#bearded!hotch

November 7, 2011

"Ms. L/N, you have worked under Agent Hotchner before he began his career in the FBI, is that correct?"

Your jaw tightened, and you unwound it. "Yes, sir. However, I have reported to acting unit chief Derek Morgan for the past 4 months."

Senator Cramer looked down at you with a hard stare, narrowing his eyes. "Yes. And you've received a promotion while he was in charge, if I'm correct." He was no longer asking you.

You were too used to this dance. Too used to men in power staring at you like a silly little girl. This had been your career for years. You knew the inside of a courtroom like the back of your hand—this was not new to you.

Boredly, you drawled, "Do you have a question for me, sir?"

"Watch your tone, Ms. L/N."

You fought not to show any contentment on your face. Your team's fate hung in the balance, and you needed to change that.

Even if the team itself had been torn apart.

October 23, 2011

You stood next to Emily in front of the glass holding Doyle. You hadn't said much—you didn't know what to say. She was alive. 

She was alive, but you thought she was dead.

The team was following a lead on Declan while you waited here. You could tell Emily wanted to say something, but you didn't know what. All you knew was that you missed her.

You cleared your throat, half-glancing at her from the corner of your eye before looking back at Doyle. "So, Paris, huh?"

Emily had turned her full attention to you, even though you still weren't looking at her. She softly smiled. "Yeah."

"I bet it was really beautiful."

She nodded, agreeing, "It was." Pause. "But I wish we could've seen it together. I really missed you."

Your eyes started to burn, so you redirected your gaze to the ceiling. You understood that she was alone in Paris and that she truly did miss you. But for 7 months, you missed Emily because you thought you'd never see her again. And now here she was, standing right next to you.

There was a lot to say, but there was a child missing and not enough time to go through everything, so you just settled for saying, "I missed you, too."

The sound of your phone ringing brought you back to reality. You wiped under your eyes and cleared your throat a second time, answering the phone without looking at the ID. "L/N."

"Gerace's dead," Hotch said, causing you to tense as his voice filled your ears. "Declan's gone. We think Chloe and him are with McDermott and they're about to leave the country."

You screwed your eyes shut and promptly hung up the phone, relaying the information to Emily. Your mind raced a mile a minute, but you were backed into a corner. You were running out of options.

You knew one thing for certain, and that was that you weren't letting Declan out of the country after everything Emily sacrificed to keep him safe.

Without putting much thought into it, you made a beeline for the interrogation room, letting the door slam as you entered.

Doyle looked up, confused. You hadn't met before. But you weren't going to let that stop you.

You didn't waste any time. "Chloe's working with Lachlan McDermott." You watched Ian look down immediately. "How would he leave the country?"

He shook his head slowly. "I don't know. He's got endless funds. You'll never stop him."

From this angle, with his hands cuffed, you thought Doyle almost looked human. He almost didn't look like the monster who tried to kill your friend; instead, he looked like a defeated father. But you knew exactly who he was.

He ruined your team, just like he ruined lives everywhere.

"He hates you," you stated.

A little too proud, he replied, "More than you do."

You stepped closer to him, lowering your voice. "Then maybe, we should give him what he really wants." Doyle looked even more confused now, but you clarified, "You."

❧❧

You were on the phone with Hotch as you marched through the halls of the BAU, telling him your plan. You got Emily on board; you just needed him and Strauss to agree. Like he was reading your mind, he asked, "Is Strauss still there?"

"Yes."

"We need full support."

You could've laughed. It was like he didn't know you at all. "Already on it," you said. "Doyle said McDermott's family imported weapons to a private airfield in Maryland."

"Is it close?"

"Yep, and I'm sending you the coordinates right now."

You hung up the phone just as you reached Strauss' door, clicking the send button as you wrapped your knuckles against the wood. You barely waited for a response before walking in. 

Strauss sighed as if she didn't want to see you again. "Y/N—"

"Chief Strauss, the team needs authorization to exchange Ian Doyle for his son."

Her eyes went wide, and she took her glasss off. "I'm sorry?"

You pursed your lips. "Lachlan McDermott wants Ian more than Declan. The team will make sure he doesn't get away, but we need to do this in order to get Declan back."

Strauss' voice was hard as she spoke to you like you were a child who didn't understand what she was asking for. "Ms. L/N, this breaks several protocols."

"I'm fully understand that, ma'am, but I'm telling you, it is only a matter of minutes before they leave the country and Declan is gone for good."

Strauss folded her hands together. "But what makes you think they won't take off with Doyle and his son?"

"We won't let that happen," you reasoned.

"You can't guarantee that!"

You had known Strauss for too long. Too many meetings and too many communications. So even if you didn't have the greatest relationship with her, if you could leverage it to get what you needed, then you'd do it.

You weren't big fans of each other, but you knew she respected you at the very least.

You leaned down. "Erin,  I am certain that, if we don't do this, there is a very good chance that little boy will die."

Strauss looked away from you, and that's when you knew you made it through to her. "The team's already on their way, aren't they?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She nodded, so you turned around, thinking the conversation was over. She called your name just as you were about to leave.

"Y/N."

You turned around, seeing her stare at you the same way she stared at you earlier that night. A little cold, a little detached, and a little attached at the same time. 

"I hope that, when it comes down to it, Aaron will defend you just as avidly as you defend him."

You inhaled a sharp breath. "I'm doing this for the team, not for Hotch."

And then you left her office without another word.

November 7, 2011

"It was your idea to release Ian Doyle, was it not?"

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes, but the urge was strong. "Yes, it was."

Senator Cramer hummed. You hated how smug he looked. "Was that decision a personal one?"

"No—" 

He barely let you answer. "I just find it interesting that Agent Hotchner's assistant is suddenly promoted and then given leeway to make decisions pertaining to terrorists. Were you given that authority because of your personal relationships within the team?"

You understood what he was implying immediately, narrowing your eyes. "A boy's life was at stake. My only concern at that time was helping my team save a life, as it has always been," you countered. "And as for any 'leeway' I have— well, senator, I have worked with the BAU for nearly 7 years. I have the experience to assess a situation and make a decision. So if you want to punish me for taking a risk to save a life, then I suggest you do so, but do not put the rest of my team on trial for a successful rescue."

Cramer held his mic a little tighter. "Calm down, Ms. L/N."

"This is calm," you retorted. But in contradiction to that statement, you took a deep breath. "If you have any other questions for me, senator, I'd be happy to answer them." That was bureaucratic speak for: shut up or say something meaningful. Cramer was doing neither.

He stared down at you with a quiet storm brewing in his eyes, eager to make you or any one of your teammates slip. His colleagues glanced at him questioningly, but he finally said, "That'll be all, Ms. L/N. Send in Agent Reid on your way out."

"Yes, sir," you replied, standing up and hoping Reid would tear him a new one. You'd let him be the one to correct the senator and highlight the PhD.

You exited the courtroom as quickly as was socially appropriate. When Hotch was still a prosecutor, you saw the inside of a courtroom more times than you could count. It used to excite you. Now, it had lost its novelty, and you would've rather been anywhere else.

In the hall, Rossi, Derek, and Spencer all turned their eyes to you. No one was sitting.

You looked at Reid and motioned to the double doors. He glanced between the three of you, and then he wordlessly walked into the room.

Derek raised his eyebrows at you. "You okay, pretty girl?"

Your lips quirked up ever so slightly before being pulled down by an imaginary force. You sighed. "He's a dick."

"Careful there, Y/N," Rossi warned, mirth sparkling in his eyes. "We are on trial."

You let your eyes roll. "He's drawing a lot of conclusions in there."

"So he draws," Rossi said. "I would grab my coloured pencils, too, if I had nothing better to do."

You snorted. Rossi could make it funny in hindsight, but you really were getting angry in there. You opted not to mention how Cramer implied you were sleeping your way to the top, or the relationships you made in order to get to where you were.

Like he could sense you weren't okay, Derek angled his body toward you. Likewise, you found yourself leaning toward him. Your hands weren't quite touching, but they were close. 

Right now, all you wanted was to go back home and lay in his arms. You could be suspended for all you cared; you just didn't want to be here. You wanted to leave before—

"How was your interview?" Hotch.

You all looked to him, but he was only looking at you. One of your hands twitched.

"Y/N was just about to colourfully draw us a picture about it." Rossi snickered at his own joke, but any humour you had left was just sucked out of your body.

Hotch must've thought he could corner you in public and it'd work. 

You knew better than that.

"I'm actually going to take a smoke break." You excused yourself altogether, walking away before anyone else could say anything and practically daring him to follow you. He wouldn't. That was the point.

You could think of countless other times when you wanted Hotch to follow you, and he didn't.

Now, it was too late.

June 13, 1994

"I didn't know you smoked."

You turned your head from the brick it was leaned against, seeing a blonde standing right next to you, a curious smile on her face. You tried to give her a real smile back. "I don't. It's just— stress."

Haley giggled. "What are you stressed about? Is Aaron working you to the bone?"

You faked a laugh in response. You weren't sure if it was because of the Aaron drop or if it was because your answer to her question was no, the exact opposite. "No, he's actually calmed down a lot at work with the wedding approaching."

The wedding. Tommorow, your brain reminded you. You didn't really need any reminders while you were at Haley's bachelorette party.

She invited you. You couldn't say no. But now that you were really there, listening to her talk about becoming Mrs. Hotchner and how she wanted a little Aaron, you wished you just declined.

But of course not. Of course, you said yes. That was precisely why you were outside of the bar, ready to light a cigarette. Even though you hadn't smoked since you were a teenager. Even though, the last time you tried to pull out a pack, Hotch scolded you.

Haley snorted. She was a little tipsy, not totally drunk. She didn't strike you as the type of person to get drunk. "That's because he's too busy preparing to go to 'the Academy.'" She did a mock deep voice, bursting into another fit of giggles.

You whipped your head toward her, too surprised to hide how surprised you were. "He got in?"

"Yep." She popped the 'P,' then sighed. "Could I have one of those?" She motioned to the cigarette in your hand.

Your brows raised to your hairline. You were too disoriented by it all that you didn't question it, pulling another stick out of your bag and handing it to her. You lit both yours and hers, and then you took a long inhale.

The two of you exhaled at the same time. She continued, "God, a guy asks to marry you, and then he tells you he applied to be an FBI agent." Her laugh was bitter this time. She took another drag of the cigarette, so you did, too. Blow.

She turned her head toward you, giving you the same picture perfect she gave everyone. Only, this time, the picture seemed cracked. "Let me tell you, Y/N. Never fall for someone with a law degree. They'll ask you to uproot your entire life and then convince you it was your idea."

You stared at her for a second before looking away, bringing the cigarette back to your mouth. You didn't respond. 

You didn't know how to say you already did.

Smoke filled the night air, and neither of you said another word.

In the morning, you would watch Haley Brooks become Haley Hotchner, and you would never bring up what she said again.

October 24, 2011

You slammed the door to your office, anger rolling off of you in waves. The door flung open right afterward, then it was closed much more gently, as if the person pitied your door hinges.

"Y/N—"

You cut Hotch off sharply, "Don't talk to me."

The case was over. Doyle was dead and Declan watched him die, but he was safe. The last 24 hours of your life were filled with bureaucracy and pleasantries you'd rather not have had, but now that it was all over, all you could feel was the white hot anger flowing through your veins.

Hotch still tried to defend himself. "I had to do it. It was the only way to keep Emily safe—"

"Are you kidding me?" You spun around, incredulity painted all over your face. You walked closer to him, making direct eye contact for the first time since he revealed Emily was alive. "Emily is safe. You did what you had to do. I don't give a damn about that. What I care about is the fact that you left."

Hotch's jaw tensed. "I was given orders."

"Orders?" A cold, humourless laugh left you. You shook your head. "Right. Orders. Your orders made you flee like a coward without saying a word."

He took a step toward you, his brows drawing together. "I left you a letter."

"You didn't tell me!" You threw your hands into the air haphazardly, your voice raising no matter how hard you tried to keep quiet. You pointed to your chest. "Me. I'm supposed to be your guy. I'm supposed to be the one you tell when you want to go to fucking Pakistan after faking our friend's death. I was supposed to be person you told, and you didn't tell me!"

Hotch's voice strained, repeating words he already said. "I left you a letter."

"God, Hotch." You ran a hand through your hair, another laugh parting from your lips. You hadn't laughed so much with Aaron in years. As tears built in your eyes, you realized you hadn't cried so much around him, either. "I know the way you take your coffee. I know the way you like your files organized on your desk. I know the order you prefer to have your meetings. But when you went to Pakistan, I didn't know about it."

You told yourself you wouldn't cry. You told yourself you were over it. You told Derek you were over it. Yet there you were, on the verge of tears.

It was hard not to cry when you spent years propping another man up, only for him to leave you at his earliest convenience.

"Y/N—"

"I know. You left me a letter." You sighed, looking away from him as you wiped under your eyes. The laughter in your chest had dissipated, replaced by emptiness. When you looked back at him, your eyes were empty, too. "Well, I didn't read your letter."

Hurt flashed across his face. You couldn't even feel satisfied. "What?" he echoed.

"I didn't read your letter," you repeated. "You wanted to leave without telling me? Well, I wanted not to know what you had to say after the fact."

He sighed, looking exasperated. You could imagine that leading a task force in Pakistan would do that to someone, especially if that someone was overachiever Aaron Hotchner. The same Aaron Hotchner who left the DA's office at the height of his career to start at the bottom at Quantico. The same Aaron Hotchner who had already left you once before.

He put a hand on his forehead. "If you had just read the letter—"

"You know, at least the first time you left, you had the decency to tell me," you interrupted. All the things you'd held in for months were leaving your mouth. "At least then, I didn't have to wonder if my job was secure."

He narrowed his eyes, stepping toward you. "Your job security was never questioned. If you had just read the letter—" 

"Oh, really?" You chuckled. Your hands clenched into fists in the air. "My job didn't exist without you, Hotch!"

He ran a hand through his hair. "That doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does." You scoffed. 

And at that moment, you understood Haley Hotchner more than ever.

"You know," you shook your head. "I uprooted my entire life for you. And you convinced me it was my idea."

Hotch looked pained, even though he didn't have the right. "Don't say that." He sounded like he was pleading with you.

"I said it," you snapped. "I'm done. We're done."

You made your way past him and out of the room, letting the door slam a second time on your way out. 

It wasn't lost on you that there was no we to be done with, but you meant it. You were done.

This was the end of something that never even started.

And in the end, the love you take

Is equal to the love you make.

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