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A/N: Shock, horror, gasp, I'm back! A big thanks to Rockie, (rockhotch31) and Tigs, (Thn0715) for putting up with my constant questions. This fic is for you two! This story is inspired by the song I Don't Do Lonely Well by Jason Aldean. Not beta-d so any mistakes are mine.

I Don't Do Lonely Well

He lays in bed, staring down at the picture in his hand. It's well worn, slightly crumpled at the edges, evidence from being held many times. It's of the three of them just after Jack was born, back when they were happy, still together, still a family. He suspects Jessica was the one to snap the picture during one of their downtime moments when he was actually home. He remembers those rare moments. Ones he realizes now he should have cherished more.

The radio plays softly in the background, the soft tunes helping to wash away the silence of the apartment. They do nothing for the anguish in his heart though. Instead the words seem to jumble around in his brain, bring forth memories and emotions he thought he'd boxed away.

Baby, since you've been gone
I leave the TV on
Gotta hear somebody's voice
I just need some kind of noise
I lay some pillows down
To wrap my arms around
I pretend I'm holding you
I know it's sad but it's what I do
To keep me from goin' crazy

There's been many times he's come through the front door, late after work, expecting the TV to be on, expecting her to be curled up on the couch, having fallen asleep after waiting up for him. Even after they'd split up, and she'd moved out, he still came home, expecting things to be the way they were before. The silence and darkness were always a shock to his system, an instant damper on his mood.

I can get up and face the day
Just fine all by myself
Go out and take on the world
And get it done like nobody else
Ohh, but I don't do lonely well

A soft snore makes him look down. His son, their son, shifts in his sleep, brow furrowed as if he were frowning. It wouldn't surprise him if Jack were having nightmares. He'd taken the newly turned four-year-old to a therapist a few weeks after the accident had happened. The poor boy wasn't sleeping, and when he did, it was full of nightmares.

Accident. He chuckles humorously. It was no accident Haley had died. He shakes his head. He doesn't want to bring up those memories again. He reaches out a hand and smooths down his son's hair. Jack instantly settles, the simple touch enough to comfort him. He wonders what life would be like if everything were that simple. If all the torment and anguish in the world could be banished with a simple loving gesture.

I got some real good friends
Check on me now and then
Try to get me out at night
Say I need to get a life
It's easy to say alright
When you're not the one goin' crazy

They often stop past his office, popping their head in, not-so-subtly checking how he is. Dave will stop by after the team has mostly gone home, a bottle of scotch and two glasses in hand. He'll plonk himself down on the couch in the spot he's claimed as his and wordlessly pour them two fingers each. It's his cue to stop his paperwork and join his best friend as they toast Haley. It's also his cue to unwind, to talk if he wants. Dave doesn't pressure him. They just drink in silence until he's ready to open up.

He knows Garcia, and most likely Morgan, keep a watch on him, holed up in the Tech Goddess' lair with her many computers. JJ, he suspects, has been pulling a few more case files her own way to help lessen the burden on him. Even Reid, often oblivious, yet so smart, offers comfort in the way he knows how. A different random fact, written in the doctor's scrawling handwriting, appears on his desk every morning. And Emily. Oh-so-strong Emily, so good at compartmentalizing, offers him wordless support.

I can get up and face the day
Just fine all by myself
Go out and take on the world
And get it done like nobody else
Ohh, but I don't do lonely well

It's so hard to get up in the morning sometimes. Even when he hadn't been sleeping, instead laying, tossing and turning, waiting for the incessant beeping of the alarm clock, signaling the start of another day. Sometimes, he's grateful for the middle of the night calls, pulling him into another case, something to distract his mind. He always feels guilty at the same time, because someone shouldn't have to die for him to rid himself of his emotions. He also feels guilty about leaving Jack.

The therapist said that children are resilient, that they're tougher than they look, and he's certainly seen that out in the field. He's also seen the other side. The kids who have been traumatized so much that they end up as messed up adults. He worries. He's been told Jack is a tough kid, and he certainly knows that, but he can't help but worry. He's also been told Jack is so much like him, able to hold his own. He wonders if it's healthy for a child this young to be able to compartmentalize. He hopes Jack will still have Haley's ability to be compassionate later in life.

Here comes another sunset
Here comes another long night
I'm not over you yet
No, I'm not over you yet

He wonders if her compassion towards him had reached its limits the day she'd left. Or if she had left simply to keep whatever compassion she had left intact. All he knows there were many nights spent running over everything he ever said or did, wondering where it all went wrong.

I can get up and face the day
Just fine all by myself
Go out and take on the world
Get it done like nobody else
Ohh, but I don't do, don't do lonely well
No, no, no,
Don't do lonely well

By the end of the song, he's humming, fingering the photo again. Jack's settled down, his fingers occasionally fluttering by his mouth. Haley's candle, the one Jack insisted on leaving on for a little while longer, just until he fell asleep, still flickers, casting them in shadows, the bright orange flame like a beacon in the night. He shifts, blowing out the candle. The tendrils of smoke, visible only to his nose, send wafts of honeysuckle through the room. Instantly, it's like she is there, with them in the bed, and he swears he can feel her, beside him.

He heaves back a sob. "Oh, Haley." A few tears leak free. "I miss you, so, so much!" He kisses the photograph then places it back next to the candle. Scooting down, he watches the steady rise and fall of Jack's chest. Maybe he didn't have her anymore, but at least he still had their son.

"Love you, Haley," he whispers, closing his eyes.

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Monkeywand