Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Criminal Minds or its characters. This is a work of fiction.

A/N: AU, set around season 7. This is a result of being bored in the house and re-watching Criminal Minds from the beginning. I also haven't written in a while, and I'm hoping this helps me get back into it.

Eight Weeks In

SSA Aaron Hotchner needs a break, a beer, hell, even a smoke. A combination of all three. And he doesn't even smoke. No, what he really needs is a day off from work. To spend painting or building Legos with sweet little Jack. Hotch misses him. On a good night, he's home in time to see his son before bed but it's nearing two in the morning now and Jack only stays up late when he doesn't feel well.

Hotch has rarely missed a day since he got back from leave after Haley. So, maybe one day off won't hurt.

The jet begins a rocky descent and some of the others start to wake. Morgan calls dibs on the bathroom but Reid beats him to it. He's met by a playful smack of the head when he comes out a minute later. They all look and smell like they've been working a case for the past sixteen hours. Reid, more so than the others, the wild map of hair on his head as unruly as ever.

"Hey, Hotch," Emily calls from the seat across from his. JJ snores lightly beside her. "Can I catch you home?"

"Sure," he says.

He wouldn't say that they are the best of friends now but a lot of the hostility between them has melted, changed with the seasons in the past few years. Emily Prentiss is a good agent, a great one. One of the best that he's seen. She's a good fit to the team.

"Thanks."

When they land sleepy goodbyes, and see you in the mornings are exchanged. Emily slings her go-bag over her shoulder and follows him to his car. They walk in silence. It's not uncommon but he gets the feeling that she wants to say something.

A crack pulls him from his thoughts and he startles. In the passenger seat, Emily stares at him, eyebrow raised, water bottle (the culprit) to her lips. She swallows. "It was the bottle," she says. Followed by, "The light's green."

He presses the gas.

And he remembers.

"You turned down drinks at the bar last Saturday," he says.

"So?"

"Emily, you drink like a fish," she opens her mouth to protest. "Are you pregnant?"

"Seriously?" she asks and he bites his lip because he knows he should not have said it. He waits for a string of expletives. "You beat me by four seconds."

Hotch releases his lip.

Her place is not that far away now.

"It was my plan to tell you today but there hasn't really been an appropriate time until now," Emily turns in her seat. Not just her head but her full body.

"And it's…?"

"Yours? Yeah, I'm about eight weeks in." It happened in Dallas. "I get it's late. We don't have to talk about this now."

"No, it's alright."

It happened once.

"No, you look like shit, Hotch," Emily says matter-of-factly. "When's the last time you slept?"

"I slept on the plane."

"It was a forty-five-minute flight."

Hotch taps his thumbs on the steering wheel. She is right; he is tired. He needs to think. The last thing he needs right now is to say something he'll regret. She's staring at him, arm propped up on the seat, cheek pressed against her fist, waiting.

"Do you want to keep it?" he asks.

"Honestly, Hotch…I don't know what I want," she sighs. "I feel like I've been running my whole life and the ground just opened up before me and I have no choice but to jump…again. I've jumped before and I guess you could say that I made it out all right. But I'm not exactly as young as I used to be."

He sees her then. Really sees her. And she looks tired, lost.

"Emily…"

"I do want to know what you want, Hotch. Get some sleep, think about it," she squeezes his forearm, grabs her go-bag, and is out of the door before he knows it. He waits for her safe entry, then two, three, six minutes before driving away.

To his surprise, the baby sitter sits awake and watching a Lifetime movie when he arrives home. He pays her in cash and she tells him that she won't be available next week before leaving. At least the apartment isn't a mess.

Jack is five but he snores like a grown man. Haley's sister thinks he has a sinus problem but he hasn't consulted with a doctor yet. Nonetheless, it always brings a smile to Hotch's face when he hears him. He places a kiss to his son's head and heads to the shower.

A few of the kids in Jack's class have older or younger siblings. He has expressed no interest in them not even when his mother was alive. But Hotch believes that Jack would be a great older brother. And it dawns on him as the steaming water washes away the grit of the past going on seventeen and a half hours, that he wouldn't mind another child. He is a great agent but he is an even greater father.

The message to Emily is sent at 4:17 AM.

I jump with you. Whatever you decide.

She doesn't respond until long after the sun rises.

To be continued…