Chapter Thirty-Four

The next morning, Emily woke up, alone, to the sunlight streaming, aggressively, through the blinds. Alone, empty and lonely. The symphony of emotions in her stomach, conducted by guilt, made her insides hurt and Emily rolled onto her side, tucking her legs up, clutching at the soft, warm duvet and curling into a ball. She couldn't face the day. Indeed, she was content to spend the rest of her life here, in Rossi's guest room, in the warmth, away from everyone. She would never have to face any of them. Rossi, who would be so disappointed in her. Hotch, who wanted so much that she couldn't give to him. JJ, who she couldn't stand to see look at her like a stranger. Her mother, who would feel so vindicated that Emily had screwed up yet again. Isla.

Isla. Who loved her. She had never said it, but Emily could read it in her eyes every time she caught the blonde gazing at her when she wasn't looking. The thought of Isla looking at her with disgust, with hatred. Shame burned inside of Emily's chest and a sudden urge overcame her.

She only just made it to the en-suite before she was sick.

Her phone was buzzing, somewhere. Emily couldn't find the energy to lift her head from her arm, where it rested over the toilet seat. Her stomach was empty now; she kept retching, but nothing more would come up. Her throat was sore, burnt by bile, hair stuck to her forehead. And the guilt was still there. The guilt was the only thing that hadn't left her stomach. It sat inside of her, heavy and relentless, reminding her. As though the marks on her skin, the bruises on her hips left by his fingers and the red welts his lips had left on her throat weren't enough of a reminder.

The buzzing wouldn't stop; someone was calling. Emily rose to her feet, unsteady now, and in desperate need of water, and found the offending phone wrapped up in the covers on the bed. JJ's picture lit up her screen.

"Hello?" She answered the phone, trying to sound bright and cheerful and failing miserably.

"God, you sound awful." JJ's voice was bright and cheerful without trying, and Emily rolled her eyes, resenting her friend for it. "Good job I brought you coffee, hm? Open the door."

"I love you." Was all Emily said before hanging up and throwing one of the robes she found in the wardrobe over the skimpy sports bra and boy shorts that she slept in. The shorts, she realised, with a pang, actually belong to Isla.

"You look like crap." JJ greeted her when Emily opened the door, and her words were only made worse by her seemingly effortless appearance. Her hair was up in a pony, bouncing behind her head. She had thrown on gym leggins and a tshirt, and a hoodie over it. There were sneakers on her feet and a child on her hip and she still looked more put together than Emily did. She was balancing Henry on one hip and holding a cup holder with two coffees in it with the other hand. She held the coffees out to Emily but, instead, Emily reached for the smiling little boy, whose was straining in his mother's arms, grinning a toothy grin at her, and stretching his arms towards her.

"Emmy!" He squealed as she took him in her arms.

"Hey, little man," She smiled at him, balancing him on her hip and turning back into the house. She heard the door close behind them, and the pad of JJ's sneakers across the wooden floor. "I've missed you." She pressed a kiss to Henry's temple and the two year old struggled in her arms.

"Oh, that's it." JJ commented, setting the coffees down. "You've had your cuddle, now he wants to go play."

Emily set Henry onto his feet, taking care to hold his hands, but he shook her off and walked confidently across to his mother, who was digging around in the bag she had brought for him. Marvelling at his confidence, it struck Emily that the last time she'd seen him, he'd still been a wobbly little toddler. Now, as JJ handed him a toy to play with, and a sippy cup full of what Emily assumed was apple juice, it appeared he was no longer wobbly, no longer little, and no longer toddling. She had missed a lot in six months, it seemed.

"He's gotten so big." She mused, leaning against the counter and taking one of the coffees from the holder.

"Oh, wait, one of them is decaf." JJ took the cup from her, twisting it around to read the side. "Yeah, see, this one's mine."

Emily raised her eyebrows as she took the other cup from the holder. "Decaf?" She acknowledged, with a question. "Since when?" Sipping at the coffee, she closed her eyes. JJ had been to their favourite cafe for them, and Emily had forgotten how much she missed a good bad cup of coffee. She didn't miss the flash in JJ's eyes as she searched for an excuse, and Emily's own dark eyes narrowed. "Don't even try it, Jareau." She warned.

"Ugh, fine." JJ rolled her own eyed, baby blues turning towards the ceiling before flitting towards Henry, now sitting on the floor with his colouring pad and crayons. "We're officially trying for baby number two."

"You are?" Emily grinned, "Jayje, that's great!"

"Yeah, well, Henry wasn't planned but I'd like for him to have a little sibling. There was a huge age gap between me and Ros and I would like my kids to be closer than that, you know? Plus, I'm not getting any younger."

It hit Emily like a slap in the face, as she looked at Henry, at his crown of golden curls, and the clumsy way he held the crayons in his whole fist, other hand absently holding the green sippy cup to his mouth as he chewed on the nozzle, completely engrossed in the task of scribbling all over the black and white picture of an elephant in front of him. Not getting any younger. We're trying.

Two fears strangled Emily, simultaneously. She wasn't getting any younger, either. And she and Hotch hadn't used any protection. Suddenly, the need to vomit was back, and Emily turned and wretched into the sink.

Hotch had barely slept. He'd gone home and spent most of his evening pacing. He paced across the lounge, across the dining room, across his bedroom. He was still wearing his suit when, at five am, he had finally sat down on the sofa and fallen into an exhausted, tormented sleep. Anxiety dreams plagued him, anxieties interspersed with fantasies, with Emily's face, with images of her body, of her face. And then there was Beth, and the anxiety was back, threatening to eat him alive. He was dying, then waking. What woke him was the ringing of his doorbell and he stumbled to his feet, hair mussed behind his head, dark circles below his eyes.

He flung open the door before checking the peephole, something that was intensely out of character for the profiler, and was met with the smiling face of his girlfriend. As she took in his appearance, however, Beth's smile turned slowly into a frown.

"No run this morning, then?"

"What?" He asked, confusedly running a hand across his face and feeling stubble there that he needed to shave.

"We'd planned on going for a run, remember?" She gestured to her outfit; the active wear she had donned, and the sports cap on her head, ponytail pulled through the back. In her hand was a water bottle. Hotch didn't remember agreeing to a run at all.

"Sorry," He said, stepping back and gesturing for her to come inside. "Sorry, I just-" He just what? Sorry, I just slept with someone else last night. Sorry, I'm actually in love with another woman. Sorry-"I won't take long to get ready. Please, have a seat."

He watches her glance around the apartment, brown eyes taking everything in. The photographs of Jack, the certificates from Jack's school that he has pinned to the fridge. When he steps into his bedroom, she's settling down onto the couch, palm brushing over a pillow Garcia once crocheted for him. He's still not sure what crocheting is, but it looked like it took a lot of time, and he'd appreciated it for that reason.

In his bedroom, Hotch stripped off the shirt. As he pulled it over his head, the smell of her, of her perfume washed over him, accompanied by the scent of strawberries he knew belonged in her hair. He was glad Beth hadn't gotten any closer to him, and immediately disgusted with himself for the thought.

He should end it.

Pausing, Hotch caught himself in the mirror hanging in the en-suite. His hair was rumpled, his eyes tired, raw. His lip was split, just a tiny cut, either by Emily, or by himself in his sleep, Hotch couldn't remember. He had a choice to make, a decision. It would define him. Aaron had fought to be a good man, to do the right thing. To be different to his father. Now, as he looked at himself in the mirror, his father's face was the one he saw.

It took a beat, but something in Hotch's eyes changed. He wouldn't hurt Beth for a mistake he and Emily had made. That wasn't fair. She was going back to London; he never had to see her again. Beth was here, Beth wanted to be with him. Beautiful, funny Beth.

They had agreed. Friends. Just friends. Beth never needed to know.

JJ held her hair and rubbed her back soothingly, but, still, there was nothing but the few sips of coffee she'd had to come up. She was sweating again, her eyes unfocused. JJ soothed her, like she would Henry, with small shushing noises and Emily shook her head.

"'M'okay." She muttered, reaching across the counter for the kitchen roll and wiping it across her mouth. Sitting on one of the stools, she pushed her hair back from her face, resting her chin on her hands, folded beneath it. JJ took the stool beside her, sitting with her back to the counter so she could talk and keep an eye on Henry at the same time. He didn't seem at all perplexed or disturbed by Emily's display.

"You sick?" JJ asked. Emily shook her head. "Pregnant?"

"No."

She answered far too quickly and JJ's eyebrows shot up her forehead. Emily sighed, dropping her head into her hands and rubbing the heels of her hands into her eyes. "I'm not pregnant, JJ." She said, more sternly. She wasn't sure who she was trying to convince. Sighing again, she lowered her hands, picking at her nails, and spoke more softly this time. "Or, at least, if I am pregnant, that's definitely not why I'm vomiting. I know I've never been pregnant, but symptoms don't usually show up the next day, right?"

Confusion, followed quickly by the dawning of realisation on JJ's face. "Oh, shit." She muttered, then cast a quick, guilty glance towards her son. Henry, however, was lying on the floor, preoccupied with his own toes, and not paying any attention to any profanity coming from his mothers mouth. "Oh, Em," JJ groaned, "What did you do?"

Emily recounted the story as swiftly as she could, mostly because she thought if she stopped, she would go mute; explaining what had happened to JJ was awful. The guilt in her chest had her convinced that JJ would hate her. She would pick Henry up and leave, not wanting her little boy to be around Emily a moment longer. Because Emily was a lot of things, a lot of questionable things. A smoker, absolutely. A drinker, for sure. A gambler, occasionally. Promiscuous? Sometimes. But a cheat? But JJ wasn't looking at her in disgust, there was no judgement in the blue eyes that held her own as she spoke. And, when she was finally finished, and she inhaled, deeply and shakily, JJ stood up and pulled Emily into a hug, wrapping her arms around her.

"Listen to me," JJ spoke into her ear, soft and quiet, as Emily closed her eyes and hugged her back, tightly. "You did a bad thing. You are not a bad person. There's a difference. Now, you just have to make a choice."

JJ's words stuck with Emily, and for the rest of her time in London, she mulled them over and over and over in her head. They, she and Hotch, had made their choice. Friends. Just friends. She was going back to London and, all things considered, her mother's health allowing, she wouldn't be back in Washington any time soon. She wouldn't have to see him. There would be no...temptation.

"Emily, what time is your flight?" Her mother asked, as Emily packed the few items she had brought to the hospital into her bag. Elizabeth watched her from where she sat on the bed, straight-backed as ever, hair perfectly coiffed. She didn't look like someone who had recently suffered a heart attack. She was irritable, anxious to be out of the hospital and get back to work and, frankly, Emily was anxious to be away from her.

Emily checked the watch on her wrist, twisting her arm towards her, Emily responded. "Three hours. Can you drop me at the airport on your way to the estate?"

"It's in the complete opposite direction, but I suppose so." Emily rolled her eyes, thankful that her mother couldn't see.

"Thanks."

"How long are you going to stay in London for before you come home?"

Emily paused in the act of folding her mothers pyjamas, and turned around, furrowing her brow as Elizabeth looked at her. She had never taken an interest in Emily's life before; why now? "What? Since when do you care where I live? Since when is the US home? You moved us around so much when I was a kid, I didn't know what home felt like, and now you want me to 'come home'?"

Elizabeth sighed, an exasperated expression on her face as she cast a glance heavenward and waved a hand in Emily's direction. "Oh, forget that I even asked. You're too old for me to have a say in your life anymore, I understand that. But you're a different person in London."

"You're right, mother," Emily snapped, shutting down the conversation, "You don't get a say."

The half an hour they waited for the car was spent in silence. Emily sat in the seat beside the window and scrolled through her phone, catching up on messages. There were a few from JJ, just checking in. She'd been doing that ever since the morning in Rossi's, and as much as Emily appreciated it, it also just made her feel even more guilty. There was one from Isla, telling her how much she had missed her and asking if Emily wanted her to come over when she got back, or if she was going to be too tired. Emily looked at the message a minute, before typing out her reply.

I'm going to be exhausted and no fun. I'll see you tomorrow, though xx

She clicked send, and hated herself for it, knowing she was only putting off the inevitable, and still hadn't decided what she was going to do. Just as she had text Isla back,her text tone chimed and Hotch's name popped up at the top of her screen. She clicked on it.

Have a safe flight, Emily. Text me when you land so I know you're safe.

Simple, inoffensive. And the exact same words he had said the last time she'd left him and flown to London. She clicked off the message without replying, but it was still in her head when her mothers town car pulled out of the hospitals car park and, sighing, Emily turned to her mother.

"Were you and dad in love?" Elizabeth's eyebrows shot up and she regarded Emily with a curious expression, tilting her head slightly.

"That's a strange question, Emily-"

"I know." Emily closed her eyes, impatient for an answer. "I know, I just-were you?"

"For a time." Elizabeth nodded, slow and calculating. "For a time, before and after you. But your father had his affairs, as you know."

"And you never did?" Emily pushed. It was a question she had never asked her mother. Her father's infidelity had never been a secret, but Elizabeth had always kept her composure. Now, she shook her head, but slowly, then paused, sighing.

"Not...physically." She admitted, finally. "Emotionally, maybe. Definitely. But I never slept with anybody else while we were married."

"But you loved somebody else?" Emily prompted, surprised by the information. Elizabeth nodded.

"For a time. Yes. Before you were born."

"Do you regret it? If you were in love with somebody else, do you regret staying with dad? You built a life together, you were happy for a time. You had me." She shrugged, slightly, "But, if you could go back, if you could change it all and be with the other person? Someone inaccessible you couldn't stop thinking about? Would you do it?"

Elizabeth's eyes, a carbon copy of Emily's own, were narrowed, and thoughtful, like she was seeing her daughter for the first time. Emily wished she had never brought the conversation up, as Elizabeth's eyes scanned her, and Emily felt like she was eight years old again, her mother seeing right through her. It had been a long time since her mother had looked at her and really seen her, and it made Emily uncomfortable. Eventually, she shook her head, curls waving around her sharp features.

"No." She admitted. "No, I wouldn't go back and change it." The car pulled to a stop and Elizabeth leaned over, kissing her daughters cheek. "Have a safe flight, darling. I'll see you soon."