A/N: I've started watching CM recently, and this is my first fan fiction. Any and all reviews will be appreciated, since I have no idea what I'm getting myself into. :)
If it's a friend you need / Let it be me - Ray Lamontagne
The first time she does it is right after his divorce papers are served. It is Friday evening, and almost all of their co-workers are gone for the weekend, save for a few rookies whose job it is to make sure nothing falls through the cracks when the others have left. He's alone in his office, finishing some paperwork. He doesn't have much left to do, but he stretches it out, taking his time, because what the hell, he doesn't really have anything else to do or anywhere to go.
She knocks softly on the door but doesn't wait for an invitation before she comes in. She gives him that smile, the one she gives all of her coworkers for comfort when they need it, and he is surprised at how effective it is.
She walks over to him, behind his desk, until she is standing right next to his chair. He's surprised since she is always careful to stay on the other side. She's the only person in the BAU that respects the boundaries with as much deference as he does.
"Stand up," she says, and he looks up at her confused. She raises an eyebrow, silently telling him that she is not going to repeat herself.
He sighs and pushes back against his desk. His chair rolls back and he gets up, turning around to face her. Before he can even realise what is happening, her arms are around his waist and behind his back, and her cheek is pressed to his chest.
"What are you doing?" His arms are raised, but he doesn't push her away.
"It's called a hug, Hotch. And I'm not going to stop until you hug me back, so you better get on with it."
Her body is completely pressed up against his. "It's completely inappropriate." But she feels nice against him, and he can't remember the last time someone hugged him, really hugged him like there wasn't anything else in the world they'd rather be doing.
She doesn't answer him, and a few seconds later he gives in. His arms tighten around her back; he is tempted to pull down his head to lay his cheek against her hair, but he doesn't. He feels her inhale and exhale, and she pulls away.
"I'm sure you did everything you could." She smiles and he knows she's not talking about the case they just wrapped up. "Have a good weekend, Hotch." And then she's gone.
He stands there for another minute, still feeling her body against his, and he realises that her ruse worked, because he does feel better. He knows the psychological effects of human contact, but he had never believed in them before. Until JJ.
The second time is a few days after Hayley's funeral. He knows he should be home, and everyone does too, but no one has dared tell him to leave, so he stays hidden in his office. No one comes to disturb him, and he's grateful.
It's Friday again, and he knows he should go home to his son. After his divorce, he'd gotten into a routine for his weekends alone: go to bed early on Friday, workout on Saturday mornings, and then clean up around his apartment during the afternoon. On Saturday nights, he'd go out to a local bar and have a drink. Not to pick up women, but just so he wouldn't be alone. Sometimes he'd find someone to have a conversation with, man or woman, and that would be nice. He never talked about his work, no matter what, and at times he could even pretend to be normal. But at the end of the night, he always went home alone. On Sundays he would cook a little, and before he knew it the weekend was over and it hadn't been too bad or too lonely.
But this weekend is different. He is going to have to get used to having his son around, a son he feels like he barely even knows. He'll have to explain to him over and over again that his mother isn't coming back, but that they're going to be okay. He doesn't believe it yet, and the idea of lying to his son seems too much right now, so he hides.
So when she comes into his office at exactly five o'clock and shuts the door behind her, he knows what's coming. Somehow she has guessed all of his insecurities, and she isn't even a profiler. But she is a mother, and that counts for something.
She stands beside him like she did the first time, only this time the request goes unspoken. He gets up and immediately puts his arms around her, taking in her warmth and her smell. He doesn't understand how she can smell like she just got out of the shower after a long day like the one they've had. But he doesn't linger on it, instead choosing to drink in the moment and forget about everything else.
This hug lasts longer than the last one, and this time he is the one who pulls away first. He takes a step back but his hands remain around her waist. He looks in her eyes and sees nothing but warmth and compassion, and it shoots straight to his heart.
"Everything's going to be fine," she says in a whisper, and he believes her.
In the next month they hug twice, always on Fridays before leaving for the weekend. He doesn't know how she knows, but he stops questioning her motives and he is grateful that she is so in tune with his needs. A voice in his head still whispers that it is inappropriate, that he is her superior, but he quiets it every time.
The fifth time they hug, the dam breaks.
They've been on a gruesome case for the whole week, leaving Monday morning and only returning Friday in the afternoon. His son calls him every night crying, asking him when he is coming home. He tries his best to calm him down, but inevitably, every time he hangs up, there are tears in his eyes as well. And every time he reels them in and goes back to work.
When she shows up in his office, he shakes his head. He doesn't think he'll be able to keep it together if she hugs him, but she insists. No words are spoken, mind you, but he knows from the look in her eyes she won't take no for an answer.
So she hugs him and he cries.
And it is not just a few of tears, either, but huge body-shaking sobs. She drags him over to the couch and takes him in her arms, letting him cry. When he starts to calm down she whispers soothing words to him and he feels her hands running through his hair. He hasn't been this close to a woman since Hayley: he had forgotten how good it felt to be touched this way.
It is a half hour later when he stops crying completely and pulls away. He lays his head on the back of the couch, and looks toward the ceiling. His head hurts and he is more spent than he ever remembers being, but he feels better, lighter.
He feels her shift on the couch, and her hand comes to rest on his shoulder. He turns his head to look at her and sees that she doesn't have that smile on, the comforting one, as if she knows that it won't be enough to help.
"I'm sorry." He knows it is wrong to say it the second he hears the words come out of his She shakes her head.
"You don't have to apologize for that, I'm glad you trust me enough to let go."
He sighs and passes a hand over his face, which is still damp from his tears. He must look terrible, he thinks.
"Thank you." He knows it isn't nearly enough, but he doesn't have any other words. She gives him a small smile and squeezes his hand before getting up. He is grateful she isn't going to force him to talk, because he doesn't feel like he has the strength to get into it.
Even though he doesn't do it that night, he does end up talking to her.
They never sit down to have a big conversation, and he never breaks down again the way he did in his office that night, but he finds himself confiding in her on a regular basis. It is usually only bits and pieces, but she never probes him for more.
The hugs start happening more often, too. They aren't limited exclusively to the office or Fridays anymore. But they are always alone, and something tells Hotch she has never told anyone about them.
When she comes to him that Friday, he is surprised. He has gotten pretty good at guessing when she would come to him, but he's had a pretty good week. It is still the afternoon, but the whole team has already gone home since they worked the previous weekend.
She doesn't come behind his desk the way she usually does, and he can't read her eyes. For the first time since the whole thing started, he realises that the hugs might be just as much for her as they are for him. He walks over to her and his suspicions are confirmed because as soon as his arms close around her small body, she starts crying.
Her cries are silent but she clings to him desperately, and he feels his heart ache for her. He does the same thing she did when he started crying and takes her over to the couch. He pulls her in his lap and lays her head on his shoulder. He strokes her hair softly, and starts berating himself. How could he not have known that she was so distraught? What kind of a selfish bastard does it make him that he hadn't noticed that the woman who had done so much for him was in pain?
It doesn't take her very long to stop, and he wonders if she is really all cried out or if she is just reigning herself in. She moves off his lap to sit on the couch but before she can move further away he holds her legs on his lap. He grabs a tissue from the coffee table and hands it to her. Everything in him is screaming to start questioning her, to find out the cause of her pain and then do everything possible to fix it. But he knows it would only make him feel better, and he needs to stop being selfish and start putting her needs ahead of his own.
She takes in a few deep breaths and he knows she is putting her thoughts together.
"Will left." She doesn't look him in the eye, and she sounds exhausted more than anything, so he can't tell whether she is sad or angry.
"When? Where?" He had thought they were a solid couple, the one most likely to last in the crazy environment they lived in.
"Three weeks ago. He went back to New Orleans." She looks up at him finally, and another tear escapes. He wipes it away with his thumb. "The thing is, I... I don't know what I did wrong." Her voice wavers and Hotch finds himself hating Will the way he hates Unsubs.
"Sweetheart, I'm sure you did everything you could." The term of endearment is out before he has the chance to realise he said it. But she smiles because it's the same thing she told him when he divorced Hayley, and if she meant it then, then maybe he means it now. He takes her small hand in his and runs his thumb over the knuckles in a soft caress. She scoots closer to him and lays her head on his shoulder.
Her body is warm against his and he gets goose bumps on his arms when he takes in her scent. It feels right, sitting there with her, and he realises he is starting to develop feelings for this woman, feelings he shouldn't have for a co-worker, much less for a subordinate. But she has given him so much that he knows he will stay there with her for as long as she needs.