Paris - Hotchniss

Someone Like You

Song - Someone Like You by Adele

XXX

"Tell me about the first time you met me," Emily said, gazing into his gentle eyes as she laid beside him in bed.

He smiled back into her eager eyes. She looked so peaceful. So carefree. He loved to see her like this. Comfortable and safe.

"You just got back from a party with some of your friends. You were wearing a short black dress. Your friend drove you home, I think. You stumbled into me at the door. I knew you were drunk, and looked a few years younger than me, but you still looked beautiful." He cupped her face with his large hands and smiled. "You asked me who the hell I was, and why I was in your house. I told you, and you went upstairs and to bed. After that, I didn't see you again until you showed up in my office."

"I don't remember that," Emily confessed.

"Maybe because you were drunk," he responded, laughing lightly.

XXX

Hotch woke up with a strange sensation in his head as his eyes scanned the unfamiliar room he was in. He swallowed thickly as soon as it registered to him that he was in Emily's bedroom.

He felt the woman next to him adjust her position beside him in her sleep. Her head resting comfortably over his shoulder, her hand resting over his bare chest. The smell of lavender and vanilla filled his nose.

Aaron exhaled slowly as he looked up at the grey ceiling. His head beginning to feel the after effects of last night's tenacious whiskey. Of course, he had more pressing matters to deal with at the moment. He had slept with Emily Prentiss.

Why?

Was it the alcohol, or could it have been a moment of passion that was painstakingly overdue?And more importantly, what was going to happen again? Would it happen again?

No, he decided. It couldn't. It was a mistake with copious amounts of alcohol at the root of it. Yet, it didn't feel likes a mistake. Hotch closed his eyes tightly, then glanced at the digital clock positioned on the small oak table beside the door. Six forty-two.

Emily wouldn't be awake for a while, not with all she had to drink last night. If she wasn't lying naked beside him, he wasn't sure she would remember what happened at all.

He was faced with a decision; one that seemed more than clear in his mind.

Stay in bed with Emily, confess his undying love for the woman, leave for DC, and instill a sense of hope in her that he couldn't fill. It would end with empty promises, false hope, and two shattered hearts.

Or he could go about it the easy way. He could leave now, and never look back on this moment. He could return to his team and go about his days as though this was nothing more than a drunken moment of passion. A moment of desperation, if you will. Anything was easy enough to blame on alcohol if there's enough manipulation involved. 

Yet, it still seemed like an easy decision to him.

XXX

Emily woke up to the orange sun peeking through her white curtains. She shifted quietly in her warm bed as she realized an absence of a presence beside her. The covers were pulled back in the bare spot, but were clearly draped over her own shoulders. Her bedroom door was open just a crack.

She quickly jumped out of bed and grabbed her shirt and sweats that were lying neatly on her dresser. Quickly, she pulled them on and silently grabbed her gun which she kept hidden in her top drawer, buried beneath an old Poison t-shirt.

Silently, she opened her door and entered the hallway, poking her head around each corner to check for her intruder. She wasn't quite sure how she got herself within the position she was in now, but it wasn't a common occurrence to find herself with a man ever since she had arrived in the city. Needless to say, it was rare to find herself with anyone at all.

As she reached that kitchen and cleared it of any human presence, her eyes caught a loose piece of paper that was lying on the counter, writing scrawled all over the face of it.

Emily placed her gun on the surface of the counter and picked up the paper, furrowing her eyebrows slightly as she began to read the words.

Emily,

I'm not quite sure how to begin this letter. I've never been good at expressing my emotions, but you already know that. So, I figured I would do it with words instead.

I would like to set one thing straight. I'm not leaving you because I'm ashamed of what happened between us. Now, I could blame it on the alcohol. I could say that it was a mistake. A blind, drunken, act of passion. But then I would be lying. I don't believe it was a mistake, and I know I have to leave because of that. Call me a coward. Maybe I am.

I'm leaving because of the way you make me smile. The way you light up my day with just a simple smile in my direction. I'm leaving you because of the way you care. You care for the ones you love. Spencer, Penelope, JJ, and even Morgan. You have so much love to give, and I can't let you let me hold you back from that. You deserve to be happy. You deserve a fresh start, and I'm leaving because of that.

I care for you deeply. I believe I've cared for you ever since I laid eyes on you so many years ago. It was selfish of me to think that we could have done what we did and not have consequences. You don't know how much I'd give to take back one day to tell you how I felt. How I feel.

I truly do hope that all of our memories live on in your memory as they do in mine. I hope you get everything you want in life and more.

- A.H.

Emily took a small step back as she read Aaron's initials on the page. Her hands wavered slightly as she read over the last paragraph once more, absorbing every word into her memory. She sucked in a small breath.

He was really gone. Aaron Hotchner. His name already seemed almost distant to her now. Her boss. Her unit chief at the Federal Bureau of Investigation. It almost sounded like the plot line for a cheesy romance movie.

She was so in love with this man, if only a year ago. And yet he acted as if this was entirely his fault. It shouldn't have made her angry, but it did. He got to say all of these things to her, and she had no say in this at all.

As her eyes ran over the final words of the letter, a small tear fell down her cheek and onto the think, lined paper.