"Gideon, I don't think I should come back here. Not soon, anyway." Elle was practically in tears, and Gideon was, he thought, understandably nervous. Elle never cried...almost never.

"What makes you say that? You saved my sanity and Hotch's last night." Elle looked him straight in the eye, trying to compose herself. If Hotch woke up and heard them...an unlikely possibility, really, after the way he'd been yawning from ear to ear only a few hours ago, but still...

"Gideon, you didn't see his face when he said goodnight. He kissed the baby, and he looked up at me, and I swear, for a second, he thought I was Haley. He thanked me for coming over, but I know he was grieving all over again. And he realized I knew, because he headed straight for the door before I could start overflowing. He was embarrassed, Gideon. He shouldn't be embarrassed to grieve for his own wife in a place where he feels safe and cared for."

"True. But tell me why, all of a sudden, you're a dead ringer for Haley, because frankly, I just don't see it."

"Gideon." Elle was thoroughly exasperated, and feeling unwanted by a friend in pain was not helping. "It's not about what she looked like. It was the middle of the night, he'd just woken up, and he found me there rocking his son to sleep. Women just have a different energy, Gideon, you know that. I might have been mothering the kid a little, and Hotch could feel it."

"Exactly," was Gideon's thoroughly confounding response. "That's something that I can't give Hotch or his son, but you can. And it's something he needs, whether he knows it or not. So stick around; you'd be surprised."

"Surprised how?"

Gideon sighed. "Elle, I've known Hotch a long time. In his own quiet, non-interfering way, he's very supportive of others he feels close to or responsible for. But when he's the one who's hurting...he's embarrassed. It's not you; he's just embarrassed. Afraid to just see what happens if he deals with things. Don't ask me to explain that; it's not my story. But if you stick to your guns, if you don't let him get away with it, well, we might all just get through this in one piece. I only managed one or two steps by myself; I realized last night I need your help. And so does he. The two of you finish each other's sentences, for crying out loud."

Elle smiled through the tears that had escaped despite her best efforts. "What time's dinner?"

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Hotch winced as the smell of barbequed chicken drifted into his nose and brought him back to full consciousness. It was beginning to annoy him that only external stimuli had the power to wake him now. Even full sunlight in the face didn't seem to work, as evidenced by the rays of the setting sun that were falling harmlessly over his pillow. He'd slept the day away, but he wasn't hungry. The food smells were actually a bit nauseating to his empty stomach, but he couldn't ignore them; now that he listened closely, he could hear music, too... Hotch was completely perplexed. Was Gideon having a block party? It did sound like the whole neighborhood had invaded the living room. No longer able to stop himself, Hotch staggered sleepily down the hall and blinked several times when he reached the main entranceway. He could see into the living room, but he wasn't sure he was actually awake. What he was seeing made no sense. The gourmet food smells emanating from the direction of the kitchen solved the mystery of Gideon's absence. The other mysteries, however...

The music was almost deafening from this range. Morgan was swinging a pink-cheeked Garcia around, and Elle was watching and playfully criticizing his style. In another corner, J.J. was laughing herself sick trying to teach Reid to dance with her and simultaneously avoid her toes; this seemed to be one of the few skills that eluded him. As the song ended, Garcia flopped exaggeratedly down on the couch, and Hotch couldn't help a little sarcastic applause. They all whirled around with faces like those of guilty little children who'd disobeyed their parents, and Hotch decided to play the role. He kept a straight face, but inside he was grinning evilly. "In case you were wondering, yes, your earth-shaking music woke me up. But then again, I guess I wasn't invited to the festivities."

Elle was the one who answered; he felt a twinge of guilt at her complete dejection, but he smothered it. "Actually, you were going to be, Hotch. We're really sorry; it's just that we got sort of overeager for a little fun and started the party a little early. We were hoping you'd get a bit more sleep first..." She stopped there, clearly at a loss for anything else to say. The guilty twinge was getting more insistent. It was time to end this.

"Did you bring me cake?" Everyone froze in disbelief, and then Elle pulled herself together and pounced.

"You bastard!" she giggled, punching him hard in the shoulder. "I can't believe you! Just for that, you have to dance with me." Her grin widened as Hotch's eyes did, dramatically; he looked like a cornered deer.

"If I dance, it's not going to be to that computer-generated din I just heard," he insisted. "How about some Sinatra?" Morgan rolled his eyes.

"Hotch, you think I brought any?"

"Center shelf, two rows up," came Gideon's helpful contribution from the kitchen.

"There, you see? Someone's on my side." Hotch watched gleefully as Morgan reluctantly found the CD and turned it over. Strangely enough, though, his expression changed to one of amusement as he put the disc in the player and chose a song. Everyone laughed as "Come Fly With Me" filled the room.

"Appropriate," was Reid's comment. Hotch smiled and whisked Elle up and around; to his total shock, she was able to follow him very well. His surprise must have shown, because she raised a teasing eyebrow.

"Hey, no sweat. Ginger Rogers had to do it in a skirt and three-inch heels. I count myself pretty lucky that my Fred has no dress code." Smirking, she looked him pointedly up and down, from T-shirt to gray sweatpants to yellow-toe socks. He grabbed her around the waist in retaliation and dipped her until her head bumped lightly against the thinly rug-covered hardwood floor.

Gideon entered the room to the sound of Elle's colorful exclamation, carrying a tray of food in one arm and the baby in the other. "Hey, kids, play nice." However, his comment went unheard under the hysterical laughter that greeted his appearance. Elle buried her face in Hotch's shoulder to stifle her mirth, but it wasn't working very well. Gideon's long-suffering expression was half-covered in something brown and sticky, and his apron and shirtsleeves were streaked with whatever-it-was. Gideon rolled his eyes and turned to Hotch, who was clutching Elle's arm, trying to keep them both on their feet. "Your kid thinks spaghetti sauce and gravy are finger-paints. Might want to set him straight on that, for future reference." He put the tray on the coffee table and the baby in his highchair, then he spread his arms wide for emphasis, giving Hotch a full view of the damage. "Now do you see my point about the apron?"

No one could answer except for J.J., who gasped out: "Yeah, but you don't usually have little Picasso here to worry about. And besides, it didn't really help all that much..." She dissolved into incoherence once more. It was difficult considering Elle was almost on the floor herself, but Gideon, by now unable to keep from smiling as well, caught her eye and gestured faintly at Hotch, who looked, for the first time since the accident, as if he had not a care in the world.

Successfully passing off her wet cheeks as a product of her helpless hilarity, Elle caught Hotch's attention once more. The music had moved on by now to 'Luck Be a Lady.' "Come on, Fred, show me some more of those moves."

"You know what, Elle, I'll be right back; I'm not really dressed for a party." Elle was about to protest, but she realized that his discomfort at appearing before them in pajamas was very real, and increasing by the minute. She nodded.

"Just—forget the top hat and tails," she added half-seriously. "We're not that fancy here, tonight." He nodded, squeezing her shoulder to show he understood perfectly.

Once he was well out of earshot, there was a collective sigh of relief. Morgan surprised everyone, venturing his opinion hesitantly. "He seems...like he's dealing."

Garcia snorted. "Yeah, like he's really gonna lose it in front of us."

"But he came," Reid insisted. "He heard the racket we were making and he decided to join us. That's a good sign."

Gideon exchanged glances with Elle. They stepped forward together, and Elle spoke. "We're not talking about this. I'm sorry, guys, I know you're all worried about him. So am I. But the best way to help him is to respect his privacy, let him call the shots—that's his comfort zone, and we're sticking to it. We're agreed? No talking behind his back. This is a party; so let's party."