A/N: Hey everyone! Once again, so sorry for the long wait. Life is hectic right now (what's new? Right), so updates will be slow for a while, at least until mid-June hits. Hopefully, you can bear with me; every one of my stories will continue to get updates (and eventually will be completed), nothing is being abandoned. Just wanted to let you all know. With that, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.

Chapter 21: Moving on:

Hotch held the sleek controller between his hands, wondering at its cordless ability. He hated to think it, but back in his day they were lucky if the controllers' cords even reached where they sat on the couch.

Staring hard at the screen, he tried to navigate the icons. The new game and console were a gift to the kids; currently, he was attempting to get the game to start up. Except, for some strange reason, turning on the console did not equal playing the game instantly. It was frustrating.

"Can I try, Hotch?"

He looked to his right; Henry sat there, patiently waiting for the game to begin. Hotch shot the five year old a dubious look. A second later he handed over the black piece of plastic. After all, Henry was one of the kids he'd bought the game for. "Sure thing, buddy."

Sitting back, he watched the screen as the little boy scrolled through icon after meaningless icon. A mere thirty seconds later the game's title screen appeared.

"Wow," Hotch murmured to himself. Either Henry was so technologically advanced he'd be following in his Aunt Penelope's footsteps one day, or he was the complete opposite and should probably take a refresher course in technology and fast. Either way, he said, "Great job!" to the young one, but he'd already lost Henry's attention.

He watched on for a few more minutes. Henry's onscreen character jumped through flaming hoops of fire, raced around enemies, and made a mad-dash towards the finish line. The kid already seemed an expert at the game.

"Aaron, can you give me a hand?" he heard from a distance. It was JJ, she was finally home. She'd been out all day, running errands that he'd explicitly told her he could take on, but she'd wanted the time out of the house.

The sound of her voice put an instant smile on his face. He stood up to see what she needed, but paused to say to Henry, "Half hour only, all right?"

Henry gave him a slight, distracted nod, the only indication that he'd heard him. For the second time that night he wondered if getting the video game was such a good idea. Leaving it for now, he allowed the child his fun and went in search of his mother.

Entering the kitchen, he found JJ waiting for him at the back door. She had a little bundle in her arms that he rushed forward to relieve her from; in the process, he leaned in for a quick kiss.

"Hello, sweetheart, how was your day?"

"Hectic, but good. I've got a ton of groceries to bring in. Can you go put her down and come help me?" JJ asked.

"Of course."

Satisfied with his answer, JJ turned back towards the door, while he went for the stairs. He glanced down at the tiny infant in his arms, marveling at his child's beauty. A mix of him and JJ, dark and light rolled into one. Elizabeth Jareau-Hotchner. His Lizzie, as he fondly called her.

Even though she was only a month old, Lizzie stared back at him with deep blue eyes— identical to her mother's—as if she knew exactly who held her.

It was hard to take his eyes off her. She was simply perfect.

He reached the nursery only seconds later; placing the newborn in her crib, he took a moment to just watch her. To think, a short while ago he wanted nothing to do with her. It was hard to remember his reasons for not wanting to be a part of her life. That time was but a blur to him.

Reaching down to put his finger in her curled up hand, he thought, How could anyone not want you?

He let out a content sigh, wondering how he ever got so lucky in life.

"Hey, dad!" a familiar voice called.

Hotch instantly froze on spot. That voice. He knew that voice. It was the voice of someone he loved dearly. So, how come those two simple words brought on a wave intense agony and sorrow? Why did he sense the impossibility of that voice?

"Dad, JJ's looking for you."

This time the sound came from right behind him. Whoever it was, he could feel his eyes staring holes into his back. Hotch could practically feel his little body radiating its glorious, living heat towards him.

Jack!

His baby.

My son. Oh God, he's alive! He's really alive.

Hotch knew God couldn't be so cruel as to take Jack away from him. It had all been one terrible dream. Of course!

Why did he have his back to him still? he asked himself. Hotch spun around quickly, eager to see his son's cherub face in the flesh. It felt like it had been too long since he'd seen Jack's face. Why had it been so long? he thought confusedly.

But, the second Hotch faced the doorway he saw that he wasn't there.

Jack wasn't there.

Instant panic choked him; he couldn't imagine where Jack could have gone. He was just there. Only a moment ago. Where did he go?

He ran out of the room into the suddenly dimly lit corridor, intent on finding him. He must be in his room. He's only in his room, Hotch chanted silently.

All of the sudden, the corridor lengthened and it seemed like there were a million doors on either side. He had no idea what was going on. All he knew was that he had to find Jack. Had to hold him in his arms and never let him go. Ever.

Hotch ran from one door to the other, opening each one, only to find each an empty, dark hole. Running, he kept running. Time was slipping away from him.

At the very end of the corridor, a door lit up. Jack's room! He just knew that that was where Jack would be waiting for him.

With all his stamina, he ran for the door. Except, it seemed the faster he ran the further the door got, until it was but a tiny speck in the distance.

"Jack!" he yelled. "I'm coming!"

He ran and ran, sweat pouring down his face. He would get there, he would. Only the next thing he knew, the light that lit up the tiny door went out with a pop.

"No!" he screamed; somehow he knew that it was more than just a light that had been extinguished.

Hotch woke with a startled jolt, still yelling, "No!"

He bolted upright, staring wildly around the room, still caught up in the dream. Sweat poured down his face and drenched the sheets around him. What was going on?

Jack! he thought eagerly before the grief hit him.

The faint lines of his bedroom came into partial focus. And he knew, knew exactly where he was. A place where Jack would never again be a part of.

Hotch rubbed at his tired eyes, his brain finally catching up. It's that dream again, he thought as he started to put his night together. He'd gone to bed after a late TV-dinner. He'd lain there for quite some time before sleep finally came. And when it had, it was only to dream that damned dream again!

For three nights straight, he'd been taken to the same world. A world, while lovely, was so far from reality that it hurt him in and out of the dream to think about. That unrealistic foray was making it so that he hated going to sleep.

Hotch flopped back into bed, willing his heart to slow down. He stretched an arm out to the left side of bed, looking for comfort, remembering too late that none would come.

Rubbing both hands across his face, he sighed deeply. JJ… oh, JJ, he mourned. God, he missed her.

It had been three days since her revelation: pregnant with his baby.

Just thinking about the baby brought back memories from the dream. They weren't hazy since this was the third time he'd dreamt it. He'd been having some form of the dream ever since Jack's passing. The Lizzie angle—Georgia and Olivia in the previous two dreams—was a new one, though. He knew it was brought on by the news he'd been given.

Hotch knew that it had only been a dream. He understood that he shouldn't put much stock into the stuff of dreams. Still, it was hard to get over the feelings he'd felt in it, the moment he'd realized Jack was actually alive.

He'd felt happy, like all was right in the world. Like nothing bad could ever happen. But it was more than that. With JJ, Henry, 'Lizzie,' and Jack he'd felt complete.

When he thought of the future—him, JJ, Henry and the new baby, no Jack—it was hard to reconcile that with how he'd felt in the dream. It was hard to think of this potential future as complete.

What do I do? he thought hopelessly. How do I move on?

Because that's what this was really about, moving on. He thought that that's what he'd been doing. With all his therapy sessions with Dr. Carson, living with JJ, interacting with Henry, and even going back to work. He'd thought that all meant that he'd come to terms with his son's death and that he was moving on. But now he knew he'd just been coping.

All that time and all he'd been doing was dealing with life day to day. And the moment he'd been presented with a possible future that did not include Jack, he'd freaked out. God, he was such an idiot. Poor JJ. Why she'd ever decided to give him the time of day was beyond him.

So, now that he knew that all he'd been doing was living in the here and now, what was he going to do?

Did he really want to live his life scared, waiting for the next tragedy to come? Like Dave had said, what would be the point to life? Or, did he want to choose to live the time he had, looking at each moment of happiness as a blessing, instead of one more step closer to death?

It was a hard choice to make. Life or Death? What was it going to be?

Hotch got out of bed, more than a little restless. Sleep was impossible now. He padded down the hall on bare feet and stopped before a closet. Reaching inside, he knew exactly what he needed.

Shutting the closet, he continued down the hall, opening the door that always remained closed. Before flicking on the light, he braced himself against the memories he was about to be bombarded with.

Because memories were all well and good, except when they weighed you down and didn't allow you to see the good that remained, the life that could be.

Hotch switched on the light. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the harsh glare. And then there they were, his memories in plain sight. Jack's toys, his soccer jersey, the little desk where he'd do his homework. Every inch of this room reminded him of his son.

And it was ok to remember, but it wasn't ok to be held back by them.

Sighing, he stepped into the room, placing the cardboard box on the bed.

It was time.

That's it for this chapter. We're definitely winding things down. Not many chapters left, 3 at most. I hope you enjoyed this one and that you'll let me know what you think. Thanks!

Thanks to everyone who's been reading and alerting. And also thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter: cRiMiNaL . mInDs . ObSeSsIoN (there you go!); tess01; jekkah; Guest #1; Guest #2; Bea; HotchRocks; Casie01; Christiangirl; SwimmingInTheRain; and AvngAngl.

I'll try to update soon! See ya!