Summary – The worst thing that could happen to Hotch happens – Jack dies. He accidently calls Emily and she comes over. Will she be able to help him? WARNING – Character death.

Warning – Character death, language, slight mature content.

It happened so suddenly.

Those were the words that Hotch found himself repeating over and over, to every person who had the nerve enough to ask for the whole story. It had only been fifteen hours and twelve minutes, but he felt as if it had happened years ago, and he was forced to just keep reliving it every time someone mentioned it. He knew he was disassociating himself with it; it was the only way he could function, though. Every quiet moment he had, he'd pinch the bridge of his nose and close his eyes, only to find the scene replaying in fast-motion.

It had been a long day at the office and Hotch had been ready to be at home, but Jack, almost nine, had decided he was going to throw a very rare temper tantrum. It was over something stupid, like a baseball game or a toy he wanted, and had gotten out of the car before his father. The fight had continued even after Hotch had gotten out of the car, but he was just too tired to keep going.

"I'm going into the apartment," he announced, cutting off whatever Jack was saying.

"Yeah?" Jack asked with an attitude. "Well, I'm running away."

Hotch had turned around to say something that wouldn't have been exactly pleasant, and realized Jack was marching away from him. Before either realized what was going to happen, squealing tires and a horrific crunching sound rang out into the night. For a split second, Hotch thought Jack hadn't gotten that far into the street, but a crumpled heap ten feet from the large truck in the middle of the road told him that it wasn't so. He ran as quickly as he could toward the accident, praying to a God that he scarcely believed in to save his son, no matter the cost. The driver had gotten out of the vehicle and was standing there with his hands over his face, saying something that Hotch didn't care to hear.

"Call 9-1-1," Hotch shouted as he ran past the man, who couldn't have been over thirty.

By the time the ambulance showed up, Hotch was just kneeling in the middle of the road with Jack's bloodied, lifeless form held tightly in his arms. He screamed at the EMT, refusing to allow 'some ignorant asshole to just cart his son off'. The EMT quickly apologized and eventually got Hotch to carry Jack to the ambulance with the promise that he wouldn't have to let him go. Even at the hospital, Hotch allowed a doctor to declare him DOA, but the second he could, Jack's body was back in his arms. A priest came in and prayed with Hotch, who didn't have the energy to tell him to fuck off.

And so it was thirteen hours after the accident that Hotch finally made his way home. Two of those hours were taken up with calling family members, briefly explaining, and then hanging up on them before they could start to cry. Hotch hadn't cried yet. He hadn't allowed himself to believe it. But that wasn't going to last long, he knew. He looked around the room and realized he needed someone to talk to. He needed someone to cry to. He picked up his phone and dialed Dave.

'Calling Prentiss'

"Damn it," he muttered, hitting the end call button. He dialed the number again.

'Calling Prentiss'

"Damn it," he said, a little louder, before retrying again.

'Calling Prentiss'

"Fucking piece of shit," he yelled. Hotch's eyes grew wide as he realized what he said. He closed his eyes and shook his head, an image of Emily smiling greeting him behind his eyelids. He felt instantly a little warmer.

'Calling Prentiss'

"Hello?"

"Can we talk?"

"Hotch? Where are you?" came her concerned reply. "Garcia called…"

He winced, knowing that Strauss, the only one he'd had time to call, had already informed the entire team. "At my apartment. Can you come over?" he asked, cringing at the desperation in his voice.

"I'll be there in less than ten minutes."

"Emily," he said hurriedly, hoping she hadn't hung up.

"Yes?"

"I need you to do me the biggest favor."

"Anything," she replied instantly.

"I need to talk to you. To… to tell you what happened. I can't…"

He heard her sigh sadly on the other end. "You don't need to ask me to do that. I'll do anything you need me to. I can't promise that I won't cry, but I can be there for you, Hotch."

"Aaron," he corrected. "Just for today, please call me Aaron."

"Aaron it is," she said. "Can I ask why you want me?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I was going to call Dave, but I kept punching in your number. Jessica and Sean are both messes right now. I just need someone to talk to who isn't related to Jack."

"I understand. I know exactly what you mean. You need someone to be strong for you so you don't have to be for once."

He cleared his throat. "Something like that."

"I'm walking down your hallway, see you in a second," she said, then disconnected the line.

Emily entered when Hotch yelled for her to, a little surprised that his door wasn't locked. Sadness took over her features as her eyes landed on Hotch. He was hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees and his face was in his hands in order to keep Emily from seeing the tears welling up in his eyes. She walked quickly to the sofa, dropping down right next to him and putting her hand between his shoulder blades.

"I can't imagine what you're going through," she said quietly.

"It's worse than when Haley died," he admitted. "I can't even describe the pain that I feel. I'm past numb."

Emily nodded. "I'm so sorry."

"Thank you," he said automatically.

"I'm ready whenever you are."

Hotch took a deep breath and just started talking. He told her every tiny detail, not leaving a single thing out. He didn't know why it was so easy with her, but he hadn't felt as comfortable with anyone else. He knew she could take it, too. She was strong, yet compassionate, which is exactly what he needed. He needed her to be able to listen without asking questions, to keep it together while he fell apart. And falling apart was not something Aaron Hotchner wanted anyone to see from him. But he knew if he kept it inside any longer, he'd go insane. And so there she was, not even breathing while he told her the entire story. By the end of it, though, he knew he was losing his composure.

"He told me he was running away, Emily," he whispered. "My son. The last words he ever spoke to me were that he was running away."

"Oh, Aaron," she breathed.

"I couldn't… I couldn't save him. I tried so hard, I did. I did everything I could." Hotch's shoulders began to quiver, and his voice got thicker and thicker as he continued on. "I tried CPR, I tried yelling his name, I tried promising him that stupid new game thing. Nothing worked. He just… he died before I could even tell him I was sorry. I'm so sorry…"

Unable to stand watching him shake with gut-wrenching sobs, Emily wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and pulled him in. He allowed her to guide him until he rested his weight against her, taking some small amount of solace in her comforting embrace. His hands left his face and he clung to her arm that was closest, burying his face into it and crying like a broken man. Like a man who had lost another family member. Like a man who had just lost everything. Like a man who just lost his son. Emily cleared her throat, trying but failing to keep her own tears silent. She gave him every ounce of strength she had, but he broke down her barrier when he sobbed Jack's name.

"My baby boy," he heaved out. "My son, Emily, my fucking son."

"I know, I know," she hiccupped, unconsciously beginning to rock back and forth.

Emily held Hotch tighter, leaning back against the sofa in order to take on all of his weight. She combed her fingers through his hair, not knowing what else she could possibly do to make it just the tiniest bit easier for him. He found himself curling into her as much as possibly, turning on his side and tucking his legs and his feet up onto the couch in order to get closer to her. Her sweet, familiar smell relaxed his muscles, but it didn't stop his tears. He kept seeing Jack behind his eyelids, from infant to child, from laughing to crying. Every image was different, but every image hurt just the same.

"It's my fault," he cried. "It's my fault my son is dead, Emily."

"No," she said instantly. "No, Aaron, no, it's not your fault."

"I feel like it is," he said weakly, knowing she was right, but needing someone to blame.

"Shh, Aaron, calm down," Emily whispered, her lips against the crown of his head. "You're going to give yourself a heart attack."

"I don't care," he protested. "Nothing is the same without my son."

She bit her lip to keep her composure. "I know, sweetheart."

Emily didn't say anything else, just quietly cried as Hotch continued to sob for another half an hour, effectively soaking the sleeve of her shirt, but she didn't care. She could tell when he would remember something particularly good or bad, as he'd get very quiet for a moment, making her believe he was finished, then let out a low keening sound that shattered her heart before he'd start sobbing again. She tried combing her fingers through his hair, gently rubbing his back, humming, but nothing calmed him. She knew he had to stop eventually.

"Aaron, let me get you something to drink," she said about an hour and a half in, his crying having been quieted for nearly ten minutes.

"I can get it, but thank you," he replied hoarsely.

"Really, I insist," she said, slowly pushing him into a sitting position. "Just stay here. I'll be right back, ok?"

He nodded, but didn't quite meet her eyes. Emily hurried into the kitchen, tearing open cupboards to find the cups. She filled a large glass cup with cold water from the tap, blew her nose into some paper towel, and practically ran back into the living room. Hotch tried to smile his thanks, but his mouth wouldn't move. He sipped the water and mopped up his face with the tissues Emily found in one of his random cabinets in the kitchen. He could see her staring at him through the corner of his eye, but he didn't have the nerve to look back at her.

Only Dave and Morgan had ever seen Hotch break down before, and it had taken at least a week or two for Hotch to look them in the eyes again. He didn't feel as ashamed this time, with Emily, but he was still on edge about how she was feeling. She was awfully quiet, something that Hotch was not accustomed to. Emily was always the first to make a joke in a bad situation, the one who took charge with a snappy retort or a random story that would take your mind away from everything but what she was saying. She still made him feel more at home than anyone else would have been able to, but there wasn't that same spark in her eyes that he had been craving so desperately one a day or two ago.

He blindly reached for her hand, which she gave to him willingly. Setting his glass down, he pulled on her hand, silently asking her to move closer. She understood and she scooted over, waiting for him to release her hand and put his arm around her before she caved in completely. Emily could feel the electricity sparking in the air. Even though the general mood was not a happy one, she could feel that little spark that she had felt too many times to count in the presence of Aaron Hotchner.

"It's alright," she murmured when she felt his hesitation. "You won't hurt me."

Hotch, never one to ask twice, scooped her up and shifted her until she was firmly in his lap, her legs on the couch, her side pressed into his chest. "I hate doing this to you," he said.

Emily shook her head. "I'm alright, Aaron. I can take it."

"I know you can," he breathed, hugging her to his chest and burying his face into her hair, the smell of it momentarily distracting him. It had been a long time since he'd held a woman, let alone smelled her hair. "That doesn't mean I like knowing how hard this is for you."

"Aaron, I will always be here if you need me. This is a lot harder for you than it is for me."

He knew she was right, but he still felt like an asshole for breaking down in front of her, not to mention touching her when he knew she didn't like to be touched too much. And there he was, with her in his lap because the feel of it distracted him.

"Would you do something for me?" he asked, his voice shaking. "And please don't agree because you feel obligated."

"Couldn't hurt to ask," she said with a shrug.

"Would you… No, you know, nevermind."

"Aaron, what is it?" she asked gently. "Just ask me."

"Stay," he blurted.

Emily smiled slightly and sighed. "I don't plan to leave until you force me to get out. I'll be here every step of the way. I'll help with phone calls, with plans, with food, whatever you need me to do. Where did you want me to sleep? Couch?"

He answered her before even thinking about it. "With me."

"Ok," she replied before Hotch even realized what he had said. "I don't want you to have to come looking for me if you have nightmares and want to talk about it."

It happened so suddenly.

That's what Emily and Hotch told people four years later when they got married, and that's what they told their twin girls that were born a few years after that over and over again throughout the years. It had happened the second Emily woke up that night to Hotch screaming for Jack. She had wrapped him in her arms and quieted him within seconds. She had been there to help with funeral arrangements, to call everyone, to get Hotch back on his feet time and time again during the weeks following that one. Every day found them growing closer and closer, and there was nothing that could have stopped it.

The attraction had been there beforehand, they both had admitted that, but it was Hotch who had made the first move. It started out as comfort sex, as a way to release anger and hurt, and Emily had convinced him it wasn't a big deal. Three weeks later, they were both set to go back to work, but Hotch wasn't quite ready. He called them both in and somehow they ended up having sex again, but it wasn't the same as it usually was. Hotch was slow and gentle, and towards the end she swore she had heard him whisper 'I love you'.

It had taken her another few days to talk to him about it, and he confessed that it was true. From that day on, Emily never left Hotch's side, and visa versa, unless it was an absolute must. Death may have brought them together, and Emily would give up their relationship if it meant Hotch having Jack back, but she was the reason he had healed at all. It was still hard from time to time, but the joys and hardships of married life and having two girls kept Hotch busy. However, when he did think of Jack, it was always accompanied by a smile.

A/N – I don't know where this ending came from, but here it is. Hope you enjoyed it, and please take just a second out to review, it would really mean a lot. Thanks!