Hotch glanced down at his watch for the hundredth time, barely resisting the urge to bang his head against the wall when he saw that it had been less than five minutes since he last checked. When he looked back up, Dave was staring at him with the kind of quizzical expression that made it quite clear he'd temporarily disregarded their strict ban on inter-team profiling.
"I know that look," Rossi announced, confirming his suspicions. "It's the 'worried dad' look."
Deciding he had neither the energy nor the ability to lie to him, Hotch sighed in resignation, not really bothering to hope that the conversation would be dropped now that Dave had discerned the source of his anxiety.
"You know none of us would ever grudge you some time off to be with Jack, right?"
"I know," he nodded; of course he knew that. In the months after Haley's death, he'd taken numerous last-minute personal days after being woken up in the middle of the night by Jack as he cried for his mother or screamed out in terror from nightmares fueled by his memories of the day she was murdered, and he'd never once had to think twice about his team's reaction to his sporadic absences.
"Even Strauss was happy the last time you took a day," Rossi said, then added, "And here I was thinking the only thing that could put a smile on her face was fantasising about ending our careers."
Hotch knew that making a joke at Strauss's expense was purely an attempt to cheer him up — given the fact that he was so obviously sleeping with her — but he appreciated it nonetheless. When Rossi's expression suddenly turned serious, however, he guessed the smile he'd tried to return must have presented as more of a grimace than a grin.
As much as he wanted to keep it to himself, he knew he couldn't; it was one thing to let Rossi worry about him, but letting him worry about Jack wasn't fair. He scanned the jet to make sure nobody else was awake (he didn't need his whole team to know about his failings as a father) and then leaned forward on the table between himself and Dave.
"I didn't even notice anything was wrong," he admitted, deciding to get the worst out of the way. "I thought he was coping fine, Dave; and I missed every single sign that might've told me wasn't."
Rossi frowned, his eyebrows creasing in concern, and warily asked, "What happened, Aaron?"
Lowering his eyes to the table, Hotch explained, "I got a call from Jack's school just before we flew out to Sacramento. They told me that he'd gotten upset in class, and that he'd spent the entire afternoon with the school psychologist. Apparently-" He paused, swallowing to clear the lump in his throat. "Apparently his bad dreams are back, almost every night. And he feels...God, Dave...he feels alone, and sad, and he misses his mom."
Although he kept his head bowed, he could feel Rossi's sympathetic gaze on him as he continued, "He used to wake me every time he had a nightmare, so when he stopped climbing into my bed at night I just took it for granted that he wasn't getting them anymore. I should've been asking him about them, checking in on him more often, making sure he wasn't sitting up at night on his own, crying-"
"Aaron," Dave sighed, interrupting his rambling. "Kids hide things from their parents all the time. If he didn't want you to known then you couldn't have known."
Hotch opened his mouth to disagree, but Dave anticipated his argument and cut him off. "You have to cut yourself some slack, alright?" He insisted earnestly. "You're a great dad, Aaron, and Jack's lucky to have you."
He wanted to tell Dave how wrong he was, but all he could do was shake his head, afraid that if he spoke his voice wouldn't be entirely steady. It didn't matter, of course - Dave could tell he needed a minute, and Hotch was massively grateful when he took out his phone and appeared to send a few text messages before resuming their conversation.
"So," he began cautiously, "When are you meeting the psychologist?"
"In, uh-" Hotch checked his watch. "Just under three hours."
Rossi raised an eyebrow, understandably confused; school had finished in DC over two hours ago. "Well, at least you know he's dedicated."
Not for the first time in the previous few days, Hotch felt an uncomfortable pang of guilt. Before Dave could call him out on it he quickly added, "The receptionist at the school says all the kids love him, too."
"And yet you resent him already," Rossi observed, no form of disapproval in his voice.
He knew it was illogical. If he were profiling his own behaviour, he'd say that he was angry at himself for not being approachable, deeply upset by the revelation that Jack felt he couldn't come to him with his grief, and he was projecting it onto the man who was apparently a better confidant than himself. He'd had his doubts about his abilities to meet Jack's needs, and Haley had had the exact same doubts in her last moments.
He needs to know that you weren't always so serious, Aaron.
He could hear her words as clear as though it was only days ago she'd sobbed them into the phone, and he took a deep, shaky breathe. His eyes stung, and he knew if the conversation continued in the same direction he was going to do something truly ridiculous like break down in tears in front of Rossi, and he stood, muttering 'bathrooom' before moving down the isle.
He almost groaned aloud when Rossi grabbed his arm, squeezing gently, and assured him, "It'll be okay, you know. You'll figure it out."
Hotch nodded urgently, but only to make him let go.
Reid grimaced as he heard high heals clicking along the hallway, the sound growing louder as the footsteps approached his office. After briefly contemplating locking himself in his bathroom or escaping via the fire exit, he decided all he could do was damage control, hastily closing his emails and grabbing a crossword book out of his desk.
The drawer slammed shut at the same time as his door flew open, and he picked up his pen, fixing a contemplative look on his face in an attempt to create the illusion that he'd merely spent the last half hour absorbed in his puzzles.
The door barely had time to fall closed behind her before JJ was dismissing his ridiculous facade with an eye-roll and an exasperated sigh.
"I know what coffee after 6 pm means," she started, dropping into the chair in front of his desk and fixing him with an accusatory glare. "And, thanks to one woefully disloyal janitor, I also know that you've been here past nine the last two nights in a row!"
"Jen-"
"Spence!"
Slouching back in his chair and sighing softly, he resigned himself to the fact that as long as she was worried, she wasn't going to let it drop. He couldn't blame her, really; he was always first in line to corner her and gently urge her to take it easy when she was overworking herself.
"I've got a late meeting with a parent," he explained quickly, hoping it would ease her concerns. "He was meant to stop by a few nights ago but his job took him out of state."
JJ shook her head. "And he couldn't call to warn you sometime before 9pm?" She demanded, sounded a mix of confused and outraged on his behalf.
"He was in California, maybe the time difference threw him off?"
"Two nights in a row?! Spence, that's a lame excuse and you know it."
Reid shrugged, "His job's pretty demanding, I'm sure he just had a lot on his plate." He wasn't sure why he felt the need to defend the man, but JJ's expression softened when he did.
"It's Jack Hotchner's dad, isn't it?" She asked, all anger draining from her voice. Jack had been in her second grade class on Monday morning when she'd caught him sniffling into his shirtsleeve during registration and brought him along to talk to Reid - it wasn't difficult to connect the dots. "What time's he coming?"
He hesitated a moment, considered lying, then told her, "Eight-thirty."
JJ pursed her lips, her eyebrows furrowing slightly in concern. "You'll be no good to anyone if those migraines come back, you know," she said gently. "And I know you've got them under control for now, but sleep-deprivation and stress aren't going to you any favours if you want to keep it that way."
He winced at the mention of his migraines and the reminder that he was tempting fate by failing to take care of himself.
"I know that, I just - the things he told me - I mean, I knew it was bad, but...God, JJ," he paused, shaking his head. "If I can make things even a little easier by being here a few hours after home time, then that's what I should do, right?"
"Right," JJ sighed, giving him a sad smile before she stood up and walked around the side of his desk, opening his drawer and plucking his glasses out from among the mess of stationery. "At least put these on," she said, attempting to shove them up onto his nose.
He didn't fight her - his eyes were feeling pretty tired - and they both laughed as one leg ended up under his ear and the other got caught on his earlobe. She dodged his swatting hands and fixed them herself, stepping back and looking him over.
"Finished?" Reid asked, smirking.
"Hmm," she hummed, "just about."
If he'd been a little less exhausted, he would've been able to duck before her hand shot out and affectionately messed with his already unruly hair.
"JJ," he whined, drawing her name out as she laughed at his futile attempts to fix the mess on his head. "What was that for?!"
"I don't know. For making me admit you're doing the right thing, maybe?" She suggested, rolling her eyes.
"Is this you apologising for freaking out on me?" He asked, mouth twitching into a small grin.
JJ hit his arm softly, before bending forward and wrapping her arms around his neck. "It might be," she mumbled into his shoulder.
Reid couldn't return the hug with his arms trapped between them, but he laid his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes, relaxing into the comforting embrace. He yawned - realising suddenly that letting his eyelids slip shut had been a massive mistake - and she pulled back slightly.
"Promise me you'll take it easy this weekend? And no more stupidly late nights, at least for a few weeks?" she said, and the worry in her eyes had him nodding before he even really thought about what she was asking. At his agreement, she pulled him close for a few seconds longer before standing and stepping back. "Good. Because next time I find out you're here after 7 o'clock, I am going to bodily remove you from the premises."
"Yes, Mrs Jareau," he mocked, chuckling softly. He'd keep his promise, or he'd try to at least, and not just because he didn't doubt there'd be hell to pay if she found out he'd broken it; but because, generally, if JJ gave him advice it was in his best interests to listen to her.
She tentatively reached out and fixed the one strand of hair he'd left on the wrong side of his parting, amused when it didn't make much of a different to the overall state, then looked at her watch, frowning slightly. "Shit, Spence, I gotta get going," she said, grabbing her jacket from the peg next to his. "Good luck with Mr Hotchner."
"Thanks," he nodded, "I think I'll need it."
The door was closed only a few seconds before it flew back open and JJ popped her head round the corner. "What, with the whole dorky-glasses-and-messy-hair look going on? Trust me, the meeting's gonna go just fine," she said, winking and giving him a devious grin.
"Goodbye, Jennifer," he said pointedly, rolling his eyes but failing to keep the amusement off his face as her laughter echoed in the empty hallway.
Hearing the fire door swing shut, he found himself simultaneously breathing a sigh of relief and feeling rather lonely in JJ's absence. For all that she'd been mildly smothering, it had been a welcome distraction from his impending meeting with a man who'd all but hung up on him three days previously at the mention of his late wife.
Swallowing thickly and gulping down the last dregs of a cold cup of coffee, he began steeling himself for his meeting with Aaron Hotchner.
.