Emily forced her eyes open as blood and death danced across the back of her eyelids. It wasn’t her nap that was keeping her from sleeping, it was the nightmares. It was a repeat playlist of terror across her mind’s eye. The drugs usually allowed her a dreamless sleep, but she’d been trying to cut back and, true to her word, hadn’t taken one before she’d gone to bed. The stubborn streak in her wouldn’t let her take one until she was in pain or until the 8 hour mark had passed. And even then she wasn’t sure she wanted to take another one after taking two that afternoon.
It made for a very uncomfortable night.
Around 4am she crawled out of bed, finally giving up. It was kind of silly to take a pill then when she didn’t feel any burning or an uncomfortable ache in her side. So instead, she quietly made her way down the stairs and into the kitchen. Maybe tea would make the nightmares go away.
Hotch groaned and rolled over, away from the vibrating light of his cell phone. This was the last thing he needed with Emily recovering. But at 4am, the only thing it could be was JJ calling him with a case.
“I wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t urgent.”
He took perverse pleasure in the fact that even JJ sounded incredibly pissed about having to wake up so early and spread the word. “How urgent.”
“Politics.”
Code word for VIP death. Hotch sighed. He was tempted to tell her to just tell the cops to look into the connections of the people, but that wouldn’t be fair to JJ and it wouldn’t be polite of Aaron Hotchner or the department. And if Hotch was one thing it was perpetually polite. He sighed. “I’ll be there soon.”
“I’m sorry, Hotch.”
He knew she was. He kicked off the sheets with a heavy sigh, upset beyond measure that he was going to have to leave Emily alone in the house for days. Sure, she didn’t exactly need a babysitter, but it was obvious there were after effects that still made her life difficult. Their hair washing adventure the evening before had been the perfect example. He’d just have to rely on Garcia to check in and Mildred to come over, not to mention checking on her himself. He wasn’t going to start analyzing how upset he was to have to go on another case without her.
His shower woke him somewhat, but did nothing to lighten his mood. His movements were mechanical as he put on his suit and tied his tie. He tried to move quietly, tiptoeing down the stairs. He was surprised to find the kitchen light already on. Out of courtesy, he knocked on the doorframe so as not to spook Emily.
“Why are you up?”
She didn’t even look up from her mug. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Hotch was too annoyed and tired to beat around the bush. “Nightmares?” he asked, setting about making coffee. When he turned to face her it was all written in her eyes. Either she was just too tired to fight or too tired of the nightmares to hide them anymore.
“The pills help.” He helped her wash her hair, at this point, hiding the nightmares didn’t seem worth it.
“But you didn’t take one before bed.”
Emily shook her head.
He felt worse about leaving for the case.
“Office?”
“Case.” He felt even worse when she deflated.
“What happened?”
He shrugged, conveying his lack of details. “Politics.”
Her smile was ironic. “I hate politics.”
The irony wasn’t lost on Hotch and he smiled. “Right now, I do too.”
They sat in silence while the coffee dripped into the carafe, Emily’s fingers fidgeting with the handle of her mug. She couldn’t tell him she didn’t want him to go. That wouldn’t be fair to him, the team or the force they were about to help. And affirming his suspicions about the nightmares had been enough personal revelation for the time being. He didn’t need to see her any weaker than he did.
“Tell me,” Hotch requested softly. “About the nightmares.”
Emily took a deep breath. “There’s not much to tell,” she admitted honestly. “It’s always a variation on the same theme. Sometimes I know the guy, sometimes it’s in the middle of the bullpen and no body comes to help.”
To him, the latter would be more terrifying than the former. Since she hadn’t pulled away “ if anything, she took more liberties since they were out of the office “ he assumed the terrors where she knew her attacker did not involve him. He doubted it involved any member of the team either. The team was family, pure and simple.
“Academically I know they’re not real,” she said softly, eyes still on her mug. “I know that I’m safe, I know I’m healing. But in my dreams…”
“Anything’s possible.”
“The worst thing is… I’m completely helpless.”
“In your dreams?”
Emily nodded. “And in reality. I can’t stop them. Except with the pills and I don’t want to rely on drugs to get me through the night. The pain, I don’t remind relying on them for, but to take them because I can’t keep death and gore out of my mind…” She shrugged helplessly.
His heart was clenching painfully in his chest. Hotch wasn’t used to Emily being helpless. She was anything but, really. But part of him understood the sentiment. “When do you wake up.”
Her eyes were hollow when they met his. “When I’m dead.”
Hotch ran a hand over his face as he boarded the BAU jet, on their way to Miami for yet another brutal case. At least their unsub was making it easy to figure out the type of girl he chose. Or boy, he corrected himself. The rich, the party-hearty, the trust fund babies of Miami’s elite. Miami’s FBI had been called in when Miami’s senator had lost his baby girl, though Hotch wasn’t sure the man would know his daughter’s habits at all. He wished Emily was back to work so she could play politics with him. She hated it, but she was damned good at it. And it would have been nice to have the daughter of both a senator and an ambassador along for the ride.
And her words were still ringing in his head. He knew he wasn’t all in on this case. Half of his mind was back at home with the woman who couldn’t sleep for fear of dying. He’d had no idea what to tell her after that particular revelation. His heart had stopped at her words and the look in her eyes. That wasn’t the happy Emily that had been staying with him at all. On the contrary, they were the eyes of a woman who was just plain tired. He’d been wondering when the control would snap, but he most definitely hadn’t been prepared for it when it did. He missed the look his teammates exchanged.
“Hey Hotch, everything okay?” Morgan asked.
He looked up, startled by the question. “Yeah,” he replied reflexively. He settled back against the leather of the seats, trying to push the distractions out of his head. “Let’s go over this again.”
“They’re not random,” Morgan offered, taking the seat across from Hotch. “This guy knows the habits of each of his victims. He has to.”
Abductions weren’t difficult to carry out at a crowded club, but all of Miami’s elite had bodyguards and handlers that followed them everywhere. Their only job was to keep a close eye on the celebutante they’d been hired to watch. The kids he’d killed had the hired bodyguards and still ended up dead.
“He likes a challenge,” JJ said, sarcasm in her voice. “At night, busy club, lots of witnesses.”
“Trust?” Morgan offered. “They go with the guy?”
“He’s not picky about gender,” Reid added. “No sexual component.”
Months without a full team didn’t make them feel any better about how small they felt. They didn’t have the manpower they were used to with Gideon gone and Emily out of commission.
“What does he want from them?”
“Money?” Morgan asked.
“It would make more sense if they’d kidnapped the victims,” JJ replied with a shake of her head. “There’s no contact with the parents at all. Nothing.”
Hotch sighed, His head was nowhere near this case. “Let’s wait until we land, talk to the PD, see what the parents have in common.”
Morgan and JJ exchanged a look. “I’ll get Garcia to start looking, see if there’s an electronic trail.”
Hotch nodded. It was going to be a long case.
“Hello?” Emily answered the ringing phone.
“What deep dark secret can you tell me about the all fantastic Aaron Hotchner?”
Emily laughed at Garcia’s cajoling voice. “It wouldn’t be a secret if I told you.”
“You’re no fun,” Garcia pouted. “What use are you as an insider if you’re not going to give me the information?”
Emily yawned, unable to hold it in. Four in the morning would always be way too early for her. “Is there a reason you’re calling?”
“I can’t just call to talk to you?”
Emily blinked. That was something she hadn’t expected. “You’re checking up on me?”
“What? You’re paranoid.”
“I’m tired,” Emily admitted, rubbing her fingers over her forehead.
“Hotch keeping you up late?”
“Not funny.”
But Garcia was already cackling. “How are you doing?” She was suddenly serious again.
“Coping.” That was the honest truth, even if she wasn’t coping that well at the moment.
“And now that our crime fighters are off to save the world?”
“Still coping,” Emily said with a chuckle. What else could she do?
“Well, you and I are going for lunch, my lovely dear injured friend.”
“You don’t want to stay in your bunker? They’re off on a case.”
“Miami, Florida. Think of this as my way of getting them back for not letting me tag along for the ride.”
Emily chuckled. Thank God for Penelope Garcia.
“I’ll be by around noon to pick you up, kay? You pick the restaurant and we’ll call it a business lunch.”
“That’s abuse of the system.”
“You’re spending too much time with dear Hotch.”
“What does that mean?” Emily asked in confusion.
“Abuse of the system? Please. You’re staying with your hot boss while you recover from a non-work-related injury. Talk about abuse of the system.”
“He offered!”
“Sure he did. Look, Precious, I gotta go. The bat phone’s ringing.”
Emily sighed. Someday she’d learn not to argue with Garcia. The uselessness of it was often lost on her. “Give me a call when you’re on your way over.”
“Deal. Garcia out.”