertip. He'd hold her hand and distract her, letting her focus on something usually silly that made her feel better.
He never told her that her tangents bring him comfort too, that listening to her ramble on settles something inside him that he hadn't even known was restless.
"She asked me to see a therapist tonight."
Emily's brows pull together at the unsual turn of this conversation. "She what?"
"She's been saying it for a while, saying I need to talk to someone." He rolls his eyes. "She said if I won't see a therapist she'll listen."
Emily snorts and rolls her eyes right back. "That's a good way to make you feel worse."
"Exactly." He says it like it's a revelation and her brows knit further together.
"Exactly what?"
"Nobody gets me, but you do." He answers simply, grabbing her hands in his own and stepping so close that he can feel her breath on his face. "You always have."
"Don't." Emily husks out, voice thick with emotion. "If you're not sure, then don't do this. I can't keep getting my hopes up if this isn't real."
He almost laughs, having never been more sure of anything in his life. “Emily.”
”Yeah?”
He dips his head, his lips only a fraction of an inch away from hers. “Stop talking.”