Still don't own any of the CM characters; can only wish that I did. This was supposed to be done in time for the 1-year anniversary of '100' but obviously it didn't quite get there... Sorry! Hope you enjoy it now instead. Canon and characters written as if in S5.

First Snow

"He that conceals his grief finds no remedy for it"

Turkish Proverb.

Chapter 1. The Storm

The red glow from the bedside clock proclaimed it to be 5:57am. To Aaron Hotchner, however, it still felt like the middle of the night. The room was dark and chilled; the late autumn sun wouldn't rise for another hour, if at all. The Washington DC area had been overcast and unseasonably cold for days and the weather forecasters were predicting that it would get worse before it got better.

Rubbing sleep-deprived eyes, the dark-haired leader of the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit reached over and turned off the alarm before it could shatter the stillness of the condo. It wasn't needed today anyway. For the first time in just under a year, he was taking a day off from work. Furthermore, his son, Jack wouldn't be going to school. Jessica had dropped the youngster off the night before after receiving the request from her ex-brother-in-law…

Jessica picked up her purse from the table in the hallway while Aaron retrieved her coat from the closet. As he held it out for her, she rested a hand gently on his arm.

"I think your idea is wonderful; you both need to be together tomorrow."

The agent hadn't been able to meet her eyes; he'd merely nodded and helped her on with her coat.

Jessica had smiled sadly and let herself out. The man known to his friends as 'Hotch' watched from the doorway as she began to walk towards the main door of the complex. Suddenly she turned, calling, "Aaron? You need to stop with the guilt. You need to remember your promise to her... Tomorrow of all days..." Her voice had cracked on the final words and she had disappeared quickly out of the building, leaving him to close the door in silence.

Lying back against his pillows, Hotch sighed heavily in the darkness. Exactly one year ago to the day, he had buried the love of his life and mother of his only child.

'Our Father, who art in heaven. Hallowed be thy name...'

He clasped his hands behind his head and resumed his contemplation of the ceiling. Jessica was right; he needed to let go of his guilt. The profiler in him knew he would continue to be George Foyet's victim as long as he continued to blame himself for Haley's death. But to Hotch it wasn't that simple. Certainly, he held Foyet directly responsible for her murder. But he still maintained that he too had had a significant contribution to her demise, and to the hard fact that Jack had lost his mother.

Memory of the tragic events leading to that fateful day continued to plague the agent. Insomnia was a constant problem. When he did finally succumb to the fatigue, the nightmares took over. Occasionally they also came when he was awake, sneaking up on him like a tiger stalking its unsuspecting prey. This morning was once such instance. As had become his custom, Hotch tried to close his eyes against the horrific images that tormented him but it had no effect.

"You should have made a deal..."

Six words. Six words that echoed like an endless whisper in the recesses of his brain.

"Do you want to see my scars..? Yours are gonna look just the same."

Subconsciously, one hand reached under the navy t-shirt he wore to bed and fingered one of nine raised marks on his torso.

'No. No deal.'

If Aaron was still sure of anything, it was that. He did not make deals with serial killers. But he had never imagined the repercussions that this fundamental value would have on him and upon his family. He drew the covers up to his chin in hopes of sleep but was hit with another flashback:

"There was a page missing from your day planner... in the B's..."

Haley Hotchner, nee Brooks had been his high-school sweetheart; his wife. Okay, technically his ex-wife. Aaron recalled how he had orchestrated a first meeting with the blond, how things had progressed to a relationship and blossomed as he forged ahead through law school and then into a career as a prosecutor. Marriage followed and for awhile, the young couple had been happy. Then the FBI came knocking.

When he had started with the Behavioural Analysis Unit, he had known what a profiler's life entailed and had understood that it would pose challenges for his marriage, but he'd been confident he could make both work. At first he was successful. At work, he was promoted to Unit Chief while on the home-front, Haley gave birth to a son, Jack. The baby's parents were ecstatic; life was good. But unfortunately, the demands of the job began to take their toll. And with the added strain of a child, Mrs. Hotchner eventually reached her breaking point and, feeling unsupported by her increasingly absent husband, left the relationship and the marriage.

For his part, Hotch had never wanted the divorce. He loved his wife and son deeply. But he could never have met Haley's demand to leave his job because in his soul he knew that catching criminals was a part of him. He believed then as he did now that he was making the world safer for Jack; there could be no compromise. Hotch would do anything for the safety and security of his son.

And yet he hadn't been able to protect his wife from Foyet and had almost been too late to save Jack.

Despondently, the profiler turned over in bed and closed his eyes again.

'I should have done something more to save you, Haley. I was too late and I will never forgive myself for that.'

Hotch had very few regrets in life but this perceived failure was the biggest and most haunting. It was also the last thought in his head as he finally drifted into a restless, uneasy sleep.

'Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done...'

XXXXX

Putting down his coffee mug, Hotch glanced across the table at Jack who was somberly munching on a piece of apple. The pair had spent a quiet morning together, watching home videos. Over breakfast the agent had tried to explain why he had let Jack stay home from school but couldn't bring himself to use the words 'death' or 'anniversary' so had finally settled on 'mommy's day'. The youngster hadn't questioned the explanation, instead busying himself with making a special card for his mother.

Now Jack looked up at Hotch.

"Daddy? Now that we're done lunch can we go see mommy? I want to give her my card."

Hotch regarded his son fondly. "Sure, buddy. I know she'd like it."

He glanced out at the angry-looking grey sky and condensation on the window. "It looks pretty cold out there, Jack. Can you can you put on your hat and coat, please?"

"Okay, daddy."

"Good boy."

As Jack raced to get ready, Hotch rose from his chair and walked over to his desk. He opened a drawer and carefully removed a long, narrow white box. Checking to make sure its contents were safe, he closed the drawer and carried the box to the hallway so that he could put on his own coat.

A minute later Jack reappeared, dressed in his winter jacket and carrying an old stuffed teddy bear. "I couldn't find my hat, daddy." He held out the bear. "And Buddy wants to come too."

Hotch rummaged through the closet and found the wayward hat and some mitts. He pulled the hat onto his son's head, noting that Jack was gripping the bear quite tightly in one hand while holding his card in the other.

The teddy had been Haley's idea, right down to the name 'Buddy', Hotch's pet name for his boy. She had argued that the bear would be something tangible for the-then toddler to sleep with when daddy was away. The profiler put up little resistance; whatever helped his family to cope with his absences and feel secure was fine by him. He just hoped his son didn't become overly dependent upon the stuffed animal.

In fact, Jack had quickly outgrown the teddy bear. Occasionally Aaron or Haley would find it hidden under the covers in Jack's bed, usually when the Unit Chief had been away for an extended period of time or when the young boy had gotten into trouble with his parents.

In the months following Haley's death, however, Buddy had understandably resurfaced and made frequent appearances. But Hotch had not seen the bear for weeks and had hoped this was another positive sign that his son was adjusting to life without his mother. This latest arrival clearly showed otherwise. Hotch fervently hoped that Jack wasn't picking up on any vibes from his father.

His stomach knotted with unease, the agent retrieved the box from its perch on the table and ushered his young boy and teddy out the door.

XXXXX

Sitting on the bench overlooking Haley's grave, Hotch couldn't help but think how the weather seemed depressingly appropriate for the day, amplifying the sadness in his heart. The grey sky and frigid gusts of wind threatened a blast of winter. Pulling up the collar on his coat, he was glad that he had remembered to bring a blanket for the pair to sit on.

Father and son sat quietly for a few minutes. Jack clung to his card and teddy bear, his face expressionless and cheeks rosy in the cold. A snowflake landed on an exposed part of the blanket. It was quickly followed by another, then another. Hotch knew a storm was imminent and they didn't have long. He reached for the box which he'd tucked into the inside pocket of his long coat and put it on his lap.

"Jack, do you know why we're here today?"

Jack looked up at his father with bright, innocent eyes. "To see mommy for her special day?"

Hotch nodded. "But do you know why today is different and more special than the other times we've come?"

The youngster shook his head.

Removing a glove, Aaron opened the box, revealing two dried, long-stemmed white roses. He lifted one out.

"It was exactly one year ago when we said good-bye to mommy and sent her up to be with the angels. Do you remember blowing her a kiss?"

Sombrely, Jack nodded. Hotch continued,

"Well, I thought that it would be good for us to come together and blow her more kisses."

"But we can do that any time, daddy."

Hotch smiled. "Yes we can, buddy, and I know we think about her every single day. But don't you think it is nice that she can still have her own, one special day when we come to see her?"

Jack thought about this for a moment then nodded. "Buddy thinks it's a good idea too."

"That's great. Can I hold Buddy while you put a rose on mommy's marker?"

His son hesitated, still cradling the stuffed toy. Hotch tried to smile encouragingly. Frowning in a perfect rendition of his father, Jack slowly and reluctantly exchanged the teddy for a rose. He scrambled off the bench and carefully placed the dried flower on the headstone before quickly retaking his seat. Hotch returned the bear to its owner before adding his own rose to Haley's grave. It was snowing much harder now and the flakes were no longer melting when they landed on the blanket. The landscape was rapidly turning as white as the roses.

Securing the flowers against the increasing wind as best as he could, Hotch returned to the bench and started to sit down.

"Daddy, when do we get to see mommy?" asked Jack.

Hotch frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You said this was her special day where we come to SEE her. I want to give her my card."

"Oh Jack, I'm sorry, it's something we say to mean 'visit'. We can't actually see her..." his voice trailed off and he took a deep breath before continuing, "But she is with us all the time, watching you from the sky with the rest of the angels. I know she's very proud of you..."

Jack's bottom lip began to tremble. "But you said we would SEE her! I want to see mommy!"

Hotch looked in horror as his son began to shake and his small fists ball together. "Buddy, I'm sorry, it wasn't what I meant. I wish I could bring her to you... But you have your mommy with you always..." he put his hand on Jack's coat at the level of his heart. "Right here..."

Jack roughly pushed his father's hand away. He was crying openly now, clutching the teddy bear and card to his chest.

"Daddy, you SAID we'd see her! I want mommy! I want mommy!"

Hotch bent down and started to wrap his arms around the small child but Jack lashed out with his free fist, pounding the agent's chest again and again. Hotch froze, stunned. Jack had never shown anger like this before. He reached for the boy again but his son slipped out of his grasp, off the bench and began running blindly into the falling snow.

"You lied to me daddy! You said we would get to see mommy! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

Hotch's feet seemed glued to the spot and it took the normally stalwart agent a few moments to react to his son's sudden and unexpected outburst. Hastily grabbing the blanket and empty rose box, he began to chase after the small figure, who was already getting harder to see in the now-raging storm. As he ran headlong into the blowing snow, Hotch was ambushed by more memories of Foyet.

'[Haley's] lost some weight. Must be all the stress you've caused her...'

The pronoun reverberated in his mind. Hotch felt an invisible vice tighten around his heart and with each echo it delivered increasingly crushing guilt. His son, the center of his existence, the one person he wanted to protect from all the world's harm and evil, was running away from him. The agent knew he would never forget the image of Jack's face at the gravesite, innocent tears streaming from his small, pain-tormented eyes. It was a pain that no matter how hard he tried, Hotch knew he couldn't lift. It made him feel helpless. But what was even worse was that he had helped cause it. His little boy would grow up without his mother and a lot of that was down to him.

Running on into the storm, Hotch saw a small object half buried in the rapidly accumulating snow. It was Buddy the bear. And for an anguished father, it lay as yet another symbol of Jack's suffering; the stab he felt in his chest was almost too much to bear. As he picked up the stuffed toy his mind went back to that day a year ago when he was forced to listen to his wife's murder before battling to the death with her murderer.

'After I finish you, I'm gonna find that bastard son of yours, and I'm going to show him both of his dead parents... and I'm gonna tell him that it was all your fault...'

Aaron roughly wiped the whirling flakes from his eyes, an unconscious part of him hoping the action would also take away Foyet's taunts. But it wasn't to be. Seeing his little boy's unleashing of grief and anger had brought it all rushing back and he no longer had control over the images relentlessly passing before his eyes. Tucking the bear under an arm he scanned the horizon for his son. A small, ghostlike figure was just visible in the distance. Jack.

The haunting memories of that fateful day were unrelenting as Hotch frantically continued to carve his way between the falling flakes. It was bad enough that he couldn't seem to put Foyet behind him. But to see Jack suffer was intolerable. It must stop. The boy's tears had stabbed the agent deeper than any of the wounds inflicted on him by the Reaper. The profiler wouldn't allow a ghost to undo the healing the child had achieved nor the bond he had forged with his son over the last year. Jack's happiness was paramount and it was up to Hotch to make sure it happened. But how? Hopelessness engulfed the profiler.

Hotch felt a tear run down his cheek, burning a path on his frozen skin. He didn't know where it came from; those eyes had been dry for months. But now, in the chaos of a winter snowstorm, chasing after his little boy, he couldn't control it anymore. The wave of emotion that washed over him allowed one single tear to fall through the carefully constructed dam. So he allowed it to glide down his cheek, one single tear falling for his son, for his pain and suffering.

Suddenly, all thoughts of Foyet were brought to an abrupt halt as Hotch was jerked back to the present. Through the blizzard Aaron could see Jack, mere yards ahead of him. But he wasn't alone. A hooded figure was bending over the small boy. Even as Hotch's warning shout to his son was lost in the howling wind, the stranger straightened, Jack in his arms.

Hotch felt sick. Someone was trying to take his son!