Chapter Text
She never slept on the jet. Sure, there were times, when she sat somewhat limply in her seat, eyes closed, lips slightly parted, but Hotch knew her well enough to be able to tell she was awake. Same way she never took the jet couch, which was a lot more comfortable to sleep on. It didn’t matter whether she was injured or not, exhausted or not, she never took the couch all to herself like, for example, Reid. Not because people hadn’t offered (they had), she just always declined the offer politely and tried to relax in her seat. Hotch asked her about it once. Emily responded with a sad smile and a quiet “other people need it more”. He didn’t understand.
Later, when he had come to know her closer, he learned that she sometimes struggled with sleep. Nightmares were her frequent guests, and it had always been hard for Emily to stop her anxious mind from reeling and have some peace. The fact that her sleep was very fragile (she was a light sleeper on top of that) didn’t help a bit - any sound, no matter how small or quiet could wake her, and falling back asleep was almost an impossible task. Sometimes Hotch wondered if it would be easier for her to fall asleep in someone’s arms. His, for example. Preferably.
He had also come to know that she struggled with trust. While this job might have been making life easier and safer for some people, it only made it worse for the agents. So Hotch couldn’t really blame Emily for trusting no one, although, he had to admit, sometimes it stung. She had probably the worst case of trust issues among all of them, so little pieces of her trust were so precious for him that he carried them in his heart. Hotch didn’t really understand when exactly pieces of Emily had made their way into his heart, not that he objected. Being asleep is a very vulnerable state, he knew; this vulnerability never came to him easily, so he could imagine how difficult it must have been for her. Or he couldn’t. Sometimes, going deep into boxes in his mind labeled “Emily” he got lost in this analysis of her, which was running in his head 24/7. Hotch avoided calling this “profiling” - after all, they all agreed not to profile each other. Nonetheless, he kept doing it, praying she wouldn’t somehow notice him doing it when her piercing eyes locked with his for a second too long. He always felt as if she could see more of him. Not only more than everyone else, but more than he would like to show. Her kind gaze always did funny things to his insides; he wanted to blurt out all his secrets and hear hers. Outside, though, he always remained a perfect picture of stoicism: his brows furrowed and glued to his nose, lips pressed into a thin line. Over the years, he mastered his poker face well. Emily’s eyes never stopped intriguing him though. There was a profound wisdom to her eyes, mixed with immense kindness and a hint of sadness. One day, Hotch woke up after seeing those eyes in a dream. He decided then it was his favorite mix.
That said (or should we say...profiled?), it wasn’t really surprising to Hotch that Emily never put herself in such a vulnerability. Life has taught her that lesson, and the teaching process wasn’t kind. She was always hyper aware, anxious, but radiating comfort for everyone else at the same time. He didn’t understand that either.
What became the base for creation of this paradox? Life was a simple answer. That’s all Hotch knew about it, but he wanted more. The woman was an enigma to him, and no complicated case with codes and puzzles and constellations could ever compare to her - his most interesting case. On good days, he could almost see the layers he peeled off, on bad ones there were spikes and thorns covering those layers. One day he realized he didn’t mind the pain.
When she came back from the dead, he noticed the changes. It felt as if he could see more of her now, too. He analyzed (profiled) that she had given him another piece of her trust, bigger this time. Combined with the ones he had before - he had a lot of it. Surprisingly, it never felt like a burden on his shoulders. Hotch wore Emily’s trust with pride and reverence, basking in the warmth of her eyes and smile. That smile did funny things to his composure, too: sometimes he had to bite his cheek hard from the inside to stop the corners of his mouth from lifting.
The thing was, he trusted her too. Not just in the field, but in everyday life as well. Hell, he trusted her with his life, with Jack’s life. Around his son, Emily’s movements were so tender, so maternal; if he didn’t know better, he would think she had kids of her own. She quickly became the star of Jack’s galaxy, the maternal figure he craved regardless of his dad being the best parent in the world. Emily still felt unsure though; she knew she would never be his real mother; she didn’t want to overstep and give a child who had already endured so much pain false hope. She and Hotch weren’t even together, which made the situation significantly harder altogether. Maybe Jack was just what they needed.
Hotch observed her. He continued his surveillance in order to solve the mystery of Emily. She was all sharp edges and grace in the field, quick ideas at the roundtable, wit and sarcasm with teammates and soft smiles and touches with him and Jack. One day they were walking to his apartment after wearing Jack out at the park. Without thinking, listening to his gut and heart only, he took her hand, and she laced their fingers together as if she had been doing it for years. No words were spoken as he stroked her knuckles with his thumb, but her palms were soft and her smile was blinding, and when she squeezed his hand three times, he felt like the happiest man on planet earth.
The realization that something was created at that moment didn’t go unnoticed by either of them. Later they would find out that the word they had been searching for was family. Neither Aaron nor Emily needed a verbal definition for their relationship; it just grew and became stronger each day. At this very early stage, the layers were coming off not a lot quicker but more eager. Aaron still didn’t have her full trust. That didn’t really bother him; he doubted there was a person in this world she trusted 100%. He was happy with what she had given him, and cherishing that and her was his new life goal.
Sometimes they loved their job, but after they had to reschedule their first official date for the third time in a row both Aaron and Emily cursed the BAU under their breath. The case was rather brutal; everyone’s mood was literal garbage. When they landed, Aar- Agent Hotchner discovered new budget reviews and reports on his desk, labeled “urgent”. Emily appeared in his office with a clear intention to take him home with her and cuddle, but that night it was not up to them. With a heavy heart, Hotch kissed her goodnight behind closed blinds, gave her the keys to his apartment and asked to tuck Jack into bed. Emily’s smile grew wider at the mention of his son, and after she returned the kiss, she left Quantico for the day. The warmth of her lips on his and the softness of her body pressed against him burned his senses long after she was gone.
Aaron got home at 12 a.m. He quickly stripped ‘Hotch’ by the door, leaving his suitcase and shoes there. The apartment was quiet, dark and surprisingly clean: no stray toys or books were found out of place upon inspection, the dishes were drying by the sink. Aaron noticed there was a plate left out or him, food now cold. They had clearly been waiting for him to have dinner together. Family. He shrugged the thoughts off and made his way further into the apartment.
Jack was fast asleep in his bed. Calmness and content colored his soft features, hair spread on the pillow. His favorite bear was on the floor, and Aaron picked it up slowly, brushing dust off it. He sat on the edge of the bed and began lightly stroking Jack’s hair, praying for him not to wake up. The fact that the boy was in such a deep sleep told him how much he must have trusted Emily. Aaron felt the pain for his son’s destroyed childhood deep in his chest, but lately both of them had been doing better, thanks to a certain brunette in their lives. That once excruciating pain had been gradually turning into a good pain, light pain; the pain that is still there but not hurting you anymore. All of it was cathartic, therapeutic, and Aaron couldn’t have asked for a better healing. That’s what they were doing; they were finally healing, and it finally felt right.
His bedroom was almost dark, the small lamp on ‘her’ side of the bed still on. Emily, however, was curled on the other side, her face buried in his pillow, hands clutching it. Aaron’s heart clenched at the sight. She looked impossibly small and fragile: her knees were pressed into her chest, hands under the pillow. Emily’s entire body was curled in a little ball, the sign of anxiety. It was reflected on her face, too – brows slightly furrowed, lines visible on the forehead, lips tightly together. It dawned on him suddenly: he had never seen her sleep before. Not on the jet, not at home or on cases. She had always been awake at all times and ready to fight whatever danger was to happen. Hell, sometimes even his hugs couldn’t make Emily close her eyes, because that was a vulnerable state as well. But here, in his home, with his son in the next room she finally let go of some of her fears. Her sleep was far from peaceful, it wouldn’t happen just yet, he knew, but that was the beginning. She looked like she protected herself from the world even in this state, but being a little ball of fair limbs and dark hair on his side of the bed, she let him in. Aaron had always thought that before she slept starfished on the bed, coming from all the years she was alone and had the bed all to herself, but as always, she proved him wrong. He liked to think that Emily was healing with them, too; that they somehow returned the comfort she provided them with. He must have been thinking too hard because Emily opened her eyes as if on cue. Aaron saw a flash of fear in them before she realized who was standing in the dark bedroom.
“Hi,” she whispered, rolling on her back a little to look at him, “I must’ve fallen asleep”.
Without a word, Aaron crossed the room and kneeled before her on his side of the bed, making her roll back into the previous position. He took her hand and kissed her fingers, knuckles, her palm, his emotions overwhelming.
“Hi,” he echoed, “I’m home”.
She just smiled. “We’re home”.
Yes, Aaron thought as she caressed his face and stroked his hair, they were finally home. They were finally right.