Author's Note: This story is written for the Christmas Gift Fic Exchange for Tokala. My prompts were: JJ/Hotch, Frosty the Snowman, Christmas Cookies, Snow, and Santa Hat. No, there won't be anything else after this, in case you were wondering.
JJ held her hand over her mouth tightly as if she could clamp down the feeling of utter despair that welled within her as she stared through the hospital window into the room still adorned with the paper snowflakes she had helped Henry make to decorate his room.
No mother should have to watch her son die.
Alone.
Mothers should spend the weeks leading up to Christmas fighting other frenzied shoppers for the perfect gift for her four-year-old.
Not having to watch her son grow weaker and weaker each day as his own body turned traitorous.
Mothers should spend Christmas baking sugar cookies and forming them into stockings, stars, and candy canes.
Not staring into her son's empty hospital room waiting to see if the long-shot surgery could offer some hope.
Hope had been something in short supply of late.
She forced herself to breathe. In. Out. In.
Nothing came easily anymore, her entire world was crashing down around her.
It just wasn't fair.
Will had left at the beginning, apparently unable to watch his own son suffer in pain. Apparently it had never crossed his mind that JJ hadn't signed up for this either.
No, the man's commitment to fatherhood was as weak as his commitment to their relationship.
Forcing JJ to be the sole parent as her baby withered away before her eyes.
Her eyes burned as she thought of her little boy, hooked up to medical tubes while expert surgeons cut into his frail little body. Normally, she would wait in the surgical waiting room to glean even the faintest information as soon as possible.
But this—this procedure was supposed to take hours.
On Christmas Eve.
A tug on the leg of her pants surprised her—most of the nurses knew by now to leave her alone—because most of the hospital staff knew there was little hope to give.
And on Christmas, not even they could bring themselves to try to comfort the mother who had done everything.
"Jack?" She chuckled at the sight of the hesitant six-year-old with a thick festive knitted cap resembling Santa's Cap perched on his head. The little boy, a picture of his father, looked around nervously as if the very thought of being in the hospital made him uncomfortable.
Just like his father.
She sniffed and brushed away the tears that hadn't yet made the trek down her face—though she was well aware that in mere minutes, she'd probably be bawling her eyes out.
Again.
"Hi Miss Jareau." Jack smiled nervously, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he held out a plate of Christmas Cookies wrapped in cellophane. "We camed to wish you a Merry Christmas."
"Came." A dark voice corrected immediately from behind.
"Thank you." JJ smiled genuinely at the little boy who looked at her with anticipation as she accepted the plate he pushed toward her.
Catching the sight of familiar, brightly polished dress shoes, she followed the dark pantsuit up towards its owner. "Thank you." JJ repeated, biting her lip as she forced herself to stay in control, not wanting to break down in front of the man who had become like a brother to her while she had worked with him.
A brother who had also graced late night fantasies on a regular basis.
Maybe less like a brother and more like a good friend.
"Jack maybe you could set up the iPod and speakers we brought so when Henry wakes up he can hear 'Frosty the Snowman', what do you think?" Hotch suggested, winking at the little boy who grabbed a plastic grocery bag from his father and pushing into the cold hospital room.
Hotch stepped toward JJ, silently standing next to her as they watched his son fiddle with the electronics and spin on the swivel stool usually reserved for doctors. "You didn't have to come." JJ cleared her throat and tried to sound firm, though even she could hear the desperation that proved just how vulnerable she was. She needed someone, anyone. And though she desperately didn't want Hotch to go, she didn't want to destroy his Christmas out of some misguided sense of chivalry.
"JJ—I would have been here sooner. I didn't know." Hotch ignored her attempt to send him away, horrified to even contemplate what she must be going through.
"I didn't—" JJ tried to remember the reason she had sworn Henry's godparents to secrecy and asked them not to come to see her or her son until at least the next day.
She just couldn't force herself to put on the 'happy hopeful JJ' façade.
Not today.
"I didn't want your pity." She admitted, her voice no larger than a whisper as the truth rolled off her tongue.
She was just too tired to lie.
Hotch grimaced and sighed, completely understanding. "You could have told me."
JJ grimaced as she traced the diamond pattern on the hospital window. "I didn't want it to be real." She murmured.
After a minute, Hotch broke the silence, answering the question she hadn't bothered to ask. "Penelope told me."
"How much did she say?" JJ asked, her heart sinking.
"Enough." Hotch admitted. "I think she hoped I would ride in on my white horse and save the day."
JJ snorted at that, fully aware that Garcia had tried to set the two single government officials up on multiple occasions. But ever since Henry got sick, JJ didn't have time for herself.
She didn't have time for anything.
No matter how much Garcia might insist that Hotch could help her bear the immense load of this horrible situation, JJ just didn't have time.
She didn't have time to feel.
"So this operation, it could give him some more time?" Hotch asked, only then reminding JJ that she hadn't said anything for nearly ten minutes.
JJ choked at the thought. "Some." She admitted. "But they're—they don't know if this will help." Her voice cracked.
Hotch nodded, feeling his own heart break for the kindest woman he had ever met.
She didn't deserve this.
Garcia had told him plenty—more than he ever wanted to know—about how Will had abandoned his family on finding out that Henry was sick. The only thing worse than hearing that the woman he lov—cared about—had been left broken-hearted was hearing that Henry was sick.
He was really sick.
"Ms. Jareau?" A young man in medical scrubs approached them, snapping them away from the window and back to the harsh reality in front of them. "Dr. Bartlett sent me to come find you."
Hotch put his arm protectively around JJ, feeling her knees go weak underneath him as she fought to maintain her ground. "How is he?"
"His vitals are stable, which is good." The young man smiled, though the hope didn't reach his eyes. "Dr. Bartlett will stop by to see you later to explain where we go from here. This is the most we could hope for."
"When can I see him?" JJ asked, tears falling down her face on the verge of breaking down despite leaning heavily on Hotch for support.
As the young man left, Hotch pulled JJ closer to him.
And for the first time in months, feeling safe and secure in the arms of a man that she respected without the world relying on her to have answers, Jennifer Jareau broke.
But Hotch was there.