I've been living to see you/Dying to see you but it shouldn't be like this/This was unexpected, what do I do now?/Could we start again, please?
Renee Castle's voice cut through the sound of the storm raging outside. Hotch held Jack close, his son having woken and been frightened by the tumult. His thoughts wandered turning over everything from recent events to his final encounter with Foyet and the tragedy that had come with it.
This was one of Haley's favorite cds, she having developed an obsession with the works of Lloyd Webber some years ago. It wasn't exactly for him but it seemed to calm Jack in moments like these, in absence of his mother.
I've been very hopeful so far/Now for the first time I think we're going wrong/Hurry up and tell me this is just a dream/Could we start again, please?
A thought came to him. Perhaps, Foyet was responsible for even this? The psychopath's voice taunted him in his mind. 'You're poison. You destroy every one you love. No one else. You!' Hotch shivered, but it had nothing to do with the cold.
Jack looked up at him. "Are you okay, Daddy?"
Hotch put on a smile that he hoped looked more sincere than it felt. "Daddy's fine," he said, trying to sound reassuring.
I think you've made your point now/You even gone a bit too far to get the message home./Before it gets too frightening we ought to call a halt/So could we start again please?
He sighed wearily. The idea was to put JJ and Reid out his mind and bring an end to the sleepless hours. Instead, he was thinking of Haley and Foyet. He closed his eyes and held Jack closer, the child giving him as much comfort as he did to the child. The lights went out. Jack whimpered softly.
Images of Haley sprawled on the floor, her dead eyes staring. Reid and JJ next to each other, hiding behind a burning car, both fighting to stay alive. Haley on the phone with him, terrified, Foyet in the background taunting both of them. JJ in the grip of a mental breakdown. Reid now, locked in ICU, hidden away from his colleagues and fortunately Agent Willis and his accusations.
Hotch swallowed, trying to drive these pictures away. He wondered briefly if he would be the next Jason Gideon. The next one to burn out from all the horrors of his life, especially the ones that occured to the people he held close? Terror coursed through him. Would Jack be the next victim? He opened his eyes again. The storm seemed to be waning but the power was still out.
Hotch sighed, again. He forced himself to regain his composure. It wouldn't do for Jack to see him in this state. If that happened than Foyet would have indeed won the war. He reminded himself that Foyet was dead and gone and to stir old memories was to keep him alive. He shed the negative thoughts and emotions and turned his attention back to his son.
"Come on, lets go back to your room. I'll get the flashlight and read you a story. How's that sound?"
"Okay, Daddy." He stood up, lifting Jack with him and headed up the stairs.
"Which one do you want me to read?"
"The one about the monkey."
"Ah that's my favorite too," Hotch said, kissing his son's forehead. Once in the room he laid Jack on the bed and pulled the book down from the shelf. "One day, pirate Modi was out running errands with his mom..."