Author's Note: Obviously everything in this chapter is complete speculation based on how, in my little AU, the events of this coming Wednesday's episode play out. There are obviously no spoilers as all that we have is the trailer, but I still want to provide a warning because my muse decided that, after watching the trailer, Hotch hadn't been broken enough, and what you see below is what came out. There is more after this, though my muse is currently being a tad skittish. Rest assured that the story is not over yet.

Thank you as always to Sue C for being a great beta, and to sarramaks for the continued discussions which somehow seemed to prompt this story.

Don't make me cry

It was a quiet Wednesday morning, and Emily Prentiss was deep in a discussion on the latest edition of Martha Stewart Weddings with the women who would be her bridesmaids, when her cell phone started bouncing across her desk as it vibrated. Reaching for the phone, she was surprised to see that JJ was reaching for her phone, as was Spencer at the next desk. Seeing she had a text message from her Unit Chief, Derek Morgan, she quickly opened it to see why he'd be texting her – especially since he was sitting not twenty feet away in his office. Hotch's old office. It surprised her that, even after three months of the man simply disappearing off the face of the planet, something that still caused a searing flash of anger whenever she thought about it because he'd never bothered to say goodbye to her, she still thought of it as his office. Although, truth be told, everyone still thought of it that way because, after sitting in it for the entire time the BAU had been in its current location, how could it be considered anyone else's?

Suppressing her momentary anger and reading the text message, she noticed that it simply said '911 – wheels up in 10'. Turning to JJ, she saw a look of surprise that was mirrored on Spencer's face as they both looked up from their phones.

"JJ?"

"I don't know, Emily. It's actually been a quiet week, and I'm sure that I'd have heard -"

The communication director's sentence was cut off by the sender of the text message bursting out of his office, ready bag over his shoulder, and phone clamped to his ear. He was obviously in the middle of some sort of heated discussion.

"I really don't care, ma'am. If you can't, or won't, get this done, I'll go straight to AD Skinner."

Emily had only rarely heard Derek take that tone before, and never since he'd been promoted. And it sounded like he was talking with the only person in the agency he called ma'am – Section Chief Erin Strauss. What the heck was going on? Why was Derek talking like that to Strauss of all people? And what was so important he'd go directly to an Assistant Director?

"Thank you, ma'am. I appreciate it."

Derek snapped the phone shut as he reached the glass doors of the BAU, stopping briefly to see that his team hadn't even started to move, save that Dave had appeared at the door of his own office.

"Come on people. Get your freakin' asses into gear! You've got nine minutes."

And with that he was through the doors, fast walking down the corridor, phone again up to his ear.

Whoa! The anger was plainly evident on Derek's face, and she couldn't ever recall him yelling like that at them. She looked over at JJ and Spencer, who were obviously also stunned at the normally urbane man's outburst, before they all jumped at once to quickly collect their things and grab their ready bags, all discussions regarding wedding plans completely forgotten. As she started to move away from her desk, Emily spared a glance for Penelope Garcia, who was currently doing an incredibly good impression of a goldfish, mouth wide open in disbelief.

"Pen?" There was no response from the team's IT person extraordinaire. "Penelope?"

Finally noticing that she was being spoken to, the other woman slowly turned to face Emily.

"Can you find out what's going on?"

As her brain finally kicked into gear, Penelope's mouth snapped shut, and a determined look appeared on her face. "Absolutely, my loves. As soon as I know, you'll know."

And with that she marched off towards her own office, as Emily and the rest of the team moved quickly out of the bullpen.

Dave had been the last on the plane, allowing herself and JJ to climb the stairs first, but even so they'd not had the opportunity to do much more than drop their bags in the storage area before the door had closed, certainly not had enough time to sit down. So she was astounded when the engines started to wind up the instant the door closed, and the plane started to taxi just as she reached her favourite seat by the window at the centre table.

"This is Captain Rogers, folks. We've been cleared for immediate departure, so I suggest you get seated and strapped in as soon as you can."

Needing no additional warning, she dropped into her seat and fastened her belt, JJ, Spencer, and Dave doing the same as they grabbed the other seats around the table. Derek was at the back of the plane, still on the phone in another heated discussion which she couldn't hear over the engine noise, but his frustration clearly evident on his face. What the heck was going on?

Being an airfield that exclusively served the FBI, there was less than a minute of taxiing, and as the plane started to swing onto the runway she felt and heard the engines starting to scream, the maximum thrust nearly pulling the plane straight as it hurtled down the runway before lifting into the steepest power climb she could ever recall experiencing. Her seat shook, and she had to brace her hands against the table to hold her body upright as the plane seemed to literally claw its way upwards. Holy dramatic situations, Batman! They'd never had this much urgency in a case before, and she saw her own shock mirrored around the table.

"Sorry for the bumpy ride back there, but we're trying to get up to thirty six thousand just as fast as we possibly can in order to reduce the flight time. This is normally about a three and a quarter hour flight, but we're hoping to cut a half hour off that. The priority flight plan granted by the FAA will definitely help make that possible."

Holy hell! Derek needed to tell them what was going on. What on earth could be happening that was urgent enough that they'd been granted a priority flight plan by the FAA? That sort of thing could only be authorised by a direct call to an AD at the FAA by an AD at the Bureau. Is that what Derek had been on the phone with Strauss about?

It was about five minutes before the plane finally started to level out and things became more comfortable, time spent quietly talking and trying to figure out what was so critical, and where they could be headed. Spencer's encyclopaedic knowledge of flight times unfortunately hadn't narrowed their possible destination down that much. In that time they could go from anywhere as far west as Kansas, possibly as far north as the Dakotas, or somewhere in Texas. Which left a lot of possibilities.

Fortunately, as the plane started to level out the engine noise subsided somewhat, and she could begin to hear at least part of Derek's conversation.

"I can't let you do that, man. I just can't. You know that. Look, we'll be landing in about two and a half hours. Let us help you do this. Let me help you."

This was followed by an exasperated sigh. She wasn't sure if Derek had hung up, or was listening to whoever was at the other end. The looks around the table suggested that nobody else was any closer to figuring out who that might be. Finally, after another couple of minutes, Derek ended his conversation and slowly made his way up the aisle towards them, one of the bleakest expressions she'd ever seen on his face.

"Derek?" she asked.

"What's going on?" Dave chimed in from where he was sitting next to her. It was strange how, in the last three months, he always seemed to be sitting next to her, given the opportunity. If she hadn't known better she'd have thought that he had some sort of crush. Then again, it was what Hotch had done up until about five months ago, and he'd certainly not had any sort of feelings for her. Perhaps Dave was just filling a vacuum, as it were, though she wondered where on earth that train of thought had come from, because the last thing she wanted to do was think about him! Still, she filed the thoughts away for future reflection as she realised Derek was about to speak.

"Get Garcia on the line."

She reached over to activate the computer and web cam sitting on the table, her friend's face appearing after just a few seconds, though she was startled to see that in the twenty odd minutes since she'd last seen Penelope, her face had gone from one of joy at helping plan a wedding, to one of absolute misery.

"Ready and waiting, sir."

She was stunned not only at the change in Penelope's demeanour, but also at her incredibly subdued tone. She didn't have long to wait to find out what had caused that change though, as Derek spoke again.

"Foyet has Haley and Jack."

Anything that might have been going through her mind as she'd wondered what was happening went immediately out the window, along with pretty much anything else vaguely coherent. Say what?

Seeing the confusion and disbelief plainly evident on all their faces, Derek continued.

"I got the call from Hotch right before I sent the text message you all. Foyet called him from the house where witness protection has Haley and Jack. Had them on speaker. Foyet was apparently sitting there talking with Jack, while he had Haley talk to Hotch. We don't know how he found them, though it's no surprise he knew how to contact Hotch. After all, he didn't hide the fact that he was taking over as the SAC for the San Antonio Field Office."

She was stunned. After all the pain that Hotch had gone through with the attack and having to send his family away, now he had to deal with this? She couldn't even begin to fathom how he must feel, his family threatened by a serial killer whose trademark was literally eviscerating people.

"How's he doing, Derek?"

"Not good, Dave. Not good. He sounded almost frantic on the phone, and I've never known him to do anything but get more focused. I've no idea how he's going to hold up through this. How was he when you had dinner with him, was it last week?"

Last week? Dave had dinner with Hotch last week, and didn't bother to tell them he was doing that? Now she was almost as pissed with Dave as she was with Hotch! At least Dave had the courtesy to look embarrassed at Derek's question, and the glare she was sending in his direction. Interestingly though, while Spencer seemed surprised at the revelation, JJ was also looking a bit uncomfortable. Had the woman she'd chosen to be her maid of honour known about this as well? Now she was royally pissed! Unfortunately, her anger caused her to almost miss the first part of Dave's response, so she forced it back into one of her innumerable compartments for the time being. She'd grill JJ later.

"He didn't look good, Derek. Seemed like he's aged a couple of years since he left. I don't think he's slept well since- … since Foyet's attack. The new role isn't helping with that, although I'm sure the workload is less than what he had with the BAU. You know Hotch though – all he does is work."

Hang on, what had Dave been about to say? Foyet's attack she certainly understood. After all, she picked him up and dropped him home on many occasions once he returned to work, and she'd seen firsthand how poorly he was coping at times. He'd seemed to be getting over that though, and so she'd stopped chauffeuring him – though admittedly that had been more because she'd been more focused on how serious her own relationship had been getting. What else could have resulted in Hotch not sleeping well?

"He sounded tired when I talked to him a couple of days ago," JJ chimed in. "I try to check in with every week or so, but with our schedule and case load it's hard. I honestly don't think he's in a good place at all."

She was sure that her eyes had to be popping out of her head at this point, and she almost had to censor her own thoughts before she decided it didn't really count if she swore in other languages, so she proceeded to do so in several. Her friends were conspiring against her! What was wrong with her that Hotch wouldn't say goodbye, and made no move to contact her at all since he'd left, even with so much as an email, only to discover that he'd seen Dave at least once, and talked with JJ somewhat regularly? Her life had been going so well, and today she suddenly felt tainted!

"I agree," Derek said, scrubbing his hands over his face. "He's on his way to Houston now, and he's adamant that he doesn't want SWAT or anyone else involved. Said that Foyet will kill Jack if he so much as sees a cop anywhere near the house. He's not in the right mindset to be doing this by himself though. I think that he's going to walk in that house and if he can't get out of there with Jack, he's not planning on coming out at all."

All her anger abruptly faded as she processed what Derek had said. The empathetic side of her immediately took over, and she felt tears prick her eyes. Hotch had no intention of living if he couldn't save his family. She pushed all thoughts of interrogating Dave and JJ aside for later.

She spent the rest of the flight tensely awaiting any sort of update, though not much was forthcoming. Derek had the FBI SWAT from the Houston Field Office mobilised to the address they'd received from witness protection, though they were holding a perimeter about a mile away from the house itself so as not to provoke Foyet. Hotch hadn't switched off his phone because Penelope had been able to track his progress via the built-in GPS, but he wasn't answering it either. They looked over the plans for the house in an effort to come up with some sort of strategy, and also reviewed the profile they had on Foyet. He was all about control, so why provoke this confrontation? It seemed contrary to what they would have expected from the man, though perhaps he was now focused purely on torturing Hotch. It was a scary proposition.

When the plane finally landed, she rushed with the rest of the team to the waiting SUV's, Dave and Derek driving respectively, and they raced across the city, lights flashing and sirens blaring, hoping against hope that they'd make it there before Hotch, or at least in enough time to assist him. Unfortunately it wasn't to be. As they neared the scene the radio traffic swamped them.

"Shots fired! Shots fired!"

"SWAT B, move in. You are free to engage the subject. Repeat, you are free to engage the subject."

"Jennings, your team takes the back. Cortez, you're with me in front."

"Ready?"

"Breech!"

She heard shots fired, able to recognise some of them as being from a large calibre handgun, not the HK UMP she knew was used by the FBI SWAT.

"Man down! Man down front room!"

"Man down! Man down front landing!"

"Immediate priority. Two ambulances required."

More shots, this time from the same model SIG P226 which she carried – she'd know that sound anywhere from all the hours she'd spent at the range over the years.

"Subject is down. Subject is down."

"I've located Agent Hotchner. He's critical. Get a paramedic!"

"Get that bus to the house. They should be clear down there."

"Shit! Get in here, sir. There's blood everywhere!"

She heard sounds of retching, followed by further exclamations of horror. In so many ways hearing everything over the radio was much, much worse than walking through a crime scene, even with the gruesome things they viewed on a daily basis. She watched Derek's knuckles whiten on the steering wheel, and knew he felt the same. She felt tears trickle down the side of her face, saw the same on JJ's, and reached out her hand to comfort her friend.

They arrived at the house just as an ambulance was leaving, she thought carrying one of the wounded SWAT team members, based on the radio calls. She jumped out of the car and raced towards the house, thankful that she'd remembered to put on her vest somewhere between the plane and here. Somehow Dave reached the door first, and ran into two paramedics fighting against a struggling Aaron Hotchner. His shirt was soaked red, the same as she remembered it from his time in the hospital a few months ago. So much blood. He wouldn't let the paramedics treat him though, and kept trying to get up. She saw Dave race over to Hotch's side.

"Aaron. It's Dave. What's the matter."

She saw Hotch calm slightly, but couldn't hear what he was saying until she got closer.

"Jack. Got to find Jack."

"Aaron. Where is Jack? Is he okay?"

"Jack. Find Jack. Hide."

"Is Jack hiding, Aaron? Did you tell him to hide?"

"Yes. Told Jack … hide."

She then watched as he collapsed.

"I don't have a pulse. Start compressions."

Derek and JJ had arrived at some point during Dave's conversation with Hotch, but it was Dave who took charge of the situation.

"We have to find Jack. Search the house. He knows us. We have to give Aaron something to live for."

They spread out into the house, and she walked through what she supposed was the living room, but was filled with the coppery scent of blood – and Haley Hotchner's obviously dead body. Nobody could be alive after suffering that many stab wounds. She felt like throwing up herself, but focused on the doorway until she made it into the kitchen. This was bad enough when it was people you didn't know. But when it was someone you did ... words couldn't begin to describe the feeling.

She opened cabinets in the kitchen, calling Jack's name, but eliciting no response. Wherever he was hiding, it didn't seem to be in here, so she moved into another room that was had a few toys scattered around.

"Jack?"

She heard a whimper from behind a chair in the corner.

"Jack? Honey?"

She slowly crossed the room, listening carefully, and was sure that she could hear the child. She raised her cuff mic to her mouth.

"I've found him, but he doesn't know me. Can one of you come and help? I'm in the room off the kitchen."

A few seconds later, JJ entered the room behind her. "Jack? It's JJ. Do you remember me? I work with your daddy." She was speaking quietly, using the soothing tones that only a mother seems to know unconsciously how to adopt.

A small noise came from behind the chair.

"Jack? It's okay. You can come out now." JJ continued in her quiet, calm voice. "It's okay, buddy."

She saw movement next to the chair, and a small head emerged. JJ was now on her knees next to the chair, her hand extended towards the boy. "Come on, Jack. It's okay."

As Jack emerged, she could see that his shirt had blood on it. Not soaking blood as though he was wounded himself, but the sort of blood that came from an arterial spray. She had to leave, get out of the room, the house of horrors that she was standing in.

A couple of minutes later, as she continued to try and dry heave whatever was left of her stomach contents onto the lawn, she felt a hand on her back.

"It's okay, Emily. It's okay." Dave's voice was soft, and full of sadness and hurt.

"What happened in there? I don't think I can go back in, even if you need me to."

"We don't need you to Emily. You can stay out here. JJ has Jack, and she's taking him to see Hotch. He's in a bad way, but Jack has to see his father. Know he's still alive."

"What happened, Dave? Is it what I think?"

Dave sighed, as though he didn't want to answer the question.

"Dave?"

"It looks like when Hotch entered the house, he fought with Foyet. We don't know what happened exactly, but apparently Foyet managed to get away enough to shoot him, went through a couple of ribs, punctured a lung, and out the other side. It was a .45, typical MO for Foyet."

She swallowed. A gun that size could do a huge amount of damage, and she remembered the hole in Hotch's wall from the first time he'd met Foyet face to face.

"It seems like Foyet then propped Hotch up, and made him watch as he worked on Haley. We think Jack was in the room, because he has blood on him, probably from Haley."

She bent over again, nausea rising uncontrollably. How could Dave sound so matter of fact about this? As she stood up, she saw the anguish in his eyes, and knew that he was only just holding it together himself.

"At some point, despite the wound, Hotch managed to move enough to reach his gun, we think around the time that the SWAT team entered the house. Foyet was distracted, and managed to take down two of the team members, but when he came back for Hotch he was met with a double tap to the forehead."

She remembered the sound of the SIG firing over the radio, and knew immediately that she'd been hearing Hotch taking out Foyet – for good. But at what cost? He was grievously wounded, fighting for his life. Jack would probably have scars for the rest of his life after what he'd witnessed. And now Hotch had to recover, assuming he survived, and raise his son without a mother. When she'd seen him on that gurney, he'd looked about five years older than when she'd seen him last. More grey hair, more worry lines. What had caused that much of a change in just a few months? What was it that two of her closest friends seemed to know about, but weren't saying? Why was she so out of the loop? And where did she go from here?

The last question was at least answered when she heard Derek over the radio in her ear. "They've stabilised Hotch for now, and the ambulance just left. JJ and I are heading to the hospital with Jack. We'll see you there."