Title: Weight of the World
Author: RavenclawGenius
Summary: Aaron Hotchner was a man who carried a lot of baggage. H/P
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds, nor the characters within it.

Author's Note: Hiya, folks. This is my first foray into the Criminal Minds world (and, for the record, my first attempt at any genre that is non-fantasy related), so be easy on me. I hope to do right by you all, so if I'm lacking or overdoing anything, I implore you to let me know, and I'll see what I can do about remedying the situation.

I want you guys to know that I'm going to be flashing around my artistic license a bit, to manipulate things how I want them to be. I'll be ignoring everything that has to do with Will and JJ (including baby Henry). Also, I don't think I'm going to include anything about Emily's abortion in this one, although she'll still get to express her fair share of troubles. Garcia and Kevin never happened, because really, she's so obviously made for Morgan that I can't believe they even attempted to insert Kevin into the mix at all. We'll have to see about whatever else might come up, but those are the three things that I know for sure.

One last point, and I know this author's note has become several miles long, so bear with me, guys. This is only a prologue. Chapters following this one will be accompanied by a much greater amount of dialogue, but I need this chapter here to emphasize the current relationship that Hotch and Emily have, to express Hotch's current state, and to describe Emily Prentiss as I understand her.

I think that's it, for now! Enjoy, and please, please review! As I said before, this is my first time with this sort of fic, so feedback is not only cherished, it might be required.

PROLOGUE: MORNING COFFEE MOMENTS

Aaron Hotchner was a man who carried a lot of baggage.

He was supremely dedicated to his job, and focused so intensely on the cases that he worked that, sometimes, he lost the rather weak hold he had on his already floundering reality. He had a son, who – although a beautifully sweet and understanding boy – he was struggling to take care of, and was trying desperately to ensure that he had the life that he so very much deserved. And, as of eight months ago, Aaron Hotchner had a dead ex-wife.

Hotch was a profiler, and though he tried to keep those particular talents out of his personal life, he wasn't stupid or deluded enough to think that he hadn't seen the signs of his failing marriage long before Haley had left or divorced him. But Haley had been such a huge part of his life for such a long time that, naturally, Hotch didn't know what to do without her. And knowing that he could have done something to prevent her from being killed tore him apart.

It had been a rough time since then, but he refused the many suggestions that he attend therapy, because he knew that it would be endless amounts of money spent for some random psychologist to listen to his story and try to convince him that it wasn't his fault. Besides, Hotch had trust issues; he wasn't about to explain his life to a stranger.

A stranger wouldn't understand how much his family had meant to him. A stranger wouldn't understand how his heart broke every time his almost-six-year-old son asked if Mommy still cried in heaven. A stranger wouldn't understand that he'd drained every ounce of strength left in him when trying to find a balance between his job – his team; his surrogate family – and his real family back at home. A stranger wouldn't, and couldn't possibly understand how much he loved his son, and how much he wished he could provide a better life for him.

But somehow, Emily Prentiss did understand.

Hotch didn't know when it had happened. He had no idea when she'd taken it upon herself to look after him. But he remembered the first time he realized what she was doing.

The jet flew high over the planes of Indiana, the site of their most recent case. It had been a fairly easy one to solve, but by the time they'd been called in, there were already six murdered children, and that tugged on the heartstrings of the entire team. Children were the hardest to bear; the loss of life, the loss of innocence and opportunities.

And all Hotch could think of was his son. All he could think about was that his Jack could have been killed that day when his ex-wife had died. And it would have been his fault. He would have been responsible for the death of his own child. He loved that boy. Jack had grounded him through so much of the aftermath of Haley's death, and had kept him from wallowing in his guilt and anger, because he knew that he had a child to love and protect and take care of. And Hotch would be damned if he let that boy suffer because of the endless mistakes that his father had made.

Jack deserved everything in the world.

But now, in the relative solitude of the jet, Hotch's head was stuck on the could-have-beens. His son was a definite could-have-been, and although Hotch hated thinking about his son being anything other than alive, happy, smiling, and absolutely adorable, he knew that death had been a distinct and terrifying possibility that day. He'd nearly failed his own son – and in some ways, he already had.

"Hotch," he heard a soft voice call him, and after a moment to process, he angled his head up to face its owner.

His dark eyes sought out a set of compassionate, gentle brown ones. There was hesitancy there, too, he noticed. Prentiss thought she was overstepping the thick boundaries he'd implanted following Haley's death, and truth was, she probably would, and he would probably react violently to it. He just needed to determine how distressed he was at the prospect that she was willing to do it anyway.

"You're doing everything you can for Jack," she said quietly. "You're a good father. These kids…" She sighed, shaking her head, and beginning again, "I know that it would be virtually impossible not to think of your son, Hotch, but do not ever question your abilities as a father. That boy loves you."

Her voice was low, and intimate in a way that he wasn't sure he was comfortable with, but it did something in his lower belly that heated and churned deep within him. She was a self-proclaimed compartmentalizer, and though she was always kind and gentle, and often protective of the victims they saw and the team that they worked so closely with, it was rare for them to see passion rise from her.

So, yes, it surprised him to hear the heavy conviction in her words. Though some part of him wanted to snap at her for profiling him and, further, intruding on his personal life, a larger part of him understood that this, for whatever reason, was something she felt strongly about. And that part of him knew that it took either a lot of care or a lot of trust – maybe some combination of the two – on her part for her to convey that to him. Because Emily Prentiss was not one to express emotions if it could be helped.

He inclined his head to acknowledge her words, and offered a silent expression of gratitude. Her returning smile was shy and small, but somehow Hotch took encouragement from it.

It was later that he realized that, in order to understand how very much that would have meant to him, she must have been keeping watch over him for a long time. He wracked his brain for previous instances of her concern.

It didn't take long for him to recall that Emily often took care of the questions that local LEOs asked him that had his heart jammed in his throat, and his voice refusing to cooperate. There had been several situations like that in Indiana, and nearly every one she had answered promptly, before anyone had the opportunity to notice his difficulties.

He remembered that she'd brought him coffee several times when he'd been run pretty ragged over the past months, maybe years, even before Haley had left. She'd grab lunch for him, too; Emily somehow remembered, or intuitively knew, that Hotch would forget to eat when cases nagged at him or the amount of paperwork on his desk became great and daunting.

He couldn't recall when it had begun, but in that instant, he'd known that he had greatly undervalued Emily Prentiss, and all that she did for him.

After that, a friendship (Hotch supposed you could call it that) had slowly developed between them. He'd ask her to stay in his office when she brought him coffee, and he'd get her opinions on certain cases. Hotch had asked about a particularly indecent case one morning, and she'd scrunched her nose up absently. When he asked what was wrong, she blushed furiously, and replied that she didn't really enjoy talking about cases before she'd washed down her first cup of coffee.

Hotch had looked at her curiously, but she refused to give him an inch unless he outright asked her for it. He did. She flushed – prettily, Hotch's subconscious added, much to his conscious mind's displeasure – and admitted that, although she was very talented at compartmentalizing, before her first cup of coffee, her mind was an incredibly boggled abode. She spent a few minutes every day putting everything in its proper place, and when hard-to-deal-with cases were talked about before she'd had the chance to sort through everything else, she didn't cope with it very well.

He immediately felt contrite. So the next day, and all the days following, he'd made sure not to discuss any cases with her until they met with the others in the conference room. He greatly enjoyed hearing her opinions and perspectives, because for some reason, they seemed to compliment or contrast with his own in an extremely productive way, but when he needed those things from her now, he called her to his office later in the day and asked her what she thought.

But it was during the times that he'd affectionately dubbed their Morning Coffee Moments that he learned the most about her.

She didn't talk about herself often, which he'd already known, but for some reason he'd thought it might change in a slightly more personal atmosphere – and he couldn't deny that he certainly did feel as though those Morning Coffee Moments were personal. But it hadn't changed.

Emily relaxed in his office, and often curled her legs beneath her as she sat on the sofa that was more decoration for the room than anything else. So few people actually approached Hotch's office for anything less than serious matters, and in those situations, the chair in front of his desk was infinitely more appropriate.

Hotch couldn't explain it, but for some reason he appreciated that Emily was the only one to put the dark piece of furniture to use. And when she sat in it, curled that way with a mug or cup of coffee in her hands, he enjoyed her company the most just then.

She listened, but didn't pry. She'd ask vague questions about his life, or about Jack – she always asked about Jack, and she always looked so concerned when she did; it touched Hotch in a way that he couldn't quite decipher. Some days, he'd answer her vague question with a vague response, and she'd nod her head and let him. But some days, he'd feel either comfortable enough or worn down enough to share with her.

Emily was the first and only person he told about the videos that Jack liked to watch of Haley. Emily was the only one who knew how terrified he was when he contemplated sending Jack to school, leaving him alone with someone (albeit a teacher) that he wasn't familiar with. Emily was the only one who knew about his nightmares, and the only one he thought he'd ever feel comfortable telling about the ones that Jack had, too. He told her about how Jack crawled into his bed some nights, saying that he was too scared to work another case with Daddy ever again.

She offered him endless amounts of compassion, which he was sure he didn't deserve. As much as he didn't want pity, and as guilty as he felt, it was nice to know that someone was supporting him, and that someone wanted only what was best for him and his son. It was nice to know that, when he needed her, she would be there.

Hotch knew she didn't enjoy talking about herself, but he didn't necessarily need her to. Although he'd like her to trust him enough to share, he learned so much from her responses, and the emotions that overtook her eyes.

He knew she paid attention to small things, and as profilers they ought to, but not really the way that she did. Emily didn't just know how he took his coffee, or when he wanted it; she knew that he needed the extra punch of sugar – two packets of it – in the mornings, and knew that by the afternoon, he needed it so desperately that he had to put cream in it for no other reason than he needed it to be cool enough to drink immediately.

And aside from the perfect coffee that she brought or made for him daily, and the meals that she perfectly predicted he would enjoy, Hotch knew that Emily did much more for him than that. She often traded their hotel keys if the bed in his room was closer to the window than hers, because she knew he hated sleeping beside windows. She bought comedy movies and would leave them on his desk, with little notes that informed him that he needed to smile more often. And, when cases were particularly difficult for him, he'd curiously find a bottle of very, very expensive liquor just inside the door of his hotel room, with another note advising him that a shot would make the memories fuzzy, but a couple would pronounce the hurt.

And he wasn't the only one that she took care of.

Hotch knew that Emily made it a point to bring Garcia her favorite cherry pastry from the bakery down the street at least once a week, because she felt like Garcia's work was sometimes underappreciated, as she performed the majority of it from her bunker and far away from the team. He knew that Emily also adamantly and almost religiously purchased PEZ candies for the tech analyst every time they went on a case, but she would open the packages and get rid of the cherry and raspberry flavored packets that Garcia didn't like. Garcia loved cherry, but as far as PEZ were concerned, Emily told him when he'd asked, she only enjoyed the original flavors of grape, lemon, strawberry, and orange. And, if the growing mass of PEZ dispensers in Garcia's bunker spoke any sort of truth at all, Emily had purchased one of these after almost every case since she began working in the BAU.

Hotch also knew that Emily kept extra books in her ready bag for Reid, because he never packed enough to keep him entertained for most of the flights that they took. And he knew that she'd spend hours in the bookstore, specifically picking out ones that she thought he'd like. He knew that because, sometimes, he called her while she was in these bookstores, and for the duration of their usually-hour-long phone calls, she never left the shops.

Hotch knew that she kept extra chocolate on hand for JJ: Reese's, because JJ didn't like the Snickers bars that Emily favored. Emily also stayed late with the communications coordinator to help her with her files and paperwork, because she liked when JJ had some down time and some rest between the just-finished case and the one that the media liaison would stress over and choose for them next.

Hotch knew that she kept her iPod charged in her ready bag for when Morgan's died (as it inevitably did), and that she kept a running playlist of songs that he liked for when he borrowed it (as she inevitably let him). He'd heard Derek teasing her about the fact that her iPod might as well belong to him, but she simply smiled indulgently and shrugged it off.

And Hotch knew that she even agreed to proof-read some of the basic drafts of Rossi's next book. He'd been surprised, at first, that Rossi had allowed her to look at it, and more surprised when he'd learned later that Rossi had asked her to look at it. It took him a few weeks after that to learn that he had missed the relationship that had developed between them, and that Rossi – although no further into Emily Prentiss's barricaded mind than he was – had taken her under his wing, and felt very protective of the younger agent.

And if there was one thing that Hotch had learned about Emily Prentiss through all of these things, it was that she had the biggest heart in the world.