Standing in front of the mirror, you apply the finishing touches to your make up, finally pleased with how you look. You smooth out the wrinkles of your dark blue satin dress, taking one final look at yourself. Pairing the look with some heeled tie up sandals, you're ready to head to Rossi's.

Rossi had said earlier at the office to come at any time after 6:30pm.

The buzzing from your phone notifies you that your taxi is here. Grabbing your black, oversized trench coat, you lock the door behind you and slide into the cab. Rossi's mansion was about a twenty minute drive from your house, so you'd arrive a little before seven.

It seemed that everyone was already there, judging by the cars in the driveway. Rossi had opened the door for you, kissing both of your cheeks and guiding you to his open plan kitchen and dining area.

"Hey guys, sorry I'm a little late." You mumble.

"Nonsense, it's only 6:45. Here let me take your coat, bèlla." Rossi helps you out of your coat, hanging it up for you.

"Look at you." Prentiss whistles and instantly your face flushes.

"Oh shut up. Look at you, red is definitely your color. I'm sorry, how have you just had a baby JJ? And PG, those heels. We must go shoe shopping. You girls honestly all look stunning!" You compliment and gush, smiling at Emily, JJ and Garcia.

Emily was dressed in a fitted red dress with a square neck, the perfect contrast with the tone of her skin. JJ was also in a fitted black dress, that was off the shoulder, showing her fabulous figure. Garcia was wearing a skater flowery dress, that simply was Penelope personified, bright and beautiful.

"I'm hurt sweetness, what are we? Chopped liver?" Morgan gestures to Hotch, Reid, and Rossi, before placing a dramatic hand across his chest. The team chuckle at his antics.

"I would never say such a thing. Besides, it's not my job to stroke your ego." You raise a brow teasingly, placing a hand at your waist and you fake seriousness.

"Nope, that would be mine. And you know I love you, chocolate thunder." Penelope kisses his cheek and the team erupt into laughter again. Hotch just shakes his head in amusement.

Rossi asks you if you want a glass of wine, which you accept eagerly, thanking him. Conversation flows around you, everyone breaking away and talking in separate groups. Rossi announces that dinner will be served in twenty minutes and everyone thanks him, getting back to their conversations.

You feel a hand wrap around your wrist, pulling you to the edge of the room. "Hey Em, what's up?"

"Nothing much, just don't feel like we've spoke in a while. How are you?" She asks, smiling at you.

Returning her smile, you reply saying how you're good, happy that we weren't in Oregon for too long. She agrees, mentioning how she's happy that it's the weekend. You two make plans to have a movie night next weekend and order takeout. Saturday works for both of you and Emily says she'll mention it to JJ and Garcia to see if they're free.

"Anyway... So... vibrator huh? That's a weird nickname for Hotch." She mumbles blandly, concealing the impact of her words with a normal expression but a knowing look in her eyes. You panic visibly, darting your head around the room to make sure no one was in earshot. Your reaction just confirmed her suspicion, not like you'd be able to get anything past her anyway. The joys of being friends with a profiler.

"Shit. That obvious huh?" You utter quietly, in disbelief.

"Not really, things just started to add up with the various interactions I've seen between the two of you. Plus, Hotch kinda can't keep his eyes off you." She declares, a slight smirk displaying across her lips. You exhale dishearteningly, grimacing.

"How bad of a person am I?"

Emily's expression hardens in confusion and you elaborate, "For sleeping with my recently divorced boss? Who happens to be a father to a young son?"

"Ana, in the last six weeks or so I've seen Hotch smile and laugh more than I have since I joined the BAU. And I know that's because of you. So in my book, that doesn't make you a bad person, not one bit." Prentiss grabs your hand, holding it between hers, offering you a sincere smile. Tears begin to well in your eyes at her kind words and she pulls you into her embrace, shushing you, telling you not to ruin your makeup.

"Thanks Em. That means a lot. You think anyone else on the teams knows? Suspects anything?" Glancing towards the kitchen, you sigh, pleased that no one was paying any attention to your conversation, too focused on their own.

"No. No one has mentioned anything, not to me anyway. Rossi may have an inkling, to be honest I'd be concerned if he didn't. He's the most experienced profiler here, and has known Hotch the longest, so he has to have spotted the difference in him. If not, we may have to put him back into retirement." She jokes, helping to lift the sullenness that threatened to ruin your evening.

Rossi calls out for you all to take a seat at the table, saying he'll be bringing the food across shortly. Smiling at Emily once more in thanks, you follow her to the table.

You take the seat next to her, and Hotch takes the opposite seat next to you, on your left. His mere presence causes you to feel all warm inside, and you banish the self-disparaging thoughts to the back of your mind, choosing to enjoy your evening.

Hotch innocently leans toward you, asking quietly if you're okay and you nod, smiling that you are. He compliments you, saying how you look stunning, and you flush. You look up as Rossi takes a seat opposite you, his eyes fleeting between the two of you and he winks. Okay yeah, he knows.

You don't dwell on this new information, just bask in the feast that Rossi had prepared. So you couldn't fool two out of six of the team, oh well. Again, you just pocket these revelations, to discuss with Hotch later.

Rossi had made focaccia bread and a classic lasagne that tasted simply divine. Everyone complimented Rossi throughout the meal, thoroughly enjoying the food he'd cooked, gratefully thanking him for the beautiful food.

Music softly played in the background as the team talked and laughed together. Rossi had cleared the table, denying your offer to help, telling you to relax and have another drink.

You sat silently, satisfied with listening to the team conversing around you, humming and laughing at the appropriate times. Instantly, you recognised the beginning of the latest song to play and a small grin framed your face.

Both your parents had great taste in music, passing their love and interest onto you, which meant that certain songs helped trigger happy memories. You quietly sang along, tapping your fingers on the edge of the table, in time with the orchestra.

"This is a man's world
But it wouldn't be nothing, nothing, nothing
Without a woman or a girl..."

Now in no way were you fluent in Italian, but you were able to sing along with Pavarotti confidently, being so thoroughly enamored with James and Luciano's performance that you'd learnt the lyrics simply by having the song on repeat.

"I'uomo rincorre il potere ma lui non sa che il grande limiti ad essere
Come si parrá nel palmo stringe un 'idea che non vive
Che nella sua fantasia..."

Very much enthralled with the song, you zone out, captivated in the tenor of Pavorotti's voice. Only when you feel the soft caress of Hotch's thumb, on your thigh, are you shaken from your trance. That's when you notice the silence in the room, and seven fascinated faces staring at you intently.

"AB, you can sing? In Italian?" Penelope exclaims, cutting into the quietness of the room. The heat that flushes your face is automatic. The embarrassment that flows over your body seeps into your pores. The very thought of so many people hearing you sing causes you to shrink in your chair.

"Er-sorry about that. Yeah erm, kind of. My parents had me listening to all sorts of music growing up. Classical and Opera were probably their favourite genres." You mumble, fiddling with your fingernails, uncomfortable because everyone was focused on you.

"Well they taught you well and had exquisite taste. Bellissima. Simply beautiful... Now, who wants dessert?" Rossi gushes, before standing to grab the tiramisu he'd made.

Hotch squeezes your thigh and you turn in his direction in response. Luckily the table cloth helped cover you, hiding his hand from anyone's view. He has this dazzling look in his eye as he seems to examine you.

"What?"

"Nothing. You just continue to amaze me." He mumbles lowly, squeezing your thigh. You enlace your fingers between his, squeezing his hand in return, silently thanking him.

The rest of the evening passes by smoothly. Morgan tried to bring up your comment from the jet but Emily was quick to shut him down, stating that he was the one who pried, and that your comment was nothing in comparison to the many stories he'd told about his flings. Derek just held his hands up in mock surrender, and the girls erupted in laughter.

Hotch offered to drop you and Reid home, seeing as he hadn't drunk anything and you'd both arrived to Rossi's by taxi. He ever so conveniently dropped Spencer at his apartment building first and you slipped out of the back of Hotch's SUV, into the front passenger seat, hugging Reid goodbye as you did.

When Hotch pulls up outside your house, you turn in the seat to bid him goodbye. Before you get chance to say anything, Hotch suddenly speaks, "Dave knows about us."

You laugh a little, humourlessly, much to Hotch's confusion. "I know, well I kind of suspected he knew because Emily also knows."

Hotch just sighs and smiles at you weakly. His reaction causes you to fill with dread, your heart rate picking up slightly. Fiddling with the hem of your dress, you play with the material as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

"I know we've not really labelled this and I don't want the fact that Rossi and Em know to pressure us into doing so but I also understand if this makes you uncomfortable and you want to put a stop to whatever this is. Obviously I'd be upset but I completely get it if you want to end this because you have a son and you're my boss and you have bigger priorities and responsibilities.

I'm sorry, this is all my fault, I never should have initiated anything back in-"

Silencing your rambling with his lips, Hotch pulls you across the centre console, into his lap. He kisses you softly, cradling the side of your head with his hand, massaging your scalp through your hair.

"I like you Ana. Really like you, an awful lot. And we don't have to rush anything or label what's happening between us, not if you don't want to. We'll take this at whatever pace you're comfortable with.

I'm not bothered about Rossi or Prentiss knowing or even the rest of the team knowing for that fact. You can't get rid of me that easy, I'm in it for the long run baby." He confesses against your lips and you melt into him.

"I really like you an awful lot too. And I'm sorry for panicking, you know what happens when I overthink things." You mumble, placing another kiss against his lips.

"It's okay, you don't have to apologize. You were worried and that's understandable, but like I said, I'm in it for the long haul." He strokes your face gently, comforting you, "Now, go get some sleep. And if you fancy it, and don't have any plans, maybe you can join me in taking Jack to the park tomorrow?"

You agree instantly, having already met Jack a couple of times before. Granted the previous occasions didn't warrant the same circumstances but it'd be good to see him again, and spend some time with Hotch outside of work.

Hotch bids you goodnight with another kiss, and says he'll see you tomorrow. Thanking him for the ride, you exit, walking to your house. You blow him a kiss and close the door, making your way to your bed. Glad  that you'd spoken with Hotch and that he'd helped ease your worries, you fall asleep feeling happy. Everything seemed like it was going to be okay.

——————

Sometimes, you really did question why you ever made plans. Why anyone in the BAU made plans? How anyone in the BAU ever got anything done outside of work?

Currently, you were in the elevator with Prentiss, Morgan and Reid, waiting for the doors to open. You were supposed to be getting ready to spend the day with Hotch and Jack at the park, but as usual, duty calls.

"Case must be local. JJ said not to bring a go bag." Reid says, turning to face you, just as the doors ding.

Letting the team go first, you trail behind Emily, staring at your feet. You'd angrily swapped your t-shirt, jeans and converse for heeled boots and a pantsuit.

"What's the army doing here?"

Only then do you look up, Morgan's question causing you to glance round in confusion. The army? The fuck?

"What the hell is going on?" Emily exclaims as you enter the bullpen. You stop, watching the commotion in front of you, peering at the team. They all mirror concerned expressions and you know your face displays the same disturbed look.

"Guys, this is Dr. Linda Kimura. Chief of Special Pathogens with the CDC." JJ informs as you enter the room. Hotch and Rossi walk in seconds later and you look to them, nodding at them in greeting, before returning to face the Doctor.

"Hello. I'm sorry to meet under these circumstances." She offers, acknowledging us.

"What circumstances?" Reid asks, worry laced in his tone.

"We need to get started." Ignoring Reid's question, Hotch looks to JJ. Only then do you take a good look at him, as do the rest of the team, noticing the urgency and the hint of worry in his voice. Okay, what the hell has happened?

"Last night, twenty five people checked into emergency rooms in and around Annapolis. They were all at the same park after 2pm yesterday. Within 10 hours, the first victim died. It's now just past 7am the next day, we have 12 dead." JJ hurriedly explains as you and the team review the files placed in front of you.

The feeling of dread instantly consumes you as you take note of the causes of death, looking at the victims photos.

"Lung failure and black lesions. Anthrax?" Morgan exclaims, in shock.

"Anthrax doesn't kill this fast." Reid informs.

"This strain does." Dr. Kimura declares and your eyes shoot up, panicked.

"What are we doing about potential mass targets? Airports, malls, trains?" Emily asks to no one in particular.

"There's a media blackout." Hotch states seriously, the lines in his forehead deepening.

"We're not telling the public?" Prentiss exclaims.

"We'd have a mass exodus." Morgan reasons. If the public were alerted, everyone would try to leave, like refugees flee countries in war or conflict.

"The psychology of group panic would cause more deaths than this last attack." Rossi explains to the group.

"Yeah, and if it does get out, whoever did this might go underground and destroy their samples." Reid concludes.

"Or if they wanted attention and didn't get it, they might attack again. Doesn't the public have the right to know that?" Emily questions.

"If there is another attack, there's no way we'll be able to keep it quiet. Our best chance of protecting the public is by building a profile as quick as we can." Hotch states and your heart skins to the pit of your stomach. That would be no easy task, especially with just gathering information from one attack.

With twenty five victims exposed during the first attack, who knew what the magnitude of a second attack would look like.

"What do we know about about this strain?" Reid asks Kimura.

"The spores are weaponized, reduced to respiral ideal thar attacks deep in the lungs. Odorless and invisible." The Chief of Pathogens explains.

"A sophisticated strain. Only a scientist would know how to do that." You speak into the room, furrowing your brows.

JJ informs that the remaining surviving victims have been moved to a special ward, being carefully monitored and that our offices will become a small command center.

"We'll be working with military scientists from Fort Detrick." Hotch notifies.

"General Whitworth is coming here?" Rossi asks Hotch.

"He's in charge of site containment and spore analysis. Determining what strain this is will help inform who's responsible."

Dr. Kimura advises that her team is responsible for treating all the victims.

"Reid, go with Dr.Kimura to the hospital, interview the victims. Morgan and Prentiss, there's a hazmat team that will accompany you to the crime scene. This is Cipro. Everybody needs to take it before we go." Hotch instructs the team, seemingly missing you out, which causes your brow to furrow.

Deciding to not interrupt, you just reach reach for one of the plastic medicine dispensing cups on the metal tray that Dr. Kimura had raised in your direction, "We don't know if it's effective against this strain, but it's something."

"Sorry Sir. Where do you want me?" You ask Hotch. He finally looks at you and you see his eyes soften briefly.

"You'll be here with me, helping to run point." He briefs, and you nod in agreement.

"So, this is really happening?" You ask, in sheer disbelief.

"We knew it could happen. We've done our homework. We're prepared for this. This is it." Hotch advises, in what you assume is a somewhat comforting manner, trying to help assure the team.

"Jin Dan. May you live 100 years." Rossi utters, raising his cup. Joining him, you and the team raise the pills, throwing them back.

And just like that, as you scanned the room, taking in everyone's shocked and anxious faces, you knew you'd spoken too soon. It seemed that everything was actually far from being okay.

——————

Currently you were following Garcia and Hotch back into the conference room.

Once the team had dispersed with their respective orders, you had followed Hotch to his office. He'd asked you if you were okay, and once you were in the safety of his office, he'd sneakily took your hand in his, squeezing it gently. With the office buzzing, that's the only affection he'd be able to get away with, but you appreciated it immensely.

Confirming that you were okay and checking that he was too, you loosened your hand from his hold and then asked what he needed from you. His professional demeanor returned immediately and he instructed you to go and fill in Garcia, and ask her for details on the victims.

"Any word on the CIA?" Rossi asks as you enter the room, coming to stand at the table.

"They said there are a few overseas terrorist groups with funding and capability. They're working international. We've got domestic." Hotch replies, handing you the victim list to review. As he had stated earlier, there were no high profile jobs on the list.

"We need to look at anyone who could profit from this. People who have patents on anthrax vaccines." Rossi advises and Garcia begins making notes. Hotch instructs her to also look at anyone with access to weaponized spores.

"Universities, scholars working in bioweapons research. Employees of labs who keep germ collections." You input, helping frame the search criteria. Garcia nods, before heading out of the door.

As soon as Penelope leaves the room, General Whitworth appears, JJ guiding him into the room.

"General." Hotch nods in the mans direction and he responds, "Agent Hotchner."

"This is SSA David Rossi and Agent Anastasia Brooke." Hotch introduces you both.

The General looks in your direction but doesn't make a gesture of acknowledgment or address you, "My scientists are decoding the strain. The additives used to strengthen the bacterial capsules do not exist at our research labs."

Considering the circumstances, you understand the urge to get straight down to business. Rossi had also mentioned that he was a bit of an ass.

"Are there any other labs using these substances?" Hotch asks the General in response.

"No."

"I'd like a list of all the scientists in your anthrax program." Hotch orders politely.

"I just said we don't use those additives." The General's voice raises slightly, clearly displeased. Hotch doesn't react, "Sir, we can rule out your lab samples, but not your people."

"We're looking at someone who has the ability to manipulate and weaponize anthrax." You input softly.

"And your scientists make that cut." Rossi's tone isn't as gentle, rather a lot more forceful. The General shifts, altering his stance, "Now, we all know what happened the last time your team looked into my people."

"Sir, our team officially ruled out Dr. Hatfill. I'm sorry if justice didn't listen to us, but the profile was accurate." Hotch's tone is calm and controlled, unfazed by the clearly agitated General.

"Well, I'm outranked by someone who believes in your profiles. I'll get you your list. Lieutenant." And then he was gone. His sarcastic tone and damn right insulting words causes you to grit your teeth, biting back your words. A bit of an ass was an understatement.

Hotch shakes his head, clenching his jaw as he faces you and Rossi.

"Didn't realize condescending asshole was part of the job description." You mumble quietly, only loud enough for Hotch and Rossi to hear.

Hotch just exhales, a small smile tugging at his lips as he guides you out of the room.

"And that's why you're my favorite, but don't tell the others." Rossi declares, following you out of the room, chuckling.

"I'll go and catch up with Garcia. See if she has found anything or if there's I can do to help." Smiling weakly in their direction, you head to Garcia's office.

Penelope greets you, quickly catching you up on all that's she's been able to find so far, saying how she's still searching. She hands you some files so you can review the initial information she'd found.

Garcia's phone rings, and JJ voice comes through the speaker, including you on the conference call with Reid.

Spencer reiterates, what he'd already told JJ, Hotch and Rossi, that two days ago, two people in two separate Baltimore ERs and one person in a Philadelphia ER slipped into a coma and died suddenly. Reid states that they all died within three hours of being admitted, believing that they inhaled a higher concentration of the strain.

Hotch strides into the room and gives Garcia the names and asks her for the victims details.

"Gale Mercer, 31. Martha Finestein, 48. Albert Franks, 52. What next?" Garcia turns to you expectantly.

"Can you see if they visited the same place on the 8th?" Garcia's fingers ferociously tap away at the keys of her keyboard, searching for records like you'd asked.

"Gale Mercer made a credit card purchase at the bookstore owned by Albert Franks." Garcia exclaims.

"We need to find General Whitworth. He needs to send a team out there." Hotch declares, striding out the room in the same manner he entered.

Rising from your chair, you quickly place a chaste kiss on Penelope's cheek, "Great work PG." Squeezing her shoulder, you fly out after Hotch, practically jogging to catch up with him.

JJ falls in step beside you and you update her on the information Garcia found. She nods, leaving to go call Morgan and Prentiss, telling them to get over there with the hazmat team.

Hotch tells you to get ready, that once everyone we need arrives, we'll be delivering the profile.

——————

"Because the locations hit are not symbolically significant, we believe these attacks are personal." Standing to the right of Hotch as he begins, in between him and Emily, you observe the sea of stern faces.

"Understanding the significance of these locations will be the key to identifying him." You announce, flicking between the uniform clad, suited and booted alpha males, who were watching you intently.

"This personal element strongly indicates a home-grown terrorist." Rossi implies, based on the trial and first attack locations.

Drawing comparisons from the Amerithrax case, Morgan discusses how we believe that this is someone from the science or defense community.

"That's why you're here. We think you may know him. He may be one of us." General Whitworth's expression becomes more annoyed at Hotch's words and you notice how the faces in front of you begin to glance from left to right, studying those next to them.

"These home-grown terrorists are myopic zealots, ideologues that believe that their work is of the greatest importance." You communicate, scrutinizing the crowd in front of you, examining for any type of reaction.

"His coworkers would describe him as histrionic, paranoid, secretive." Morgan asserts, to which a shorter, older gentleman interjects, "With all due respect, that's a little vague."

At which point General Whitworth also speaks up, clearing seeing an opportunity to try and undermine the profile, "What are we supposed to do with something that generic?"

Moving your arms, crossing them in front of your chest, you bite into your lip, focusing on lowering your heart rate and temperature. What a supercilious ass.

"Sir, we're not finished yet. He may have logged excess hours at work in the past weeks preparing for the attack." Hotch was still very calm and composed, not rising to the General's belittling attempt.

Taking a deep breathe, to conceal the anger from your tone, you continued. "We believe he's taken the full dosage of anthrax vaccines, over the recommended eighteen month schedule and had yearly boosters."

For the remainder of the profile, you stay quiet. You exhale and drop your arms to your side when Hotch wraps up, telling the group to share the information provided with their departments.

The crowd disperses and a gentleman in a suit comes to stand in front of Hotch, stating that there's something he thinks we should see.

Hotch gives you a nod, instructing you to go and get details from Garcia. A couple of minutes later, Prentiss texts you a name, Lawrence Nichols, asking for as much info as possible. Penelope prints for you everything she can find and you make your way back to the conference room.

"He works for a company called bio-design technology." Passing the file to Hotch, you move to stand next to Morgan.

"We subcontract them. The don't work with anthrax. They deal primarily with the flu." General Whitworth informs.

"Dave, you and Prentiss go to his office. Morgan, pull Reid from the hospital and go to his home. Take Brooke with you." Hotch instructs, before meeting your eye. "Call me as soon as you have anything. And be careful."

——————

"Clear so far." A voice comes in over the radio.

"Alright, keep me posted." Morgan replies, huffing. "This guy just had people for a charity event last month."

"We should probably take a look around anyway." Reid states and you follow Morgan.

Morgan's cellphone begins to ring but Reid continues past the house, to the smaller buildings at the rear.

"Yeah, Prentiss, what's up?" Morgan answers, raising the phone to his ear. You don't really pay too much attention to Morgan's conversation, only hearing one side of it.

Intrigued and wanting to see if Reid had found anything, you leave Morgan and follow the same path as Spencer.

Perching at the doorway, you scan the room, hearing Morgan calling out for you and Reid, as you enter.

Your face pales instantly. Oh shit.

——————

A/N - Well that's a bit of a cliffhanger... Any predictions on what's going to happen in the next update? Is Ana going to be okay?

So this is a bit of a longer chapter but I felt like it was needed to help progress the story. I wanted to focus on including interactions between Ana and Hotch outside of work, to build on their relationship, showing that they have something more than just a lust filled fling.

Any feedback is welcome and greatly appreciated. And thank you to those who commented suggestions for things that they wanted to see in this story, on the last chapter.

Side note - THANK YOU FOR 3.5K VIEWS. So grateful for every single one of you that reads, comments and votes.

Also, I really do recommend listening to It's a Man's Word (Live) by Luciano Pavarotti and James Brown. I get goosebumps every time, it's simply *chefs kiss*.

As always, thank you for reading <3