Age Guide: Hotch: 65; Emily: 60; Sean: 50; Jack: 25; Henry: 22; Charlotte: 20; Ben & Ryan: 18
Summary: Hotch has a heart attack.
September 2031
Emily sat on the edge of her and Hotch's bed with a picture frame in hand. With the twins, Charlotte, and Henry all in college and Jack living on his own across town, it was just her and Hotch now. The house had grown too big over the years, but now, at least until the four youngest came back for Thanksgiving break, it was official. Too many bedrooms sat unused and too many days passed by where there weren't enough dishes dirtied to bother running the dishwasher. Even Mitch was gone now, leaving the house in an almost deathly silence.
"Dinner's ready," Hotch said from behind her. "Your favorite."
Emily took a long breath through her hose as Hotch wrapped his arms around her stomach. "Smells good."
Hotch peered over Emily's shoulder after placing a kiss in her hair that was still nearly jet black, though these days with a lot of help from a bottle.
"Ahh. Miss them already?" he asked, swaying them back and forth.
Emily nodded and leaned back into her husband of almost twenty years. "Like crazy."
"They'll be back and eating us out of house and home before you know it."
Emily nodded and set the most recent family photo down on her dresser. "Let's go eat. I'm hungry."
Together they ate at one end of a dining room table long enough for eight. "Big table," Hotch remarked before taking a big bite of homemade macaroni and cheese.
Emily started with salad. "Maybe we should put in a breakfast nook."
"Sure, let's just write all the kids' universities and see if they wouldn't mind us not paying tuition this semester."
Emily rolled her eyes and happened to look down at Hotch's plate. "Aaron, you know we don't have to eat the entire pan in one sitting, right?"
Hotch gave Emily a look for policing his diet. "It's fine, I didn't use whole milk."
"How much salt did you use?"
"I cooked a nice meal for you and you're complaining?"
"Your doctor said your blood pressure and cholesterol are way too high again. He doubled your dose of medications. This was just three weeks ago. Do you not remember?"
"In my old age, my memory seems to have failed me." Hotch took his plate into the kitchen and set it on the counter.
"I'm not trying to pick a fight," Emily said, following him. "I just think this house is already too big with only two of us. I'd prefer not to knock it down to one."
"Well, I'm sixty-five and haven't officially retired yet. Heart problems come with the territory." He fished a plastic container from the cabinet and dumped his dinner into it.
"That doesn't mean you can pretend they aren't there. Please, just take care of yourself. That's all I'm asking."
Hotch snapped a lid on the container, then loaded his plate up with salad. Things had been stressful and tense with getting the twins ready for college. Both Hotch and Emily had hoped that once that obstacle was behind them, they could get back on track as a couple. Apparently the universe had different things in mind.
"I'm gonna eat in the den," Hotch said. Before Emily could argue, he had already disappeared. She finished her own dinner alone, then drew a hot bath and lit some candles in the master bathroom.
Hotch heard the bathwater running upstairs. He knew that was where Emily retreated when she needed to be alone. His salad became even less appealing when the guilt set in for acting childish with her. He reached for the remote to turn off the football game he was watching when it hit him. A squeezing in his chest, like someone was hugging him too tightly. It wasn't quite painful yet, but when he went to call out Emily's name, he couldn't find the breath. Then the pressure turned into a sharp pain he hadn't experienced since being stabbed half to death over twenty years ago.
The pain was crippling and sent him back into the recliner, where he wondered if he might die alone. Tears of fear and agony ran down his cheeks as he tried to find the breath to call for Emily or the strength to overcome the pain and climb out of his chair. The nearest phone was in the next room.
Luckily for Hotch, by the time he thought to bang on the wall behind him, Emily was already on her way downstairs to apologize to him. When she found him glued to his chair with his eyes wide and his free hand clutched to his chest, she gasped and instinctively crouched down beside him. Hotch shook his head, holding his shaking thumb and pinky to his ear like a phone.
Feeling rather stupid, Emily scrambled to the kitchen for her phone, dialed 9-1-1, and rushed back to Hotch as it rang in her ear. "9-1-1, please state your emergency."
"It's my husband," Emily cried. "He's having a heart attack." She rattled off their address.
"Paramedics are on the way, ma'am."
"What do I do?" Emily asked, her cheeks soaked with tears as she let Hotch squeeze one of her hands. His eyes fluttered open and shut. "What do I do? What do I do?"
"Do you have any aspirin nearby, ma'am?"
"It's upstairs…should I leave him?"
"No, ma'am. Stay with him in case he loses consciousness. Paramedics will medicate him when they get there." The dispatcher rattled off questions that Emily answered with a yes or a no, all the while maintaining a terrified stare with Hotch as he took in short, quick breaths. She thanked God that Hotch was still awake and breathing when she heard the sirens wailing down the street. She tucked her phone into her back pocket when the paramedics walked in with a stretcher.
Everything was a dizzy blur to Hotch as the paramedics asked him a few questions and strapped an oxygen mask onto his face. The only constant was Emily's face, sopping wet and pale. He tried to convince her with a look that he loved her, that he was sorry, that he would fight with everything he had in him, but all that came through in his eyes was sheer terror. He got a good view of their ceiling once he was strapped onto the stretcher and wheeled out of the house.
"Can I ride in the back with him?" Emily asked, leaving the front door wide open behind her without thinking.
One paramedic nodded and helped her up into the back of the ambulance once the stretcher was locked into place.
"It's gonna be okay," she whispered to Hotch as she thought of all the people she would need to call as soon as she was allowed to use her cell phone. She was sure she would be asked to put it away were she to take it out right now. Hotch squeezed her hand back, more weakly than last time, but he at least seemed to be breathing more easily with the oxygen supply.
The nurses that met the paramedics rushed Hotch inside and intravenously administered medications they said would break up the blockage. There wasn't room for Emily to stand by Hotch's side and hold his hand anymore, so she squeezed his foot and locked eyes with him. He was soon hooked up to machines that the nurses and soon physicians kept an eye on while they asked Emily questions about his medical history.
"He just saw a cardiologist three weeks ago," Emily squeaked.
"BP's slowly rising again," a nurse said calmly. "One hundred over sixty…"
"His is normally high," Emily said, confused. "Is this good?"
The physician nodded. "It dropped during the heart attack. His blood pressure going back up is a sign that he's stabilizing. We're going to take him down to radiology to make sure the blockage is dissolved."
"Right now? Oh—okay." Emily squeezed her way up to Hotch's side and placed a kiss on his forehead. His chest rose and fell in a steadier rhythm now. "I love you, so much. I'll see you soon, okay?" Hotch nodded meekly as she brushed his grey hair from his forehead.
A nurse guided her to the waiting area, where she immediately began placing calls. She started with the closest family member first. "Hey there," Sean answered.
"Sean, Aaron had—had a heart attack. He's at Virginia Hospital Center."
"Holy—is he—"
"He seems like he'll be fine. They already cleared the blockage, they think. Thank you," Emily said when a nurse handed her a clipboard full of paperwork to be filled out. "Can you do me a favor and stop by the house on the way and get my purse? I don't have our insurance information with me. Oh my God, I think I left the door wide open." Emily set the clipboard in her lap and put her free hand to her forehead. "I'm losing my mind, Sean."
"Emily, listen. I'll be there in ten minutes, tops, okay? I'm already on my way out the door. I'll stop and grab your stuff. You give the kids a call, all right?"
"I don't want to scare them—"
"Don't be crazy," Sean argued. "They need to be here no matter what."
Emily nodded to no one. "I'll call them. Jack can go pick up the twins, they don't have a car…"
"Yes, they do. I gave 'em my old one so they'd have something to get to and from school with, remember?"
"Right, right," Emily mumbled. "Sorry, I'm just…"
"Understandably out of it. Get yourself something to drink and sit and relax. They can wait for their paperwork. Just call the kids and then close your eyes for a few minutes. I'll be there soon."
It became a little easier with each child she had to inform. She saved Charlotte for last, knowing she would be the hardest to calm down. "He's gonna be okay, sweetie," Emily said, pressing a tissue to her nose. "Just come home as soon as you can just in—just so you can see him, all right?" She eventually convinced Charlotte to hang up and drive the two hours safely home or have a friend drive her if she was too worked up.
Sean and Jack came through the entrance to the emergency room at almost the same time. The three of them shared a good, long hug. "Is he okay?" Jack asked.
"I still haven't heard anything since I got out here," Emily said unevenly. Sean took the clipboard from her and began filling out what information he knew. Jack dug out his wallet and went to a vending machine for coffee. He doctored one up for his mom first, then one for himself and his uncle.
Some old friends—Morgan, Reid, and Garcia—joined them over the next hour. None of them vocalized how much they wished Rossi was still among them, but nothing needed to be said. His fatal stroke last year was still fresh in their minds.
The cardiologist found Emily among her throng of friends and family. She stood immediately. "Is he okay?"
"He's going to be just fine. He did suffer a minor myocardial infarction—"
"Heart attack," Reid translated for Emily.
"But we didn't need to perform an angioplasty. He can probably go home within the next couple of days, but he'll need to take a couple of weeks to rest, and he told me what he had for dinner. His diet is definitely going to need to change."
Emily held her hands to her mouth and nodded. "May I see him?"
"Of course. Right this way."
"Me, too," Jack said, rising.
"One visitor at a time, I'm afraid," the doctor said.
"Soon, sweetie," Emily said, giving Jack a kiss on the cheek. "I'll be out soon and then you can see him."
"He's conscious but he's very tired. Do your best not to stress him out. No fighting over the diet just yet," the doctor advised once he dropped Emily off at Hotch's room.
"Thank you." Emily stepped cautiously into the room and experienced severe déjà vu, seeing Hotch in a hospital gown, barely conscious, hooked up to more machines. The last time she'd discovered him in a hospital looking like that had been the last day he'd seen Jack's mother alive. Emily felt sick to her stomach. "Hey, honey," she whispered, standing at his bedside.
"Hey," he whispered back, his oxygen now administered through a cannula hooked underneath his nose. He still spoke and breathed slowly. "You okay?" he asked.
Emily smiled and pressed her lips to Hotch's forehead. "You just had a heart attack. You're not allowed to ask me if I'm okay."
"I beg to differ…I just had…a heart attack…you have to…cater to my every whim."
"Why do you have to be such a pain?" Emily asked with a pathetic laugh before she started weeping all over again. She settled down into a chair and held onto Hotch's hands. "I was so scared I was gonna lose you. I'm so sorry I nagged."
"Don't be sorry, I'm sorry…I'm so sorry. I promise…I'll eat whatever you tell me to…from now on…okay?"
"Don't worry about any of that right now," Emily said, sitting up straight and pushing his hair from his face.
"Mr. Hotchner? Would you like something to eat?" a food service worker asked, poking her head into the room.
"I am…kind of hungry…my wife wouldn't…let me eat my dinner," Hotch said.
"You have no idea how not funny you are," Emily deadpanned once Hotch's dinner was situated and he was sitting up. She took the plastic lid off the main course—roasted chicken and steamed vegetables.
"I think I'm hilarious," Hotch said, looking around the tray for a fork.
Emily's phone beeped in her pocket and she pulled it out and chuckled. "The kids wanna come in and see you. I guess I'd better give them a turn. You gonna be okay?"
"Get me some real food…then sure," Hotch said.
"I can't wait to get you home and boss you around," Emily said.
"You should've said something…I didn't need to have a heart attack for that…you do that every day…" Hotch said with a spry grin.
Emily laughed and leaned down to leave Hotch with a soft, lingering kiss. "I love you."
"I love you, too."
Charlotte somehow finagled her way into the next position in line and entered the room only ten seconds after Emily had left it. She must have been waiting at the end of the hall. "Hey, Charlie," Hotch said, holding out a hand. "No, no, don't cry. I'm just fine…they just said…your mom's not bossing me around enough. I'll be…going home in a couple days. No crying."
Charlotte sniffled and wiped smudged mascara from underneath her eyes. When did she start wearing mascara? Hotch wondered. He pushed the dinner tray out of the way and carefully shuffled to the other side of the bed. "C'mon, honey." He patted the bed and she carefully rearranged tubes and wires and lay down next to him, crying into his shoulder and draping an arm over his stomach. Hotch wouldn't dream of reminding her that she wasn't supposed to cause him any stress. He just shushed her like he did when she'd been a baby with a double ear infection and kissed her on the forehead. "How would you…like to be on fridge cleanout duty?"
"Can I throw away everything?"
"Absolutely."
—
As instructed, Hotch didn't move too quickly on his way into the house full of people. The children had all been staying home for the past two days and would be leaving for school again in the morning, save for Jack, who would be working only a few minutes away.
"Are you tired?" Emily asked. "Want to lie down?"
Hotch shook his head. "Just need to sit. Do I smell dinner?"
"Mmmhmm. All the kids cooked. And cleaned up after themselves, so they say," Emily said.
"So they say," Sean echoed tellingly.
"Wow, thank you guys," Hotch said, giving all four boys and his brother back-clapping hugs, then holding onto Charlotte for as long as she wanted. "Can't wait to see what you cooked up."
"Charlie did all the cooking," Henry reported. "We cleaned."
Emily ran her finger along a countertop and picked up a drop of red sauce along the way. "Is this spaghetti sauce?"
"Very low-sodium spaghetti sauce," Charlotte reported, leading her dad to the dining room to sit. "I called his cardiologist just to make sure. The nurses weren't too happy when I wouldn't hang up until I talked to the doctor, but oh well."
"Long story short, Dad can have it," Ryan said.
"I was more worried about the fact that it was all over the counter, but I know how easy it is to forget how to clean when you're away at college for all of a day," Emily said sarcastically, smoothing her hand over her youngest boy's hair. "Please get your hair cut before you go back to school, okay? I know you ran out of time before you left. I'll give you the money for it."
"This is what everyone's hair's like," Ryan griped.
"Not my kids' hair. You too, Ben," Emily instructed.
"Hey now," Hotch said, "let's just have a nice family dinner. You guys can bicker once I'm passed out in front of the TV."
—
Two weeks later, Hotch was cleared for light activity. He immediately took the opportunity to get out of the house, asking Emily if she wanted to go for a walk one evening.
"We haven't gone on a walk in ages," Emily said, gladly putting down her paperback novel and slipping into her shoes.
Hotch held out a hand and led Emily outside. "I love you," he said. "Do I tell you that enough?"
"You tell me every time you don't roll your eyes at the bland food I put in front of you," Emily reassured him. "But I love you, too."
Hotch breathed in the crisp late summer air and took the first right around the block. "It's funny…I missed the kids," he confessed. "I know I teased you a little for it, but it is strange having the house so empty. It was good to have them back in town for a couple days. Not the best circumstances…"
"Eh, you just missed Charlotte. I swear, I will never understand the bond you two have. I love how much you love each other. Sometimes I'm kind of jealous."
"Henry's always been that way with you," Hotch reminded her.
They'd had this conversation a thousand times before. Emily skipped the rest of it. "Speaking of the kids…guess who drove Charlotte home from school."
"Ethan. She told me at the end of last semester. Sorry," Hotch said with a consoling squeeze of Emily's hand.
Emily frowned. "See? She doesn't tell me anything. So I guess it's safe to assume she told you that she and Ethan are moving in together?"
Hotch stopped dead in his tracks. "You'd better be lying. And even if you are, could we just…not say things like that when I'm trying to recover from a heart attack?"
"Sorry, sorry," Emily said with a sweet laugh, getting them moving again. A surprisingly chilly breeze swept down the street, making her shiver. Hotch immediately unzipped his light jacket and put it over Emily's shoulders. "Aww, good, they didn't take out your chivalry while I wasn't looking," she teased.
Hotch gave her a strange look, then smirked. "There's something else they left intact…" he hinted.
"Nice try. That's not for another month."
A/N: Please leave a review!