The car was filling with water this time. She frantically reached for the door handle, but there was only flat surface, with nothing for her to grab onto. The space seemed to close in all around her, and her chest constricted, cutting off her air and making her head swim.

She turned to look at her mother, but she wasn't there. Instead, Hotch was slumped over the steering wheel, Jack in his lap. Both were unconscious, blood seeping from a cut on Hotch's forehead.

Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach.

Adrenaline rushing through her, she clawed at her seatbelt, nails breaking as she grappled with the button. The water was rising faster now, the cold seeping through her clothes, inching closer and closer to Jack's face.

The window burst.

Cara sat up with a start, a shaky hand pushing the hair out of her face. Her fingers came back sweaty, and she closed her eyes as she tried to regain control of her breathing. The panic had been so real, like a strong hand tightening around her throat…

She shook her head and tried to push the thoughts away, not wanting to let the panic have control again. Opening her eyes, she looked around the living room. Her sleeping had gotten so bad lately that she was passing out in the middle of the day on the couch.

"Not a good sign," she muttered.

She frowned as her surroundings began to register, and she realized that Jack wasn't in the room. The house was too quiet, and the fear began pooling in the pit of her stomach again as she pushed herself to her feet and headed upstairs. The panic edged in around her, trying once again to find a foothold, like a leech looking for a fresh victim.

But it couldn't gain purchase. She found Jack sitting on the floor in his room, quietly playing with his trucks. For a minute, Cara just leaned against the doorframe and watched him, letting the last shadows from the nightmare fade away into the darker recesses of her mind.

"Hey, buddy," she said warmly.

He didn't look up. "Hey."

Cara frowned, stepping into the room. "You okay?"

Jack just shrugged, not answering her.

"You wanna come downstairs?"

He shook his head and she sighed quietly.

"You wanna talk about it?"

Jack looked up, and she almost stepped back from the anger she saw there. "I wanna be 'lone!"

He had never yelled at her before - seemed she wasn't the only one having a hard time lately. Putting a gentle smile on her face, she walked over and ruffled his hair.

"That's okay, sweetheart. You come down when you're ready, and we'll make dinner, okay?"

He shot to his feet, his eyes full of tears. "I don't want dinner!" he yelled, his voice breaking. "I want my mommy!"

Her heart stuck in his throat. "Jack –"

"You're not her! I hate you! Leave me 'lone!"

He turned and ran for his bed, flopping down onto the mattress and burying his head in the pillows. Cara fought back tears, clenching her fists as she tried to keep her emotions under control.

"I'll be downstairs," she choked out, closing the door most of the way behind her.

For a minute, she just stood in the hall, unsure of what to do. Tears were sliding down her cheeks now – she could understand why Jack would lash out, but it had been so unexpected. It must have been building without any of them realizing it.

Taking a deep breath, she went down to the kitchen on shaky legs.

She heard the car pull into the driveway and her entire body tensed. It had been over a week since Hotch had come home from that awful a case, over a week since he had slipped and called her Haley.

Over a week since he had really acknowledged her existence.

She had tried to give him his space, tried to let him work through this one on his own. But things weren't getting any better, and it was affecting the entire house. Jessica had noticed the tension as soon as she walked in a few days ago, giving Cara a sympathetic look and an encouraging hug on her way out. Hotch was obviously in pain, and he was struggling to keep it under control.

With Jack's outburst, though, Cara was beginning to lose her sympathy.

And she was getting angry.

By the time the front door opened, she had already decided that she was done keeping quiet. This wasn't about his defense mechanisms or her feelings – Jack was suffering, and she couldn't let that continue.

"We need to talk," she said as soon as he started to pass by the counter.

Hotch carried on to the hall closet, slipping off his suit jacket. "About what?"

"About the case you had last week."

His shoulders turned to stone, and he kept his focus on the act of hanging his jacket up, trying to ignore the way his hands started to shake.

"No we don't."

"Yes, actually, we do."

He still didn't turn to face her, but his voice turned hard and cold. "I am not going to discuss my work with you. I am not bringing it into the house –"

Cara slammed down the knife she was using. "Dammit, Hotch!"

The anger in her voice made him turn, and he was surprised to see the rage on her face. Cara had never been anything but calm and caring, but something had managed to push her to the breaking point. He already knew it had been him – he had driven away Haley, and now he was doing it again.

He was starting to think it was the only thing he did really well.

"Cara, I can't –"

She pointed at him, struggling to keep her voice down so that Jack wouldn't hear. "Do you have any idea what's been going on in this house? Or are you too shut down to look around you?" She jabbed her finger up the stairs. "Jack is up there crying. He's hurt, and he's angry, and I bet he doesn't even really understand why."

His stomach knotted painfully at the fact that his son was hurting, but he shook his head. "That doesn't have anything to do with my case –"

"It has everything to do with it!" She took a deep breath, running a hand through her hair. "Dammit, Hotch…I am trying to help you. I can be there for you and for Jack, but I'm not a mind reader. You have to talk to me." She shook her head. "Jack is picking up your bad habits. You're not teaching him how to love and laugh, like a father is supposed to. You're teaching him to shut down when things weigh on him. And if he lives his life like that, he'll be alone, and hurting, just like you." Her voice was starting to break. "I cannot watch you destroy that little boy."

Her entire body shaking, Cara turned and headed for the front door. Hotch watched her go, unable to move or speak, his chest constricting as he struggled for air. The door slammed shut, jarring him painfully, and he drew in a ragged breath.

She was gone.