A/N: So if anyone has ION television and no life, each Monday/Tuesday they do a Criminal Minds marathon. Today they played 100, and I was getting the nostalgia feels. Definitely delayed but still oh so angsty- Hotch's and and Jack's first Mother's Day without Haley :(
"Oh dry the glistening tear that dews that marshal cheek.
Thy loving children here in them thy comfort seek.
With sympathetic care, their arms around thee creep.
For oh they cannot bear to see their father weep."
- The Pirates of Penzance
May 9th, 2010
He was in his house, his mother fussing over his suit jacket, his fingers fidgeting with the cufflinks. He could feel his heart leaping out of his chest. "Mom, mom," he said, twisting from her grasp gently. "I have to go pick her up."
His mother sighed. "I wish you would let me take pictures here," she sighed wishfully.
Aaron looked at her with a warm smile. "If I did we would never make it to the spring formal," he teased lightly.
She smacked his arm before leaning forward to kiss his forehead. "Oh, you've got something on your face dear," Tracy Hotchner made one last move to scrub away an invisible blemish.
"Mom, seriously. She'll think I stood her up."
Tracy chuckled and surrendered. "Alright, be a gentleman. I love you Aaron, have a good night. And respect her wishes- if she says no-"
"MOTHER!" he screeched as he was halfway out the door, face flushed.
Driving the normally 10 minute route seemed awfully quick to him that night. Closing his eyes he took one more deep inhale before opening the box he kept in his passenger seat, opening the car door, and approaching the front door. I don't think I've ever been this nervous, he thought, before the edifice swung inwards, revealing a man not much taller than himself with a warm smile. "You must be Aaron," he said, stepping aside. "Please, come in," he gestured towards the foyer.
Aaron stepped into the house, avoiding eye contact, muttering an awkward "Thank you sir," before looking back at his shined shoes.
"Haley's been talking about you all year," he said, giving the teen an encouraging smile.
This lifted Aaron's spirits, and he looked up slightly. "I'm glad I have the honor to take her to the dance tonight, Mr. Brooks," he said bashfully, the storm in his stomach quelling only slightly.
"Damn straight."
Aaron whipped around and looked towards the stairs. At the top she stood, with her hand resting on her hip, a smirk on her face. "Haley, please, language," her mother gently chastised from behind her. She was wearing something made out of a light poufy fabric that floated around her like stars in the night purview. It was a deep red color, like wine- and her hair was piled on top of her head with pieces framing her face. He suddenly felt his head lose weight and his pants gain some. Quickly, he shifted, placing the flowers strategically in front of his "problem" as she descended the stairs. She looked at him expectantly. He cleared his throat. "You uh... You, you look, uh, well," he stammered.
She smiled. Damn you, If you want me to talk, stop looking at me like that! He thought irritatedly, pretending to scratch the back of his leg with his foot. He just thrust the flowers outwards, eyes shifting to the floor again. "They're carnations, the red ones are symbols of uh..." his face reddened again, his neck heating up. "Admiration," he squeaked, before he felt he would pass out.
"Wow, Hotchner, a flower boy," she smiled at his deepening embarrassment. Leaning forward she kissed him on the cheek. "I admire you as well," she said.
Hotch smiled before unclenching his fists and heading towards the fireplace to pose for photos.
He woke up to the stirring body of his son beside him. Blinking several times, he squinted into the sunlight that bathed the room. After the common haze of morning melted away, an anvil passed through his stomach. He shifted himself as quietly as possible, as not to wake the young boy curled up next to him. In a half sitting position, he reached for his phone.
From: David Rossi
The team is heading to Vermont, a possible family annihilator. I told them you needed the weekend off. Spend some time with Jack and on our return we'll fill you in.
He set the phone down and stretched his stiff legs, slightly annoyed. He really hated profilers sometimes, they could be so damn irritating. The slight quake of the bed woke Jack. "Daddy?" he asked hoarsely.
"I'm here buddy," Aaron replied, turning to face his son.
His son splayed his own legs out, stretching them in a motion very similar to his father. "What are we going to do today?" the boy asked.
"We're going to go visit mommy," Aaron replied,
Jack tilted his chin to look his father in the eyes. Nothing more had to be said about the seriousness of the event.
The two of them rolled out of the California King, feet hitting the floor and walking off towards different closets. Aaron Hotchner heard a faint buzzing in his ear as the anvil that sank into his stomach bore a deeper hole with every move he made. Dear God how am I supposed to do this?
February, 1984
Aaron could feel his heart beating in his ears. His breath was uneven and his fists had gotten unusually sweaty. Clearing his throat, he tapped on a shoulder ahead of him. "C-can I borrow your script?" he asked, eyes flickering to the floor.
The blonde smiled warmly at him, reaching into her bookbag and producing her copy of The Pirates of Penzance. "Of course!" she replied bubbly, handing it to him. "But we have to share, because that's my only copy," she added with a semi-serious tone.
Aaron smiled nervously. He moved down a bleacher and leaned over her shoulder tentatively to pretend to look at the script he really didn't care about. Her hair smelled like strawberries, and was making it hard for him to focus. "I'm Haley, by the way," she said, turning to him with her hand outstretched.
He took her hand, relishing the smoothness of it. "Aaron. Aaron Hotchner," he replied, instantly flushing red when he looked into her eyes.
"Well, Aaron Hotchner, what brings you to the Pirates of Penzance?" she asked, resting her arms in her lap.
You, he thought instantly. "I- uh...I like pirates," he said lamely.
She laughed, throwing her head back. It sounded like the soothing bells of a music box. Beautiful. "Do you actually know what the play is about, Aaron?" she asked him with a sense of incredulity.
A fleeting moment of bravery took over him. "No, but you could help me out," he said.
Immediately his face returned to a shade of scarlet. Oh God. Why did I say that. She's about to walk away. Hotchner, Jesus. Who are you, Sean? He groaned inwardly at the boldness of the assumption he just made.
Instead of wrinkling her nose as he expected, she smiled again. "I suppose I could, if you can keep up," she replied decisively, with a bit of a smirk.
Aaron looked at her with a grin larger than he intended and leaned in to continue his discussion with this girl...
May 9th, 2010
He buckled his jeans as Jack tumbled back into the room wearing khakis and clutching two dress shirts in his small fists. "Which one do you think mommy would like best?" he queried, and held them up to his father.
Hotch flashed him a rare smile. "The red, she loved red," he told his son, helping his arms through the short sleeved shirt. "No tie bud, it's too hot out."
Jack let out a breath of relief. "Good, I hate ties," he said vehemently. He paused before adding worriedly,"Don't tell mommy I said that, she likes it when I wear ties."
Aaron's smile faded slightly, but he quickly regained his rapport. "It'll be our secret," he said with a wink.
Jack nodded somberly. "Ok. Daddy," he said.
"Pancakes and orange juice?" Hotch asked his son, swinging him into the air by his underarms.
Jack, winded, heaved before enthusiastically consenting as Aaron carried him into the living room, setting him down on the couch.
Aaron walked into the small kitchen and began collecting ingredients and making himself and his son the routine Hotchner breakfast. He could hear Jack chattering aridly from the living room, and as he was pouring batter onto the skillet, he almost forgot the morbidity of the day.
May 17th, 1998
I can't remember being this nervous, he thought, as he paced the length of their tiny apartment. Honestly, what are you thinking? You were JUST given a position in the BAU, how do you know it's permanent? How do you know you can provide and support a family? How do you know you can give her what she deserves? How do you know she'll want to come with in the first place? His fingers touched the velvet box in his suit pocket, and he took one last glance in the mirror by the door. This is it Hotchner.
She looked particularly stunning that night, even after finishing a day of work, he noticed. Whether that was psychosomatic nerves, or truth, he didn't quite care to find out. They met at their favorite restaurant in downtown Seattle. He handed her a single rose. "It symbolizes-"
"Love, Aaron, everyone knows that one," she said, smiling at him.
The two linked hands and walked into the scent of home-cooked cookies and freshly brewed coffee. Sliding into a booth, she began to chat happily about the weather, summer, and everything in between. She paused for a second after a period when she took note of his opaque pallor and lack of response. "Aaron, you could at least pretend to listen," she lectured sternly, tapping the table expectantly.
His eyes flickered from the table to her face. He smiled apologetically. "Haley," he began.
"What?"
"The BAU requested my transfer."
She looked up from her milkshake, a sense of warmth shifting from her face. "So, when are you leaving?" she finally asked, a cold wind blowing into her voice, replacing the comforting warmth that normally occupied it.
"I was thinking... We could go, if you would come with, I don't mean just as we are, because it's a big commitment but, I mean we could get married- I mean not like that, I got a ring, we could have a ceremony, with, with cake," he babbled, feeling himself lose rapport as each second passed.
A split second passed before he had a lapful of Haley and a heart lit on fire.
May 9th, 2010
The sizzling of the batter drowned Jack out briefly, and Aaron made sure to mold Jack's into triangles, as he liked best. Haley would love to see this, he thought to himself. After four pancakes, he turned off the stove and called his son into the kitchen. "Did you wash your hands?" he reminded gently.
Jack bounded from the room again and returned several minutes later, sleeves rolled up and hands slightly damp. He climbed into his chair, eagerly awaiting his meal. Aaron set the plate of precut pancakes in front of his son, along with a dipping cup partially full of syrup. The two ate breakfast in a comfortable silence, the sound of morning filling the room; cars backing out of the street, the hum of the school bus Jack would take that fall, and the occasional motorbike tearing through the road. Gulping down one more morsel, Jack wiped his small hands on the napkin before looking at his father. "When are we going to see mommy?" he asked, swinging his legs back and forth, his toes brushing the ground.
Aaron swallowed his own bit of pancake, covered in grape jelly rather than syrup. "Right after we're done here," he responded, wiping jelly from the corner of his mouth.
Jack paused again, his head tilted at an angle. "Should we bring mommy breakfast?" he inquired. "I don't want her to be sad that we had pancakes without her."
A hollow thudding pulsated through Hotch's veins. Maybe...maybe I can't do this. Haley, I really need your help here... What do I say to him? I never knew what to say, I still don't. You...you always did...
"Daddy?"
Jack's voice pulled him back abruptly. "Of course buddy, we'll bring her breakfast," Aaron said huskily, his voice catching.
"Can I go play now, so you can make it?"
"Just don't get your dress clothes dirty, okay?"
"Okay," Jack ran back out of the room, probably to turn on the TV and watch Sunday morning cartoons.
Hotch sank his head in his hands. He was lost. More lost than he ever felt in his entire life. The ache was stronger than it had been- stronger than when Haley filed for divorce- or began using her maiden name. This was a lost that even he couldn't describe. A lost that left him with questions and a son who didn't quite understand the horrors of the day, who had even more questions than he did. Shaking it off, he started the griddle, making breakfast for the wife he buried six months ago.
It was almost pitiful, a stoic gentleman leading a small boy by the hand through rows and rows of headstones, holding a paper plate with cold pancakes. They stopped midway and knelt by the appropriate monument. Jack folded his legs and sat next to his father. He placed the carton of orange juice on her grace, along with a handful of hand picked dandelions. "Good morning mommy, we brought you breakfast, it's pancakes and orange juice," Jack said. He paused, looking at his father carefully. "We miss you, everyday," the boy added.
Hotch cleared his throat, blinking away tears. You need to hold it together. You need to be strong for Jack, he reminded himself. At that moment, he felt his son's weight lean against him. Wrapping his one arm around him, he placed the pancakes next to the juice and they sat there, the sunny morning turning into noon. The grave seemed to stare back, and he could feel all of his wrong doings, his shame, his achievements, and every feeling he ever felt rush through him. His lip broke, a rivlet of blood seeping into his mouth from his determination to hold back the passion he felt for his late wife, buried beneath the weight of his son and himself. He reached into his own pocket and extracted his own present, some crushed hyacinths. Hyacinths. Specifically purple hyacinths. Sorrow. Seeking forgiveness. Standing, he shifted Jack onto his hip, the young boy resting his head on his father's shoulder. Glancing back, Hotch took care to blow one last kiss to the only woman he's ever loved.
A/N: Hotch angst is pretty easy to write~ there may be more of the type. I was thinking of writing a series where Hotch actually did quit the BAU to raise Jack- there are a load of shenanigans there (of course the characters would come back!) Don't forget to review!