Tumblr prompt: "is there anyway that you could write a fic about Emily turning up on Hotch's doorstep saying that she cant do it anymore, that she cant be on the other side of the world cause it's too far away from him, that she loves him and misses him, that shes spent her whole life trying to hide her feelings from him but she just cant do it, even from the other side of the world and just cant do it anymore?"

It might be a bit clichéd and overdone, but here. Have a happy ending. It's been a while.

"Emily?"

Dark eyes rise to his, pained, broken. "I can't do it."

He steps back, because there have only been a handful of times he's seen her look like that and it never, never looked this bad. She shouldn't be here, either. She should be in London, running an Interpol office because that's where she deserves to be. "Can't do what?"

"I can't… I can't be in London. I can't be that far away."

He sighs. She'd gone through this same struggle when she'd left. That breakfast hadn't been the strong Emily he'd been used to. She'd been worn down and a bit broken. London had been the best decision she could make, even if she had agonized over leaving the team behind.

"We've been through this, Em."

She shakes her head. "We haven't. Not this. Not like this."

He steps around her, holds out an arm towards the couch then leads the way. He hears her bag thump to the floor behind him and takes a moment to compose himself. Because this hurts. Having her here hurts. He knows what his job is and it's not the one he wants.

He doesn't want to talk her back into leaving.

He loves her, that's the problem. He doesn't want her to go. He wants to wrap her up in his arms and just… Just hang on. But she deserves bigger, better things, things that the job at Interpol will open up for her. And more than that, he won't drag her back to the US. If this kind of pained, conflicted Emily makes his heart ache, the Emily she'd been before she'd left had been so much worse.

"I thought you were making friends over there."

"I am. I have friends. And not just my cat."

That makes his mouth twitch.

"But that's not- That's not why I can't do it."

It's the first time he sees the nerves, the way her fingers twitch up towards her mouth. An anxious tell. He glances at her hands, sees how short her nails are. "Emily?"

"I want to be back here with you."

He drops to the couch. Hard. That had not been even close to on the radar of things he'd thought she'd say. "Em-"

"No just… Hear me out?"

His eyes slide closed.

"We both know there was something," she says. "We both know… God, Hotch we both did things for each other that teammates just don't do for other teammates."

He knows that. The way he'd gone to her, to drag her on that plane; the way she'd watched him after the SUV explosion; the look on his face when she'd had to go 'undercover' with Viper; the way she'd been there after Haley… The list is long and almost endless. They've supported each other in much closer ways than just friends.

"You were all I thought about in Paris. I asked JJ about you every moment I could. Then when I was back, when you offered to support me… For a few moments I thought, this is it, you know? We're back, everything's normal… But it wasn't. It isn't. Everything is… Everything is different."

He sits quietly. She's not done, he can tell. He's always been able to tell.

"I just… I died. I coded in that ambulance and when I woke up…" She huffs. "When you're supposed to die, when you cheat death, you wake up and you promise yourself that you're going to do all the things that you didn't do. Except the thing is, that kind of trauma breaks you a little. I was a mess when I came back, trying to get over the paranoia and the stupid trauma of being stabbed-"

He feels his jaw clench. She's always been too damn hard on herself.

"And then I ran."

His head comes up, meets the turmoil all over her face.

"I ran. Because… God, I'm so broken, Hotch. I'm just… Everything, all the baggage, and I ran because I couldn't be here-"

"You don't have to justify moving, Emily."

Because he gets it. Jack and Jack's life is the only thing that kept him in DC after Foyet. But she hadn't had roots like that. He's honestly wondered since she left if Emily can put down roots.

When he looks up from his hands her eyes are hard. "I don't want to run anymore."

His chest clenches, even as he tries not to get his hopes up. She still has a life in London. She will still have to go back.

"I can't. I can't run. I can't keep thinking of you back here, living your life, finding love, without me. I can't. Because I can't see living the rest of my life without you. And I'm sick of not jumping, of having to be patient and wait for it. No. I did that, and I almost died, and then-"

Yeah. And then. And then she'd left. And then she'd taken a job across the Atlantic. And then she'd run.

"But life is about more than running an Interpol office. It's exciting and it's- God, it's like nothing else, but that's useless when you're back here. Why do I care about my success when I have no one to share it with?"

"Em, you'll find someone."

"I don't want someone," she counters. "I'm sick of settling. I've been doing that my whole life, doing the right thing, following the right path, the thing that just makes sense. But Hotch, this makes sense. You and me, makes sense."

He'd known what she was implying, more than implying, but to hear it, to hear her talking about them as a joined thing, that knocks the air from his lungs. He sees her fingers clench then release out of the corner of his eye, a little twitch like she's gathering her courage. When he looks up at her face, he knows that's exactly what she's done.

"We make sense."

He breaks. "Of course we do," he says fiercely. "We've always made sense, Emily, but that's not all there is."

Now it's her turn to stay quiet and he's thought a million times that this is why they work. They work because they know. They know when to talk and when to listen, when to pause and when to distract.

"There's your job, your career, and mine. There's Jack and there's the fact that you're still recovering and-"

"And none of that matters."

"It all matters," he argues.

Her spine straightens. "None of it matters if you want me."

He sags. God, what a sucker punch. "You know I do."

"Then-"

"I won't do that to you."

"Do what to me? I'm here, telling you I want this."

"You want to leave your job, a job that was handed to you because you're just that good, to come back to a country that made you skittish and nervous for a year, that you couldn't settle in-"

"Yes."

Her tone is hard, unyielding. It's a decision and one she's set on if he's in for it. But when he looks up at her he can see the nerves in her face. He can see her heart on her sleeve and Emily- Emily protects herself with everything. No one sees her, really sees her, and while she'd given him the biggest glimpses over the years, he's never seen this.

"Look, if you don't want to do this, I'll go back to London and everything will be back to as it's been. I'll leave you alone."

He almost chokes. No.

"But Hotch, Aaron… We have every chance. Neither of us is getting younger. I don't want to look back in five years and regret the fact that I never had the balls to tell you I'm in love with you."

And there goes his air. He can't suck in oxygen. He can't get his lungs to work and his heart is pumping against the tightness in his chest. "Emily-"

"I'll leave you alone," she says again. "Just say the word."

He's quiet for a moment. "I can't."

He sees her spine relax, her body sag. He doesn't even realize he's standing, moving, getting his hands on her face.

"I can't tell you I don't want you."

Her hands rest delicately at his hips. "So don't."

And he leans down, does something he's wanted to do for well on five years. He presses his mouth to hers. Her reaction is that of a struck match. She ignites in his arms, her body arching as close to his as she can get. He picks her up, carries her to his bedroom - of course he does, she's here, she's responding, she's giving him everything he wants and he cannot say no - and kisses her as he sets her on the covers.

"Emily," he whispers, then kisses her again. "I love you, too."