Red Flags & Long Nights - awestruck

Chapter 1 Chapter Text

The Behavioral Analysis Unit was uncharacteristically quiet, at least until the door swung open and a young woman walked in, looking around before setting her sights on the Unit Chief’s office door. The cautious click-clack of her heels echoed through the empty room. She took a deep breath before knocking on the door. “Come in.”

She smiled as she opened the door, all too familiar with the voice behind it. She hadn't heard that voice in over a decade. “Hi,” she said, extending her hand as the man behind the desk stood to greet her. “You probably don’t remember me, but I remember you. Umm, Amelia Davenport. King County Prosecutor’s Office veteran. I was Miles Gregory’s second chair in the -”

“Earl Radley trial. I couldn’t forget. It was my first jury trial as an FBI agent. I was one of your witnesses. I was barely Agent Hotchner back then, I don’t think I’d even been assigned a desk yet.” He took a seat, gesturing for her to sit down across from him. “It’s been a while. Welcome to the BAU, Agent Davenport.”Dear God, what did I do to deserve this? I thought I'd be able to leave that trial in the past. I was doing so well. I haven't thought about it in years. Why now?

“It’s good to be here.” She relaxed a little. “How have you been? If I remember right, you’d just gotten engaged and you were looking at houses while we were prepping for Radley.” His face darkened, almost imperceptibly. But she knew. “Too much? I’m sorry. Tell me about the BAU, then.”

Hotch ran a hand through his hair. “Haley’s gone,” he said softly. “We have a son, Jack. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. But the BAU… It’ll steal everything from you if you don’t learn to balance this life with real life.” He paused for a second. “I promise it’s not usually this quiet. You’ll meet the others soon, I’ve got one pair out on a prison interview and the others are up in Baltimore consulting on what may or may not be a case. Since you don’t have any files to work on, I’ll have Penelope make sure you’re in our network and have all of the permissions on your laptop. The only clean desk out there is yours. Make yourself at home.”

Amelia reached for a stack of files on his desk. “I’ll get to work on these.”

“You weren’t on those cases. It wouldn't be fair to ask that of you.”

“I need work to do. I’m not going to sit around all day reading from textbooks when I can read through real cases. Besides, if this SSA Hotchner is anything like wet-behind-the-ears Agent Hotchner from back then, he takes great notes.” She stood, tucking the stack of files under her arm. “I assume my login will work on these computers.”

He nodded. “It should. I’ll send Penelope over as soon as she’s available.”

Amelia sat down at the only empty desk, glancing up to see Hotch diligently working through the window in his office. She logged into her computer and got to work, cracking open a file and smiling at the neatly printed notes within. She’d lost track of time, at least until she heard an, “Oh my goodness, it’s you! Hotch told me all about you!” She turned around to see a woman dressed head-to-toe in highlighter yellow, complete with a giant sunflower clipped into her hair. “Penelope Garcia, hi.”

“Amelia Davenport,” she smiled. Penelope couldn’t help but make people smile. “Nice to meet you. Hotch told me about you too.”

“No, he really told me all about you. Well, I looked you up, but he told me a few things. Georgetown Law? And then the youngest Homicide Unit Chief ever in King County? And a law professor? You’re awesome .”

“You’re pretty awesome yourself,” Amelia said as Garcia pulled up a chair. “You’re the only person I know who could hack Fort Knox in her sleep. Yeah, I looked you up too.”

They sat and talked for a while, at least until Garcia’s cell phone rang and she went scurrying back to her office. Amelia settled in and kept working, glancing up every so often to see Hotch pacing his office on the phone, staring at his computer, or intensely focused on a file in front of him. It was nearly mid-afternoon when she realized she was hungry. Hotch was still working. She locked her computer, standing up to stretch and heading down the hall to the broken-down vending machine near the bathrooms.

Hotch looked up to see Amelia leaning in his doorway, eating a bag of chips. “Have you had lunch yet?”

“No, why?”

“It’s 2:37.” Hotch glanced down at his watch. “There has to be something better in this building than chips that expired last May.”

“Pizza, sandwiches, there’s an okay Greek place if you feel like walking.” He closed the file in front of him and rubbed his eyes. “If you don’t mind walking a little further, I’d like to grab some coffee while we’re at it.”

Amelia smiled to herself. “Are you saying you’ll get lunch with me?”

“I’d love to. I haven’t eaten anything since six this morning, and Agent Morgan just called. They’re on their way back. Agent Jareau too. We’ll have a full house in an hour. That’s one thing you’ll learn fast,” he said as he locked his computer. “Eat and sleep whenever you can. You never know the next time you’ll be able to sleep or get a real meal.”

"Noted," she smiled as she followed him down the hall. "Then let's go get something good."

Chapter 2 Chapter Text

“Spencer Reid,” said the man at the desk across from her. He’d just dropped his bag next to his chair, startling Amelia out of the trance she’d been in, trying to decipher a chart Hotch had drawn in his notes. "Nice to meet you."

“Doctor times three, Supervisory Special Agent, photographic-memory Spencer Reid? Amelia Davenport. Only one doctorate degree.”

He frowned. “How do you…”

“Garcia told me all about you. All about all of you, actually,” she said, looking around as a few more people joined them. “Hold on, let me guess - Agent Morgan, Agent Prentiss, Agent Jareau, and Agent Rossi’s the guy who just walked into Hotch’s office.”

“You’ve got it, but just call me Emily,” Agent Prentiss said as she shook her hand.

“JJ. ‘Agent Jareau’ is too formal for friends.”

Rossi and Hotch emerged from the office together. “Sorry to break up the party,” Hotch said as he looked over the room. “Everyone run home, switch out the clothes in your go-bags, and meet back here in an hour and a half. We’re heading to Rochester.”

As everyone grabbed their things and left, Amelia migrated to Hotch’s office, a fresh cup of coffee in her hand. “Happy first day on the job,” he said dryly. “This is how it goes at times. That’s another lesson, make sure your neighbors know to check your mail and water your houseplants.”

She took a seat in one of the chairs across from his desk. “I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t realize it was a sensitive question.”

Hotch shook his head. “It’s fine. Most people don’t expect that kind of answer. She was murdered. We were divorced, but…”But there's a lot of history there. And a lot of history here.

“Did they catch him?”

Hotch nodded. “In a sense.”

“Still doesn’t bring her back. I always - the first jury trial I ever did was a murder. A cold case, one I couldn’t screw up because we were going to lose anyway. Her name was Kim. Then our case - Gina, Hanna, Frances, Kristie, and Amber. I remember all of them, all of their names, all of their faces, meeting with all of their families in that big conference room… You were there. You weren’t the lead on the case, but you were there for them anyway. We did everything we could. He got five life sentences, one for each of them. But it didn’t fix anything. It didn’t bring them back.”

“That’s why I switched to the FBI,” Hotch confessed. “I loved being in the courtroom. I loved the feeling I got when I won, but it was always too late. Here I - maybe I get to stop one or two murders before they happen. I’ll never know for sure, but there are ‘catch me before I kill again’ killers out there, and I’ve put a few of them away. I’d like to think I’ve saved some lives in a way that I couldn’t from behind the prosecutor’s bench.”

“Well, let’s go save some lives.” She stood, headed for the door.

“Amelia?”

She stopped in the doorway. “Hmm?”

“I’m glad you’re here. It’s like seeing an old friend.” He grimaced, kicking himself for even bringing it up. That’s not what you should call it at all. You know better than that.

“Agent Hotchner, I know we go back a ways, but I was a terrified young prosecutor doing her first serial killer case. I’d had a law degree for a year. You’d been a sworn agent for six months. I had to practice with you so your voice didn’t shake when you testified. We’ve lived entire lives since then.” The door to the bullpen slammed, Morgan announcing his return. Reid was right behind him. Amelia looked at her watch. “Wheels up in thirty?”

“Wheels up in thirty,” he echoed, watching as she rejoined the others. He shook his head, looking back down at the file Garcia had emailed him.

Half an hour later, Amelia had parked herself next to Reid on the jet. She was poring over the file on her laptop, scrolling through crime scene photos. “The inventor of the adding machine was from Rochester. And the inventor of breakfast cereal, but it was so hard that you’d have to soak it in water or milk overnight or risk losing a tooth,” he said as she opened a map.

“That’s impressive.”

Reid smiled a bit. “Thank you. At least someone appreciates a good fun fact.”

“There’s a good fun fact and then there’s a weird fact, and you’re a walking Wikipedia,” Morgan chimed in from a row away.

“Then I call dibs on him in bar trivia,” Amelia laughed. “Okay, page five of the crime scene photos, that overlooks the house on Market Street, right?”

They spent the rest of the flight batting around a couple of theories, flicking back and forth between crime scene photos and the map that Amelia had pulled up on her computer. Well, most of them did. Hotch spent most of the flight lost in thought. Not lost exactly, just stuck in a moment in time back in his late 20s, when he was still getting used to carrying a badge and a gun. He glanced over at where Amelia and Reid had fallen into a deep discussion with Morgan across from them. Of course he remembered her. How could he forget? Yes, it was his first case as a real FBI agent. But it was also one of the worst decisions he’d made up to that point. He sighed, forcing himself to look back at the file.

Chapter 3 Chapter Text

"Agent Hotchner, hi. I’m Amelia Davenport.” She smiled, extending her hand. "Nice to meet you in person. And I'm sorry we've been playing phone tag."

“Aaron, please.”

“Aaron,” she nodded as he followed her into the depths of the office. The steel door shut loudly behind them. “My office is just over here.” They passed a cluster of cubicles and took a right at the copy machine. She stepped inside a small office, Hotch following and taking a seat in front of her desk.

He looked up at the freshly-framed diplomas on the wall. “Nice to know I’m not the youngest one on this case. My Supervisory Agent reminds me every chance he gets. Bar license eleven months ago… How’d you end up getting a serial killer?”

“I’m good.” She clicked her pen, neatly writing his name and the date at the top of the legal pad in front of her. “So, Agent Hotchner -”

“Aaron.”

“Aaron,” she corrected with a smile. “You interviewed Eric Radley. I’ve listened to the interview and I have my paralegal splicing the sections I want to play in court, but I want your impression. Tell me about all the things you don’t hear on the tape.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Like how he still had Amber Young’s blood under his nails? Or the fact that he kept their earrings hidden in his sock drawer?”

“No, I got that from Detective Houston’s report.” She leaned a little closer. “This case kept you up at night, and not just because it was a lot of work. You stared into the face of evil, and you saw something there. But you’d seen it in your head well before Eric Radley was ever on your radar. How did you see it? Not what, but how? He doesn't seem like a killer, at least not outwardly. How did you know?”

He was fidgeting with his sleeve as he told her, “It was in the geographic profile first. He was a highly organized killer, classic power/control type. Generally a white male, 25 to 35, maybe a little younger or a little older but not by much. Almost definitely a white male, given that serial killers tend to choose victims in their own race. Likely worked a skilled job. Organized and methodical, he took his time at each of the scenes. Left no hair, fibers, or trace of blood. But he also never gave them a chance to fight back.”

“That’s great, but we’re going to have to work on breaking that down for a jury. You were a prosecutor less than a year ago, I’m sure you remember that. Pretend like you’re not talking to me, you’re talking to our receptionist, Debbie. Or Ray the custodian. Or the guy who’s repainting the fourth floor. I’m not someone with a law degree, I’m someone random off the street. How did you know what to look for?” She leaned a little closer. "How did you know it was him before you'd ever laid eyes on him?"

Hotch opened his eyes as the jet touched down. He looked over to where Amelia had fallen asleep, her half-finished notes still in her hand. She sat up slowly, yawning as they taxied into Quantico. She shook JJ by the shoulder, saying something to her as they came to a stop. None of them had slept very much in Rochester. They were looking forward to hot showers and sleep, not necessarily in that order.

Amelia was still at her desk when Hotch walked in. Most of the others had gone straight home or stopped in just to grab a few things from their desks. But she was there, writing away. “What are you doing?” he asked, sitting in Reid’s empty chair opposite her. "Everyone else is headed home."

“Finishing my notes. I’ll put them into a real report tomorrow. I’ll leave soon, I promise. Memory’s the best when it’s fresh.”

He smiled softly. “You know, you were the only one at the prosecutor’s office who would answer the phone late at night.”

“Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I gave you my home number.” She looked up at him, tucking a few scarlet strands of hair behind her ear. “You were also the only agent who wasn’t on nights that would stay up all night working.”

“Maybe we really haven’t changed all that much.”

“Are you still the same Agent Hotchner you were back then?”

He took a deep breath. “In some ways, yes. In some ways, no.”

“Are you still the same Agent Hotchner from the night before the trial?”

Hotch stood abruptly. “You should go get some sleep. We both should.”

And yet, Hotch wouldn’t be able to sleep. He picked up Jack from Jessica’s, the two of them getting ready for bed as soon as they got home. Jack fell asleep on the couch while Hotch was in the shower. He ended up carrying his son to bed, tucking him in before going to lay down and stare at the ceiling. Are you still the same Agent Hotchner from the night before the trial? He looked over at the family photo on the nightstand beside him, intensely thankful that Haley had never known. It was one tiny, instant misstep that had jeopardized his life and his career. And yet, as he laid there unable to sleep, his mind kept drifting back to Amelia. He’d looked at her that night the same way he’d looked at her ten years ago. And that had gotten him into trouble.

It was late, far too late. They’d split a couple of granola bars and called them dinner. They'd brewed two pots of coffee. T-minus ten hours before the trial started, and they still had ground to cover. Amelia had insisted on it. Hotch had agreed. He needed to be ready for anything. So he’d shed his jacket, rolled his sleeves up, and studied his notes like his life depended on it. And then he asked her to cross-examine him.

Amelia cleared her throat, wheeling around from where she’d been pacing a hole into her office carpet. “One more time, Agent Hotchner, you say he actually stabbed her with a pen? Regular kind? Just like the one I’m using to take notes? And that did how much damage?"

“Yes, he stabbed her, that caused a dime-sized hole in her chest before your client strangled her to death,” he said as he leaned on the doorframe. “And if you must know, that’s the same kind of pen you’re holding now, and the same kind used for emergency tracheotomies - ”

Her face softened. “Try it again. You can’t let him get under your skin.”

“He won’t be that bad.”

“Charles White is worse than that. I'm being nice to you,” Amelia countered. She came to a stop in front of him. “He’s horrible. I don’t know how he still has a law license. He’ll badger you on that and much worse. Half of the words that’ll come out of his mouth will be objectionable, but we’re going to let a clown look like a clown in front of the jury. He’ll even fight over your credentials. You’ve only been an FBI agent for six months? How are you at all qualified, Mr. Hotchner?”

“Agent.”

“Hardly.”

“I am a federal agent, I have a doctorate degree, and I’m sure I was a better lawyer than you ever will be, Mr. White. I’ve also had 20 weeks of extensive training at Quantico, I can shoot at near-sniper level with my eyes closed, and I have specialized training in behavioral analysis, counterterrorism, weapons of mass destruction, counterintelligence, and criminal investigations.” He took a deep breath, trying to shed the stress from his shoulders. “Sorry, I - Can we start from the beginning?”

Amelia looked up at him. She’d swapped her high heels for flats long ago, no longer eye-level with him. “Sure. You’re doing fine. You’re qualified, you know this case so well you could testify in your sleep, you just have to channel the prosecutor energy you used to have in court and translate it to testifying. Don’t let him get to you. The minute he gets under your skin, he wins. And you know it's the small victories hat create reasonable doubt.”

He reached for her arm. “Thank you. I don’t know why I’m so worked up about this case.”

“It’s your first as an FBI agent. I’m sure you were like this before your first jury as a lawyer too. It gets easier. You know that.”

“Thank you.” He didn’t know what made him do it. He didn’t know what made him look forward to their meetings, to going over a binder full of evidence or listening their way through his interviews with Radley. He didn’t know why he wasn’t itching to get home, though it was going on ten o’clock at night and he’d been working since nine that morning. He really didn’t know why, but in that moment, the two of them frozen in time in an office covered in gruesome photographs and pages from autopsy reports, he felt something. He leaned in and kissed her softly. A heartbeat. “I’m sorry.” He let go of her arm, stepping back and colliding with the doorframe. “I - I’m so sorry. I, uh, I should be going. I’ll be fine tomorrow, I promise. I’ll show myself out.” He turned and headed for the lobby, his face burning.

Amelia jogged after him. “Aaron!”

He stopped, his hand on the lobby door.

“You forgot your jacket.” She handed it to him, the two of them pausing before she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Goodnight, Agent Hotchner.”

“Goodnight, Ms. Davenport.”

Chapter 4 Chapter Text

Neither of them had ever spoken of that night. They came to court early the next morning, Amelia falling in line behind the lead prosecutor. She glanced over at Hotch as they introduced their witnesses, asking if the potential jurors recognized any of them. The second she made eye contact with him, she looked away, scanning the room of potential jurors. Hotch spent most of the day sitting in the hall. Every hour or so, he’d get up to stretch, to use the restroom, to get more coffee from the vending machine on the ground floor. He hadn’t slept the night before. He’d stayed up all night, staring at Haley’s sleeping form, plagued with guilt.

Now, ten years later, he was still plagued with guilt. He hadn’t thought about that night for a long time. And now here he was, sitting in his office, looking out the window and watching as she talked with Reid, the two of them holding a map up as Reid pointed something out. “She’s not the same person. You’re not the same person,” he whispered to himself. “It was one mistake, ten years ago. It means nothing.” And yet he still felt a tiny pang of jealousy as Morgan walked over and said something that made her laugh.

He was startled back to reality by the phone ringing. “Garcia, where are we going?”

“Galveston, Texas. You - sir, you need to see this. It’s a cannibal.”

“Get the team in the conference room.” He hung up the phone, grabbing a notepad.

They were on the plane within twenty minutes. Rossi sat at one corner of the table, crime scene photos spread out in front of him. Reid had pulled up a map of the city, pinpointing where each of the bodies had been found and their last known locations. “All late at night, all abducted within the same four blocks. He lives or works nearby.”

“He’s non-threatening, otherwise there’s no way these women would have stuck around for long when he approached,” JJ said.

Morgan nodded, adding, “He’s got to be young, he fits in around the bars and the clubs. He doesn’t stick out in any way. Someone you’d trust to hold your drink or give you a ride home.”

“Cab driver?” Prentiss asked, turning Reid’s computer so she could see the map. “He’d have mobility and freedom to work whatever hours he wants. No real schedule, no one to recognize him, and he’d blend in just cruising around late at night.”

“And his victims would automatically trust him,” Rossi said, looking over at her. “You’d get in a car with a stranger for a very limited number of reasons.”

“He likely lives alone or has space to dismember the bodies. And no one’s seen him putting them back in his vehicle to dump outside of the city. So he can’t live downtown,” Reid reasoned. “He works at night, but he can’t have immediate neighbors. There’s only so much you can do to muffle the sound of sawing up a body.”

Amelia frowned, staring at the pictures in front of her. Six photos, all of young women who had gone missing in the same four-block radius. “Why does he take them? Why them ? Who do they symbolize to him? And why does he want to eat her?”

“There are actually three types of cannibalism,” Reid said, “survival, institutional, and pathological. Pathological cannibals are either in a state of severe psychosis or suffer from personality disorders that almost invariably mean they’re legally insane. Some of them even walk out of prison because of it - Issei Sagawa, who killed and ate a college student in Paris, was a free man for 36 years before his death. He published books and even wrote restaurant reviews. Most pathological cannibals fluctuate between highly organized hunters in public and wildly out of control killers in private. They often have a type, think Jeffrey Dahmer’s victims.”

“Me.” Amelia looked across the table at him. “His type is me. I look just like Renee McAlister.” She held the woman’s picture up. “I could be… maybe not her sister, but we could be cousins.”

“I think you know what that means,” Hotch said decisively. “We need people out on the streets. Emily, JJ, Morgan, Amelia, you’re going to be in and around the bars tonight. Morgan, I want you there but not too close to them. We don’t want to scare our guy off, but we need eyes on the inside. Dave and I will coordinate with the police patrols. We’ll have an unmarked unit out there. Reid… you’re with us.”

“You don’t think I’d blend in at a bar?”

“Kid, you hardly look like you’re old enough to drink,” Morgan laughed.

It was getting dark out when Amelia stepped out of her hotel room. Hotch had the room next to her, and he was just closing the door when she met him in the hall. “Hey,” she smiled, spinning around. “How do I look?” She’d dressed up for the occasion, borrowing clothes from some of the local deputies. JJ and Prentiss had borrowed clothes too, the three of them dressing to blend in with the rest of the crowd at the bars.

Damn. “Good. You’ll fit right in.” He watched her get into the elevator in front of him, turning to stare at the elevator doors and not at how short her skirt was. Don't look. Don't look. Don't look. “Be careful out there. And remember you’re not carrying a gun.”

“I hate not carrying a gun.” She turned back to look at him. “You’ll be close, right?”

“Morgan’s got you in the bar, but you’ll never be out of my sight once you step outside.”

“Good,” she smiled. “Keep me safe, Aaron.”

His heart was beating in his throat. “Aaron?”

“Sir?”

He bit the inside of his cheek. Sir. That’s too much. That sounds too good. “Aaron is fine. I just didn’t realize we -” The elevator doors opened and JJ and Prentiss stepped in. “Go time.”

It was a long night. As much as Amelia wanted to glue herself to JJ and Prentiss, she knew she had to float among the crowd and try to talk to people. And deal with the occasional guy who was a little too much. There were a few of them, but none of them raised any major red flags. So they moved on, traveling from bar to bar every couple of hours. They called it a night at 2AM, heading back to their hotel without saying more than a few words to each other.

Amelia went to take a shower, washing off all of the sweat and grime and spilled beer that had caked her skin. She was wide awake when she was done. So she spread the crime scene photos out on the bed, sitting down in the middle of them. “Who are you?” she whispered to the six women in front of her. Yearbook pictures, graduation photos, scenes from vacations and happier times. They smiled up at her, none of them knowing they would end up dumped on the side of the road out of town. With their red hair, the way their dimples showed when they smiled, they could have been her family. “Who are you to him? You’re not his mother, you’re too young. A girl who rejected him?”

She got up, pacing to the end of the bed to stare at the photos from another angle. With a sigh, Amelia grabbed her room key and headed down the hall. It was near 3 AM now, and she still couldn’t get the nagging question out of her head. Who are you?

As soon as her door closed behind her, she realized how stupid it was, going for a walk in the middle of the night with a killer roaming free, looking for women that looked just like her. At least walk down to the ice machine and back, there's no way he's here. He doesn't hunt in hotels. All of the rooms on the floor were dark, save for one. In the room right next to hers, lamplight spilled under the door. A shadow paced back and forth. Amelia took a deep breath and knocked.

Chapter 5 Chapter Text

“Everything alright?” Hotch asked as he opened the door. He stood there in a t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, dark circles under his eyes. “It’s late.”

“Yeah, I - I’m fine.” What did you expect? He doesn’t sleep in a suit. “Sorry, I… I’m wide awake, and I’ve been staring at these women since I got out of the shower, trying to figure out what they mean to him and -”

“D’you want to come in? I’ve been trying to think through the case too.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, come on in.” He held the door open for her, Amelia smiling at the spread of crime scene photos on his bed. They mimicked hers, and whatever he’d been thinking through, she was sure they’d be on the same page. “He wants to consume her. Not just literally,” he said, sifting through the pile of photos. “He wants to possess her, to own her, to never let her go. Which tells me she let go of him on no uncertain terms.”

Amelia sat down on a corner of the bed, trying not to pay attention to his arms. He’d rolled up his sleeves before, of course, but this was a lot for him. “He was close to her. Probably for a long time. And the way he killed them - he’s eating parts of them, so I know the medical examiner can’t be sure, but the slashing, the cutting down to the bone, she said it was more consistent with rage than just dismemberment, right? He hates her, but he wants to own her. That doesn’t add up, unless…”

“Unless she rejected him. But this was too personal,” Hotch concluded, “which means they knew each other. Either they were friends and he wanted something more, or he… cheated on her.” He frowned a little, still staring at the photos.

“Either way, he loved her. Deeply.” Amelia was silent for a minute, before slowly stumbling into an idea. “He’s patrolling the bars because that’s where he thinks it happened. She met another guy. She went out, maybe with friends, maybe telling him she was going with friends, but she met someone. Maybe she wasn’t even planning on meeting him, but it happened.” She looked up at Hotch, who was nodding along. “They went home together, and somehow, our guy found out. But he wants her back. He can’t kill her, but he has to do something with all of this rage.”

“And he’ll kill her when it’s not enough for him any more.”

“We need a better profile. Something Garcia can use to narrow down the population more than ‘young white male, 25 to 35, with enough strength to overpower an unarmed woman and a house with no neighbors. And/or a basem*nt.' I mean, we can keep - I can keep acting as bait, but we might not get him in time.”

“Let’s walk through the murders again. Heather Holcomb, a month ago. Let’s start there.”

Amelia sat down on the couch, Hotch pulling up a chair and setting his laptop up on the desk. They sat up going through photos and diagrams, bouncing theories off of each other for a while. “I’m thinking he drives a van, likely an unassuming mini van that gives him space to work but with dark enough windows that -” Hotch paused. He looked up to see that Amelia had nodded off, leaning against the back of the couch. He smiled softly.

Very carefully, he got up, tucking his chair under the desk. He grabbed a blanket from the bed, gently draping it over her. She smiled in her sleep. He crept back over with a pillow, cautiously taking the case file from her hand and setting it on the desk.

Amelia woke up to sunlight streaming in through the curtains and someone humming in the background. She was curled up on the couch, perfectly warm under a blanket that she didn’t remember grabbing. She opened her eyes just to shut them instantly. Oh my God. In the fraction of a second she had her eyes open, she’d taken in a snapshot of the room. Crime scene photos on the desk, Hotch’s laptop charging next to them. An unmade bed. And Hotch himself, walking out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. She pulled the blanket up to her face, praying he hadn’t looked over to see how red she was turning.

She’d be lying to herself if she said she hadn’t noticed how good he looked when he loosened his tie and rolled his sleeves up after a long day at work. Or when he raked a hand through his hair, trying to shake the stress from his shoulders. Or when she won the occasional smile from him. Or when he’d snapped at a suspect or an errant defense attorney. Or when he was humming to himself as he got ready for breakfast, wearing nothing but a towel. She’d noticed it ten years ago too, when they’d spent plenty of late nights preparing for trial. She took a deep breath, trying to picture anything but him in a towel.

A few minutes later, Hotch crouched down next to her and gently shook her shoulder. “Hey, it’s time to get up,” he whispered.

Amelia sat up, grateful he was in a full suit. “What time is it?”

“Nearly nine. Coffee’s on, but I’m sure the coffee at the breakfast bar is better. I’ll wait for you, if you want.” He looked up at her, an uncommon caring reflected in his deep brown eyes.

“Give me five minutes to shower and five minutes to change,” she said as she stretched. “G’morning, Aaron.”

“Good morning, Amelia.”

Chapter 6 Chapter Text

“Okay, spill.” Emily took a long sip of her coffee as Amelia stirred sugar into her own paper cup. “I know we’re all exhausted, but you look like you’re overheating or getting sick or something.”

“At least you do every time Hotch looks over here,” JJ added as she reached for the maple syrup in the center of their table. Amelia had dropped into a seat between them, Hotch going to sit with Rossi and Morgan at the next table over. Reid was busy at the waffle maker, trying not to burn a second waffle the way he’d charred his first.

“What happened to ‘no profiling each other’?” Amelia leaned in, glancing at Hotch to make sure he wasn’t looking. “I’m sorry, I’m trying my best but I just can’t get the sight of Aaron Hotchner in a towel out of my mind.”

“What?” Emily mouthed, looking at Hotch before looking back at Amelia. “What do you mean?”

JJ nearly knocked over her orange juice. “What happened?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I was going to go for a walk, but his light was on. We sat up talking about the case for a while, and I fell asleep on the couch. When I woke up, he was getting ready for breakfast and, uh… I guess he’d just gotten out of the shower.”

“Does he know you saw?”

Amelia shrugged. “I don’t think so. I hope not.”

“So what’s the story?” JJ asked as she cut her waffle into pieces. “You knew each other way back when and…?”

“We had a case together - his first serial killer. Mine too, I guess. Eric Radley. He wasn’t the lead on the investigation, but he did the interview and helped trace Radley’s movements across state lines. But it was his first serial killer and his first jury as a witness, so we spent a lot of time preparing for it. I swear he was in my office every night for the two weeks leading up to the trial. But it was worth it. We won, and Radly got five life sentences.”

Emily shook her head. “Come on, you know that’s not what she meant.”

Amelia was quiet for a moment. She lowered her voice even further, thankful that the waffle maker had started beeping and Reid was trying to fish his breakfast from it. “The night before the trial, he… we kissed. Just once. Well, he kissed me. And I sort of kissed him back. Kind of. But it was once, ten years ago. Over ten years ago now. I - It’s nothing.”

“And the way he watches you from his office window is nothing?” Emily asked.

Reid dropped into the last empty chair at their table. Emily, JJ, and Amelia sat back, realizing they looked like they were conspiring about… something. “I swear that thing is built to burn someone’s fingers off,” he grumbled, reaching for the syrup and pouring out a generous amount. “So I was thinking - He has to have a history of obsessive behavior, likely stalking charges even if they weren’t convictions. And protective order violations. Maybe animal cruelty charges. He’d have to have started with animals, he’d need to learn how to kill, how to possess. You know what, hold on.” He pulled his phone from his pocket, dialing Garcia.

Twelve hours later, Amelia found herself crammed in the back of an SUV with Emily, JJ, and two local officers, all of them dressed up for a night out. “It’s Saturday, so we’ve got higher traffic in all the local bars. It’s also a full moon.”

“Great,” Morgan muttered. “Full moon is never good.”

“There’s actually no strong evidence that the moon changes people’s behavior, but at this point, our perception of it might,” Reid said from the passenger seat. “We aren’t even positive about animals. There was a study published once showing that dog bites are twice as likely during the full moon, and another study published around the same time showing that they were less likely.”

“Here we are,” Rossi announced, coming to a stop a block away from most of the bars and clubs in town. “Remember, split up in pairs, fan out across the area, and call in anything that looks like it could be a hit. Keep an eye on each other. We’ll be right outside.”

Amelia found herself leaning on a bar, nursing a can of hard seltzer that she’d dumped out in the bathroom and filled with water. She scanned the crowd, offering Morgan a nod. He was across the room at a table, a beer bottle filled with water in his hand. I wish I had my gun. He gets to carry. Too bad I can’t hide a gun in a dress like this. She absentmindedly checked her phone, trying not to look too interested in the crowd. She’d just locked it when a new message popped up.

Be careful out there. - Aaron

She smiled to herself. An errant thought, the briefest image of him standing there in a towel, drifted through her mind. She bit her lip, typing back, I’ll be fine. You’re right there.

I wish I was in the room with you. Too bad I look a little old for a bar like that.

She shook her head. No you don’t. If we don’t get him tonight, you’re my partner for tomorrow. But we’ve got to find you something other than a full suit, you’re not fitting in in that.

“Hey. All alone?” A man had joined her at the bar, coming to stand next to her. He’d been looking in her direction for a few minutes, finally gathering the courage to walk over from where he’d been leaning on the wall. “I’m Jake.”

“Amy,” she smiled back. She could feel Morgan’s eyes on her. As she casually looked out over the crowd, she saw him texting Hotch, Rossi, and Reid. “And yeah, kinda. I came with a friend. She left with a guy. You know how it goes.”

“Some friend.”

She shrugged, flashing him another smile. “It’s fine. She deserves it. The guy she was with - they got engaged, he cheated… This is the first time she’s gone out since she found him in bed with his secretary.” The slightest twitch of his eye let her know she was on to something. “What about you, Jake? Are you here alone?”

“I came with a buddy of mine, but he left early too.”

“Some buddy,” she laughed, taking another sip of her drink. “So what do you do, Jake? Hold on, let me guess. I’m usually pretty good at this.” She took a half step back, looking him up and down. Young man, on his own, makes enough money for an expensive outfit, which means he most likely owns his own car. Highly mobile, willing to approach people in bars. Hasn’t had too much to drink… hmm. “Banking. Specifically international brokerage. Probably with clients in… Hong Kong. Sri Lanka. Taiwan.”

He stared at her, starting to smile. “How could you possibly know that?”

“I have my tricks,” she shrugged. “You give it a try. What do I do?”

“Hmm… nursing? Or you’re a vet tech. Something in healthcare?” he guessed.

Amelia smiled again. “How did you know? That’s insane. Amazing.”

An hour or so later, she found herself walking out with him, arm in arm. Morgan was close behind, blending into the crowd. He stayed a few steps back, taking his time walking down the opposite side of the street. “I’ve got eyes on them,” he said into his phone.

“So do I.” Reid was watching through a pair of night vision goggles in the front seat of their surveillance vehicle. “We’re going to lose them if they go more than another block or two. They've got the street block off from 5th onward.”

“She knows. Hold on, I think they’re stopping.”

Sure enough, they came to a stop in front of an old sedan that had been badly parallel parked in front of another bar. “Are you sure you’re sober enough to drive?” Amelia asked, leaning on the passenger side of the car. “How many drinks did you have back there?”

“Not enough to not be able to touch my nose and say my ABCs backwards,” Jake smiled. He reached to open the door for her.

Amelia didn’t get in. “You sure? We could just walk if you don’t live far.”

“Nah, get in, I’m fine.” He tossed his keys in the air, catching them gracefully. “See?” It was too little, too late. The force in his voice wouldn’t be offset by a half-hearted attempt at making her laugh.

She frowned a little at the force in his voice. “Well I think I’m going to be sick if we drive too far.”

“Just get in,” he growled.

“Jake -”

He grabbed her arm, shoving her into the car and shutting the door behind her. Amelia winced, reaching up for where her head had hit the side of the car. No blood. Morgan sprinted over just as Jake peeled off, headed right back towards where Rossi, Reid, and Hotch had parked. He broke into a run. Rossi threw the SUV into drive, hitting the lights and sirens as he blocked off the road. He’d hardly stopped when Hotch jumped out, his gun in hand as Jake skidded to a stop. “Federal agent, get out of the car. Get out of the car!”

He got out slowly, holding his hands up. “Dude, put the f*cking gun away. I’m just taking my girl -”

“Not your girl,” Hotch snarled.

Amelia’s heart caught in her throat. Thank everything that’s holy he’s not looking at me.

Morgan jogged up behind him, pulling Jake’s arms behind his back and snapping on a pair of handcuffs. “You’re under arrest. That’s an abduction. And maybe a DUI. We’ll see if the breathalyzer tech is in a good mood tonight. If not, you’re going in for a blood draw even if they have to strap you down to do it.”

Hotch holstered his gun. He was at Amelia’s side in three seconds. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I - I’m fine.”

He looked her over carefully, reaching out for her arm. “You’re going to have a bruise,” he frowned. He gently brushed a few strands of hair out of her face. "How hard did you hit your head? You're not bleeding, that's good." He hesitated, letting go of her a couple of seconds later than he should have. "Are you sure you're alright?"

“I’ll be fine. He’s not our guy. He’s angry, sure, but he’s not our guy.”

“How do you know?”

“The car isn’t right, for one. Two, he’s got a solitary job, but his hours are too consistent for who we’re looking for. Aaron, I’m fine.” He’d just handed her his jacket, draping it over her shoulders. She couldn't help but smile. It felt like a warm hug. Her voice softened a little. “Seriously, I’m okay. But next time, I’m finding a way to carry my gun.”

Chapter 7 Chapter Text

Amelia stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. She’d gotten right in the shower as soon as they made it back to the hotel, scrubbing off the fingerprints that still dug into her skin. Hotch was right. She could see a blooming set of bruises starting to form where Jake had grabbed her. She shrugged it off and tried to go to bed. She managed to fall asleep, only to be woken up by a nightmare.

She sat in the passenger seat of the car, Jake speeding off for the highway. There were no red and blue lights behind them, no lights anywhere on the road. She reached for the door, but it was locked. Half of the passenger seat had been taken out. Ted Bundy did that. f*ck. They were going too fast for her to try anything. Even if she did manage to do something, they’d skid off the road and crash. Her phone was gone. “You know how I told you my name was Amy?” she asked gently. “That was my aunt’s name too. She died before my mom was born. I have a sister, Sarah. I -”

“Shut up.” Jake turned to look at her for a second. “I do not f*cking care, got it?”

“Jake -”

“Shut up!” He pulled a gun from the pocket of the door, holding it to her head while he steered with his left hand. “Shut the f*ck up. You get in the car, you shut up, you come quietly. You never leave me again, you hear me? I’m going to f*cking kill him and then we’re going to live happily-ever-f*cking-after.”

“Okay. Yes. I - It was a mistake. I never should have… I’m so sorry. It’s you, it’s always been you. I don’t know why I didn’t see that,” she said, tears dripping down her cheeks. “I was stupid. So stupid. I don’t deserve you taking me back.”

“That’s my girl.”

Not your girl. She could hear Hotch’s voice, clear as day. The anger, the want, the rage at what he’d done. Aaron, where are you? Amelia took a deep breath, staring out at the highway in front of them. “Where are we going?” she asked quietly.

“Home.”

“If we’re going home… Could you put the gun away? I want to -”

He turned towards her, nearly foaming at the mouth. “No! I don’t care what you want!”

“Jake!” She was too late. They’d skidded, spinning off the road.

Amelia woke up, gasping for air with the sound of a gunshot ringing in her ears. The clock glowed with a red 1:44 AM. She took a deep breath, all too aware of how hard her heart was pounding. There was no way she’d get back to sleep any time soon. So she stood, stretched, and went to get a drink of water. She was standing by the sink when she saw it. Hotch’s jacket, hung over the back of her chair. She smiled to herself, thinking of how he’d only given up the keys to the SUV when she was safely back with them, insisting on sitting next to her in the back while Rossi drove.

“f*ck it,” she mumbled to herself, grabbing his jacket and her room key.

Sure enough, his light was on. She knocked. “Are you okay?” he asked, concern flooding his face. “I knew I should’ve had you checked for a concussion.”

“I’m fine. I just… Thought I should give this back to you.” He held up his jacket weakly.

“At two in the morning?”

She smiled a little. “Okay, you've got me. I had a bad dream. I knew you’d be up.”

He held the door open, stepping aside so she could come in. “I can make tea, if you want. Or I think I have decaf.”

“Tea’s fine.” She sat down on the bed, looking at the map he’d spread out while he set the coffee maker to brew plain hot water. “He’s got anger issues,” she said, Hotch turning to look at her from where he stood by the sink. “That’s how he lures people in. He seems like an average guy, but when someone brings up something sensitive, he snaps. And these women he targets, they always do, one way or another. So he snaps and kills them before he really knows what he’s doing.”

“Thus the strangulation.”

“Yeah. It’s a rage crime. But then he cools off and realizes that he has her, and she can’t say no to anything. So he eats parts of her. That way he completely owns her.”

“She can’t defy him again.” He turned away for a second, coming back with steaming cups of tea. “Careful.” He sat down on the other side of the bed. “I’ll have Garcia filter our list by anyone who’s been charged as part of a bar fight, simple assault, things like that. He also probably has a history of domestic abuse, even if it was unreported. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Amelia had to smile. “Aaron, seriously, I’m okay. I have a bruise on my arm and a knot on my head. I took some ibuprofen when we got back. I don’t even have a headache.”

He set his cup down, gently turning her chin towards him. “Look right here. Follow my finger.”

My God. She held her breath for a second. “Aaron -”

“Please?”

“Fine. My pupils are the same size, I already checked.”

“Good.” He relaxed a little. “We all get hurt in the field, but… I worry.”

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I can’t help it. I do.” He took a sip of his tea and started to fold up the map in front of them.

“Well I worry about you too. You never sleep. You drink too much coffee. At least you eat your vegetables.”

He smiled softly as he set everything on the nightstand. “What was your nightmare about?”

“Tonight, but worse,” she answered evasively. “I know we all have dreams about our cases, nightmares where they don’t end the way we want them to. I’m sorry, I just - I knew you’d be awake.” And I didn’t want to talk to anyone but you.

He didn’t know how much he wanted to talk about the dreams that plagued him. Especially the ones after Haley was murdered. But she looked up at him with so much trust, so much repressed fear, so much hope in her eyes that he had to. “I have nightmares too. That’s part of why I never sleep. I dream about Haley, about what could’ve happened to Jack, about the horrible things we see every day.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I have a bottle of sleeping pills in my cabinet at home, but I never take them. I’m afraid the phone will ring and I’ll miss it. Maybe it’s the Bureau, maybe it’s Jack, maybe it’s a friend. But I don’t want to miss anything.”

She reached for his hand. “You need to sleep, Aaron. If only for the fact that you can’t be a good FBI agent if you’re overtired.”

“I will. I do. Just not easily.”

“Well, you’re always welcome to stay up late with me,” Amelia smiled. “I sleep a little better than you do, but not by much.” She set her tea aside, reaching for the remote. “If we’re going to stay up, we may as well find something to watch.”

“No crime shows,” Hotch offered.

She nodded, flipping through channels. “Food Network?”

“Sounds good to me,” he said, watching her settle in.

Every so often, Amelia would look over at him, watching him watch TV. She couldn’t deny that she liked being near him. He felt so familiar, so safe and normal in the face of everything they dealt with on a daily basis. And she couldn’t deny that he was just as handsome as they day they’d met. She’d stolen glances at him during the trial, and now she kept stealing glances at him in the soft glow of the TV screen.

Hotch glanced over at her. He couldn’t help it. Ten years before, his eyes were glued to her every day as they sat in court together. It made him feel horrible. Every day he would go home and shower right away, as if he would be able to wash the image of her from his mind. And then Haley would get home and he wouldn’t think about Amelia until the next morning, when he was getting ready for court, double checking his reflection and putting on his favorite cologne. He’d kiss Haley goodbye and a wave of guilt would wash over him. Then the trial had ended and he buried it in his mind, chalking it up to the pressure of trial, to being stuck in that small office together every day and every night preparing to get Earl Radley five life sentences. It had been a mistake, and that was it.

Now, though, it didn’t feel wrong. It felt weird, for sure. After Haley, after Beth, he’d decided to focus on himself and Jack. But now he was starting to wonder if he could expand his world just a little bit. He thought about how they’d started sitting next to each other at every meal, how she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t looking, how she’d fumble with her room key just to stay in the hall with him for an extra couple of seconds. That’s ridiculous. She’s just being friendly. Deep down, though, he knew that being with her, just being near her, helped him feel better. Maybe even relax a little. He’d never be able to push their cases out of his mind, but she helped the world feel a little less evil.

Eventually she laid down, pulling a pillow over so she could still see the TV screen. Hotch looked at her before doing the same thing. “Hi,” she smiled, the two of them suddenly close.

“Hi.”

“Aaron?”

“Hmm?”

She hesitated. “Never mind.” Instead, she moved a little, reaching for his hand. “Good?”

“Good,” he smiled. This is good. This is real. Please don’t let go.

Chapter 8 Notes:

Hi friends, I'm moving this weekend so I might not be posting for a few days. Thanks for your support <3

Chapter Text

Amelia woke up to Hotch batting at the beeping alarm clock. “G’morning,” she mumbled as she sat up. “Sorry I took over half of your bed.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I think that was the first good night’s sleep I’ve had in a while.”

“Then for your sake I hope we’re here for another night. If you want me to come back,” she added quickly.

“Would you? If I asked?”

“If you asked.”

For better or for worse, with their new ideas, Garcia was able to narrow the pool of suspects from fifty to fifteen, then down to five. They fanned out throughout the city to visit them all. Amelia’s phone rang as she and Morgan were interviewing Diego Green, a cab driver with a history of abusing his girlfriends. “Hey, Aaron.”

“We’ve got him. Prentiss and Rossi are bringing him in now. I want you in on the interview.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t call me sir.” It does something to me and I'm not ready to deal with that.

“Okay. Morgan and I will be there in ten.” She hung up, turning to Morgan. “They’ve got him. Thank you for your time, Mr. Green.”

Morgan held his tongue until they were in the car. “‘Aaron’?”

Amelia sighed, staring out the window. “We’ve known each other for a while. We met when we were both early on in our careers.” She let a minute pass before she added, “Don’t profile me, Derek.”

“Hey, I’m not saying anything. If you’re into dads, he’s a good one.”

They made it to the station a few minutes after Prentiss and Rossi had hauled their suspect into an interview room. Hotch and JJ pulled in right behind them. Reid was waiting, sitting in front of the one-way glass and staring the man down. “He fits the profile almost perfectly,” Preniss said as she emerged from the interview room. “Eric Carrington, cab driver, 29 years old with a history of assault on his girlfriends. The latest one, Tracy Jacobs, was with him for two years. They were engaged, until she cheated on him at a friend’s bachelorette party. She looks just like the victims.”

Rossi crossed his arms, staring into the interview room. “He lives on his own, a little ways out of town. Forensics is combing his basem*nt right now.”

“Let him sit for a while, then I want you in there with me,” Hotch said, looking at Amelia. “Give me a five-minute head start.”

Amelia checked her watch when Hotch walked into the interview room. Five minutes later, she knocked, stepping inside and shutting the door behind her. “Hi.” She sat down across from him, giving him a soft smile. “I’m Amelia. I heard you wanted to talk, but my friends figured I’d be the best person for you to talk to.”

“Eric,” he breathed, bowing his head into his hands. “I’m sorry. Tracy, I’m really sorry.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Why are you sorry? I was the one who wronged you. I never should have done that. I never should’ve cheated on you.”

He looked up, glaring at her with pure rage in his eyes. “I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.”

“Like you killed all of those other women?”

He jumped up, Hotch forcing him down by the shoulders. “Enough. We’ll let the locals deal with you. Tracy, come on.”

Amelia got up and started to follow him out of the room.

“No! Wait!” They turned back to where Eric was sitting. “I - yes, I killed them. They deserved it. Just like you do. And to think I wanted to marry you.”

Without another word, Amelia stepped back outside. Hotch followed. “That’s that,” Rossi said, glancing around the group. “Our work here is done. Anyone want lunch before we get back on the jet? I have a friend who owns a restaurant in the Convention District.”

Amelia found herself sitting next to Hotch on the jet. Some of the others had fallen asleep. Reid was poring over a book. JJ had her headphones in. “Good job back there,” he said, closing the case file in front of him. “I knew you’d be able to get under his skin, but that was impressive.”

“Thanks.” She lowered her voice a little. “Sorry you only got one good night of sleep.”

He smiled, looking down at the cover of the file instead of at her. “It’s alright. Umm…” Hotch never hesitated. But now he was turning something over in his mind, wondering if it was a risk worth taking. “When we get back… I was contacted about a potential prison interview at Red Onion. Would you like to come with me?”

“Sounds like fun. Seven hour road trip?”

Hotch nodded. “Fourteen round trip. John Reeves is set to be executed at the end of the week, which means we’ve got to leave tonight if we want to get as much time with him as possible.”

“I’ll run home and grab some new clothes. Meet you back at the Bureau half an hour from when we land?”

Chapter 9 Chapter Text

“John Reeves was convicted of killing three women over the course of two years,” Hotch narrated as he drove. “Guards have heard him bragging about at least two more. By the time we get there, we’ll have seven hours before the prison opens for visitors, six before they’ll let us in. And then we have two days before he’s executed. The governor’s on vacation, so I assume Reeves is all out of pardons. He’s also exhausted all of his appeals, so it’s going to happen.”

Amelia sat in the passenger seat, eating trail mix and Googling John Reeves on her phone. “At least we’ll have enough time for a shower and some sleep. Red Onion better have a good coffee maker. This says he’s also been convicted of attempting to murder his cellmate with a shank he made out of a stem from his glasses.”

“Four years ago. It was an argument over who got the last pack of cup noodles.”

“They’re good when you’re coming home from a night at the bar, but I wouldn’t stab anyone over them.” She opened another article. “D’you think they’ll let us see Lee Malvo while we’re there?”

“I doubt it. He’s held in a separate wing. It’s a lot just to let us talk to Reeves.”

“Talking to Reeves sounds like a lot,” she said as she swiped out of the article. “Do me a favor and don’t wear a tie.”

He nodded gravely. “No ties, no pens, no pencils, no earrings, don’t put your hair up. Bulletproof vests if we get a bad read from him when we first meet him or if he’s been in trouble lately. Something you won’t find online - he’s tried to bite people before. Took a good chunk out of a guard’s arm a few months ago.”

“So we’re walking in totally unarmed to interview Hannibal Lecter. Great.”

“I’ll keep you safe,” he smiled, stealing a brief glimpse at her.

“I’m sure you will.” She stowed the trail mix in their bag of snacks. “Have you been to Red Onion before? Wait, before you answer - we need Exit 124. Right up here.”

Hotch hit his turn signal. “I’ve been out there twice. It’s not a place I’d like to end up.” He took the exit and merged onto another highway. They’d be driving through a stretch of nowhere for a while. “Is this your first prison interview?”

“It depends. I’ve interviewed inmates who were going to testify against someone in prisons before. But this is different, isn’t it? Reeves doesn’t want to help us. Maybe he wants to stab us. Or eat us.” She looked out the window, thinking back to the first time she’d walked through the metal detectors at a jail. She’d been going to talk to a federal inmate who was going to testify against a robber-turned-murderer. They’d met in a tiny visitation room, no wall, no glass, not even a table between them. He’d been nothing but polite, but Amelia had been anxious the entire time. At least now she had Hotch with her.

Five hours later, they pulled into a small hotel near Pound, Virginia. It was nearly midnight. Amelia leaned on the counter, guarding their bags as Hotch checked in. They were the only people in the lobby, aside from the bored desk clerk who had been dozing off when they walked in. He handed her a room key, stifling a yawn. “Where am I headed?”

“121. She says it’s down the hall to the left,” he said as he picked up his bag.

“And where are you?”

“121.”

“Did you do that on purpose?” she laughed. “Aaron…”

“No, it was originally just supposed to be me. I guess Garcia never changed the reservation.” Hotch stopped at the door, fishing for his room key in his pocket. Amelia scanned hers first. Both of them paused as they walked in, Hotch promising that, “I really didn’t plan that.” sh*t. No matter what, she’s going to think you did this on purpose. f*ck. Instead of two double beds, they’d been given a room with just one. “I - we can go back down to the lobby and ask if they can swap us.”

Amelia set her bag down, shaking her head as she pulled out her toothbrush and toothpaste. “It’s fine. Maybe you’ll sleep better this way.” I’m definitely not complaining.

They got ready for bed in silence. Amelia climbed into bed first, taking the side further from the door. Hotch did his best to stick to his side of the bed, at least until she told him that, “It’s okay if you want to move closer. You’re going to roll over and fall right off the bed, and I really don’t want to have to do this interview while you’re concussed.”

So he moved closer, until his hand brushed against hers. She intertwined her fingers with his. His heart leapt. “Amelia?” It was hardly more than a whisper in the dark.

“Hmm?”

He’d thought about it for hours. Nearly the whole drive there, the plane ride, every moment he wasn’t hugging Jack goodbye and promising Jessica that he’d be back at the end of the week. If he was completely honest with himself, he’d been thinking about it since the moment she first walked through his office door. “What are we doing?”

It was a long couple of seconds, an eternity in the blink of an eye. “I don’t know.” And then another eternity before she added, “I like you, Aaron. I always have, but back then, you were a witness and I was an attorney and you were engaged and… it would’ve been a mess if anything had happened. But now you’re my boss. If we put words to it, that means something.”

“Can I ask you something else then?" He hardly heard his own voice over his heartbeat pounding in his ears. "Without actually asking you anything?”

“Sure.”

He leaned in and kissed her gently, praying he was doing the right thing. He felt her smile against him as he pulled away, a fraction of a second before she kissed him back. “That’s good to know. How about we figure the rest out later? We have five hours before we have to leave for the prison.”

“Can I ask you something without really asking you something?”

“Anything.”

She moved closer until she’d tucked her head under his chin, snuggling into his chest. He draped an arm around her, holding her close. “Goodnight, Aaron.”

“Goodnight, Amelia.”

He'd lay awake for a while, just holding her and wishing he could wipe the stupid smile off of his face. He buried his nose in her hair, wishing the night would never end. Thank goodness for second chances.

Chapter 10 Chapter Text

John Reeves stood in an interview room in the depths of Red Onion State Prison. He stared out the sliver of a window, watching the sky through the bars. A flock of birds flew past just as the door opened. He turned, handcuffs clanking together. “I’m Agent Hotchner with the FBI. This is Agent Davenport.”

“We need your help.”

Reeves frowned. “I’m going to die in 48 hours. I don’t think there’s much help I can give you.”

“You agreed to talk to us,” Amelia said as she sat down. Reeves followed suit. Hotch unlocked his handcuffs before moving to stand behind Amelia. “You have 48 hours left - 47 and a half now. Why agree spend that time with us?”

“I have no family left, at least none who would want to see me. I’ve been barred from talking to the press after the mess with that reporter.” Amelia grimaced. A few months back, he’d taken a chunk out of a reporter’s arm for calling him James instead of John. “May as well spend the next 48 hours doing something interesting.”

Amelia leaned a little closer. “Well we need your help. What happened to Shelby Archer and Wendy Graham?”

“I have no idea who they are.”

“Cut the bullsh*t,” Hotch said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “What Agent Davenport meant to ask is - What did you do to them? And where did you leave them?”

Reeves sighed, shaking his head. “No. No, no, no. That’s not nice. You want to know anything, you play nice.” He pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. Amelia immediately thought of the report she'd seen - he'd filed down his last pair of glasses to make a weapon.

“We aren’t here to play by your rules.” Hotch crossed his arms.

Amelia looked over at him before turning back to Reeves. She’d never been this close to a serial killer before. Not for this long. An arrest, an interview, sure. But they’d be spending the next 48 hours with John Reeves, whose unassuming face hid a monster. The hands that sat neatly folded on the table had strangled five women to death, two of them still missing. “You’ve been in here for eleven years. You’ve been through all of your appeals. County jail, three prisons before this one. You’ve met a lot of killers, I bet. And I bet you’ve come to understand them a lot better than Agent Hotchner and I do. I also know you majored in psychology.” She opened the file in front of her, turning it around so he could see the two yearbook photos tacked inside. “We need your help. These two girls have been missing for twelve years. If anyone knows the kind of person who would do this, if anyone could help us understand, it’s you.”

He thought about it for a moment before reaching for one of the photos. Amelia drew back. “You’re not allowed to touch anything we bring into this room,” Hotch reminded him. “You can point.”

“This one there,” Reeves said, pointing towards Shelby Archer’s graduation photo. “Where did they last see her?”

It was Hotch’s turn to frown. “She was dropping her brother off at an arcade when she got a flat. He went inside, she used the phone to call her boyfriend. When he got there, she was gone.”

“He would have approached her then,” Reeves narrated, barely speaking above a whisper. Amelia leaned in even closer. “When she was walking back from making that call, angry because he’d asked if she knew how to change a tire. He’d worked the night shift and didn’t want to go all the way out there, but he promised he would. Then your killer would have approached her. Angry, afraid… he offered to help her.”

“And then?”

“And then she said yes. He would have pulled his car right next to hers, and asked her for help taking some things out of his trunk so he could get a jack and a tire wrench. He’d have hit her over the head when she leaned in to help move things. Knocked her out cold.”

Amelia held her breath. It all made sense. The flat tire, the random objects they’d found near her car, the last phone call and the confused boyfriend. “What would he have done with her? He was out in public, wasn’t he? Where someone could see him at any moment?”

Reeves closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “He got bold, after the first three. But he would be conscious of it, of their eyes on him. So he would drive her out to the mountains, where he’d choke the life out of her. She woke up in the car, at least partially. She started talking to him. She was confused, thinking she was supposed to be at graduation. But he knew it was too late to let her go. So he would keep driving. He would take her out to the middle of nowhere, to a spot he knew he wouldn’t be seen.”

“Would he visit her again? This type of killer, would he want to see what he’d accomplished?”

“Not right away. He would be afraid they were on to him. He would wait a day or two, three at most, and then he would come back. I - He would feel it again, the rush he got when he saw the life leave her eyes. He would feel it again and again, until she was too far gone for him to see it. And then he would take another one.” He opened his eyes again, smiling at the look on Amelia’s face. “Do you think you could convince Agent Hotchner there to get me a smoke break?”

“I think that could be arranged,” Amelia said, looking over at Hotch.

He nodded tersely. “We could use a stretch break and some more coffee. Do you want any?”

Five minutes later, he and Amelia stood in the hall, fresh cups of coffee in hand. “Good thinking back there.”

“Thanks. What I’m doing now, that’s what they did with Ted Bundy. He refused to speak about the murders until they played to his ego and called him an expert profiler, more or less. He’d still only talk in hypotheticals, but they got answers that way.”

Hotch took a sip of his coffee, making a face. “This tastes like motor oil.”

“The sugar packets probably expired about when John Reeves got here, but they help.” She yawned. “I’ll take motor oil over no caffeine.”

“That brings us to the question - We’ve had five hours of sleep. Good sleep, but five hours. How long do we talk to Revees before we call it a day? We’re down to 43 hours.”

“We have to stop at some point. Let’s see if he keeps giving us information. If we can find out where he buried Shelby Archer by the end of the day, I’m happy,” Amelia said, taking a sip of her coffee. It definitely tasted burnt, but the sugar made a bit of a difference. “Honestly, I’m surprised he’s talking this freely.”

“Makes me think he’s up to something.”

Amelia raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“He bit a journalist, he’s stabbed people, he’s a general security risk. And now he has nothing left to lose.”

“Why not just try to kill us, then?” She glanced back into the room where Reeves sat patiently waiting for them.

“He’s playing a game. He wants to see you react. He’s killing you in his own way.”

“Is that why you haven’t been saying anything in there?”

Hotch nodded. He looked around before taking a step closer. “Are you alright? I’ve been trying to watch you without him noticing that I’m onto what he’s doing. He’s using you, so you get to pull the plug if it becomes too much. It's up to you.”

“I’m fine. Besides, I’d rather get their families some answers than… than be able to sleep at night.”

“I can help with that,” he whispered.

Amelia smiled into her coffee. “You do.”

Chapter 11 Chapter Text

Amelia had never had dinner with a serial killer before. But now here she was, sitting across the table from John Reeves and splitting a pizza with him. Hotch made another cup of bad coffee and called it a meal. “So John - Can I call you John?”

“You can,” he said through a mouth full of food.

“John, where would he have left Shelby Archer? The kind of killer we've been talking about, where would he go that would be close enough to hide her?”

“Probably Whitetop Mountain.”

She looked over at Hotch, who nodded at her. The warden had been listening in. He’d be calling over to have a local search and rescue team dispatched. “Why there?”

“It was quiet. No one was around. It was nearly winter, she wouldn’t be found until the spring thaw.”

It was enough for her. He didn’t bother mentioning his childhood home was less than twenty miles from Whitetop Mountain, but Amelia and Hotch already knew. They knew his life almost as well as he did, between what they’d gathered from the news and the files Garcia had sent over. “Thank you for your help, John. Do you mind if we keep talking tomorrow?”

“I’d love that,” he smiled. It would take her a long time to get that image out of her head. It was the last thing at least five women had ever seen.

Amelia took a long shower when they got back to the hotel. Hotch had gone out to pick up dinner. He was starving by the time they left the prison, but there was no way he’d sit down and have dinner with someone like John Reeves. She was standing in front of the mirror when he got back. “Hey.”

“Hey. Want some fries?” He appeared in the mirror behind her holding a greasy takeout bag. “I got extra.”

“Thanks,” she smiled, turning to face him. She took a few steps forward, reaching out to untie his tie. “Aaron… Can we talk?”

“That sounds dangerous.” He took a deep breath, putting a gentle hand to her cheek. “Do you really want to talk about it? If we do that… Talking about it makes it real. That means we’d have to meet with HR and -”

She leaned into his touch, kissing his palm. “Maybe it can wait, then. But, uh, is it safe to say we can fall asleep like we did last night?”

“I’d like that. A lot.”

“Good. Me too.” She wrapped her arms around him.

Hotch hugged her back, burying his nose in her hair. “Thank you for coming with me.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” she said as they sat down on the bed and he handed her a thing of fries. “I’ve never been on a prison interview like this before. I watched plenty of them in school and in the Academy, but this is something else. I’ve wanted to take a shower and scrub it all off from the minute he started talking.”

Hotch nodded as he ate. “They’re always this interesting. Every one is unique. I’ve had inmates break down crying, I’ve had them confess to more than we ever knew about, I’ve had them try to kill me. Prison interviews never cease to surprise me.”

“You never cease to surprise me. I appreciate the fries, though.”

“Can I tell you something?” Hotch hadn’t said a word when they’d climbed into bed and turned the lights off, Amelia moving over to cuddle up to him.

“Anything,” she said into his chest.

He took a deep breath. She felt it. “When I’m with you like this, the world is finally quiet. I don’t think about our cases. I can’t hear victims screaming, or unsubs making threatening phone calls or… or anything but you. And in that silence… there’s wonderful in that.” He smiled as he felt her smile against his chest.

“I - You too. Everything feels safe and quiet with you. Aaron, I… I’m sorry. I’m sorry about everything ten years ago. Haley didn't deserve -”

He swallowed hard. “She never knew.” There was a twinge of guilt in his voice, even now.

“Well, I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault. It was… trial-induced psychosis. Trial-induced Stockholm Syndrome. We saw so much of each other that…” He trailed off, not really knowing where he was going. We saw so much of each other that I fell for you? Or I was starting to? That I thought you were into me too?

“It wasn’t just that. I liked you then too. But I knew my boss would kill me. Besides, you were engaged and looking at houses and I couldn’t ruin that for the chance of something.”

“We’d been fighting a lot,” Hotch confessed. “Looking for our first house and planning a wedding was much more stressful than I’d thought when I blindly asked her to marry me. I was looking for a reason not to be home, because every time I went back to our apartment, we’d argue about something. The trial was the perfect excuse. I’d log twelve hours a day at work to avoid arguing with Haley. I was terrified that every argument would be our last, but I was also just so angry all the time. And then I met you. I looked at you and saw what I’d been a few years before, a bright, eager attorney on the cusp of my first big case. And an undeniably brilliant and beautiful woman.”

Amelia moved just enough to be able to look at him. She reached up and gave him a soft kiss. “You were the most handsome man I’d met in a while, and it just got better when you’d take your jacket off and roll up your sleeves to get to work. I’d ask you stupid questions just to keep you talking,” she admitted.

“You like that? I’ll have to do that more often. And please ask me stupid questions, I never get tired of talking to you.” He kissed her in return, pausing for a moment before he made his next confession. “Haley and I met in high school. I loved her deeply from the moment I met her, but we were very different people in some ways. When I met you, you reminded me of me. You understood. A lot of it came from working the same job and knowing what being a prosecutor was like, but you also just… reminded me of me. There’s no other way to say it. I felt terrible.”

“Do you still feel terrible?”

“Now? No. You just feel right now. Everything feels right. Like this is the way it should be.”

Chapter 12 Chapter Text

“Wendy Graham,” Amelia said, pushing a faded yearbook photo across the table towards Reeves. “Seventeen years old, junior prom queen, just disappeared one day while she was biking to a friend’s house. What kind of person do you think she ran into?”

Reeves picked up the photo, staring at it intently. Hotch stood in the corner, staring at Reeves just as keenly. Hotch studied him as Reeves studied the picture. Reeves tore his eyes away from Wendy Graham for long enough to look between them. “Interesting. Very interesting.” He leaned back in his hair, throwing the picture on the table before crossing his arms. “You’re going to tell me something before I tell you something.”

Hotch shook his head. “We’re not bargaining.”

“Then Mr. and Mrs. Graham never find out where their daughter is.”

“We’ll tear up every tree on Whitetop Mountain to find where you buried her.” He leaned on the table, glaring at Reeves. “We are not bargaining.”

Amelia reached for his arm. Hotch paused, then withdrew to the corner. “What do you want to know? We should at least know that before we decide.”

“Good girl.”

Hotch bristled.

“And there’s all the confirmation I need." Reeves smiled like a shark.

Hotch left the room without another word. Amelia stood and followed him out. “What?” she asked when she was sure the door was closed and locked behind her.

“He knows.”

“He knows… What?”

“He’s reading us at the same time we’re reading him. He’s figured out that we’re…” He trailed off, not able to find the words. “Close. That something’s going on. That I'm not just your supervisor.”

“And?”

“He’s a serial killer who’s slaughtered five women, maybe more. Anything he can learn about us, he can use against us.” He turned on his heel to stare into the interview room. “I don’t know what he’s up to, but I intend to figure it out.”

They stepped back into the room, Amelia taking up her old seat and Hotch leaning against the wall, crossing his arms. “Wendy Graham -”

“How far has it gone?”

“What?”

“How far? Has it gone?”

Amelia sighed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Reeves shook his head, letting out a laugh. “How long have you been in love with your boss?”

She bowed her head into her hands. Reeves laughed again, a horse laugh, like he hadn’t laughed in years. Hotch did his best not to react. Amelia pinched the bridge of her nose, looking Reeves in the eye and refusing to look back at Hotch. “Ten years,” she whispered.

“A little louder, beautiful.”

“Ten years,” she blushed. “I - We met… ten years ago. In a different life, almost. I…” She looked back at Hotch with tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I… I’m sorry.”

He let out a deep sigh. “Agent Rossi and I will discuss this later.”

“Please don’t - I’ll put in for a transfer when we get back.” She wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. “I’ll go out to Seattle or something, you won’t have to worry about my judgment being compromised or… I’m sorry.” She got up and rushed into the hall.

Hotch took her seat. Amelia was watching as he calmly slid the photo of Wendy Graham back across the table. “Oh come on, Hotch, you’re not going to say anything about that?”

“Agent Hotchner,” he corrected. “You got what you wanted out of her, now where is Wendy Graham?”

“Hmm, it was a clever game Agent Davenport was playing with me, wasn’t it? I take it you’re not one for games. I don’t think I’ve seen you smile once.”

Hotch pushed his chair back, standing up again. “If you’re not going to give me anything useful, you can spend your next 23 hours staring at the inside of your cell.”

“Wait.”

He paused.

“You want to know how it happened? I’ll tell you.” Hotch sat back down slowly. “Wendy Graham was tired. She’d been biking for a bit and she’d just gotten home from track practice when she made plans with that friend of hers. She was walking her bike along the river when I found her. She got in my car willingly. I didn't have to ask twice. I told her my gas light was on. I pulled over, knocked her out… and took her to the woods.”

“Where is she?”

Reeves paused. “I answered your question. Now answer mine. If you had the chance - Would you f*ck the brains out of that pretty little special agent of yours?”

Hotch blinked. He knew his face betrayed him. Outside of the interview room, Amelia turned her back on the one-way window. She knew Hotch would be weighing every word, trying to decide if answering Reeves would be worth it. Hotch swallowed hard. He looked down at the table. “Yes.”

That chilling laugh again. “Good, good. There’s a cave, hardly more than a bit of shelter on Whitetop Mountain. I left her there. I’d have given her a proper burial, but your friends got to me first.”

Without another word, Hotch left the room. He didn’t say anything to Amelia until they were back in their hotel room, packing up their go-bags. “We don’t have to talk about it, but you’ve been too quiet for too long,” Amelia said as she zipped up her suitcase. She stuck her head in the bathroom, making sure they hadn’t left anything behind. “Don’t forget your toothbrush.”

“Thanks.” That was all he said until they were back in the car.

Amelia stared out of the window, her mind a million miles away. If you had the chance - Would you f*ck the brains out of that pretty little special agent of yours? She couldn’t stop thinking about it. Reeves’ words, yes. But her mind drifted back to seeing Hotch in nothing but a towel, to what would’ve happened if she’d been awake, if she’d kissed him then, if -

“I’m sorry.”

“Huh?” She looked over at him, not fully processing that he’d actually said something.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. He kept his eyes on the road as he told her, “That was - you know that was what I had to say to get an answer. I know you were playing along, but that was… a lot, to say the least.”

"Thank you.” She hesitated. But then curiosity got the better of her. “Would you do it?”

“Yes. But not now, not this early. I at least owe you a real dinner first. Not fast food, not room service or a pizza while we’re looking at files. I owe you a real dinner, a real date, a real relationship. I like you. A lot. And I don’t want to screw this up.”

She smiled softly. “I like you too. A lot. Let’s see where this goes.”

He waited for a moment. “We’re going to get back around eleven, maybe midnight if we hit traffic. Would you want to stay over? Just to sleep,” he rushed to clarify.

“What about Jack?”

“He’ll have already gone to bed at Jessica’s. I’ll pick him up after school tomorrow.”

“Okay. You better have extra blankets. You keep stealing mine.”

He smiled, finally glancing over at her. “I’ll do my best to share.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yes.” He stared out at the road ahead of them. "But I might not answer."

“Would you? f*ck the brains out of that pretty little special agent of yours?”

She could’ve sworn he short-circuited. “I - Umm…” He took a steadying breath. “Yes. I - sometimes enjoy being that… rough. If you asked me, I would. But I want to make love with you first. And before that, I want to - to fall in love with you. I’m already falling,” he corrected himself. “I want to give it a little more time.”

She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “Me too. I can feel myself falling in love with you, Aaron Hotchner. It's the most wonderful feeling in the world.”

Chapter 13 Notes:

I'm making the brothers 6 years apart instead of 16, I've gotta make the math work for the story.

Chapter Text

“You stupid boy!” A glass went flying, narrowly missing Sean’s shoulder. It hit the wall, shattering on the kitchen floor. “Why can’t you be more like your brother?!”

Aaron stepped in front of him, shielding his little brother. “Go upstairs,” he whispered. Sean didn’t need to be told twice. He never seemed to know how to stay out of trouble, but he knew how to get out of it when the opportunity arose. Like every Thursday night, when their father would come home from the bar and pour himself another drink. And Friday. And Saturday, Sunday, and nearly every other night of the week.

This time it had been over Sean failing a math test. Last time Aaron wasn’t home on time. Before that, he’d forgotten to fill the car up. Sean had thrown a baseball through the window. He’d had too many friends over. He’d skipped class. Aaron hadn’t taken the trash out fast enough. He’d forgotten to take something out to defrost for dinner. He hadn’t made dinner on time. It was a bad day at the office, in court, in a meeting. No matter what it was, Richard Hotchner made it very clear that his sons had to pay for any misstep, their fault or not.

“I wish he was more like you,” Rich grumbled. Aaron instinctively shrank back as he approached. He said nothing, getting a broom out of the pantry and starting to sweep up the glass. “I’m talking to you, boy.”

“Sean tries his best. School isn’t his strong suit.”

“School isn’t his strong suit? His father is a lawyer, for f*ck’s sake. And a damn good one at that. It’s your mother, that’s what. She babied him too much.”

“Mom did her best,” Aaron said quietly. “You weren’t around.” He regretted it instantly.

His father swung at him, landing a solid blow to his cheek. “I put this roof over your head! I paid for that car and your stupid theater club and all of the sh*t that Sean’s ever broken. Don’t you dare talk to me like that! Thank f*ck your mother can’t see what the two of you have become, you ungrateful assholes!” He swung again. Aaron tried to duck out of his way, but he wasn’t fast enough. He inhaled sharply as his lip split open.

Hotch sat up in bed, drenched in a cold sweat. Amelia was sleeping peacefully beside him. He reached up with a shaking hand. He’d bitten his lip in his sleep. “Aaron?” She sat up slowly, looking around and realizing they weren’t at a hotel. They were in his bed, and they’d been curled up together until a few minutes ago. “You sounded like you were crying.” She reached over and turned the lamp on. Instantly she knew she was right. “What’s wrong?”

“Bad dream,” he said in a raspy voice. “Sorry to wake you.”

“It’s fine. Are you okay?”

He turned to stare at the foot of the bed. “No.”

Amelia reached for his hand, lacing their fingers together. “What is it?”

“My father. It sounds sick to say it, but I’m glad he’s dead. I’m glad Jack never met him. I was happy when I got the call. Isn’t that messed up?”

“No. If he gives you nightmares, then no.”

He frowned. “I spent a lot of my childhood afraid of my father. Even when I got older, when I was a teenager, I was still afraid of him. He drank a lot. He was angry a lot. He took it out on us. I was glad when I left for college, but as soon as I got there, I started worrying about Sean. And then Dad died, and he went to live with our aunt and uncle. It was probably the best thing for him.”

“Aaron -”

“We all have our reasons for hunting monsters. He was mine.”

“Aaron… I’m sorry.” She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him as well as she could.

He turned to kiss the top of her head. “It all worked out in the end. For both of us. Sean and I dealt with it differently, but I can’t deny that it didn’t help make us who we are.”

“What about your mom?”

Silence.

“She died when I was young. Sean was… two, I think. I was eight. I’ll never be able to prove it, but Dad…” he shook his head, trailing off. “Dad would drink so much that he wouldn’t remember what he did in the morning. He told me she fell down the stairs.”

If Amelia’s heart hadn’t broken already, she was sure it was shattered now. She held him tightly, not quite knowing what to say. He’d lost his mother. His father would have been better off out of the picture. His ex-wife had been murdered. He hadn’t told her, but she was convinced the pattern of scars on his chest meant he’d been attacked too. All he had was Jack. Jack and his job, those were the only things that held him together. She desperately tried to hold onto him, to fill the room with care and warmth and some semblance of hope that things would get better. “Aaron, I… I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. No one deserves that.”

“I’m glad he’s dead. It’s a horrible thing to say, I know.”

“I’m glad you’re free of him. You and Sean. And Jack. I’m glad he never knew that.”

Hotch leaned his head on hers. “Thank you for staying,” he said after a moment. “I know it doesn’t seem like it tonight, but you really do help me sleep better than I have since… a long time ago.”

“I’ll stay every night if you let me,” she smiled as they laid back down together.

More than anything, he wished she could stay for good. But he knew it was too early. “I want you to, but we both know we can’t. Not yet. I want you to,” he repeated, reaching out to tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear. “I also want to take you for a real dinner, have you meet Jack, all of the other things that go into this.”

“I know. But I promise I’ll drive over and climb in your window if you have another nightmare.”

“I’ll leave it unlocked for you,” he laughed.

Chapter 14 Chapter Text

“How’d the interview go?” Emily asked, sitting down in the conference room with a fresh cup of coffee.

Amelia was busy stirring coffee creamer into her own cup. She ducked into the fridge to put it away, her voice echoing a little as she answered. “Good. Reeves gave us two more confirmed kills. Local police are out searching for anything they can find. Skeletal remains are better than nothing, y’know?”

“How was the hotel?” JJ asked innocently.

“Fine,” Amelia shrugged as she sat down. “I’ve been to better. I’ve definitely been to worse.”

Emily and JJ shared a look. “Come on. Garcia told us about what she did.”

“Huh?”

“She never updated the reservation even though Hotch asked her to,” JJ said, a smile creeping onto her face. “After your, uh, free show at the last hotel we were at, we told her not to.”

“I hate you guys. I love you guys, but I hate you.” She took a sip of her coffee. "Remind me to tell Garcia too."

“Well?”

Hotch walked in before Amelia could say anything. Emily and JJ shared a knowing look as he passed out a stack of files. Rossi followed a moment later, switching on the TV screen. Morgan and Reid took the last open seats. Amelia slid them two copies of the file. “Jeremy Hatton and Laura Sands, 24 and 21 years old, have robbed a string of banks and killed two officers and a bank teller in the process. Their latest target was National Trust in Akron, Ohio. They got $9,000 and killed the teller.”

“I’m sorry, but it sounds like we have the who, what, and where,” Morgan said as he opened his file. “Oh.”

“Right,” Hoth nodded. “They’ve hit banks in Ohio, Indiana, Kentucky, and West Virginia. They’re highly mobile and take advantage of the no-high-speed-chase rules in certain cities. And we have no idea where they’re going to strike next. Wheels up in thirty.”

“To… where?” Emily asked.

“We’ll start in Akron. Fan out from there. Garcia should be getting us complete histories soon.”

Chapter 15 Notes:

Hi friends, I'm going on a work trip tomorrow so I may be posting less frequently this week. But thank you all for the love and support!

Chapter Text

Amelia sat at an overflowing desk in the Akron police station. She was busy staring at security footage, watching the latest bank robbery on loop. She nearly jumped when a hand set a cup of coffee down next to her. “You scared the sh*t out of me,” she laughed.

Hotch pulled up a chair beside her. “Sorry. I thought you heard me.”

She took a sip of coffee, shaking her head. “I’ve been watching the National Trust footage. Reid and I did a walkthrough. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“I had Garcia check for reports of stolen cars in the area. We’ve got three that fit the right time frame, BOLO alerts out for all of them.”

“Good.” She turned to look at him, studying him for a moment.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She cast a quick glance around the station. No one was within earshot. “I like how you look when you’ve got a puzzle to solve.”

It made him smile. It was the first time he’d smiled since they landed. “I made sure our rooms are next to each other,” he whispered, leaning in to talk to her. “Just in case you can’t sleep.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sleep alone again.”

“Neither do I.”

Reid cleared his throat as he walked in. He wasn’t exactly sure what he’d walked in on, but Amelia and Hotch sure looked like they were conspiring about something. “Rossi and I just interviewed the surviving tellers from the National Trust robbery. We were right - Laura went in first, almost as if to see if there was anyone in there aside from the staff. Jeremy came in with a gun already drawn. They were gone for two minutes before police arrived. Just like all the other robberies. Indiana police missed them by thirty seconds. Any word from Morgan and Prentiss?”

“Not yet. They were crossing into Michigan last I heard,” Hotch said as Reid went to steal a chair from a nearby desk. “You can have mine.” He stood, fishing in his pocket for his cell phone. “I owe the detective a call.”

He stepped out into the hall as he dialed. Reid watched him go before turning to Amelia. “What… Is there something going on?”

“What do you mean?”

Reid shook his head. “Never mind.” Her question was more of an answer than he’d expected. “I’m going to ask Garcia to put out a traffic camera alert for the stolen vehicles. It would mean local police need to double-check the camera reports, but it’s better to get dozens of eyes on them than hoping they hit a roadblock.”

“Good idea. Let’s have her extend the search to nearby states. Something tells me we need to be looking further than just Michigan.”

She was right. Garcia called a couple of hours later, when they’d gathered in the police station’s meeting room. “Traffic cams got a hit,” she announced, “but you’re not going to like it.”

“Where, Garcia?” Hotch stared intently at his phone.

“Burton, West Virginia. I already called off Morgan and Prentiss, they’re on their way back to you. But these kids are clever little rascals. At least Jeremy Sands is. They’ve switched cars twice, but I’ve been able to track them through security cameras each time they steal a new one. The last hit was on Highway 250 headed east. I don't think they'll be switching cars for another hundred miles or so unless this one burns out.”

“And if the pattern holds, they’re going to be holding up a bank or a convenience store within the next twelve hours,” Hotch concluded. “Thanks, Garcia.”

“Over and out.”

He turned to face the others. “We’re not going to out-drive them. They already have too much of a head start. JJ, get ahold of local law enforcement all the way down Highway 250. Let them know what’s coming. Reid, where’s the closest airstrip to Burton, West Virginia?”

It wasn’t long before Garcia rerouted them in the air. They landed a little ways outside of Harrisonburg, Virginia, and hit the ground running. The town had been alerted that Jeremy Hatton and Laura Sands - and the BAU - were on the way. Night was falling fast, and every member of law enforcement in the surrounding area was out on patrol. Every potential target had at least two undercover officers stationed inside. As the sun began to set and businesses started to close for the day, everyone was on high alert.

Amelia found herself sitting in the lobby of City Financial Bank, watching every customer who entered. Hotch sat next to her. She checked her watch impatiently. It agreed with the clock in front of them: Three minutes to six. Three minutes to closing time. The door swung open. A young wisp of a woman, cropped hair tucked behind her ears, walked inside and looked around. Laura. Amelia looked up at her casually before looking back down at the magazine she’d been flipping through. “Honey, should we just come back tomorrow?” she asked. “Our appointment was an hour ago. I’m getting hungry.”

“Unless they can get us an appointment after I’m off work, we’re staying. I took two hours of my vacation time to sit around a bank,” he sighed, deflating in his chair. The young woman made her way up to the counter as Hotch reached for Amelia's hand. “We’re getting that house, I promise.” He checked his phone and shot a quick text to the team. They’re here.

“Okay, but we’re getting dinner on the way home.”

Amelia flipped a page as the door chimed again. A young man stepped inside, full of nervous energy. He was drumming his fingers on his leg as he walked up to the last teller left. Little did he know that the teller was an undercover officer borrowed from the Harrisonburg Police Department. He cleared his throat and said something to her that Amelia could hardly hear. She shook her head. As if on cue, he pulled a gun from his waistband.

“Jeremy Hatton.” Hotch stood a second before she did, his gun drawn before Jeremy could turn his head. “Put the gun down.”

“No way in hell,” Jeremy spat back.

“It doesn’t have to be this way.”

“Laura,” Amelia said, holding her empty hands up. “Laura, I know you know this isn’t the way things were supposed to be. It was just once, and then he’d give it up, right? One shot of adventure, and then you could run off a few states away and use the money to straighten your lives out.” Laura was a half-step behind Jeremy, as if he had a living shadow. “You’d get a house and a car, it wouldn’t be anything fancy but it would be yours, right? And his friends wouldn’t come around. You didn’t like them, your brother’s friends from prison. No, just Jeremy. Jeremy understood you in a way that no one else could. And he could get you out of a boring life.”

“Don’t listen to her, baby," Jeremy whispered.

Amelia held her hand out. “Laura, it’s over. I know it was supposed to be - You were supposed to be Bonnie and Clyde.” She shook her head sadly. “Bonnie and Clydge got shot to pieces in the middle of a swamp. Their car got towed into the nearest town, and people attacked them for souvenirs. They cut their hair and ripped their clothes and dipped rags in their blood to say they had a piece of the most famous couple in the country. That’s what you two are right now, but it doesn't have to end like it did for them.”

Laura was shaking behind Jeremy. She took one slow step out of his shadow. Then another. As Jeremy watched in disbelief, she ran over to Amelia, nearly fainting in her arms. “You’re okay,” she whispered as she hugged her, checking her for weapons. “It’s okay, it’s over now.”

“I want to go home,” Laura sniffled.

“Soon.” Amelia passed her off to JJ, who had entered the bank with a group of officers dressed in riot gear. JJ shuffled her outside.

“Jeremy, put the gun down,” Hotch commanded. “It’s over. This fantasy you two have constructed, it can’t end any other way. There’s no Bonnie and Clyde without Bonnie. Put the gun down and come with us.”

Jeremy’s hand shook. He was facing two armed FBI agents flanked by a SWAT team. Just like Clyde Barrow in a room crowded with Texas Rangers, he knew there was only one way out for him. “There’s one other way. There’s one other way this can end.”

“Jeremy don't -”

He fired. An eruption of gunfire echoed through the bank a half-second later. It felt like an eternity, but it only lasted a couple of seconds. Jeremy fell to the ground in a hail of bullets. But that wasn’t what Amelia cared about. She didn’t hear herself scream. Later on, Rossi would tell her that she’d sounded like a wounded animal. A banshee, the shrieking creature of Irish folklore, Reid would say. But she didn’t hear it. She didn’t hear anything but the ringing in her ears as she dropped to her knees beside Hotch.

He’d crumpled to the ground. Neither of them wore a bulletproof vest, there was no way to make them look natural in plain clothes. “No,” she mumbled, pressing her hand into the wound in his side. He raised his hand to hers to try to stop the bleeding, or at least slow it down. “No, no, Aaron…” She put her other hand to his cheek, tears dripping down her face.

He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes for a second. “Amelia… Thank you. For everything. If I… If anything happens to me, take care of Jack, okay?” He was oddly calm. And suddenly so, so tired.I love you.

“You’re going to be fine.” The pool of blood blossoming beneath him said otherwise. “Aaron, you’re going to be fine. You and me and Jack, we’re all going to be fine. Hey, open your eyes. Look at me. There you go. You’re going to be okay.”I love you. I love you, Aaron Hotchner.

“Stay,” he whispered, staring up at her intently. In that moment, it was only the two of them who existed in their world. No one was running around them, there were no sirens in the background, nothing. Just Hotch looking up at her with deep love in his eyes. "Stay with me. Please."

She bit back tears, “I’m not going anywhere. You better not go anywhere either.”

“I won’t, I promise.” He smiled softly.

A gentle pair of hands moved her aside. Amelia watched numbly as the paramedics took over. Someone put an arm around her shoulders, trying to steer her away. “No,” she snapped at Rossi. Her voice softened immediately as she realized it was him. “Please, let me stay.”

“They’re going to the hospital. I’ll take you.”

Chapter 16 Chapter Text

Amelia stared blankly at the road in front of them. She was still covered in blood. It had soaked into her jeans, her shirt, her hands. She’d scrub them at the hospital. Now, nothing else mattered but the ambulance they were chasing through the streets. “Aaron told me,” Rossi said calmly as he flew through a stop light. The lights and sirens helped. “A while ago, he told me. It was a few days after you’d joined the team. He told me about your history. And that he was starting to have those feelings again. He was worried about what it meant, and worried that it was all in his head. I’m glad it’s not.”

“I think I love him,” she breathed. Her voice sounded like it was a million miles away. Her hand shook as she wiped at her face.

“He loves you. It doesn’t take a profiler to see it.”

“Is he going to die?”

Rossi was quiet. All she could hear was the wail of the ambulance’s siren. Suddenly he didn't see a seasoned agent next to him. No, it felt like he was talking to a victim's family member, a scared child, a worried spouse. “I don’t know. Reid would be able to tell you the statistics. All I can tell you is that gunshot wounds to the abdomen… I’ve seen them go either way.”

Amelia was silent for the rest of the ride.

Hotch was in surgery by the time they parked and walked into the Emergency Room. Several people stared, but Amelia paid them no mind. All she could do was listen numbly as they were directed to Operating Room Two. She fell into a chair outside of the OR, staring at the doors and willing someone to come out with good news. Rossi paced. Eventually the others started to trickle in. She didn’t know how much time had passed when JJ sat down next to her. “Hey,” Amelia mumbled.

“Hey. I talked to the nurse out there. He’s going to be at least another hour in surgery, and then some time in post-op. You need a shower and some clean clothes.”

“I’m not leaving him.”

“He’s stable. Everything looks good. We can be at the hotel and back in half an hour. Twenty minutes if I let Emily drive.” JJ reached for her hand, paying no mind to the dried blood that painted her. “You shouldn’t have to sit here covered in his blood.”

Amelia nodded. She got up slowly. This wasn’t real. None of it was real. It was all a bad dream. Right? She’d wake up any second, Aaron shaking her awake and pulling her into his arms. Right? Instead, she let JJ and Emily steer her towards the door. They’d parked in a spot marked “law enforcement only”. JJ tossed Emily the keys to the SUV and pulled open the door for Amelia.

Thankfully no one said anything as they drove. Amelia stared out of the window, praying that Aaron would be alright. All she could see was blood. Blood, and the terrifyingly calm look on his face. “Jessica,” she whispered. “Did anyone call Jessica?”

“Rossi called her a little while ago. She and Jack are on the way.”

Everyone was exactly where they left them half an hour later. Rossi was still pacing. Morgan tried to sit, but he kept getting up - to get a magazine, to get coffee, to stretch, to walk to the restroom and back. Garcia called him every ten minutes, which would set off a new round of walking over to the vending machine, to the window, to the door of the operating room. He nearly crashed into Rossi a couple of times. Reid sat sprawled across two chairs, playing with a rubber band until it broke and hit one of the fluorescent lights. Amelia sat down next to him as he tried to work on a crossword puzzle he’d found in a newspaper left behind by someone else who had been anxiously waiting.

“Isolated gunshot wounds to the abdomen have a 90% survival rate,” he said as she sat down.

“Not so great for the other 10%,” she mumbled, staring at the door of the operating room. Morgan had jumped up again.

“If the lungs are unaffected, it’s up to 97%,” Reid offered. "Do you know a five letter word for a kind of whale?"

Amelia bowed her head into her hands. She’d spent ages in the shower trying to scrub all of the blood away. She couldn’t stop crying as she watched it swirl down the drain. She had to sit down in the shower more than once. When she was finally done, she was relieved to find that JJ and Emily had picked out clean clothes for her. And now here she was, back at the hospital. Time slowed to a crawl.

She nearly jumped as the operating room doors swung open. Everyone held their breath. The trauma surgeon in front of them took off his mask. “He’s being sent to post-op now. Outlook is good. No major organs hit, no major vessels or arteries impacted. I’d give him two or three days before he’s released.” For what felt like the hundredth time that night, Amelia started to cry.

It was a fight to get through post-op security, but Rossi convinced them to let Amelia through. It was quiet here, much quieter than the ER and the waiting area. She took a deep breath and stepped into a darkened room.

Her heart broke as she sat down beside him and took his hand. He’d been bandaged up, but she could still see it, the blood pouring into her hands. She shook her head and it vanished, leaving behind the stark white of the hospital sheets. “Aaron,” she whispered, lacing their fingers together. “I love you.” She moved a little closer, putting her other hand to his cheek. “I love you, and I’m so sorry. I should have shot him. I should have… I could have stopped him. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry.”

Hotch looked around. He was sitting on a stage - the one from his old school, but that couldn’t be right. They’d re-done the auditorium since then, hadn’t they? And yet it looked exactly like it had during their rehearsals, when he was nothing but Pirate Number Four who was so desperately in love with Haley Brooks. Haley sat across from him, not a day older than when they’d first met. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for every day I’ve been gone. But I’m glad you’re finally happy. You deserve it, Aaron.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry. I - I never told you, but…” He could hardly bear to say the words even now. "It was a mistake. I - We..."

“I know,” Haley said, smiling sadly. “She told me. She called me the day after and apologized. She was young and dumb and cracking under all of that pressure. I was angry for a while, but I forgave her. And I forgave you.”

He could feel the shame, the sadness, the grief welling up in his eyes. “You never told me.”

“Would that have changed anything? Hey, don’t cry. Not now. It’s over. It was over when you left that office. But now things are different. I want you to be happy. I want Jack to be happy. She makes you happy, Aaron. You should go for it.”

“You really think so? Even after… everything?”

Haley nodded. “You deserve to be loved. Jack deserves to be loved. And he deserves to have a mom in his life. I love my sister, but it’s not the same and you know it. So go, be with her. She loves you. I want you to be happy.” She stood up, turning to look at him one last time before she disappeared backstage.

One by one the rest of the team went back to the hotel. They said their goodbyes, checking in on Hotch before turning in for the night. Amelia wasn’t going to leave, no matter how long it took for the anesthesia to wear off. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. She registered every breath he took. Every time he moved, even just a little. Slowly, very slowly, he blinked. His eyelids felt like lead. He could hardly move his mouth, a heavy, “‘Melia?” falling from his lips. He turned his head to look at her, smiling softly as he realized she was there.

“I’m right here,” she whispered. She squeezed his hand. He squeezed hers back. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“C’mere.”

“I’m right here.”

“Closer.” It was gradually getting easier to talk. Things were coming into focus a little more. He could see her, at least, and that was all that mattered. “Please.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Love you,” he mumbled softly, just loud enough for her to hear.

“I love you too, but this isn't how we’re going to say it. Wait until you’re better. Give it some time. I’ll still love you then.” She sat back in her chair, still holding his hand. Don’t start crying again. Don’t. Not now.

“Don’t go anywhere.”

“I won’t.” As much as she wanted to talk, she told him to, “Close your eyes. Get some rest. Jack should be here soon.”

“Stay with me.”

“I will. I promise.”

He closed his eyes and drifted off again, satisfied that he wasn't alone.

It was early in the morning when Jessica walked in, holding Jack’s hand tightly. She sat him down in a chair just outside the room. Just in case. She stuck her head in, struck at the sight in front of her. Amelia sat in bed next to him, Aaron leaning into her side. They were in their own little world. She held his hand, running her fingers through his hair with the other. She was whispering something to him. Even from the door, Jessica knew. There was no mistaking the love and care in her eyes, or the way the world seemed to stop turning around them. Amelia looked up at the sound of footsteps. “Hi.” Amelia moved slightly, Hotch looking up at her. “Jack’s here. I’m going to give you guys some time alone, okay?”

Jessica couldn’t hear what he said. Amelia stood up slowly, trying not to move the bed. She followed Jessica out. Jack looked up at her quizzically as she left the room and he walked in. Amelia paused, looking back at them before she sat down in the chair Jack had taken a few minutes before. “So… How long has it been?” Jessica asked, looking between her and the hospital room.

Amelia smiled. She was too tired to tell her anything other than the truth. “Not long. He - we work together. I’m Amelia Davenport.” She held out her hand. "It hasn't been long, but I can tell he's a good one."

“Jessica Brooks. I’m glad he’s got a life outside of the office. He needs it.”

“We both do. Thank you for bringing Jack all the way out here.” Amelia glanced back into the room, watching Jack talk to his dad.Of course he's a great dad. As if I needed any more reasons to love him.

“Of course. I didn’t know how I was going to tell him when Agent Rossi called us. He's been through so much.”

“They both have.”

Chapter 17 Chapter Text

It was three days before Hotch was released from the hospital. The others had already driven back to Quantico. Half of them were out on another case by the time Amelia and Hotch drove back. She’d insisted on staying, only leaving the hospital to shower and get a couple of hours of sleep every day. Jessica and Jack had left the day before. Jack had school on Monday. So they made the drive back by themselves, Amelia all too conscious of every pothole and bump in the road.

They’d both be taking time off from work. Amelia had insisted on that too. Rossi approved her time off request without batting an eye. Approved or not, he knew she wasn’t going to leave Hotch’s side. She didn’t, not for a while. When Jessica would bring Jack by, she’d sneak out the back door and wait until they’d left. She wasn’t about to introduce herself as his dad’s new friend while he was still in bed, bandaged up from a gunshot wound. So she contented herself with being there when Jack was at school or at Jessica’s. She spent most of her day sitting in bed or on the couch next to Hotch, catching up on emails and case reports. She’d make breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and she’d help him go for walks around the block when he was up for it. And every night she fell asleep beside him, holding his hand and promising she wasn’t going anywhere.

More and more often they’d found themselves on the couch at night, the TV forgotten while Amelia straddled his lap, careful not to put any weight on his chest as she kissed him, as he ran his hands up her back, as he desperately pulled her closer. She would inevitably sit back, giving him a soft smile as he stared up at her with stars in his eyes. And then an alarm on her phone would go off and it would be time to change his bandages.

Tonight, though, was different. Amelia knew it as they stood in the bathroom, as she carefully pressed on a new, clean bandage. He reached for her hands, leaning in to kiss her again. “Let’s lay down,” he whispered, smiling into the kiss. “Please?”

And so she found herself in bed with him, straddling his lap as he laid back among the pillows. He smiled up at her as she took her shirt off and threw it on the floor. He inhaled sharply as she centered herself on top of him, leaning in for a kiss as he ran his hands up her sides. She hummed into the kiss as his fingers danced across her chest, as she felt him getting harder beneath her. His entire body was on fire as she parted his lips with her tongue. Every time she moved, his breath hitched in his throat. She pulled back slowly as he sat up. “Aaron…”

“I love you,” he whispered, putting a gentle hand to her cheek. “Will you make love with me?”

“I love you too,” she smiled. Her hand drifted to his side, where a patchwork of bandages still held his wound closed. “Are you sure you’ll be okay? I don’t want you tearing your stitches.”

“I’ll be careful,” he promised as she switched places with him.

Her pajama pants soon joined the pile of clothes on the floor. She helped him slide his down as he kissed her, as he slowly spread her legs with his knee. He hooked a finger under the elastic of her underwear, gently sliding them off. Her hand found the band of his underwear and he groaned as she moved a little lower, stroking him through the fabric. “You feel so good,” she sighed as they broke apart. “Aaron, please, I want you…”

“You want me to what, sweetheart?” He groaned, trying his best not to buck his hips into her hand. “Tell me.”

“I want you inside me. Please?” Please, I need you. I need to feel you inside me. I need that delicious friction, that wonderful stretch. I want to be full of you. Please.

He smiled as she slid his underwear down. He leaned in close to kiss her again. “Are you sure?”

She didn’t want to beg, but all she could manage was a strangled, “Aaron, please.” He pushed inside slowly, enjoying the little moan that escaped her lips as he filled her up.

That bit of friction was overwhelming. He closed his eyes, humming into her ear. “You’re so warm. And so wet for me.” f*ck you’re so wet. You feel so good. Dear God, you feel good.He couldn't feel the lingering pain in his side any more.

“Oh, f*ck,” she sighed as he slowly started to thrust. “f*ck, I love you, Aaron Hotchner.”

He took his time. Part of it was because of the stitches in his side. Part of it was wanting to see how long he could last. It had been a while, to say the least, and every time he sunk himself deep inside her, it took every ounce of strength he had not to let go. He kissed her sloppily, eventually burying his nose in her hair and enjoying every little whine and whimper as he buried himself inside of her. It wasn’t too long before he couldn’t control it anymore. He sped up a little, each breath and each thrust a little more ragged until he couldn’t take it any longer. “A-Amelia -”

“Please don’t stop,” she begged. He’d paused, taking a shaky breath. “Please, Aaron, I’m so close, please.”

“Ssh, I’ve got you,” he whispered, dragging himself almost all of the way out before sliding back in. “Finish with me, sweetheart.” He moved slowly, so terribly slowly that by the time he’d slid almost all of the way out, she was aching for him to fill her up again. He kissed her with every thrust, at least until it was all too much for him. He slipped into her, pushing as deep as he could go, grinding his hips into hers as he came with a gentle, “f*ck… oh, f*ck…”

The fullness, the pressure, the warmth spreading inside of her sent her over the edge too. “Aaron… Oh, Aaron, I love you.”

He held her close, still buried inside her as he caught his breath. “I love you too.”

“Can you stay… stay inside for a minute?”

“Of course.” His nose brushed against hers as he gave her a soft kiss. “You are… absolutely amazing.”

“So are you. You feel so good inside me. Even now.”

He blushed, suddenly conscious. “It feels so f*cking good to be inside of you. And you get so wet for me.” He pulled out slowly, laying down beside her. Amelia laid her head on his chest as he wrapped his arm around her.

She draped her arm over his stomach, gently tracing the bandage on his side. “It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“A little. But you feel too good for me to care.”

Chapter 18 Chapter Text

Amelia stood in the kitchen the next morning, drinking her coffee and smiling to herself. Hotch leaned on the counter, still thinking about the night before. He turned and kissed her cheek, still half-clouded by the haze of sleep. “I love you.” The words flowed easily.

“I love you too.” She set her coffee mug down and wrapped her arms around him, careful not to touch the wound in his side. “How do you feel?”

“Amazing.”

“Not - Your stitches don’t hurt, do they?”

“No.” He buried his nose in her hair. “I feel fine. Really. Better than fine. Ready to get back to work.”

Amelia laid her head on his shoulder. “Hmm, not yet. Your two weeks isn’t up yet, and the doctor told you not to. Besides, you’re not going back into the field right away. And you’ve been working enough staring over my shoulder while I answer emails and write case reports.”

A car door slammed outside. Hotch looked up towards the front door. “Jack isn’t supposed to be done with soccer practice until lunch time.”

She let go of him, stepping back. “I can go. I - I’ll grab my stuff and sneak out the back door.”

He shook his head, reaching for her hand. “Stay.”

“Are you sure?”

Hotch nodded. “He should meet you. I think it’s time.”

The door burst open a second later. Hotch dropped her hand as Jack ran in and gave him a hug. Jessica followed in his wake, carrying his soccer bag. “Careful, buddy,” Hotch reminded him. “Dr. Warren says I can’t pick you up for a few more days.”

“Hey. Coach is sick, so we stopped for breakfast,” Jessica said, looking between them. “I texted you, but I’m sure you haven’t been near your phone.”

“Jack, this is Amelia,” Hotch said, looking between the two of them. “She’s my friend.”

“Hi, Jack,” Amelia smiled.

Jack looked at her, then looked back at his dad. “Is she your friend like Miss Beth was your friend?”

Amelia smiled into her coffee cup as Hotch turned a shade more pink. “You’re going to make a great profiler one day. But yes, she is. I told her how great of a soccer player you are and I wanted to invite her to your game next weekend, but I wanted to make sure that was okay with you first.”

“Yeah,” Jack smiled. “Miss Amelia, do you know how to play soccer?”

“You can just call me Amelia, Jack. I played soccer when I was your age, but it’s been a long time. I’m a little rusty, but if you give me a minute to put my shoes on, maybe you could show me a thing or two.”

“She’s the one.” Hotch and Jessica sat on the back porch, watching Jack and Amelia play soccer. They took to each other naturally, and soon enough they were playing a real game. “This is going to sound insane, but I - Haley told me.”

“Aaron…”

“I saw her when I got shot,” he insisted, turning to look at his once sister-in-law. “I saw Haley. We talked. I know it’s early, but I think it’s going to be her. I just - I can tell.” He turned back to watch Amelia slow down on purpose, letting Jack score a goal behind her. “He likes her. I like her.”

“I like her too, but hold off on jumping into anything. For Jack’s sake.”

Aaron Hotchner was good at not jumping into things. He’d made a career of insisting on getting as much information as he could before he handed an unsub's profile to police. Never rush a profile. Never rush a trial, the presentation of evidence, never skip a question in an interview. And yet as he went to bed that night, he couldn’t help but think about it. About the woman who curled up next to him, kissing him goodnight. I love you. I love you, and I want you to stay. I want us to have dinners as a family and spend the weekends together and fall asleep in the same bed every night. He hesitated. He hesitated until he couldn’t hesitate any more. “Amelia?”

“Hmm?”

“I know you have some of your things here already,” he began tentatively, “but if… if I made some more space in the closet and cleared out another drawer, would you want to stay? When we’re not on a case?”

She smiled and leaned in to give him a kiss. “I’d love that. And I love you.”

“I love you too.” He paused. “You don’t think this is too soon?”

Amelia propped herself up on her elbow. “I think it’ll take some getting used to for Jack. I won’t stay over every night, at least not at first. I don’t want him to feel like I’m just taking over his space. But I’ll stay here more often, and I think it’s about time we tell the team. Not that they don’t already know.”

“If we tell them, then we have to talk to HR,” he frowned.

“We’re going to have to talk to HR soon anyway.”

“I can’t supervise you. Not if we’re going to be together.” And I’m not going to give you up. Not to another team, and certainly not to anyone else.

“I’ll ask Garcia to help me find a way around that. There has to be something in the policy manual or the dozen forms we signed when we joined the Bureau.”

“I don’t think so," he frowned. "They’d have thought of that. We're not the first lawyers to join the Bureau.”

“Well let’s not think about it tonight. I can give you something else to think about if you want,” she smiled, kissing him deeply.

“Oh, I’d like that.”

Chapter 19 Chapter Text

“What’s wrong?” Garcia looked up from her phone, studying Amelia as she walked in. “Oh, something’s wrong. Tell me, tell me now before -”

“Aaron and I went to see HR this morning,” Amelia said somberly. Garcia was sitting with JJ and Emily in the break room. They'd been finishing up lunch. Amelia didn’t feel like eating. She and Hotch had spent their first morning back in a room full of people who all seemed angry with them for no discernible reason. “They gave us two weeks -”

“You’re getting fired?! Oh, I’m going to do something about that!”

She shook her head slightly as she took the last empty chair. “No, we have two weeks to make a decision. He can’t supervise me, so we either have to break up or I move to another team. I’m going to talk to Fox in Unidentified Homicides this afternoon.”

“That’s not fair either,” Garcia protested. “I’ll find something on everyone in HR, just give me an hour.”

“It’s policy,” Emily countered as she balled up a napkin. “Hotch can’t supervise her as impartially as he can supervise the rest of us. And if his judgment’s compromised, the FBI doesn’t want him making decisions.”

“Emily’s right,” Amelia said. “Aaron’s trying to find a way around it, but I read everything. Well, I had Reid read everything, there was no way I’d get through that whole policy manual before the meeting. There’s no good answer. I mean… I could try for another branch of the BAU, but there aren’t any openings.”

JJ reached behind the table to throw a plastic bag away, along with the napkin Emily had crumpled up. “You’d rather take the spot on Unidentified Homicides? Aren’t they in the windowless office in the basem*nt that's shared with Cold Cases?”

“Even I think the Unidentified Homicides guy’s a little weird,” Garcia said into her coffee mug.

Amelia sighed. “It’s either that or I go with Counterterrorism, and I have no guarantee they’re in the country half the time. I’ll take the spooky basem*nt office over having to have dinner dates from Yemen or something. But they gave us two weeks to make a decision. So I’ve got two weeks before I pack up my desk and move into the basem*nt.”

By the time everyone else went home, Amelia had resigned herself to the fact that in two weeks, she would be making the journey downstairs to join Unidentified Homicides, trying to match missing persons reports with Jane and John Does all over the country. She’d share her space with one other agent, plus the two in Cold Cases. At least there wouldn’t be too much competition for a spot in the fridge and fewer people in line for the coffee maker.

Hotch hadn’t accepted the inevitable. He’d spent much of the afternoon on the phone with various Unit Chiefs within the BAU and its neighbors. The rest of the time he was either leaving voicemails up the chain of command or poring over the policy manual and the pages upon pages of administrative decisions that had come out of it. He was staring intently at his computer, scratching down a few notes when Amelia stepped into his office. No one had bothered him all day, not since they heard him slam the phone down after a loud conversation with someone in Administration. “Hey,” she whispered, resting her hands on his shoulders as she bent to kiss his cheek. “It’s time to go home.”

“Not yet.”

“You’ve been at this all day. You should give your eyes a rest.”

“We only have thirteen days. Eleven if you subtract the weekend. And we’re bound to get a new case soon, I saw JJ and Garcia going through a pile of them. I don’t have time to rest.”

She moved to lean against his desk, his hand dangerously close to her thigh as he moved his mouse. “You need a break.” She put a gentle hand to his cheek. “You’re going to crack a tooth clenching your jaw that hard. I know you’re angry,” she paused, reaching to loosen his tie, “but we did the right thing. We can make this work. And I bet I can make you feel better.”

He finally looked up at her. “How?”

“D’you remember when I asked you about what John Reeves had said? If you’d… What did he say? ‘f*ck the brains out of that pretty little agent’?”

He smiled a little, slowly standing up to kiss her. “Would you let me?” he whispered, smiling into the kiss. “Please?”

“How fast can you drive home?”

Thank goodness Jack’s at Jessica’s and she thinks I’m working late. Hotch slammed the door behind them, reaching behind her to lock it as he pressed Amelia to the door with a hungry kiss. “Are you sure about this?” he asked as she untied his tie.

“Yes.”

“Then you’d better hold onto that.” Two minutes later she found herself with her hands tied to the headboard.

“Aaron - oh f*ck, Aaron.” Amelia bit her lip. The fire behind his eyes was something to behold.

He had filled her with one long thrust, leaning in to whisper an encouraging, “God, you’re already so wet for me.” She closed her eyes for a second as he began to grind his hips into her, filling her up as much as he could every time.

“It’s so easy with you… sir.” She gave him a devilish smile. It made him even harder.

“f*ck, you feel so good,” he choked. Every nerve was on fire. He wasn't sure how he felt about it, pouring the anger at the powers that be into passion. But it sure made him feel good.

“I’m all yours. Use me however you want me.”

sh*t. That unlocked something. sh*t. “f*ck.” He wound a hand into her hair, pulling it slightly as he guided her mouth to his. It wouldn’t last long as he broke the kiss, reaching down to squeeze one of her breasts, rubbing rough circles over her nipple with his thumb.

“You are so f*cking hot, Aaron Hotchner. Oh, just like that. Mmm.” She couldn't help staring up at him, at the look on his face that never failed to turn her on, even when they were in the field. It was a look of pure focus, pure concentration on whatever was in front of him.

He could feel himself getting closer with every thrust, every time he nearly pulled out before slipping all the way back inside of her. It didn’t take much more force than that, but he would grind his hips into her every time, making her whine and dragging him even closer to the edge. “I - agh.” He sank his teeth into her shoulder as he came, buried deep inside her. He let go a second later, panting as he ground his hips a little, making her moan right along with him.

It only took a second to untie her wrists and a second more before her arms were around him. “I love you,” she sighed as he held her.

“I love you too. Was that too much?” His eyes were now flooded with concern. "I didn't actually hurt you, did I?"

“That was perfect. Do you feel better?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, kissing the spot on her shoulder where he’d left a distinct bite mark. “I’m sorry about that. I don’t know… I’ve never done that to anyone before.”

“It felt good.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. Oh, don’t.” He’d moved, just slightly. “Stay here for a minute. I love having you inside me. You feel so good, Aaron.”Just being with you feels good.

He hummed a little, happy to oblige. “I want you to stay.” Everything that had been bubbling behind the anger at HR was now flowing to the surface. With his release, he'd released something else. "Please."

“I will. I’m not going anywhere without you.”

“No, I - Well yes. But I want you to stay on the team. I’m stepping down as Unit Chief.”

Chapter 20 Chapter Text

Amelia stared at her computer in silence. She’d typed the same sentence twice. She backspaced, shaking her head and reaching for her coffee. It had grown cold since she’d made it hours before, when she and Hotch left for work. Since she’d sat down that morning, she hadn’t been able to focus. I’m stepping down as Unit Chief. She looked over to Hotch’s office, where he sat staring blankly at a file. He was sure, he’d told her. It was better than seeing her transferred away. There was no talking him out of it. She’d tried.

“What’s wrong?”

“Huh?”

Reid was staring at her from the next desk over. “You’re worried about something. You do this thing where - well, it doesn’t matter. Something’s wrong.”

“I’m fine. Just tired.” She looked back to her computer. "I'll be fine once my coffee kicks in."

He nodded thoughtfully. “I take it whatever you’re worried about has nothing to do with the bruise on your shoulder.”

She felt herself turning a shade or two more pink. “No.”

Thankfully she was saved from any more questions by Hotch stepping out of his office. “Conference room, five minutes,” he announced to the bullpen. Amelia picked up her notepad and left before Reid could say anything.

Everyone else sensed that something was off as they walked in. Hotch looked even more serious than he usually did. It wasn’t a good sign. “Someone getting fired?” Morgan joked as he dropped into a chair. Hotch said nothing.

He waited until everyone had taken their seats before closing the door. By now the others had noticed he wasn’t holding a file. There were no pictures up on the screen. He hadn’t even bothered to turn it on. “As some of you are aware - there’s no point in hiding it. Amelia and I… have a relationship beyond what is allowed per our code of conduct. HR has generously given us two weeks to sort some things out and make some decisions.” He paused, looking around at each of them. “Effective next Friday, I will be stepping down as Unit Chief.” He kept talking over the battery of questions and shocked replies. “Dave will be taking my place. Nothing else will be changing, and none of your jobs are in danger. It’s the best solution for all of us.”

“In effect, nothing is going to change,” Rossi promised. All eyes turned to him as Hotch sat down and took Amelia’s hand. They’d been on the phone late the previous night, and Rossi had been waiting there for them when they came in that morning. “We’re just going to be swapping name plates on our doors. We have to work within the boundaries of our policy, and I’d hate to lose a talented agent because of it.” He stood up and switched on the TV screen. “Now I know Aaron is in charge until next Friday, but this one was routed to us this morning.”

“Wait,” Garcia interjected. “Are we just going to skip over how romantic that is?”

“I’d prefer to,” Hotch said, though he couldn’t hide a bit of a smile.

Just like that, they were finally able to do everything they’d been hiding from the team. They held hands in meetings (aside from when they were meeting with the local police, of course), they shared hotel rooms, they went out for lunch together without worrying about who might spot them. Amelia spent more time at Hotch’s house. She went to Jack’s soccer games and she’d occasionally pick him up from Jessica’s when Hotch was staying at the office a little later than usual. They went on vacation together. They were happy. At least for a while.

“Plymouth, Massachusetts,” Garcia said as she opened a couple of photos on her computer. They were magnified on the TV screen in the meeting room. “Last Tuesday Earl and Hanna Carpenter were killed after their car broke down a little ways outside of town. Earl was shot once in the head. Hanna’s throat was slashed. She was also stabbed multiple times. They were less than two minutes from a whole neighborhood of houses, but no one heard or saw a thing. Local authorities say that Hanna called 911 on her cell but when the dispatcher answered, she didn’t say anything. The call was still active when police found them.” She switched screens, pulling up a picture of another couple. “Samantha and Cindy Diaz-Rollins. Both were stabbed to death after pulling over outside of Ellisville. They’d stopped to look up directions to a friend’s home in Boston. Police found them two days ago. Cindy’s phone was still on a live 911 call.”

Rossi was the first to stand. “Wheels up in,” he checked his watch, “let’s say twenty.”

The others filed out of the room as Garcia unplugged her laptop. Hotch stared at the Diaz-Rollins’s until the TV screen turned black. “I don’t like this.”

“What is it?”

“It feels too familiar. Last Tuesday was the 25th.”

Amelia knew. He’d woken her up, shaking and covered in a cold sweat right around midnight. They’d both stayed home from work that day. Jack had stayed home from school. Amelia worked at Hotch’s while they went to visit Haley. “It’s probably nothing. These kinds of killers are more common than we think.”

“Still, I don’t like it.”

Hotch spent much of the plane ride staring out the window. Amelia sat next to him, holding his hand as she talked with the others. Rossi was on the phone as soon as they landed. He frowned deeply, saying a couple of words as they walked to the car. When he hung up, he turned to the group. “There’s been another one. Aaron, Amelia, I’ll text you the address. It’s off the main road in,” he checked his phone, “Plympton. Reid, you and I will head to the scene in Plymouth. Prentiss, Morgan, head down to Ellisville. JJ, Agent Hollins from the Massachusetts Bureau of Investigation will be meeting you at the Plymouth Police Department. We need to get a handle on this before the press finds out we’re looking at a serial killer.”

The drive didn’t take long, at least after they’d cleared the airport traffic. Hotch and Amelia found themselves on a country road outside of Plympton, where almost all traffic had slowed to a stop for a swarm of officers and forensic techs. One of the police officers waved them down after they’d parked a little ways away. “Are you the MBI folks? Thank goodness -”

“Agents Hotchner and Davenport, FBI,” Hotch corrected, shaking his hand. “The MBI called us in.”

“Either way, we’re way out of our depth here. We haven’t had a murder here in years.”

Amelia drifted closer to the scene while Hotch got up to speed on the investigation. She held her badge up, the forensic techs letting her pass through. The bodies of Arnie Wyatt and Elizabeth Sanders had already been photographed and sent to the regional medical examiner. The remaining forensics team was combing through the car to collect shell casings, hair, fibers, anything they could find that the killer may have left. She stopped quickly, her heart sinking as she looked at the driver’s side door. “It was found like this?”

“Yes. We collected swabs to send in, but we know it’s blood.”

Gravel crunched behind her. Amelia turned around, grabbing Hotch by the arms and trying to spin him around. “Aaron, don’t -”

She was too late. He’d already seen it. The Eye of Providence, painted in blood on the door of the car.

Chapter 21 Chapter Text

“It’s not him. Aaron, it can’t be. He’s dead.” Amelia set her room key on the dresser, taking her watch off as she reminded him that, “It can’t be Foyet.”

Hotch sat on the end of the bed in their hotel room, nearly shaking. “He never seems to die. He’s going to haunt me until I die, isn’t he?” He’d buried it all day, shoving down every worry and every ounce of fear until they were back in their room for the night. And now he was falling apart.

Amelia sat down beside him and reached for his hand. “He won’t. He’s dead. You - He's dead. Whoever is doing this, it isn’t Foyet. It’s a copycat. He was all over the news. This is probably just some kid who wants to kill and looked up to him. The real Foyet was cremated years ago.” Her voice softened a little as she told him, “We could go back to Quantico. Rossi and the others have this under control. We don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

“I’m staying. One way or another, I have to end this.”

“Okay. But you’re not doing it alone.”

He looked over at her with tears in his eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He put a gentle hand to her cheek. “I can’t lose you.” I can’t. I’d rather die. I can’t lose you or Jack. I’d die protecting both of you.

“It’s not Foyet. It’s just a fan. Foyet’s dead, and there’s nothing that can change that. We’ll catch this guy. It’ll be okay.”

Amelia wouldn’t be out of his reach for the rest of the night. He’d barely eaten, but he still felt nauseous as he got in the shower. Suddenly all of the paranoia of years before had returned. He was about to get out and crack the door open when Amelia stepped into the bathroom. “Mind if I join you?”

He gave her a weak smile. “Sure.” She stepped into the shower and wrapped her arms around him. He held her tightly, tears mingling with the warm water that dripped around them. “They found Earl Carpenter’s watch in the Diaz-Rollins car. Samantha Diaz’s engagement ring was found in the pocket of one of today’s victim’s. How does he know - that was something we never made public. How does he know?”

“Maybe he wrote Foyet in jail or something.” Amelia let go just enough to look up at him. “Maybe they’ve known each other for a long time. Foyet tells this guy secrets, little details that he wants to brag about even if we didn’t release them to the media. He collects them for years, then some sort of stressor happens. He gets fired. He gets cheated on. Something makes him feel powerless, and the only way he thinks he’ll get that power back is by turning into the most powerful man he’s ever met.” She reached a gentle hand up to trace the scars on his chest with her fingertips. “We’re going to be okay, Aaron. It’s not him. We’ll catch him soon, and then this whole case will just be a bad dream.”

“It feels like a bad dream, but you would’ve woken me up by now.” He placed his hand over hers, holding it to his chest.

“I wish we could just wake up from it, but I promise that no matter what happens, I’ll be right here with you.”

They sat up late that night. It took a while, but Hotch eventually fell asleep, curled into her side while they were halfway watching TV. Amelia was still awake when her phone rang. Rossi.

She slid out of bed as carefully as she could and crept into the bathroom. “Rossi, it’s nearly two in the morning,” she whispered, blinking at the brightness of the lights. “What’s wrong? Did they find another set of victims?”

“No,” said Rossi’s tired voice on the other end of the call. “They sent some samples from the first crime scene to the state lab in Boston and rushed them through. We got a DNA hit.”

“That’s great, but it’s two in the morning. Please tell me the guy isn’t across the country.” I don’t want to wake Aaron up. Not yet. He needs to rest.

Rossi was silent for a moment. “There were three DNA profiles that they developed from what was submitted for testing. Earl and Hanna Carpenter…”

“And the third? Rossi, who was it?”

“Haley Brooks.”

“What?” Amelia breathed, looking into her own eyes in the mirror. “How? That’s - that has to be wrong.”What the actual f*ck?

“We know our killer had close contact with Foyet. He only had a narrow window of time from when he could’ve been in their safe house to when he was killed. There are only so many people he could have contacted in that window. I’m having Garcia pull Foyet's phone records now. Hopefully we can get GPS on them too, but I think we’re just going to end up with a general area. We didn’t have that good of technology back then. But he was definitely there. Either that or Foyet sent him a present."

Amelia had nearly stopped listening. He’s back. Whoever he is, this is Foyet reincarnated. “How do I tell him?”

“Don’t. Not tonight. I’ll talk to him in the morning. I’ve already arranged to have agents posted with Jessica and Jack. They're being moved.”

“That didn’t work out so well last time,” Amelia mumbled. “Aaron’s going to be - We can’t tell him. We can’t tell anyone else. If he finds out, he’ll be sitting - Jack and Jessica and I will end up sitting in a hotel room in - in Oklahoma while he stands outside with a gun. This is already making him paranoid. If he finds out -”

“Amelia?” came a panicked question from the other room.

“I have to go.” She flushed the toilet as she hung up, stepping back out into the hotel room a moment later. “Hey, I’m right here,” she said as she got back into bed and tucked her phone under her pillow. “I’m okay.” She pulled the blankets up around them, laying her head on his chest. “I'm right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Were you talking to someone?” he yawned.

“Myself. Sorry, I - I don’t want you to think I’m worried about you, but I am. I can’t help it. I love you.” At least most of it was true. “I’m sorry. I know you’re strong and you like to deal with things on your own, but I want to help you.”

“I want you to be safe. I want to live with you and go to Jack’s soccer games with you and raise him with you. I want to spend my life with you. I want us to be a safe, happy family.” He pressed a kiss into her hair. “And somehow Foyet’s found a way to reach beyond the grave to try to destroy that.”

Amelia looked up at him. “We won’t let that happen,” she promised.

He closed his eyes, searching for some sense of security. Even though he held her close, he was terrified. Terrified that something would happen to her, to Jack, to what little family he had left. “I want to marry you,” he said into the darkness. It was a thought he’d been turning over for a little while now.

“Aaron…”

“I do. It’s not just because of this case. It’s because of how much you’re helping. I would’ve had a full-blown panic attack by now if it wasn’t for you. It’s because of every little thing you do to show me how much you care about me and Jack. He loves you too. Do you know what he told me in the car the other day? ‘Amelia reminds me of Mom, I hope she stays.’ I love you, and I want you to stay. I’m not asking now,” he clarified. “You deserve a real proposal. But I just want you to know that I - I can see a life together. The rest of our lives together. I’m sorry, I’m probably not making much sense right now.”

Despite everything, Amelia couldn’t help but smile. “Yes.”

“What?”

“I’m saying yes to your not-proposal.” She sat up, propping herself up on her elbows. “I love you. You make me happy. You feel like home, Aaron. You and me and Jack, that’s home. When this case is over, I think the three of us should take a trip together. I don’t care where, we should just take some time to be together.”

“That sounds like a great idea.” He smiled, trying not to think about Foyet. What this case would mean. The toll it would surely take on him. "You and me and Jack."

Chapter 22 Chapter Text

“I’m running records as fast as I can,” Garcia said over the phone. “I’m looking for anyone who he could’ve been in jail with, anyone who wrote him letters, anyone he ever thought about sending a text message to, I will find them.” After a couple seconds of furious typing, she added, “Tell me he’s okay. Hotch. Please tell me he’s okay.”

“He’s… okay,” Amelia said as she paced the Quincy police station. Another couple had been found dead outside of town that morning, the word ‘FATE’ painted on their car in blood. “He, umm… he’s okay. He’s… stable. I really think he should sit this one out, but he’s not going to give up until this guy is in custody.”

Back at Quantico, Garcia spun around in her chair to look at another set of monitors. “Jack’s safe. He and Jessica are making brownies right now. There - There are cameras in the safe house. I’m watching them. If anything happens to that sweet baby…”

“We’ll get him,” Amelia promised. “We’ll get him, and everything will go back to normal.”

“Keep Hotch safe. Make sure he eats and sleeps and drinks enough water. I’ll call you soon.”

After she hung up, Amelia turned back to look at where Hotch and Rossi were talking, staring at a whiteboard as Morgan pinned up a couple of pictures. JJ and Reid were studying a map on the wall, marking points where the victims had been found. Emily was talking to them from where she sat with her laptop at a desk. He looks so tired. Hotch hadn’t slept much. He’d woken up nearly every hour to pace around the room, checking the cameras around the safe house. He’d invariably get back in bed, wrapping his arms around Amelia to hold her close. She was the one thing that kept him grounded, the one thing that he knew in that moment he could protect. She pocketed her cell phone, going to join them. Hotch turned to look the second the door cracked open. “Any luck?”

“No, not yet. She’s trying a million different filters, anything and everything she can think of,” she assured him. “If we have to get phone data to track every person he was ever in a room with, we will. It’s on her list.”

“Maybe we don’t profile the copycat,” Morgan said. “We profile Foyet. This guy has got to share some qualities with him. What do we already know?”

“He had early childhood trauma. His father beat him severely and his mother couldn’t defend him. He started killing when he was young, very young,” Hotch said, staring at the whiteboard. “The first set of Boston Reaper murders occurred when he was in his mid-20s. We’re probably looking for someone in that age range. He’s motivated by power and he’s attracted to teenage girls. He’s sexually inadequate, so he stabs the women he kills.”

The others had drifted over to join them. “Our unsub approaches the cars using some sort of ruse. Maybe he flags them down, maybe they’re already stopped. It wouldn’t matter, because either way, he gets them to talk to him and shoots the driver before they can really put together that something’s wrong,” Emily said, watching as Amelia reached for Hotch’s hand. He’d been so focused that he’d lost track of them.

“He’s desperate for attention. He calls 911 almost every time. But he's got to be wearing gloves. They haven't gotten a single print from any of the victims' phones,” Reid added. “And he’s gotta be from around here. No one would be able to navigate the back roads and know how to get away within the two or three minutes it takes police to respond. Not unless you’d spent your entire life driving around here.”

“And just like Foyet, the unsub takes something from each crime scene and leaves it at the next,” JJ said, crossing her arms as she studied the latest set of victims. “There’s no pattern to what he picks, he just takes something distinct enough for the families to recognize and leaves it for us to find.”

“Except he didn’t do it the first time because he had nothing to leave,” Morgan reasoned. Amelia and Rossi shared a look. “So he paints Foyet’s symbol so he can make sure we all know it’s him.”

They were all quiet for a moment. “We’re looking for a young man who sympathizes with Foyet. Maybe he had a hard childhood. He wants to have the ultimate power over people. Life and death,” Amelia said from where she stood next to Hotch. “But he also doesn’t want to make his own signature. He wants us to think he’s Foyet reincarnated.”

“Copycats usually have low self-esteem and low self-control,” Reid offered. “But he also deeply identifies with Foyet. He hasn’t drifted from the original crimes at all. He’s not making his own signature. In fact, he’s stealing all of Foyet’s. He’s trying to perfect what he did.”

Reid’s prediction lingered in the air. Hotch took a deep breath, excusing himself and ducking out of the closest door. Amelia turned to the others. “If our unsub is perfecting what Foyet did… we all have to be ready.”

“I told them,” Rossi said. “I told them about what the lab found at the first crime scene. Tell Aaron in your own time, but this means -”

“He wants to finish what Foyet started. And he’s not going to stop until Aaron and Jack are dead.” Amelia had figured it out in the middle of the night. Hotch had just settled back in next to her, holding her tightly, when it hit her. Without another word to the others, she left the room, turning down the same hall Hotch had gone down a few minutes before.

She found him sitting on the curb outside. She sat down next to him, reaching for his hand. “If he offers me a deal like Foyet did, I’m going to take it,” Hotch resolved. “I can’t - I just got off the phone with Jessica. She and Jack are fine. But I can’t live like this. They can’t live like this. Is it bad that I’m glad he killed again today?” He turned to look at her. “If he’s killing up here, it means Jack’s safe.”

“That’s human. Of course you want him to be safe, and the only way to know that right now is to know that our unsub is still here.”

“I want you to be safe too, but I take it you’re not going to go into hiding.”

“I’m not leaving you to deal with this on your own.” She leaned her head on his shoulder, staring across the parking lot at a police cruiser headed out on patrol. “We’re going to find him together, and we’re going to be okay.”

That night, they sat in bed, Amelia trying to read and Hotch scrolling through the local news on his phone. They’d managed to suppress a lot of the media reports, but it was only a matter of time. After all, people noticed the swarms of police, the traffic stops on country roads, and the black SUVs that were roaming the town. Amelia glanced at him before setting her book down. She cuddled up next to him, feeling him relax against her. “I want to take some time off when this case is over,” he said as he set his phone down. “You and me and Jack, we should go somewhere.” So I can really propose to you. “Wherever you want.”

“We should let Jack pick. This - us, this case, living in a safe house - it’s a lot for him.”

“I really don’t want to go to Disney or Six Flags or some place like that.” I’m not proposing at Disney.

“Hmm, maybe we can give him a couple of choices. But you’re right, it should just be us. I don’t want to deal with a million tired, sweaty people standing in line for roller coasters and overpriced ice cream,” she smiled. “Why don’t you call him tomorrow and maybe he and Jessica can do some research.”

“That’s a great idea,” he said, planting a kiss in her hair.

The moment was ruined by his phone ringing. “Hotchner.”

“Sir, I know it's late, but I had an idea.” Garcia was talking a mile a minute. “Okay so I was thinking, there are only so many people who could have contacted him within the time frame where he could have gotten that DNA -”

“DNA?” He sat up a little. Amelia’s heart sank.

Garcia was quiet. “Oh, oh no. I thought - Didn’t Rossi - I’m sorry.”

Amelia took his phone from him, taking Garcia off of speaker. “I’ll talk to him about it. What have you found?”

“I cut the list down to - I took your ideas, the white man, probably 20 to 30, born and raised in Massachusetts, and I cross-referenced it with numbers that made calls into the jail where Foyet was being held or anyone he’d routinely been in contact with, and I cut the list down to a dozen names. I’m sending them over now. I - please tell him I’m sorry.”

“I will. Goodnight, Garcia.” She hung up, handing his phone back.

“Why didn’t you tell me they have DNA?” There was a hint of anger in his voice. "Amelia -"

“It’s not the unsub’s,” Amelia said gently. Just rip off the bandaid. “It’s Haley’s. Either Foyet or the unsub was in that safe house. Whichever one of them it was -”

“They were planning for this,” he breathed. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “They were working together to make sure whatever happened that day, they would be able to torment me for the rest of my life.”

Amelia put a gentle hand on his back. “Garcia’s narrowed it down to twelve names. We’re going to find him.”

“I’m going to find him. And then I’m going to make a deal with the Devil. Either that or I'm going to kill him.”

Chapter 23 Chapter Text

It was a stormy day, wind and rain lashing the police station. Amelia sat staring at the whiteboard in front of her. They’d gone nearly two weeks with absolutely nothing. No new murders, no phone calls, nothing at all out of the ordinary. They were all getting anxious. Garcia had been able to narrow their suspect pool down from twelve to nine, but crossing people off of the list was a slow task. As they sat around drinking too much coffee and dreading going back out into the storm, they’d gotten down to six potential unsubs.

Hotch was especially on edge. Two weeks was more than enough time to travel to Virginia. He’d flown back to visit for a few days and called in every favor he could. FBI, CIA, even an Interpol agent or two stopped by the safe house to check in on Jack and Jessica. But now with air traffic ramping up right before Thanksgiving, his options were limited. And their unsub could be taking advantage of the crowded airports to lose himself in the crowd.

“I’m thinking we order from a restaurant, even if it’s just turkey sandwiches,” JJ said, her voice snapping Amelia back to reality. They’d all decided to stay for Thanksgiving, canceling other travel plans to work on the case. “Some of the locals recommended the Fox & Hound.”

“Are we eating here or at the hotel?” Emily asked as she looked up the restaurant on her phone.

“I vote we take over the breakfast area at the hotel,” Morgan chimed in. “We might have to be away from home for this case, but we shouldn’t let it totally take over the holiday.”

For Hotch, it would. He and Amelia ended up flying back to Virginia to have Thanksgiving dinner in the safe house with Jack and Jessica. Cooking felt surreal. Every time she set a dish in the sink, Amelia would catch a glimpse of the armed guards patrolling outside. Jack had turned the TV on, watching the parade and making trips into the kitchen to taste test whatever Hotch and Amelia were working on. It was the best they could hope for, but it wasn’t a very happy holiday.

It was a somber meal, made even worse by the federal agents hovering outside. They eventually invited them in, eating dinner with the agents who had drawn the short straws and were forced to spend the holiday away from family. And then they were off to the airport, back on a plane a couple of hours after dessert.

They knew something was up the moment they got back to the hotel. No one was around. The only sign of a BAU Thanksgiving dinner was a trash can full of paper plates and takeout boxes. Hotch turned to Amelia, but before he could say anything, the desk clerk called them over. “They left almost an hour ago. Seemed like they were in a hurry.”

Amelia was on the phone with Reid by the time they were back in the car, speeding towards the police station. “They found them this afternoon up in Andover. He left a note.”

“A note? What kind of note? Andover,” she added, turning to Hotch. “Find somewhere to turn around, it’s north of Boston. Spence, what kind of note?”

Reid cleared his throat, reciting from memory. “‘His death birthed more of a monster than he ever was.’ The word ‘bloodline’ was carved into the driver’s stomach.”

“So he sees himself as an extension of Foyet,” Hotch said as he drove. “He doesn’t want to copy him, he wants to continue what he started. Foyet isn’t his inspiration, he sees this as his inheritance.”

“Foyet talked to him,” Reid said. “He put ideas into the unsub’s head, or at least told him how to attract our attention.”

“Well he’s got it. Hey, we’re going to get stuck in traffic, so we’ll see you in a few hours.” As soon as Amelia hung up, Hotch added, “If he sees this as his inheritance, he’s not going to stop until I kill him.”

She knew it was true. But it went against every policy in the book. “You can’t go in with that as a plan. You know that.”

“Do you really think he’d come with us peacefully?”

“Only if that was part of his plan.”

Hotch stared forward at the road, trying to weave through the maze of people traveling to and from their Thanksgiving plans. Bloodline. His death birthed more of a monster than he ever was. I’m going to have to kill him before he - He views himself as Foyet Junior. Avenging the father figure. He took a deep breath, trying not to think about Jack.

Agent Hollins of the Massachusetts Bureau of Investigation met them in Andover. The others were still all out on the scene, but they followed agent Hollins to the medical examiner’s office. It was closed, save for the orderlies who had signed for the bodies and moved them into storage. “Here’s the one you want to see,” Agent Hollins said as the orderly wheeled out the driver. Sure enough, the word ‘bloodline’ had been carved into him after death. The word was still red against his now-cold flesh. Dried blood had dripped down from his wounds. “What kind of monster would do that?”

“George Foyet,” Amelia answered. “And his biggest fan.”

Her phone rang as they were signing out of the medical examiner’s office. “Hey, Garcia. It’s just me and Aaron.”

“I know, I already called the others - I’ve got him.”

“What? Okay, hold on.” She waved Hotch over and put Garcia on speaker. “Okay, we can both hear you.”

“I’ve got him,” Garcia said, still a little dumbfounded. “It has to be him. I took the list we had and narrowed it down by everything you gave me. Then I crossed it with toll plaza cameras near where the cars were found. That gave me four cars that appeared in more than one location. I eliminated Andover, since people are traveling all over for Thanksgiving, and that gave me two cars that have appeared near at least three of the crime scenes. One is registered to Roy and Georgia Norris, who parked their car at Logan Airport and went on vacation during the week of the first murder. That leaves us with a car rented to Arthur Sterling.”

“What have you got on Sterling?”

“Now that is a fun question. Sterling was raised by Julie Sterling, no dad in the picture. His dad isn’t even listed on his birth certificate. Two expulsions from different schools, both of them for inappropriate conduct with female classmates. A 30-day juvie sentence for burglary, and the second he turned 18 he started getting adult punishments for adult crimes. He was released from MCI Concord two years ago and skipped out on probation seven and a half months ago. He’s been on the run since then. No cell phone, no permanent address, no bills in his name, but for some reason he signed his own name for the car rental. The car was abandoned in Somerville.”

“He wants our attention. Garcia, you are amazing,” Amelia smiled. “Keep it up. Give us a call if you’re able to get a location on him.”

“Will do. I’m sending his mom’s information to you now.”

Julie Sterling was less than helpful. Hotch and Amelia drove out to her home in Bedford and spent much of the afternoon sitting in a living room cluttered with old photos, memories of the before times. Before her son grew into a teenager who stole cars and broke into houses. Before he grew up into a man who spent time behind bars. But something she said as she took out an old photo album made them pause. “I don’t know what happened. One day he was a sweet little boy, and then next he would shout at me for no reason. He’d slam doors and stay out past his curfew and… well, he wasn’t my little Aaron anymore, was he? Teenagers -”

“Aaron?” Amelia asked, looking over to see if Hotch had heard the same thing.

“Aaron Arthur Sterling,” Julie smiled sadly, turning the photo album around to show them a copy of his birth certificate. Aaron Arthur Sterling. “My little angel.”

“Mrs. Sterling, has he contacted you at all?”

She shook her head. “Eight months ago, he… He disappeared. He called one day back in June. My birthday. He told me he was sorry for what he had to do, but… but his father had told him to do it.” Her lower lip trembled as she talked. “He never knew his father. I never knew his father. I told him that his father died when he was very young, but he - Aaron was an accident. I couldn’t tell him that I met his father in a bar and the number he left the next morning was a dead line. So I told him his father was killed overseas when he was a baby. I think he found out, and I think it broke him.”

As Hotch leaned back on the couch to process it all, Amelia leaned forward. “It’s not your fault, Mrs. Sterling. You gave him the best life you could, and I’m sure growing up thinking his dad was a hero helped him. But your son has murdered couples up and down the state. He thinks he’s the next Boston Reaper. If there’s anything else you could tell us about him, we’d really appreciate it.”

Hotch said nothing the entire time they sat with Mrs. Sterling. He’d been turning something over in his head. When they were back in the car, he turned to Amelia. “He’s smart enough to get a fake birth certificate on file. That means he filed to have his name changed. Why?”

“He doesn’t want to identify with the lead investigator on the new Reaper case,” Amelia suggested. “Foyet, our unsub - since Shaunessey died, they’ve all orbited around you. He had the bad luck of sharing your name.”

“But he kept it. He swapped first and middle names. He can’t get away from Foyet, from me. Not completely. He’s drawn to us like he’s drawn to Foyet. Eventually we’re bound to collide.”

Chapter 24 Chapter Text

“Sterling’s in the wind. Garcia’s got eyes all over the place, but there’s no way we can predict his next move, is there?” JJ asked. “He’s not killing in places with any particular significance to him. Or to the case. He’s not following the Reaper murders, at least not the locations. Is he finding convenient places, or is he lying in wait?”

“He’s waiting for them. Foyet didn’t take any chances, and neither would Sterling,” Hotch answered from where he was pouring himself another cup of coffee in the hotel breakfast area. “He’s a ‘catch me before I kill again’ type. If he's like Foyet, his plan is to get more famous than Bundy.”

“Well the press isn’t listening to us any more.” Emily reached for the remote, turning the volume up on the news report that was running in the breakfast area. “They’re calling him the New Reaper.”

Morgan sat down next to her, stirring a packet of sugar into his coffee. “I feel like we’re sitting around waiting for another murder. We need to get a leg up on this guy. Reid, is there anything in the geographic profile at all?”

Reid closed his eyes, picturing the map they’d been building over the last few weeks. He shook his head, paused, and quietly realized, “Plum Island.”

“Where?”

“Plum Island.” Reid opened his eyes, looking around the group. “Foyet mentioned it to the guards the night he escaped. He said something about wanting to see the birds. And Sterling and his mom vacationed there every winter.”

“It’s a reach, but it’s all we’ve got,” Hotch said. “Let’s go.”

Everyone glanced at Rossi. Though he was now technically in charge, no one had questioned Hotch taking the lead on this case. “Let’s go,” Rossi nodded.

Plum Island wasn’t too far of a drive. They’d alerted the police in the closest town, and together with local forces, they would be going door to door, visiting every home, hotel, and B&B up and down the island. It helped that it was the off season. Most of the hotel rooms were empty, but when they showed the hostess at a beachfront cafe Sterling’s picture, she could’ve sworn she’d seen him around. That was enough to launch Hotch into a barrage of questions. Amelia had to gently put a hand on his arm and tell him to take it easy on her.

He was getting restless no matter what they were doing. If they camped out in one particular town, he wanted to get a move on. If they were on the road, he was cursing the traffic, wishing they were at their destination already. He got up early and went for a run every morning, and he’d go down to the hotel gym if he couldn’t settle down in the evening. He hardly slept, and when he did, every little noise woke him up. He called Jack and Jessica at least once a day, if not more. He went over the evidence obsessively. Foyet’s files and Sterling’s files wallpapered every hotel room they were in. Every few days he would insist on camping out on one of the roads outside of town, praying that Sterling would approach them. Amelia would fall asleep in the passenger seat beside him.

It was the middle of December when they were woken up with the news. They’d been staked out on a side street until four in the morning, and Amelia grumbled when Hotch’s phone rang. He said nothing other than a tired, “Hotchner.” He listened. He sighed. And he hung up. “We missed him,” Hotch said, tossing his phone down on the bed. “He killed a couple two blocks away and we missed him.”

Amelia rolled over in bed as he bowed his head into his hands. “Did he leave a note?”

“‘Sins of the father’,” he mumbled.

“‘Sins of the father’? That’s kind of vague.” She sat up in bed, moving to hold his hand.

He shook his head. “‘The sins of the fathers are visited upon the children’ is the full quote. I think he’s talking about Jack. He views Foyet as his predecessor, a father-like figure that passed a legacy on to him. And Jack… he wants to punish Jack for what I did to his father figure.” There was fear in his eyes as he looked at her. “I think we should bring him up here.”

“Closer to the guy who wants to hurt him?”

“He’ll be safer with us.” The junior FBI agents standing outside the safe house don’t give a f*ck about my family. If Sterling wants Jack, he’ll have to go through me.

“You’re not going to drag a child through police station after police station and let him sleep in a hotel room covered in pictures of dead bodies.”

“No, I’m not,” Hotch said flatly. “I’ve been thinking about it. I want to give him a real Christmas. I’ve been gone for too long and he deserves a good holiday. I think we should rent a house somewhere. Somewhere safe. Martha’s Vineyard hasn’t had a murder in twenty years.”

“Martha’s Vineyard sounds nice,” Amelia smiled, trying to brighten the scowl on his face. “We’ll get a little house on the Vineyard and forget about this case for a few days. Let’s look at some places before breakfast. I bet Garcia can get us a great deal.”

He relaxed a little as she wrapped her arms around him. “I love you. Thank you for… dealing with me as I deal with this.”

“I love you too. You and Jack, I’d do anything to keep you safe and happy. We’ll be okay. We’ll either have this case wrapped up by Christmas, or we’ll have a happy little holiday on Martha’s Vineyard and then we’ll find Sterling.”

If only it was that easy. If only serial killers worked on normal schedules. If only, if only, if only. Christmas Eve found Hotch and Amelia and Jack renting a small house on Martha’s Vineyard, safely away from the rest of the world. Or so they thought. They’d said goodbye to the others a few days before, after the trail had started to go cold and Christmas travel plans were made. They’d all only be gone for a few days, and then it would be back to the hunt. But Sterling seemed to have dropped off the map, and everyone was content with taking a few days off to go home. Hotch and Amelia had picked Jack up at the airport, escorted by none other than Penelope Garcia. Garcia would be going home with the others, but not before she and Hotch took Jack Christmas shopping.

They’d spent the evening making Christmas cookies and decorating the rather pathetic Christmas tree Hotch had managed to scrounge up from the tree lot just as it was closing for the season. Jack dozed off on the couch in the middle of How the Grinch Stole Christmas, and Hotch ended up carrying him to bed. He and Amelia sat up a bit later, watching the fire burn down and talking about anything and everything that wasn’t related to the case. Eventually they got up and snuck the "from Santa" presents out under the tree. When all that was left of the fire was a faint orange glow of embers, they went to bed too.

Hotch leaned in to kiss her goodnight. One kiss turned into two, and two turned into deeper kisses until they were shedding their clothes, trying to be quiet so they wouldn’t wake Jack up in the room next door. He pulled her to his chest when they were done, now thoroughly exhausted. He held her close, burying his nose in her hair and listening to the ocean outside. “I want to spend forever like this,” he whispered as Amelia snuggled up to him. "You and me and Jack, together as a family."

“Me too. Y’know what sounds good?” she yawned.

“Hmm?”

“‘Amelia Hotchner’.”

He couldn't stop smiling. “That sounds wonderful. Merry Christmas, Amelia Hotchner. Oh, I like that."Soon that'll be the only name anyone calls you. Soon, I promise.

"Mmm, I like it too. Merry Christmas, Aaron Hotchner."

Chapter 25 Chapter Text

Hotch woke up early on Christmas morning. He always woke up early, but today he’d planned on starting breakfast before anyone else was up. Amelia reached for him as he moved. There was no fooling a profiler. “Go back to sleep,” he whispered, giving her a gentle kiss.

“Mmm, okay.”

He stood in the doorway, watching her for a moment. He wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life like this, with her and Jack. If only there wasn’t Sterling to worry about. He turned into the living room, thinking of plugging in the Christmas lights before he started cooking. And then he saw it. In bright red paint dripping like blood, someone had left a message on the wall. Deal? 92 Second St. NYE.

It only took him a second to turn around, grabbing his gun from where he’d stowed it in the nightstand. “Get up,” he whispered as Amelia rolled over. The sting in his voice was enough to snap her awake immediately. Something was very, very wrong.

She sat up, blinked, and saw the glint of metal in his hand as he raced out of the room. She grabbed her own gun and followed. Hotch ran right over to check on Jack. Together they cleared the rest of the house, checked all of the doors and windows, and looked around outside. The sun was just coming up. They were freezing when they stepped back inside, locking the door behind them.

Hotch sat down on the couch, setting his gun on the coffee table. His hands were shaking as he rubbed his eyes. It wasn’t from the cold. “He was here. He was here, one room away from my family. And I didn’t know. I’m going to kill him.”

“No.” Amelia sat down next to him. She set her gun down next to his and reached for his hand. “You’re going to make a deal with him. And then we’re going to bring him in. No one else needs to die.”

“He does.” He looked over at her, taking her all in at once. She was still in her pajamas. She hadn’t brushed her hair or her teeth. She’d jumped right up out of bed and followed his lead unfailingly. She knew something was wrong from a half second of him being in the same room. She held his shaking hand in hers, both of them still cold from running outside with no coats or shoes on. There was fear in her eyes too, but it was masked by such a profound sense of caring. He swallowed hard, thinking about the little box he’d asked Jack to hide in his suitcase. Not today. It can’t be today now. Not after this.

“Then let the federal prosecutor ask for the death penalty.” She stood, guiding him towards the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” he asked, watching her fill up a bowl of warm water.

“We’re going to clean that mess off the wall. And then we’re going to make breakfast and open presents with Jack.” She set the bowl down, coming over to wrap her arms around him. “We’re not going to let him mess with our lives any more than he already has. We’re going to give Jack a real Christmas, even if we have to fake it all day.”

He gave her a weary smile. “I love you.” I wish there were words for how much I love you. You’re everything. Of course you’d do this. Of course your first thought is giving Jack the life he deserves. I love you.

“I love you too.”

Together they cleaned the paint off of the wall, scrubbing until all of the red was gone. They’d chipped a bit of the paint underneath, but it didn’t matter. The wall was clean and they were halfway done making pancakes when Jack ran into the kitchen. “Hey, slow down there,” Amelia laughed. “Merry Christmas, Jack.”

“Merry Christmas!” he beamed, looking up at Hotch, who bent down and whispered something to him. He nodded seriously before disappearing into his room and returning with arms full of presents.

Amelia could tell that Garcia had helped him wrap some of them, especially the ones covered in way too many bows. Some of the others were wrapped a little more clumsily, but she smiled all the same. “Are those all for me?”

“There’s one more, but Dad said -”

“Dad said you can open one present before he and Mom - Amelia make their coffee, and then we can open the rest,” Hotch said. “Can you put those under the tree for me? You might want to check your stocking too.”

“Okay!”

Amelia couldn’t stop smiling as she opened the cabinet and pulled out two coffee mugs. “I’m sorry,” Hotch whispered as he poured more pancake batter into the pan. “I - you’re so good with him. I didn’t mean - That just kind of happened.”

“I don’t want him to call me ‘Mom’. That’s Haley. It always will be. But I’m glad you think I could be like a mom to him.”

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. Watching her with Jack, it just felt so natural. She cheered just as loudly as he and Jessica did at his soccer games. She helped him with his homework and picked him up from school or soccer practice. Whenever Hotch had to work late, they’d make pizza or order takeout and stay up watching movies until he came home. She wanted every holiday to be special, and now here she was, insisting that they try their best to give him a good Christmas in the face of a murderer who had been just a few feet away from them the night before. “You already are.”

“Well he’s got the best dad ever,” she smiled, coming over to kiss him.

“Eew.” They had to laugh. Jack stood in the kitchen doorway, looking between them. “Are you sure about the last present?”

Hotch nodded. “Yeah. How many pancakes do you want?”

That night, Jack fell asleep between them on the couch. Hotch carried him to their bed. There was no way he’d let Jack out of his reach until he went home. “92 Second Street,” Amelia mumbled as they got ready for bed. “What’s at 92 Second Street?”

“I Googled it earlier,” Hotch said through a mouth full of toothpaste. “It’s not on the Vineyard.” He rinsed his mouth out before telling her, “It’s in Fall River. The Lizzie Borden house.”

“Like Lizzie Borden who hacked her parents to death with an axe? How fitting.”

“We’ll call the others tomorrow. Once Jack’s on the way home, we’ll head down to Fall River.”

She stopped him in the bathroom doorway. “Aaron, promise me something.”

“Hmm?”

“Promise me you won’t shoot him on sight.”

“Okay.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I promise.”

As they laid down on either side of Jack, they both knew they wouldn’t get much sleep. They sat up with each other, basking in the peace of their little family. It wouldn’t last long.

Chapter 26 Chapter Text

The Lizzie Borden house was usually a bed and breakfast, but on New Year’s Eve, it stood completely empty. The FBI bought out all of the rooms, canceling other travelers’ reservations. That night, it would just be Hotch and Amelia. And dozens of other members of law enforcement camped out outside. The streets swarmed with local police, MBI and FBI agents, sheriff’s deputies, and anyone else who happened to be around. Amelia was pretty sure she’d seen someone in a Secret Service jacket pass by as they arrived.

They sat in the dining room, waiting. Hotch checked his watch. Amelia glanced at her phone. “When is he supposed to meet you?”

“I don’t know. He’s been silent since Christmas. I’d bet he’s going to wait until the clock strikes midnight so everyone’s distracted. The fireworks will muffle a lot.” He stared into the half-darkened living room.

“He’s not going to try to kill you if he’s serious about making a deal.”

“He better not.” They weren’t wearing bulletproof vests. They’d dressed in their normal clothes, hoping to appear as non-threatening as they could. He checked his watch again. Nervous habit. “We’ve got three hours. Want me to tell you a ghost story?” He smiled, moving his chair next to her and reaching for her hand. “Thank you for doing this.”

“I’m not going to leave you to do this by yourself. You’re not sitting in the Lizzie Borden house alone. It’s spooky,” she smiled. “Almost as spooky as the Unidentified Homicides Unit in Quantico’s basem*nt.”

It made him laugh. That was a rare sight these days. “I did a few weeks with Cold Cases back when I first got moved out to Quantico. I hated that office.”

“I started in the Seattle Field Office,” Amelia told him. “No one could stop talking about how much of a legend Agent Hotchner was.” She couldn’t help but smile. Even now, even here, sitting in the half-light of an infamous crime scene, waiting on the reincarnation of George Foyet, he was just as handsome as the day he’d first walked into her office all those years ago. “Y’know, sometimes I think about going back to before. Back to when my biggest worries were filing deadlines and making sure witnesses didn’t fall apart on the stand.”

“So do I,” Hotch said quietly. “And then I think about how I was always too late. Unless we were prosecuting predators talking to an undercover cop, we were too late. Someone had already been killed or hurt, and prison time was never enough to fix it. I miss it. I miss the safety. And not being on call all of the time.”

“Yeah, that was nice. Just the occasional murder call-out in the middle of the night… I miss it. The hotels were better too. I don’t know about you, but when they sent me for trainings, we stayed in some decent places.”

They sat up talking for a while. At ten minutes to midnight, Hotch got up and started pacing the room. He checked his watch. Nine minutes. “Did I ever tell you I used to smoke when I was a prosecutor?” he asked as he glanced out of the window. Darkened headlights glittered in the moonlight.

“You? Really?” Amelia came to stand next to him.

“Mhm. I started because some of the guys at work did, back when we’d be there late at night working against a deadline. I gave it up when I started training for the Bureau, but at times like these… I could use a cigarette.”

“I could give you something better.” Hotch raised an eyebrow. Amelia gave him a slow kiss.

“Much better.”

“I’m going to run to the bathroom, but I’ll be back by midnight.” Eight minutes.

“Okay. Be careful.”

She took to the stairs, climbing up to the second floor. That’s when she saw it. The briefest flash of motion out of the corner of her eye. She took out her gun, stepping into the room beside her. It was empty. She shook her head as she holstered her gun again. It’s getting late. You’re getting paranoid. She walked back into the hall and into the bathroom closest to the stairwell. Before she could flick the lights on, someone grabbed her. “Aar-”

“Ssh.” Sterling clamped his hand down over her mouth. “You’re not supposed to be here,” he hissed. She could see him in the moonlight. They were right. He was a young man. White. Mid-20s. He held a knife to her throat. His hand was steady. Practiced. How many women saw that knife right before they died? “Hotchner. Only Hotchner. He didn’t listen.”

“Aaron didn’t know.” It was muffled, but it was enough.

Sterling scoffed. “You know what I’m going to do with you, pretty?” He pricked her just slightly. “Your boyfriend has a nasty set of scars from my father. How about I give you the same ones?”

She screamed into his hand as he plunged the knife into her chest. But it wasn’t her chest she saw when she looked down, watching blood bloom across her shirt. It was Aaron, in those vulnerable moments when she caught him staring at the scars on his chest in the mirror, when he tried to cover them from her, when he’d wake up in the middle of the night screaming in pain, his chest searing like Foyet was stabbing him again. In the tears streaming down her face, she felt his pain, every time she’d find him with tears in his eyes as he stared in the mirror, every time he woke up in a cold sweat. “Aaron…” Her voice was softer this time, and it sounded far away. The room was getting blurrier as she fumbled for her gun.

“No.” Sterling grabbed it first, tossing it into the hall before sinking his knife into her chest again.

Hotch was halfway up the stairs when he heard the unmistakable clatter of a gun being thrown on the ground. And then she screamed, the most gut-wrenching cry of his name he’d ever heard. He drew his gun, taking the stairs two at a time. “Drop it,” he commanded, Sterling hesitating. He held a knife in one hand and Amelia in the other. A dark river of blood was dripping down her chest. She was swaying a little as she stared at him, silently pleading for him to do something. “Drop the knife, Sterling.”

Sterling spun her roughly in front of him. “You know my name,” he smiled proudly. “They’ll all know my name tomorrow morning.”

“They already do. Let her go.” He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his voice steady. “Let her go. I’m the one you really want, right?”

“You killed my father. Why shouldn’t I take something from you?”

“Because she’s not part of this fight. Foyet -”

“My father!” Sterling screamed, his knife dangerously close to Amelia’s throat. “Do you know why that bitch named me Aaron?! Because he told her to! He named me after the man he hated the most. We’re tied together, you and I. Aaron Hotchner and Aaron Foyet. We all kill each other in the end, don’t we?”

Hotch swallowed hard. “Maybe we do. But she has nothing to do with this. Nothing to do with you or your father. If this is your inheritance, I wouldn’t spend it on her. Take me.” He held his hands up slowly. Before he could bend to set his gun on the floor, Sterling sunk his knife into Amelia’s shoulder. She whimpered in pain. He didn’t have a clear shot.

He locked eyes with her as Sterling pulled the knife back out. Tears dripped down her cheeks. Part of him wanted to hold her. Part of him boiled with an anger so raw that he could have killed Sterling with his bare hands. Her lips barely moved, but she mouthed the word, “Three.” In an instant, he knew. There was no way he’d be able to get a clear shot unless she moved. And she had a plan. His heart swelled. “Two. One.”

Everything happened at once. Amelia seemed to faint, and Sterling wasn’t ready for it. He loosened his grip on her as she fell to her knees. She knocked the knife out of his hand. Hotch fired. Once. Twice. A third time as Sterling fell. The echo of the gunshots still ringing in his ears, Hotch ran towards her. Amelia had propped herself up against the wall, scrambling away from where Sterling lay dead. The knife had clattered to the floor. She kicked it into the hallway. “Aaron,” she mumbled as he untied his tie and started to wrap it around the wound in her shoulder.

His voice shook as he talked. “You are the most amazing - I love you.” He leaned in to kiss her, Amelia smiling a little as he put a gentle hand to her face.

“I love you too.” She leaned into his touch as half a dozen pairs of boots took to the stairs, rushing in at the sound of gunshots.

“Hey, keep your eyes open,” he whispered. “Look at me.”Please. I'm not losing you. I can't.

“I’ll never get tired of looking at you,” she smiled weakly.

It was just the two of them, suspended in time, Amelia fighting to stay conscious and Hotch fighting to keep himself together as he held her. They paid no mind to the stampede of police, the chatter and yelling, the sirens outside, the flash of cell phone cameras taking pictures before their movements disturbed any of the evidence. It was an eternity captured in a moment or two before the ambulance got there and Hotch had to yell at the EMTs to let him go with them, because he wasn’t going to leave Amelia for anything.

He held her hand in the ambulance, sitting as close as he could without being in the way. He talked to her, amazed at how she was still awake. He refused to let go of her until she was taken into surgery. And then he collapsed.

Rossi found him on the floor of the hallway that ran in front of the operating rooms. He was missing a tie and covered in blood. His hands shook as he pressed his palms to his eyes. He didn’t bother to wipe at the tears tracking down his face, running in rivulets down his cheeks. Hotch looked up helplessly as his friend sat down beside him. Without a word, he handed him his gun. Rossi nodded. He understood. It was time. He'd been through too much. There was no use in trying to convince him to stay. “Keep the badge until you turn in the paperwork.” He put a hand on his shoulder. “She’s going to be alright.”

“No she won’t. She’ll never be the same again. I wasn’t… after… after. She’ll never be able to look at herself the same way again. That’s why I can’t do this any more. She deserves to be safe. Jack too. And they can’t be safe as long as I’m in this life.” He took a shaky breath, hoping Rossi wouldn't try to argue with him.

“Did you ask her yet?”

Hotch shook his head. “I was going to on Christmas, but… Dave, what kind of f*cked up lives do we live that my proposal was ruined by a serial killer?”

Amelia couldn’t tell how long she’d been asleep. She’d closed her eyes staring at Hotch in the back of an ambulance, and wherever she was now, it was warm and peaceful. She could tell he wasn't far away. Her entire body felt heavy. Opening her eyes was more effort than it ever had been. But she knew she was somewhere good when she heard Jack’s voice calling, “Dad! She’s awake!”

Suddenly Hotch was next to her, holding her hand and crying again. He slowly came into view as her vision became sharper. He’d changed into normal clothes and washed the blood from his face and hands. Jack hovered at his elbow. “Hi,” he smiled. His lower lip quivered a little. He put a gentle hand to her cheek. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too. What - What day is it? What time is it?”

“It’s January first. Just about nine in the morning. Jessica and Jack flew up a few hours ago. Rossi called Garcia and she got them on the first plane up here. I’m so glad you’re going to be okay.” Another avalanche of all of the emotions he’d pent up threatened to spill over at any minute. “I really love you.” Jack tugged at his sleeve. Hotch seemed to know exactly what he was going to ask. “Let’s give her a little while to wake up.”

“I’m awake enough. What is it?”

Hotch hesitated for a second. “D’you think you can sit up?”

“Maybe.” She pushed a button on the bed, slowly moving until she was sitting up. She leaned back, closing her eyes. “Give me a second. Now I’m dizzy.”

“Take your time,” he whispered, rubbing his thumb over hers. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She took a few deep breaths before opening her eyes. The room had stopped spinning. Everything was a lot clearer now. “Okay. I think I’m okay.”

Hotch looked at Jack, who was beaming with excitement. “I’ll trade you,” he said, handing Jack his phone. Jack dug a box out of the backpack that had been sitting on his chair. “Thanks, buddy. Amelia,” he took a deep breath, turning back to her. “I’m not going to do the whole getting down on one knee thing, I feel like that would be weird here. But I love you. Deeply and desperately. And I would do anything to keep you and Jack safe. I love how you fit into our family. I love how clearly you love me and Jack. I want you to be part of that forever. Amelia Alice Davenport, will you marry me?” He opened the box clumsily, holding up a ring that he and Jack had picked out together before Christmas.

“Yes. Aaron, I - yes.” She couldn’t help but start crying as he slipped the ring onto her finger. He leaned in for a kiss, carefully settling in beside her. He wrapped his arms around her as best he could as she sniffled an, “I love you, Aaron Hotchner.” She looked up at Jack, who couldn’t stop smiling himself. “Hey Jack? We’re going to make sure I don’t look too gross before we post those pictures anywhere, okay?”

Amelia got out of the hospital two days later. Two days after that, Hotch officially turned in his badge and his gun. And a week later, he started at the Prince William County prosecutor’s office. Joining him in the Homicide Unit two months later would be Amelia Hotchner, who spent half of her time there and half of her time teaching at the FBI Academy. They were safe, and they were happy, and they had each other. And that was all that mattered.

Red Flags & Long Nights - awestruck_apollo (2024)

Chapter 1

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Chapter 2

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Chapter 3

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Chapter 4

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Chapter 5

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Chapter 6

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Chapter 7

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Chapter 8

Notes:

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Chapter 9

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Chapter 10

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Chapter 11

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Chapter 12

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Chapter 13

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Chapter 14

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Chapter 15

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Chapter 16

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Chapter 17

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Chapter 18

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Chapter 19

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Chapter 20

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Chapter 21

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Chapter 22

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Chapter 23

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Chapter 24

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Chapter 25

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Chapter 26

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