Author's Note: Ok, first off, Merry Christmas guys! Although it's still Christmas eve in some parts of the world. Anyway. This was written as a sort of a sequel to "Fall Leaves and Homecoming", and was requested by my dear friend LacytheRomanWerewolf. I didn't plan for it to be a Christmas fic but procrastination and finals made it to be that the only time I had to write this fic was practically a few days before Christmas. As such, I give you Idylls of a Queen, title in style of Alfred, Lord Tennyson's Idylls of a King, about King Arthur.
Without rambling on another half page, this story is written for and dedicated to Lacy. It's also dedicated to my wonderful Twitter friends (I'm not sure if you'll read this): Cierra, Leonie, Valentina, Larissa, Colette, Nooshin, Brittanie, Karen and Emily. They were really kind to me when I first joined the Twitter fold for the Hotchniss fandom and this is a sort of (rather crappy) thanks to them. Merry Christmas, read, review and enjoy!
Emily sighed as she eased into the leather couch of her newly purchased flat. It had been nearly 2 months since her return and her old team had been really amazing in helping her settle back into her former home. Penelope had found an apartment with good security (which incidentally was near to both Hotch and JJ's homes) and Dave had introduced her to a friend of his who was somewhat of an interior designer, which meant Emily didn't have to think about what sort of furniture to get or where to best get it. Everyone came around when she finally moved in and pitched in, doing whatever they could, meaning Spencer just awkwardly got in the way and sprouted statistics about how long a person, on average lived in their homes before moving away.
It was strange, being back in DC. Seeing her old friends and meeting Alex Blake, her replacement, had stirred a yearning for her once-home that she thought had diminished after… Emily closed her eyes, even after 3 years the thought of her "death" at Doyle's hands could shake her to the very core. Hotch was right, she never really dealt with her supposed death. A small smile crossed her lips as she thought back to Aaron Hotchner's unexpectedly warm response to her return at Dave's party. Of course he was right. There was probably a universal agreement that whatever Aaron said, was.
Hotch had been perfectly polite, if not a little distant. But Emily chalked that up to his subsequent breakup with Beth. They were still figuring out their long suppressed feelings for each other, and while she was pretty sure she had fallen for her stoic, but drily humorous unit chief, but Emily knew he needed more time to mull over whatever realizations he had come to on her return.
Picking up the remote, Emily lazily flicked through the television. CNN, movie, movie – eww was that porn? Shaking her head disgustedly, she hurriedly changed the channel again before she caught an eyeful of parts she most certainly did not need to see. Reality TV show. She frowned at the voluptuous woman on screen arguing about something with her sisters. What were they called, the Kardashians? Emily snorted, probably this generation's Paris Hilton. She finally settled on a Hallmark movie which, while cheesy, was definitely much better than the rest of her very limited options.
The little boy playing in the snow onscreen, squealing with joy pulled a faint memory from the recesses of Emily's pleasantly drowsy mind. It was the first and only time she had spent Christmas with the Hotchner boys. Haley had just been murdered that year, and Hotch, with Jessica having gone to spend the holidays with her grieving parents, had been desperate and at loss for words when Jack had cried and demanded that his mother fill his stockings, not Hotch. With no one else he trusted enough to turn to, the new widower called Emily and begged for her help.
She recalled that it was one of the rare times when they actually had been stand down in time for Christmas. Usually they could only take off before or after Christmas, but with the Bravo team volunteering to be on active duty for some strange, but not unwelcome reason, Strauss had signed off their 2 week long leave. Everyone on the team had scrambled off to different parts of the country, afraid that if they stayed any minute longer their unexpected good luck would wear off and disappear. Only Emily and Hotch had not taken off, Hotch deciding that it was best for Jack to stay home for the holidays and Emily's parents being stateside scrapped any plans they had made for Christmas. Not that she had minded; it certainly was better than having to listen to her mother moan about the lack of a man in her life. Emily loved her mother, but the Ambassador hung onto that damn topic like a dog to a bone.
Emily rolled her eyes. Great. How her mind had managed to veer off topic from Jack to her mother was astounding. Anyway, she remembered the desperation in Hotch's voice as he called for her help at 8pm and as soon as she hung up Emily bundled up with several secret weapons and gunned her car to the Hotchner residence. Thank goodness the Unit Chief's new apartment wasn't that far from her own home and she made it in a record 10 minutes. Emily knew things were bad when Hotch threw the door open and practically pushed her in without even grumbling about how she probably broke a thousand speed limits to get there.
Though in hindsight it was a good thing it had taken her such a short time to arrive. Poor Jack, who was clad in his pajamas, was sitting in the middle of the simply furnished living room, toys strewn all around him as he cried and yelled for his mother. Emily's heart had broken for the poor child, and thrusting her coat and bag to Hotch, had proceeded to gather the devastated child in her arms. Jack's small arms immediately latched on around her neck, and Emily felt her own tears slip down her face as Jack wet the crook of her neck with his own salty tears. Cradling the child in her arms, she settled down slowly onto the floor, rocking back and forth as she crooned a Russian lullaby she had learnt when her mother was stationed there. A child of only 6 then, Emily had found the curling tongue of the language and rhythm soothing and singing it to Jack; she hoped the boy found at least some measure of comfort in the song.
Emily didn't know how long they had sat there, didn't know when Hotch had tidied the toys and settled beside them. All she knew was that she couldn't let her poor Jack cry and grieve during the holidays. Soon, his wails turned into little sniffles and hiccups, and Emily cooed as she rubbed his small back gently. Resting her head on the child's downy hair, she shot a sad smile towards Hotch, who mouthed a subdued 'thank you' to her. Feeling Jack tug on the lapels of her shirt, she looked down to gaze into his teary eyes. Letting out one more hiccup, he declared quietly, "I want my mommy."
The brunette wiped the tears away from his wide stare and dropped a kiss onto his button nose. "Your mommy's with the angels now, Jack, she can't come back down." Jack frowned and pulled away slightly from her, "I want my mommy! I don't want her to be with the angels, I want her to be with me!" Emily pursed her lips; this boy was as obstinate as his father. Brushing his sandy blonde hair back, she tilted Jack's chin up, "Jack, baby, look at me." When his gaze reluctantly met hers, she smiled, "Have you ever seen an angel, Jack?" His eyes widened and he shook his head furiously, "No, Em'ly." She chuckled and readjusted him within her arms, "Well angels are very beautiful beings. They have big, white wings behind them like-" He interjected, growing somewhat excited at the mention of the celestial beings, "Like swans!"
Emily had laughed then and hugged him closer to her, "Yes Jack, exactly like swans. And you know, not everyone gets to be an angel. Only good people are allowed to be angels and look over everyone on Earth." Jack's brow furrowed, "But mommy is good, so she has to be an angel, Em'ly!" She nodded seriously, "Yes Jack, your mommy was a very good person and she is an angel now. And angels are kind of like daddy and Uncle Derek and Aunty JJ, they protect people Jack." Tilting her head, she asked, "Your mommy is helping the angels keep away the bad guys too, Jack, only she's doing that in heaven." Jack nodded slowly, dismay and understanding dawning in his bright eyes. "And if mommy's not in heaven she can't help fight the bad guys."
Hotch cut in then, reaching out for his son and Emily carefully helped Jack scramble out of her arms into his father's. Holding Jack tightly, the stoic man's voice cracked as he spoke quietly to the little boy. "Jack, your mommy will always love you. You remember how I said she'd always look over you?" Feeling his son nod into his chest, Hotch continued, "Well even though you can't see mommy, it doesn't mean she isn't here." The blonde head popped back up as Jack stared disbelievingly at his father, "Like a ghost?"
Emily moved closer to them, squeezing Hotch's hand as she did so. "No silly. Legend says that when a butterfly or a moth flies into a home, it's because the people we love who are gone, like your mommy are here." Placing her hand gently over Jack's heart, she whispered, as if telling him a secret. "And your mommy will always know what's going on with you and love you, no matter what." Jack's lower lip trembled before he nodded slowly, hiccupping as he gave his father a hug. "'M sorry, daddy." Hotch, the relief clear across his tired face, hugged him back, his words muffled by Jack's pajamas. "I'm sorry too, buddy, I love you." His eyes met Emily's, and she nearly sobbed at the sadness practically overflowing from his beautiful, warm brown orbs. "I love you so much."
All was quiet for a moment, before Jack started wriggling in Hotch's embrace. The adults chuckled as Jack turned his attention to the bulky bag Emily had brought with her, "What's that Em'ly?" The brunette blinked; she nearly forgot about her provisions. Straightening her form, she hurried and grabbed the bag, opening it to reveal several hot flasks and transparent bags that seemed to be holding –
"Cookies and candy canes! Em'ly, they're my favourite!" Jack scrambled up and rushed towards Emily as fast as his short legs could carry him. Emily handed him the packets of a variety of cookies and red and white striped candy even as she smiled sheepishly to an amused Hotch. "What? I thought it would cheer him up." He let out a small laugh and maneuvered an ecstatic Jack to the kitchen while simultaneously placing his hand on Emily's back, "I didn't say anything Prentiss." Emily felt her cheeks heat up slightly at the warmth of his hand on her and she cleared her throat, covering up her blush. "Didn't think you would, sir."
The flasks, as it turned out, contained wonderfully smelling hot cocoa, which according to Emily was made based on Grandpa Prentiss's very ancient and secret recipe. "In fact, my grandpa once told me that a king liked this cocoa so much," gesturing to the steaming cup of liquid, she winked at a raptured Jack and smiling Hotch, "that he ordered Lord Prentiss to prepare it for him every Christmas. And that, Jacky boy, is how we have this wonderful cocoa today." Jack's mouth gaped wide open and he whirled around to face his father, "Daddy! Did you hear that? A king drank Em'ly's special cocoa!"
A loud belly laugh emitted from Hotch and Emily's eyes softened at the rare moment of pure joy as he ruffled Jack's hair, "Yes buddy, and we should thank Emily for bringing you so many gifts." He smiled gratefully at her once more, and she felt a faint blush creep up her cheeks. Jack nodded fervently and spoke through a mouthful of crumbs. "Pfhanks Emfly!" The brunette just giggled and tapped his nose, winking at Hotch, "You're welcome. I was just glad I could help."
Jack tugged at Hotch's hand, looking up at him pleadingly, "Daddy, can Em'ly stay with us tonight? Please?" Hotch directed a "what can you do" gaze at his fellow profiler and Emily chuckled, bending down to Jack's eye level. "I'm sorry Jack, but I need to go home tonight. But maybe you and I could go look for a present for you Dad tomorrow, yeah?"
Jack's lower lip jutted out in protest but he finally gave in, crossing his arms and peering seriously at the brunette before him. "You promise, Em'ly?"
She nodded solemnly and crossed her heart, "I promise Jack." The child scrutinized her for a bit before nodding reluctantly, "Fine. But you gotta keep your promise Em'ly, 'cause Daddy says you always have to keep your promises." Hotch chuckled lowly and patted his son's head, "That's right Jack, and Emily will be here tomorrow. Come on buddy, it's late, say good night and thank you to Emily."
Jack hugged her tightly, mumbling tiredly in her ear as his earlier fit and tears finally caught up on him. Emily gave him a warm squeeze and smoothed his hair back fondly, "Good night Jack, now go to sleep sweetie." He turned to give Hotch another hug before he ambled off to his bedroom, blonde hair sticking up as he rubbed his eyes and yawned loudly.
Emily smiled at Hotch as he helped her up and the two adults stood quietly for a moment, calm once more restored in the Hotchner residence. The clocked ticked on, subdued, and Emily wondered about the little creaks and noises Hotch would hear as he lay in bed, waiting for sleep to claim him, but not before he remembered how George Foyet taunted and hurt him, how he killed Haley and how his son now had to grow up not knowing what his mother would do or say when he got bad grades at school, or when he had his first crush. It was sad, to spend Christmas with the death of a loved one hanging over you.
A short series of hard knock brought Emily out of her reverie, and she started a little before hurrying to see who the day had brought to her door. A quick glance through the peephole identified a familiar face and she smiled slightly before unlocking and throwing the door open, inviting her guest in.
"Hey Hotch."