While the Hotchners clung to each other, miles away Rossi was at home in his mansion, drinking scotch and holding a weighty conversation with Mudge.

"I dunno, boy. I think about it a lot, but…I dunno." One corner of Dave's mouth twitched upward in a wry half-smile. "One minute I'll think I'm the luckiest SOB in the world, and the next…well…" He sipped the amber liquor, feeling its pleasant burn all the way down.

"I wanted to be a dad so bad…" The alcohol was starting to take effect. "…a dad so bad…Hey, that rhymes, Mudgie. Not too shabby for a guy who writes prose, huh?…" The dog thumped his tail once. It was more of acknowledgement than approval; Mudge didn't do much reading, so didn't consider himself a critic. Rossi nodded, ruffled the ears that were so attentive whenever he needed to talk.

"When I didn't get to keep my own kid…my James…" His eyes grew damp. "…I was happy to find that green, wet-behind-the-ears, eager beaver named Aaron…And then…" His smile beamed through incipient tears, like sunshine through mist forming the emotional equivalent of a rainbow. "…then I got the biggest surprise gift God could've given an old war horse like me. A daughter. 'Magine that…" Dave tasted his drink, shaking his head in fond disbelief. "And Mudge, I thought how lucky I was to have all the fun of being a dad and a granddad without ever having to do the messy, scary stuff that goes with raising a kid." His smile made an abrupt exit.

"Now I'm not so sure."

The Labrador raised his head, noting the change in tone. Rossi stroked the top of it, easing canine concerns. "Now I kind of wish I'd had more hands-on experience, know what I mean? 'Cause those Hotchners…they're a handful." He relaxed more deeply into his favorite, overstuffed chair.

"Those two need time together more than anything, but…but I wish I could help more. Wish I knew better what to say or how to make the hurts go away."

His voice trailed off into an almost-whisper. "That's when I wish I'd been a dad for all the messy stuff right from the start, all the scary stuff…so I wouldn't feel so scared for them right now…wish I'd had a little one to raise all the way through."

Sensing his best friend's sadness, Mudge blew out a whuffling sound, jowls rippling. It broke Rossi out of his reverie. Looking down at the inquisitive eyes filled with love, Dave's mood lifted. He chuckled, reaching once again to pat his dog.

"What am I sayin', Mudge-boy? I raised you all the way through, didn't I?…And if I can handle peeing on the floor and being shaken awake like I'm a chew-toy…I guess I can figure out how to handle a couple Hotchners." He drained his glass and struggled out of his chair with a contented groan.

"C'mon, boy. Bedtime. Tomorrow is another day…"

Mudgie went into a full-wag agreement and followed his 'Dad' upstairs.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was late.

Across town, Rossi and his dog were snoring in comfortable slumber.

Hotch and Jack were still huddled together. Neither had any more to say, or didn't feel like trying at the moment. They were finding solace in mutual confusion and concern. At last, Aaron stirred, separating himself. He looked down into his son's watchful gaze. "Hey, Buddy…You wanna stay home from school tomorrow? And I'll stay home from work?"

Jack blinked twice. "Can you do that?"

"Sure. I'm the boss."

"But what about the bad guys? Who'll go after them?"

"My team can handle things for a day." Hotch's voice was devoid of levity. "The bad guys aren't going to win." I'll make sure of it, Jack. No matter what I have to do, you aren't going to be one of their victims. "Now I think we should both get some sleep…unless, you wanna talk some more?"

"Uh-uh." The child shook his head, already pulling farther away, brow creased with thought. He perched on the edge of his bed and watched Aaron pull himself together preparatory to heading for his own room. At the door, the elder Hotchner paused, turning halfway back, meeting his son's grave regard.

"We'll work this out, Buddy. I promise."

"I know."

"I love you, Jack. And I'm so proud of you I can't…" A sudden surge of emotion made Hotch bite down on his lip. He didn't want to cry again.

"Even if I act weird and I don't know why?" There was a conditional look in his son's eye that cracked Aaron's heart, widening a fault line through its center.

"No matter what. You wanna know why?" Aaron didn't wait for an answer. "Because I know you. You're my son and I know you better than anyone on earth. Better than you know yourself. And I couldn't ask for a better son. I see things in you, Buddy, that give me hope and joy and a reason to keep fighting the bad guys. You're everything I…" Emotion won. Hotch lost. It was instinct that made him press lips and eyelids closed, cutting himself off for a brief respite. Lately, his frayed ends had been exposed too often. He felt raw. He didn't want to inflict his distress on Jack any more than he already had.

"Dad?"

"Yeah, Buddy?" Aaron managed to creak out a response.

"I'm okay to go to school tomorrow."

Deep breath…sound calm… "You sure?"

"Uh-huh. I feel better now." Hotch watched a small smile blossom, flutter and fade. "If I don't go, it'll look like all that stuff they say…why they treat me like they're sorry for me…like it's true."

"Jack…"

"'S okay."

No, it's not… Aaron nodded and stepped out into the hallway. His mind centered on the logistics of getting Dr. Fletcher to concentrate on whatever would help Jack, even if it was embedded inside his own psyche and required he be sliced and diced to exhume it. A small voice broke through, making him turn back toward his son's room.

"Dad? I love you, too…and…and I'm proud of you. And you know something else?" His tone turned brighter, as though Jack were making a declaration and daring anyone to argue it. "A lot of kids I know say they wish they had dads like you."

The fault line in Hotch's heart steadied, and maybe even closed a little.

"Thanks, son. See you tomorrow."

Aaron went to his room and began to compose a text for immediate dispatch to Dr. Fletcher.