I hadn't planned on writing this one-shot today. In fact, I had vowed to NEVER write this one-shot! I know I picked the pairing, but I was expecting a fight, a catastrophe of epic proportions…Hotch has to choose to save her or one of his team. I never expected the prompt that they were in love and it had to be real. I knew I had bitten off more than I could chew. Until I found the ultimate song for them and a plan formed. But then another story formed…and somehow the two merged and the story that was supposed to be one thing changed lanes and became something else. I hope you like it.

I don't own Criminal Minds.

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Song prompt: "Adulterated" by Will Champlin. Please check out this wonderful artist on Reverbnation and YouTube.

Adulterated

Hotch was in pain. He had been beaten up, stabbed, shot, hit by a car, hit by debris from an explosion or two, so he knew pain, but this was different. This was life-altering, mind-numbing, make a deal with your Maker kind of pain. This was the kind of pain he would gladly trade places with a woman in the throes of childbirth pain. And he couldn't breathe.

Don't panic! Don't show fear! He commanded himself. Let the mask breathe for you; don't fight. But God it hurt so much! He didn't want to show emotion, but a single tear slipped from his eye as he realized he had no idea how his team was faring.

It was supposed to be a routine child-porn bust, but no one figured the UNSUB was going to have an arsenal and back up too! The team had gone in only to be ambushed. Bullets whizzing by his head, he barely had time to bark out orders to the team to pull back. He heard the yelps of people getting hit, but his mind couldn't register who they came from.

Unbearable noise in a room full of gunpowder smoke lead to confusion and chaos, but somehow he still managed to keep it together.

As the team advanced, the fighting got worse. Then he heard it; the worst sound a team leader could ever hear: "Hotch! I'm hit!"

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Morgan go down. "Morgan," he shouted over the noise. "Get out of here!" Another agent rushed to help Morgan outside as the gunfight escalated.

One UNSUB came around the corner, and Hotch fired twice. As the bad guy went down, Hotch moved forward. He heard more gunfire and another thump. Another bad guy down. They were advancing.

Rounding the corner, he did the initial sweep and found nothing. Stepping forward, he scanned the area. A slight movement caught his eye. So subtle and brief, he almost missed it, but his eye was trained.

It was so fast that if he tried to go back and analyze it, the only thing he could remember was the distinct sound of pop pop pop! And then it was over. The UNSUB was dead. The case was closed. He should be relieved, but something was wrong. His chest hurt. Touching the area where the pain was most concentrated, he pulled his fingers back and found them covered with blood. His blood. He was bleeding.

Suddenly the fight went out of him and he collapsed on the floor. Jack! His mind screamed as thoughts of his son flashed thru his brain. The first bike ride, the first birthday, potty training, the first day of school… He tried so hard to remain conscious but he wanted to give in. Keep thinking about Jack. Focus on Jack, damnit!

He barely heard the shouts from his team as he was quickly surrounded and his bullet proof vest was ripped off. "Officer down! Officer down!"

Prentiss! He opened his eyes and saw her leaning over him trying to apply direct pressure to the wound in his chest. She had the touch of an angel. But where was the rest of the team?

"Morgan…Dave…" he gasped.

"Morgan is outside. Stop fighting this Hotch. Help is on the way. Stay still." It was a direct order that he wanted to disobey but he didn't have the energy. This wasn't fair; he was showing weakness in front of the team. They were never going to be able to forgive him. Oh god! Why didn't he zing when he had the chance?

That was the price of being team leader: keep the team safe…even if it meant taking a bullet for them. But damn, did he have to take it to the chest? Struggling to remain awake, he grasped for a hand, a touch, anything.

"Jack…where is Jack?" he mumbled.

"Jack is safe," a voice soothed and Hotch closed his eyes. That voice seemed to come out of a dream and reassure him. He thought he liked it before but now he really loved it. As it continued to sooth him, he felt himself begin to relax. Relax away on that sound…

Startled back to reality by the sound of a siren and excruciating pain, Hotch fought to sit up. He had to find his team! Strong arms held him down.

"You have to lie down," the EMT ordered.

"I have to find out about my team."

"Sir, you have to stop fighting." A loud beep sounded. "His blood pressure is dropping! He's going into respiratory arrest!"

"Hotch! Calm down, please. Do it for me. For us. Do it for Jack," ordered the voice Hotch loved more than anything.

Hotch felt the prick of a hypodermic in his arm as his vision started to black out. Reaching up, he tried to find that comforting hand. He was so scared. He didn't want to die. He still had so much to do and say. He never said what was in his heart.

"I'm scared," he mumbled as he felt himself fade.

"I know. I'm not going to leave you."

That familiar touch was the last thing he remembered as his world went black.
*****

There was an elephant on his chest. And he couldn't breathe. He tried to move his mouth, but couldn't. What was going on? Where was he? What happened? He tried to clear his mind as the previous events came back. Morgan!

He tried to move, but found himself restrained by medical equipment.

"Hey! Calm down!" A voice barked with the order that stopped him still. "If you get excited, you are going to rip your stitches and then I am going to have to write you up."

Unable to speak, Hotch blinked rapidly. He wasn't alone. She was there. Beside him, holding his hand. Her gentle touch brushed back the stray hair from his forehead. Soft and gentle. No one would have believed she could possess such a touch. But he knew. He had been on the receiving end too many times to count to not know that she meant it.

It wasn't supposed to have happened. They were polar opposites. Enemies sworn for life. Until that one night. He was drowning his sorrows over Hailey and trying to figure out how his life had gone to hell in a hand basket. Until he turned around and saw her sitting two bar stools down.

The last person he wanted to see, he tried to avoid her. He ignored her. Of course, she was not one to be ignored. She pestered him until he told her to shut the hell up. That brought a tear to her eye. And it hurt his heart. What the hell? His heart hurt? Over her? The woman who made his life a fucking hell? He went to stand up and make his excuse to leave when he heard the three words that stopped him dead in his tracks: "I'm so sorry."

Stopping, he turned to her and sat back down. They shared a couple of drinks and conversation that centered on something and the team, but his brain was too fuzzy to comprehend it all. But she relaxed him and he felt the fight go out of him.

He barely remembered the walk back to his room and the way she held him up as she unlocked the door and helped him inside. He tried to tell her that he appreciated it, when the next thing he knew he was kissing her. Passionately. Wantonly. His tongue tangled with hers as his hands ripped at her clothing. It had been so long since he had felt a woman's touch…any woman's touch and his body responded. It didn't help that she was pulling at his clothing too.

A tangle of arms and legs fell on to the bed as two hungry lost souls tried to find comfort in one another. She touched him and stroked him, and kissed him in a way Hailey never had, and when he entered her, he felt a weight being lifted from his shoulders. She met his thrusts and whispered encouragements in his ear. She did everything right.

When he came, he felt as though a part of his soul had been laid to rest. He didn't want to cry, but the tears found their way out. Ashamed to show weakness, he buried his face in the pillow and tried to hide it. But she knew. She held him until the storm was over. As he faded into much needed sleep, she stayed.

In the morning, his body and mind heavy and throbbing from a hangover induced headache, he rolled over to find her beside him…fast asleep. He should have run. He should have pulled his clothes on and ran out of the room faster than a speeding bullet. Woulda, coulda, shoulda. He didn't run. He stayed. And when she woke up, they talked. Afterward, they agreed that what happened was a mistake and would never happen again.

Until two weeks later. Quite by surprise, she had stopped by his office for his signature, and before either could register the moment, they were both panting and recovering from a mutual orgasm. A first for him. As they arranged their clothing, they vowed it would never happen again.

Until that night at his place. And one at hers. Then the ones at the local motel…illicit encounters that could have them both fired, only fueled their desire for more. She did things to him no other woman ever had, and she allowed him to do whatever made him feel better. Her mission was to bring him pleasure. How could he not fall in love with that?

But it had to remain secret. No one, not even Dave, could ever know. At least the team was used to him keeping secrets, so no one was the wiser. Until this last case. She had demanded to be included, but he didn't think it wise. Too many people on the scene could make a bad situation go worse. Plus, there was nothing she could do. But she demanded and won…but only because Reid was out of town for a conference and the team was a man short.

It was textbook until the gunfire started. Then Morgan went down, and so did he. A gunshot wound to the chest almost ended his life and revealed the secret he had tried so hard to hide. As he faded off, he remembered their last conversation. She had told him she loved him and wanted to know how he felt. He was honest: he loved being with her. But that's not what she wanted to hear. She wanted to hear him say those three little words. But he couldn't and he wouldn't be forced. Until his life flashed before his eyes.

Now she sat on the side of his bed holding his hand, reassuring him that everything was going to be alright. And she was crying. Tears for him.

"You don't know how lucky you got!" she reprimanded him, her voice cracking on a sob. "That bullet went thru your armpit and traveled downward to your heart. We almost lost you twice!"

He blinked rapidly. It was the only way he could communicate and he hoped she understood. She must have because her tone softened.

"I love you, you stubborn stoic son of a bitch. Even if you can't say the words, I love you. And if you die on me or you ever decide to do something stupid like this again, your ass will be mine. Is that understood? I won't hesitate to invoke that DNR in your file."

Hotch blinked. His hand squeezed hers. He wanted to say it when the door opened and Prentiss stepped inside.

"I'm sorry. Director, the media is outside demanding a press conference."

Turning to Hotch, Erin Strauss looked at the man lying in the hospital bed connected to a respirator. She didn't want to leave him, but her job demanded it. "I will be back," she promised and leaned over to kiss his forehead. "Be good." Getting up, she straightened her clothes.

She couldn't leave before he told her what he needed to say. The one thing he vowed he would if given a second chance. Making a slight noise in his throat, he saw her turn around. With every bit of energy he had, he raised his hand and made the international sign for 'I love you'.

"I love you too," she replied and left the room after Prentiss. Satisfied, Hotch leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Saying those three little words hadn't hurt after all. In fact they felt good.

Now he needed to rest before she came back. He was looking forward to it.