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Chapter 3

"Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind." Dr. Seuss

Crimson.

That was the color he saw when he looked at her. It was dripping from her forehead down to her neck, leaving a long trail of blood behind. It made him feel sick. Why had he made a promise to her children? A promise he knew he wasn't sure he could keep. In their line of work, anything could happen.

"I promised them you wouldn't get hurt."

She laughed at him. "They'll get over it. I've been bruised worse."

Hotch frowned at that. Since the moment she joined the team, he couldn't remember her ever getting more than a scratch. "How?"

Emily ignored him with another question. "Is it weird that I'm glad to be back?"

He could have said a number of things, but instead he went with, "I'll put in a few words."

There was a beat of silence, which was soon broken by their suspect's annoying shouting as he was ushered into a police car. Hotch turned back to her, with the same frown on his face. Then, remembering that Garcia had told him to smile more, he attempted to force one out. It ended up looking like he was constipated, so he gave up altogether.

Luckily, she didn't seem to notice.

"Hotch, what should I tell them about Sophie and Max?"

The question surprised him. It was the last thing he expected her to say, and for a moment, the words he knew so well were lost. Thinking back, he realized that he couldn't remember a time when Emily wasn't sure of herself, and yet, she was sitting there now, looking at him for help.

Why didn't he have all the answers when it truly mattered?

Hotch pretended to think of an answer, when in reality, he was just studying her. She was frightened he realized. It was almost impossible to see through the solid armor of courage she wore, but the fear was there. Her mind had created an image of bravery and selflessness which she lived off of. It was incredible, and showed just how tough Emily was. He realized then that the protection wasn't to keep people coming in; it was to prevent emotions from spilling out.

She sighed then, breaking him from his thoughts. And because he couldn't think of a good or useful response, he went with the same cliché saying everybody used when they didn't have anything better to say.

"The truth," he said simply before walking away.

***

Every eye in the plane was focused on Sophie and Max. When he had told Emily to tell the team the truth, he hadn't meant for her to tell them five minutes before they boarded the plane. And because she waited until the last minute, no one could take their eyes off of them. It seemed – to him that is – that they were all in a daze and that perhaps, this was all just some bizarre dream.

But it wasn't.

It was very much a reality, and that scared the hell out of him. He liked her children; don't get him wrong, he just didn't like the fact that there was no father. No father to protect them. When they were with her, he saw the fear in her eyes. Saw the same fear that reflected in his own eyes when he was with Jack.

Here's the thing no one tells you about your own children. Yes, you'd be willing to sacrifice your life for them, but you'd be scared everyday of your life. Not the type of fear you felt while watching a horror movie, but a different type of fear. One only your children can show you. There were just too many things that could go wrong. They could trip, they could break a leg or an arm, they could fail a test, they could start to drive, they could drink under age. And then there was that fear that you might never see them again.

So many things – normal things – to be worried about that it made everybody forget that the criminal wasn't always a thug in a black leather jacket with a big brand on his forehead to warn people away. Criminals sat next to us on the bus. They packed our groceries and cashed our paychecks for us and taught our children. They looked no different from anyone else. And that's why they got away with it.

They were only about ten minutes into the plane ride, but Emily had already passed out cold on the couch, completely exhausted. She had a slight concussion. Nothing too serious, but it still didn't stop his conscience from pounding like a chant inside of his head.

The boy didn't help either.

Max was glaring at him, again. Hotch could see it in his eyes. It's your fault. No words were spoken, but they might as well have.

"On average, there are 178 sesame seeds on each McDonalds BigMac bun," Sophie broke the enduring silence. She was the first one to really start a conversation, and Hotch could here everyone sigh with relief.

They were eating McDonald's. Emily had picked it up for them on the way to the airport. Max had engulfed his hamburger in all of five minutes, while Sophie hadn't even touched hers. She was too busy playing with the two inch plastic Barbie that came with the kids meal.

Even Reid looked astounded. "Wow. I'm impressed."

"I'm not a baby," Sophie told him defensively, and she stopped playing with the Barbie to prove it.

Reid was clearly taken aback. "Well technically it depends on how old you are. Generally, newborns is classified from birth to twenty-eight days. Babies or infants range between twenty-nine days and –"

JJ cut him off before he could make the little girl even more upset. "Is there something wrong with your cheeseburger, sweetie?"

Sophie studied it for the longest time. "I don't like pickles."

Morgan couldn't have grinned any wider. "I'll take care of that for you, sweet-pea." And he did, which brought a smile to the young girl's face.

***

All of his mother's colleagues were focused on Sophie.

All expect one that is.

The man- the man who looked so much like his father – was glaring at him, so he glared back. The man – Hotch was it? – had promised that his mother wouldn't get hurt. And look what happened.

This proved it.

He didn't trust anyone. Not even his mother. When he'd asked her what had happened she said the bad guy hurt her because she wasn't paying attention. He then proceeded to remind her about Hotch's promise. She frowned at that, and told him promises broke all the time, which was okay.

Yeah, well, so did glass, but you didn't see him smashing the chinaware on the floor just for the kick of things.

She told him that was different.

He didn't think so, but he kept his mouth shut.

Now, Sophie was pulling random facts, which he honestly didn't care about, off the top of her head. And they were all staring at her like she'd grown a second head.

Max had forgotten how strangers reacted to his sister. She was only five years old, but she spoke and read and drew like someone much older than her real age. He loved watching people get freaked out by it. But could he blame them? His sister was only five and was already reading perfectly without the help of others.

She just had that affect on people.

A couple of years ago, Sophie walked in on him when he was in the bathroom. "Hey," he said. "Check this out." He opened his hand and inside was a daddy long leg. He figured she'd run screaming like a tattletale, but instead she sat right down on the edge of the bathtub. She held out her own hand and asked if she could hold it.

Sophie was the only proof that he was born into this family. On the surface they looked the same, but their personalities were polar opposites. However, under the skin, though, they were the same: people who have both lost sight in something. Her in hearing. Him in hope.

***

"Max," Sophie complained. "Mommy has a boo-boo."

No one missed the death glare the boy sent him. Hotch groaned. It unnerved him that the boy had something against him. It bothered him that he cared so damn much. So what if Emily's son didn't like him. Why did it matter?

But it did.

Emily was family – in an odd sort of way – but nevertheless she was still family, which meant her children were part of his family too. And he wanted Max to like him just because. Maybe, if he had done something to piss the boy off he'd understand, but he hadn't.

"She'll be okay," Hotch spoke up, just barely bringing the words to life.

"That's what you said before," the boy shot back.

Like all their conversations so far, there was a beat of silence. A silence – like the last time – he chose to break.

"I know," he told the boy honestly, "and I'm sorry I broke it. But you should know that your mother saved a woman today, and a little boy too." Okay, so the kid hadn't really been at risk of dying, but Max didn't need to know that. He really needed to stop lying to the boy.

"Is she ever going to wake up?" Sophie asked, completely oblivious to everything else around her.

"We'll wake her up when the plane lands," Morgan told her softly.

Sophie's lip began to quiver and her eyes grew cross. Hotch knew that face too well, so he did what any parent would do, he braced himself. 1… 2… 3….

Right on queue she busted into the tears.

And as if Max had all the answers, they all looked at him. However, the only thing he did was tell her, "Stop crying." As a result, this only caused her to cry harder.

Like any mother, Emily stirred awake almost instantly. Hotch wondered how they did it. How they could distinguish their child's cries over another.

She looked dazed, and her eyes frantically searched the plane to fine the source of what woke her. Her gaze relaxed when she saw that it was her daughter.

"Sweetie," Emily said as she tried to cover up a wince. Apparently, her head was still hurting. Hotch frowned. "What's wrong?"

Almost instantly, the girl stopped crying, and he wondered if she was just fooling them. She was at the right age too. The one where the kid was finally catching on that they could just cry to get pretty much anything they wanted. God, how he hated that age, and he prayed that Jack would just skip it altogether.

But the girl did have an excuse. "My ear hurts."

Emily's face lightened as she reached for Sophie's ear. It took her a couple of minutes, and Hotch knew it was from the concussion. The boy knew it too, and Hotch had to look away from his sharp gaze.

Rossi must have seen Emily struggling too because he also sent him a look. However, his look wasn't a glare, only concern. "She won't be able to drive," Rossi pointed out.

Emily thought otherwise, but her protest were just ignored.

"I'll take her home," Hotch offered, and Max sent him another glare.

"Yeah!" Sophie cheered after Emily signed what he had just offered. "Sleepover!"

He felt his cheeks flame, and Max's glare hardened

Yup. It was going to be a long night.