April 9th: A Terrible Day
... This chapter got a bit away from me and then I Deejayed all over it. Oops. Please don't hate it.
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Scenic Sunday – Uh Oh – Your character wakes to a silent world.
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Tristan loved the night time. He knew his dad worried about it, even now, and his sisters were pretty ambivalent about the concept of time in general, but he loved it. And he thought Mia might like it too.
He got his bed reading done at night, without his siblings bothering him or trying to experiment on him or Dad turning things into 'teachable moments', which were always super engaging and interesting, but also always distracting. And sometimes Mom would start grumbling that she wasn't the favourite and make sad faces and pout about and then he'd have to go hug her and promise that he loved both his parents equally and then get dragged into family board game nights. Which were always loud and occasionally explosive, and Cluedo was totally banned and they still hadn't admitted that Alyssa had melted the Monopoly board in the bathtub.
Yeah, night was way more productive. But he wasn't the only one who liked night anymore.
"Hi, Kitten," he said, padding past her room and leaning in to find his baby sister peering silently out at him from inside her crib. A shy smile was his answer as she held her arms out for 'up', "Wanna come to the library?"
She nodded. Sixteen months old, she was unequivocally his favourite sister, ever since Mom and Dad had brought her home from the hospital all tiny and sleepy and quiet and new. He was kind of glad she'd been born so early. It seemed impossible he'd ever enjoyed the night as much without his silent observer with him. All his other sisters were too loud, or Olivia, and she didn't count because she was fourteen now and thought her siblings were babyish and dumb. Which they weren't. Tristan was quite sure that he was at least as clever as her, even if he was only studying at a high school level and not college like she was. But that wasn't a factor of intelligence, she'd just had more time to think than he'd had.
Well, okay, Caroline could be pretty dumb sometimes, and Alyssa was babyish when she didn't get her own way, but still.
Mia nestled her head against his shoulder as he carried her through the silent halls of the house. Nothing ever made a noise in this house after they went to bed. Tris was an expert now at moving noiselessly and like every night, he made sure to stop by every partially opened door on his way to the library. Checking on his sisters, peering through the door at them both; Caroline was asleep under her bed, as usual, and Alyssa was barely visible under the pile of stuffed toys she insisted upon keeping on her bed—so none felt left out. Snoring could be heard from both, and the digital clock on the bed-stand read 01:21. Mia smiled and didn't make a sound. She understood the night.
His parents next. He had to be extra careful here. But they were both asleep, his dad snuggled up close in his mom's arms. Tris looked at them through the open door, the dim light that was always on in their room lighting up the peaceful expression on Mom's sleeping face, and felt funny and tight in his chest. It was weird, seeing how obviously they loved each other. Mia patted his cheek, shaking her head restlessly. Blonde curls drifted about, nothing like his brown hair that was exactly like his dad's, or Olivia's black spiky hair.
He didn't check on Olivia. He'd have to climb the attic ladder to get up there, and sometimes she booby trapped it. Instead, he went to the library, closed the door, and put his sister into the nest of cushions and blankets he'd made for her, and then began to read. And she listened.
He loved her absolutely.
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It was daytime, almost evening, but the house was silent. Tristan yawned, letting his book thump his knee and listening for noise outside the library. Mia was quietly eating a banana he'd given her in her blanket nest, mushing it between her fingers into a gross mess of white goo. Above their heads, Olivia's music thumped. Lys and Cary weren't home, both out at after school curriculars, and Mom had had to go into work for some reason, despite a mean cold she was nursing. Dad had driven her, stating something about her cognitive functions being impaired.
"Just you and me, Kitten," he told his sister seriously, deciding to teach her about fixed vs. growth mindsets today, and steadfastly ignoring his oldest sister's distant presence. Besides, he had no doubt that Mom and Dad would leave him with Mia, even if just for a little while. He was completely trustworthy. "Wanna learn?"
"Ba," she said, and sneezed banana. He sighed, and went to find a damp washcloth to wipe banana-spit from his book.
When he came back, she was staring curiously at the banana peel. Crouching next to her, he wiped her fingers and then found her favourite book. It wasn't his favourite book, far too kiddy, but he was okay with reading a kiddy book for an actual kid. And she liked pointing to the animals.
"Where's the baboon?" he asked, opening the children's picture encyclopedia to the relevant page and holding it front. "Ba-boon, Mia."
"Ba-ba," she said, which was close enough at her level of development, and pointed in the rough general direction of the baboon. Or possibly the elephant. He cheered anyway, and she clapped in delight at getting it right. "Okay, now the lion. Li-on. Where is it?"
"Ba-ba," she repeated, and pointed to the baboon again. Well, one out of two wasn't too bad… he yayed anyway.
"Okay, now the toucan," he said, a harder one. She blinked and did nothing, frowning a little. "Here, look at my hand. Tou-can." He pointed, waiting for her gaze to follow his finger. It didn't. She stared at a point on his chest, mouth slipping open a little. "Kitten?"
Silence.
His heart thumped with a shaky, unsteady beat. That wasn't right. She never ignored him. "Mia?" he asked again, and touched her shoulder. She slumped against his hand, falling back.
He caught her as she began to twitch, and then he picked her up and ran, screaming for Olivia.
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Jack was rambling happily about his day at school when the phone rang, silencing him abruptly. Hotch winced at the sharp look the phone got, knowing his son was already dreading hearing JJ's grim, "We've got a case."
But it wasn't JJ.
Reid home calling.
"Hotchner," Hotch answered, glancing up at the clock. "Is there something—"
"Uncle Aaron?" The voice was young, panicked, and female. "Is that you?"
"Olivia?" Hotch looked at Jack, who must have recognised his expression somehow, reaching for the stovetop and turning their pasta to off before going for the car-keys. He wasn't sure when his son had learned 'emergency procedure' by osmosis, but he was damn glad of it. "What's wrong?"
If he'd ever doubted Olivia was Emily Prentiss in miniature, he never did again. She was scared but calm and had a plan from the moment he'd answered the phone.
The two Reid-Prentiss children were already out the front of the house when Hotch pulled up, Mia bundled up in Tristan's arms and Olivia holding a car-seat in the other. Jack was out of the car in a heartbeat, before Hotch even, grabbing the car-seat from Olivia and darting to install it. Hotch made a mental note to tell his son just how damn proud of him he was when they had the chance, before crouching down in front of the tear-streaked Tristan.
"She wouldn't stop shaking," Olivia said. "And she couldn't hear us, and Mom and Dad's phones are both going straight to voicemail and we didn't know who to call and—"
"It was a seizure," Tristan burst out with. "Complex partial, I know it was. I've read about them, a lot! She could have more, we have to take her to the hospital!"
"Da," Mia mewled, wiggling miserably in Tristan's arms and reaching for Hotch. He took her carefully, seeing no sluggishness in her responses, her pupil dilation normal. Gut knotting tightly at his co-workers' failures to answer their phones—they simply wouldn't, not with their children home alone—he cuddled her close and made soothing noises to stall the hiccupping tears he could feeling oncoming as her chest hitched.
"I'm going to take her to ER to get checked out," he said firmly, standing back up and rocking her a little to keep her calm. Olivia was barely an inch away from tears herself, despite her firm hand on the situation, and Tristan was crying now. "There's room for you guys. Come on, we'll call your parents from the car."
"We can't," Olivia whimpered, hugging her arms around herself. Her makeup was smearing as the tears escaped. "Our sisters might be home soon and they'll worry if we're not here. Tristan should go, I'll stay. And if our parents come home to us gone…"
"I'll stay with her, Dad," Jack said firmly, stepping past and wrapping his arm around his friend's shoulders, tugging her in for a hug. A typical Reid, she was almost as lanky as him despite the two-year's difference in age, having to duck her head to sniff against his shirt. "Are you going to stay, Tris?"
Hotch already knew the answer to that, seeing Tris shake his head resolutely. "I'm coming," he said, bolting to the car.
"Good work, Jack," Hotch said quietly, before shifting Mia to one arm and touching Olivia's elbow with his free hand. "And you, Livy. You did great. Your parents will be proud."
They both nodded, watching as he strode to the car with Mia in his arms, desperately hoping that her parents were okay.
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She'd excused herself from the complicated medical argument happening in the blank-walled room, leaving Spencer and the doctor with Mia sitting placidly on Spencer's knee. Mia watched her leave but Emily smiled at her on the way out, not letting an iota of her shock or guilt seep through.
Tristan was sitting in the foyer, huddled up next to Hotch with his head against his shoulder. Emily paused, studying them both. Hotch looking drained; Tristan clearly asleep.
"How is he?" she asked, walking over and stopping in front, wondering if Hotch could see the potential diagnosis etched into her face or in the shape of her eyes. He certainly studied her as closely as though he could.
"Scared," Hotch said finally. They hadn't had a chance to talk about the terrible moment Hotch had finally gotten through to them—damn car had broken down in a fucking tunnel, leaving them both stranded with no cell reception—informing them that he was in the hospital with two of their children. "He's worried he did something to cause the seizures. I assured him he certainly didn't, but I think he really needs to hear it from you."
Emily looked at her son and the sticky trail of dry tears on his cheeks. "They think it's epilepsy," she whispered, and hated everything. Hated her fucking age and the preterm birth and anything that might have caused this to her baby, her helpless tiny baby who had no idea what was happening. "It… it's probably going to happen again. It's… my fault. I was too old, Aaron, too fucking old and…"
"Oh, Em," said a soft voice from behind her. She turned, horrified someone had heard her, and found Rossi standing behind her with a coffee in either hand. The coffees were placed firmly on a coffee-table, and then he was hugging her. "Nonsense. Absolute nonsense. These things just happen, and then we deal with it. Just like your champion children dealt with it today, got it?" She let herself be hugged and then pulled away, his hands still on her arms. Studying her closely, he used a finger to gently wipe a single tear from her cheek. "And just like them, we don't get mad about a few tears, okay?"
"Mom?" rasped Tristan from behind them, his voice thick with sleep and tears. Emily pulled out of Rossi's arms, turning and catching her son as he threw himself at her. "Is Mia okay? Is she gonna be?"
"She's fine, she's fine," Emily soothed, hugging him tight and putting her own insecurities aside. "And baby, you did so well. So, so well. We're so proud of you. And we love you so much."
"Thanks, Mom," Tristan mumbled into her arm, snuggling close like he probably wouldn't in a few years, once his clever, sweet brain got all hormonal and realized how lame parents were. "Love you, too."
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Neither of them could sleep, even with Mia curled up happily between them with her arms wrapped around a stuffed rabbit Spencer had bought her from a toy store on the way home from the hospital.
Neither could sleep, and as soon as Spencer had slid into the bed beside them, the day had hit him. He'd been a rock until now, steady during the wild drive to the hospital, calm as they'd talked to Hotch, firm when discussing treatment options with the doctors. But he slid into bed, the night closing in around their silent home, and he broke.
She held him against her chest just like she'd held Tristan earlier that day, cradling his head and shoulders and letting him sob noiselessly into her shirt. She was all cried out. His turn now.
It was honestly heartbreaking, how good he was at crying without making any noise. If it wasn't for the slow heave of his breathing against her body and the humid dampness to his hidden face, she'd have thought he was simply cuddling close. A practised habit, and damn if that didn't make her cling harder, her eyes locked on the possessive curl of his hand over Mia's chubby arm.
What could she say that he didn't know? That they'd get through this? He knew that. That wasn't why he was crying. He was crying because their child was hurting, and there was very little they could do to stop it. And it would happen again. They'd be just as helpless then. And this was the coming to terms with that; with knowing that even big, complicated brains like Tristan's and Spencer's or even sneakily creative brains like Olivia's or Alyssa's couldn't think of ways out of it. And then there was Caroline, their out of the box thinker, who hadn't said a word. Just kissed her baby sister and then crept away to her room, huddled on her bed with a sketchpad and earbuds in, closing out the world.
Spencer made a low sound, a sigh mixed with a moan, and she knew he was done. But he stayed still, pressed to her with his head tilted around slightly so he could breathe, and she looked down and studied the shape of his cheek and the bright glint of tears on his lashes.
"I love you," she told him firmly, and eased him up to find his lips. They kissed damply and he tasted of salt, and she thought maybe that this was the dark side of loving a living thing so intently. This vulnerable pain.
"Love you exponentially more," he mumbled against her mouth, drawing away and looking down at Mia. She watched as he shuffled down, curling around their tiny daughter and pressing his mouth to her flushed cheek. And he lay there, silently savouring her.
"Mama?" whispered the doorway, and Emily twitched and turn to find Cary standing there, Alyssa pressed against her back. They were dressed in their nighties, feet bare, brown hair tangled and wild. Four hazel eyes studied her, all of them overbright.
They were holding hands.
"Tristan is sneaking again and he said Dad's crying," Cary said, stepping forward.
"Sorry to interrupt," mumbled Alyssa, but then the darkness moved against and Olivia was there. Dark haired and dark eyed, she looked oddly ghostlike without the makeup she'd started wearing like a mask against her own indecisiveness.
"I'm not sorry," she said decisively. "I want to sleep in here tonight. Dad is sad."
"I'm fine, sweethearts," Spencer replied, but his voice was fucked and cracking. Olivia rolled her eyes at him, well used to his tricks, and walked forward to climb into bed beside them. Without a word, she huddled up behind him and wrapped her arms around his stomach, holding him close. The girls followed, tangling together over Emily's legs and clinging to her and each other equally.
"You gotta let us," Cary said.
Alyssa added smugly, "Yeah, otherwise we'll get in here anyway, you know that. You can't stop us."
"She's right," said Tristan, appearing in the doorway. Unlike the others, he looked completely well-presented. Hair combed neatly and flannel pyjamas as neat and tidy as one of Hotch's suits, he folded his hands and looked uncertain. "Unconditional love is integral to creating secure attachments, and if you turn us away it could have permanent effects on our ability to form relationships."
Emily laughed. She couldn't help it.
Damn this weirdass family.
"Get in here," she told him, feeling well out of her depth, and Tristan didn't wait to be asked again. He snuggled in, rearranged the blankets so the girls were covered at the foot as well, and appeared to fall immediately asleep. Emily studied him, whispered, I love you, and wasn't at all surprised when five voices immediately responded with much the same.
When she looked back at Spencer, he was almost asleep and smiling.
And she wouldn't swap this for anything in the world, explosions and evil masterminds and all of it. The good and the bad.
It was all equally as important in making them this.
