AN: Thank you for the reviews. They really do help. I'm still open to suggestions.
By the time Alex Blake drove home, changed clothes, and drove back to the BAU, Hotch and Rossi were busy studying the board where Garcia had posted before and after pictures of the nine victims and a large map of the D.C. area. Rossi was reading off murder locations as Hotch pushed colored pins into the map. Blake could see them through the window in the conference room as she dropped her bag on her desk in the bullpen and started up the stairs. To her surprise she noticed that there was a person in Hotch's office, sitting at his desk and working diligently with paper and pencil. When she saw who it was she poked her head in the door.
"Hi, Jack," she said to Hotch's ten-year-old son. "What are you doing here?"
"Hi, Aunt Alex," Jack replied, glancing up from the work in front of him. "They sent us home from school because of the snow. And Aunt Jessica has a college reunion this weekend, and Daddy had already told her that he was coming home, so she went ahead and went. Now he's stuck with me."
"Oh, hang on," Blake said, coming the rest of the way into the office and closing the door. She sat down on the couch and patted the space beside her. "Come sit over here with me for a second, Jack."
Jack looked dubious. "I have homework to finish," he said, gesturing to the papers in front of him. "Daddy wants me to finish before dinner."
"I'll just take a minute," Blake promised. "And if your homework is giving you any trouble, I'm pretty sure you can get Reid to help you with it as soon as he gets here."
"That's true," Jack conceded, pushing back from the desk and coming around to sit beside Blake.
"Now," Blake said. "I wanted you to come over here because I wanted to make sure that you were really, really paying attention to what I have to say."
Jack nodded his head, biting his lip. "Am I in trouble, Aunt Alex?"
"No," Blake assured him, taking his hands in hers. "You're not in trouble. But I did just hear you say something that I didn't like." She could see Jack running through his head what he had said when she came in and being unable to remember anything that would have upset her. "You said that your daddy was stuck with you."
Jack said, "Oh," quietly, and she could tell he understood why she had brought it up. "Maybe 'stuck' wasn't the right word to use."
"It was the right word if that's how you feel. Do you feel like you're getting in the way?"
"Maybe," Jack admitted. "I know he'd like it better if I were still in school or at home with Aunt Jessica. He told me to stay in his office and not bother anybody. I'm trying really hard to do that."
Blake sighed. She was going to need to have a talk with Hotch. She squeezed Jack's hands gently. "I can see why you would feel like your dad doesn't want you around. He's kind of in a hard spot right now. What he really wishes he could do is take you home and go with you. He would rather spend time with you than anything in the world. It's just that, well . . . "
"I know," Jack interrupted her, "Daddy has to catch the bad guys. And he doesn't like me to be around because he doesn't want me to get hurt, or scared. I know, Aunt Alex. It's okay."
"Are you sure?" asked Blake.
"I'm sure," Jack responded. "It's really okay. Now you need to get to work before Daddy gets mad at both of us."
Blake laughed, standing up and giving Jack a hug. "Who's the adult here?"
"Me," Jack giggled.
"You?"
"Me! Now get to work, young lady!"
"Yes, sir!" Blake gave Jack a salute before opening the door and leaving the office. She could hear Jack chuckling as she marched the rest of the way to the conference room.
Rossi and Hotch turned from the evidence board as she walked in. "You're in a good mood," Rossi observed.
"You can thank Jack Hotchner for that."
"Jack?" Hotch questioned. "I thought he was in my office doing homework."
"Don't worry, Daddy Bear, he is. I just stopped in to say hello to him before I came in here to that." She gestured toward the photographs. "Give me a live nine-year-old any day. And you, "she tapped Hotch lightly on the shoulder, "need to make sure he doesn't think it's a burden for you having him here."
"A burden? I never said . . . ".
"You don't have to say," Blake informed him. "He's a profiler's son. He knows you don't want him here."
"Of course I don't want him here," Hotch retorted, "but not because he's a burden."
"I know that, and you know that," Blake said. "You need to make sure he knows that."
Hotch huffed a little impatiently. "I'll be right back."
Rossi touched his arm. "It won't do any good to talk to him if he thinks you're annoyed with him."
Taking a deep breath, Hotch visibly relaxed his body. "Right. I'll be right back," he said much more lightly.
Rossi and Blake turned back to the evidence board. "What have we got so far?" Blake asked.
"Not much," Rossi admitted ruefully. He pointed toward the map. "As you can see, there doesn't seem to be much of a pattern in the murder sites." The closest two pins were less than a quarter inch apart; the furthest two were on opposite sides of the city.
"They were all murdered in their homes, right?" Blake asked.
"That would be correct, " Garcia affirmed, bustling into the room. She had spruced herself up since they'd seen her from the plane. Bright green glasses frames matched the pink and green scarf around her neck and the three-inch heels on her feet. "And other than that, they do not seem to have a single thing in common." She set the laptop she was carrying on the table and opened up a series of screens. "Sarah Beth Thomas is a retired teacher. Never married; two adopted daughters, both of whom went away to college, married, and live far out of state. Bob Brooks was a surgeon. Sharon was a nurse when she met him; she since quit her job to do the dutiful wife thing. The four boys were college students. Danny delivered pizzas for Dominoes. Bill taught some undergraduate classes. The other two devoted themselves to their studies. Jenny and Matt Tew ran a dog training facility out of their home where they taught dogs to be service animals. You can hear the dogs barking on the 911 tape. Different jobs, different lifestyles, different areas. I can't find any similarities."
Blake examined the board for a minute longer, then shook her head. "We need Reid," she commented.
Rossi looked at his watch, "Where is Reid?" he asked. "And Morgan and JJ? They've had plenty of time to get home and get back here, even with the snow."
Hotch had entered the room while Rossi was talking. "Good question," he said. He pulled his phone from his pocket and hit a number. "Reid, what's taking you so long? . . . Wouldn't it have made more sense for Morgan to pick you up first? . . . Are you planning to tell me why he didn't?" Hotch looked at the others in the room and shook his head. "They're still twenty minutes away," he mouthed, barely making a sound. "Wait. What? Reid? Reid!" Hotch punched the "end" button and immediately dialed three more numbers. "This is Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner with the FBI. There's been a structural fire reported at . . . . Hold on." He pulled the phone away from his mouth and asked, "What's JJ's address?"
"917 Walker Way," Garcia answered immediately. "What's going on, Hotch? Did you say a fire? Hotch?"
Hotch shook his head at her impatiently and started talking back into his phone. He gave the dispatcher the address and informed her that he didn't have any further information before he hung up.
"Reid says that JJ's house is on fire," he reported, pocketing the phone and pulling out his keys. "That's all I know. Let's go."
All four of them started for the elevator when Hotch suddenly remembered. "Oh, no. Jack. Garcia, can you stay here and look after Jack?"
"Oh, sir . . . "Garcia was shaking her head at the same time she was turning back toward Hotch's office.
"I'll stay," Blake quickly offered. "You should go, Garcia. If their house is on fire, JJ is going to need you."
"Thank you," Garcia agreed, glad that she wasn't going to have to choose between her boss's wishes and her own.
"Call me as soon as you know anything," requested Blake as the elevator door shut. "Jack," she called, masking her concern and putting on a happy face, "let's go to the break room downstairs and see if the snack machine has any chocolate. I think we're going to need it."
AN: I think I deserve some sort of award for ending two different chapters with the same cliffhanger.