I don't own anything.
Read and review please!
Hotch sat on the plane, with his head resting on the window pane. He was lost in thought, and he didn't hear all that was going around him.
"Hotch!" came J.J.'s voice. He looked up at her.
"We've landed," she said. He nodded and stood up, not saying anything.
"Thinking about Haley?" Rossi asked. Hotch nodded. It wasn't a total lie. He had been thinking about his marriage to Haley. It was true that Haley had filed for divorce, but it was he who had really ended it. Every step that Haley took, he found that he was comparing it to hers. She had been his true love, not Haley. He regretted hurting Haley, she was caring and she had loved him, until the end. But Haley could never measure up to her. He dared not to think her name, it hurt him too much.
He had thought about Jack. He loved Jack, Jack was the only ray of sunshine in the dark abyss that was his life. Jack was the one thing that he had wanted with her. But she had disappeared, leaving his heart in shattered pieces. She had left no sign of where she would be, only a note explaining that her father had accidentally killed someone in a protest, and he had to go into hiding, her mother was hiding elsewhere, and she was leaving as well. She had strongly advised him to do the same, but he wasn't afraid of the authorities. He just hoped that they were safe. He had eventually, after six months without her, assumed a false identity, but not for the same reason. He did it to escape the memories.
He stopped thinking about her for a moment, and got into the SUV, headed for the police station. He looked out the window. He always knew something would pull him back to San Francisco. He just had always hoped that it would be her, not work.
He made it through the day, his thoughts constantly with her. The day passed slowly, every second painful. The serial killer was taking blonde women; and every picture, every face, every cut up, bloody body seemed to belong to her. Finally, after the day's end, he drove to the hotel. Every woman he passed on the street looked like her. Every woman he heard speak sounded like her. He finally reached his room, and he shut himself in, in a sad attempt to lock her out. It didn't work. Everytime he closed his eyes, her face filled his mind. He laid in bed, not able to sleep. He finally got out of bed and decided to take a drive.
He wasn't planning to go there when he first got in the car, it just pulled him there. He stopped in front of their old apartment. It looked just the same as it always had. He went inside and looked around. The furniture was still where it had always been, and he couldn't help but think of everything that had happened there. He went upstairs and sat down on the bed, and put his head in his hands. Every memory of her haunted him, and he couldn't hold back the sadness anymore. He finally began to cry, every bone in his body missing her. He cried so much that he fell asleep.
The next morning, the sun was shining through the window, and he opened his eyes. He quietly got up and left the apartment, just the way he had found it. He went to the police station, to meet up with team. When he got there, he heard a familiar voice.
"No, I'm pretty sure your boss is my husband!" She said loudly.
"Ma'am, I believe you're mistaken," Rossi said, then noticed Hotch. "But you can ask him yourself."
The blonde woman turned to look at Hotch.
"Dharma?" He asked.
Seconds later she was in his arms. He kissed her fiercely, and she returned it.
"Greg! Great news! That guy that Larry 'hit' didn't die! We're back now!"
"That's great Dharma!"
"Oh, Greg! I've missed you so much!" She said, then kissed him again.
"Greg?" The team asked unanimously.
"Hotch, I think you've got a lot of explaining to do." Rossi said.
He knew it was true, and he knew he'd probably lose his job, but it didn't matter. She was here again, and she was his.