Author's Note: Coming back to Aaron.

Prompt Set #54 (November 2013)

Show: 90120

Title Challenge: Meet the Parent

The Communication Gap

Aaron ended up spending almost forty minutes giving his statement.

Once the agents heard that he and Emily were the ones who had been stopped by one of the gunmen on their way out . . . apparently it had already been shared with them that this was the 'precipitating act' before everything went completely to shit . . . they became VERY interested in what he had to say.

And he got to say it over, and over, and OVER, again.

Then of course when he tried to ask them just ONE question back in exchange for the fifty that he'd answered for them . . . like what exactly had happened that day, was it an attempted robbery or what . . . they blew him right off. Not a surprise really, but still somewhat annoying. But he figured that if the official story that hit the news didn't jive with what he'd personally observed, then he'd simply track down the prosecutors who ended up getting the mess dropped into their laps.

He'd at least get the straight story from them.

But then finally, at the point where he was going to need a drink to continue, the Secret Service determined that they'd collected enough information from their 'initial' interview with him, and wrapped things up. Before they actually walked away though, Aaron was assured by the lead agent that someone else would be contacting him in the next few days to run through things, "in more detail."

Of that point, Aaron had no doubt.

Really though, short of sharing the color of his boxers and what he'd had for breakfast that morning, there wasn't much more that he could tell anyone about what had happened. But fine, he knew the drill. He had probably another half dozen interviews in his future.

Because that was how you built a case.

But once they'd left him alone . . . basically they just went back to making their rounds through the lobby . . . Aaron decided it was time to head up to the surgical waiting area. Yes, the admissions' clerk had been pretty adamant about him NOT leaving the area until he'd finished the paperwork that she'd given him, but, well, screw it. Given that the whole point of him sticking around was to make sure that Emily made out okay, it didn't make much sense for him to stay in the ONE place where he knew that she wasn't.

If he was upstairs, at least then he'd be around if there was an update on her condition.

Also though, as he winced at the sight of two orderlies colliding in the middle of the corridor . . . one of them was carrying blood samples, three of which hit the floor with a messy crash . . . it had to be less chaotic on the surgical floor, than the emergency area. So after he'd checked his watch to see that it was a little before two pm, he headed over towards the elevator bank. Three minutes later he was stepping out onto the fourth floor, and luckily the signs up there were pretty clear as to where to go from there.

The surgical waiting area was a straight shot down the east the corridor.

And as he'd expected, it was definitely much less crowded, and quieter, than the ER, but there were still a fair number of people around. Almost a dozen of them actually, when he entered the waiting area. He figured that number was likely to grow exponentially as the afternoon went on, and word about injuries, spread.

So after he'd given a polite nod to the few teary family members that he inadvertently made eye contact with . . . God knew he didn't want to be sucked into a conversation with anyone . . . Aaron scoped out a single seat off alone, over behind a dusty (rubber) fern tree.

Perfect.

Once he was settled in, he finally started filling out the blank pages that the admitting clerk had given to him downstairs. For obvious reasons, he started with his own. And when he was done with that set, he picked up the Emily packet . . . looked at the first question . . . and winced.

Shit. How the hell was he going to do this? They wanted her insurance information and next of kin, and a half dozen other pieces of information that he had absolutely no way of . . . OH!

A lightning bolt suddenly slammed into him.

Her purse! She probably had her insurance card in her purse! And her license would have her address, and maybe . . . he scooped the bag up from under the chair where he'd tucked it . . . if he was lucky, she'd have an address book too.

And although he felt a tiny bit awkward digging into her personal things, he didn't actually feel guilty. It wasn't like he was just being nosy, he was trying to get her properly checked into the hospital for BRAIN surgery.

Obviously this was digging for a good cause.

And as luck would have it, which was rather surprising given that luck hadn't really been much on their side that day, he did indeed find a health insurance card in her wallet. But unfortunately . . . he bit his lip . . . no address book. But then he spotted a loose business card that had slipped down behind her compact.

He pulled it out.

Richard W. Prentiss.

Central Intelligence Agency

Those two lines were printed in the middle of the card, with a single phone number in the lower left hand corner. And immediately flashing on what Emily had told him about her parents' professions . . . the spy and the diplomat . . . he knew that this man must be her father.

He let out a sigh of relief.

Finally, proper, next of kin.

And though he would have stuck around the hospital to make sure her surgery went well no matter what, of course Aaron wanted Emily to have her family there for her as well. And when he remembered seeing a bank of pay phones over by the elevators when he'd first arrived on the floor, he got up, tucked the purse under his arm, and headed back down the sterile corridor to go reach out to this man who he did not know, to give him news that he most definitely would NOT want to receive.

Yeah . . . Aaron felt a faint churning in his gut as he walked up to the phone on the end of the row . . . this was not going to be fun.

But unpleasant or not, it needed to be done. So after he'd dumped his small pile of pocket change out onto the shiny little counter, he took a breath and started sliding coins into the slot. Once he had dumped in thirty cents, consisting of mostly nickels and one scratched up dime that fell out three times, he finally punched in the ten digit number written on the little white card.

The phone rang once . . . twice . . . three times . . .

His jaw clenched.

Crap. What if he wasn . . .

"Hello."

The voice was terse . . . and very unfriendly.

Aaron blinked.

"Uh, hello."

And then he recovered from his surprise and cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry, is this Richard Prentiss?"

"Yes," came back the clipped response, "and you are?"

"My name is Aaron Hotchner, sir," Aaron continued more confidently, "I'm a, uh, a friend of your daughter's and I found your card in her bag. She's been, well," his fist clenched as he winced, "there was an incident a little earlier, and she was hurt pretty badly. It's a head injury. We're at GW and she's in emergency surgery for a subdural hematoma."

As he was speaking of the head injury, from the other end of the line Aaron had heard a sharp intake of breath. But now that he'd finished explaining about Emily's situation, there was just silence.

A silence filled with very rapid breathing.

If it was possible for breathing to sound 'panicked,' that was definitely what it sounded like right then.

But then Mr. Prentiss' voice came back again . . . though this time there was suspicion in it.

"All right, well, I've never heard of you Mr. Hotchner. So tell me something about my daughter."

"Um, uh . . . uh."

Unprepared to take a 'quiz' about their relationship, Aaron stammered for a second. But then he quickly replayed his time with Emily, and shared what he thought would win her father's trust.

The whole truth.

"She's going to Yale," he said quietly, "but had come home for a few days to visit before her finals start. She's kind of stressed about her statistics class because she's afraid she won't do well there. She'll be twenty-three in October, but," he bit his lip, "she already seems much older. And she's brilliant and funny and, uh," he huffed a bit wistfully, "kind of a klutz."

For a moment there was more silence, and then a pained sigh.

"Well, you definitely know my girl. All right," Aaron heard the other man's throat clear . . . his voice had been getting husky, "and where are you exactly?"

"Fourth floor," Aaron twisted the silvery phone cord, "that's the surgical waiting area. She was taken in maybe ninety minutes ago, but I haven't heard anything yet."

After he finished speaking, Aaron heard another pained exhale through the line.

"All right, well I'm at least a few hours out, but I'll contact Emily's mother. She'll be there shortly."

"Okay," Aaron nodded though the older man couldn't see him, "I'll watch for her. And uh," he rolled his eyes slightly, "just one more thing, sir. So you know, there was a miscommunication when we were brought into the ER, and now the staff thinks that I'm Emily's husband. And I didn't want to correct the error until I was able to reach somebody else. I just, uh," he paused, "well, I just didn't want to leave her here alone."

Though he was somewhat embarrassed about the gaffe . . . though it had turned out for the best that it had happened, when said aloud it sounded a bit Three's Company'ish . . . to Aaron's surprise, Emily's father just seemed relieved about his mistaken identity. All he heard back was a, "that's fine son, that's good actually if you were able to stay with her. I'm just glad she wasn't alone. And thank you very much for calling."

Then the line went dead.

For a second Aaron held the buzzing phone in his hand, then he started to put it back on the receiver, when he suddenly processed how late it was actually getting. It had been a least a three hours since he'd left his office.

He needed to call his boss.

So after he'd dug out a bit more change . . . more nickels . . . he quickly made that call.

It came a bit of a surprise to Aaron that when his boss answered, it turned out that not only was he already aware of the bank robbery, but was in fact ALSO already aware that Aaron had been sucked up into it. And for a second Aaron was slightly thrown by that development, but then he found out that the Secret Service had called to verify his employment. That's when he remembered the exchange in the street.

The card he'd given to the other agent, and the information about his unit and chief.

They were checking his identity.

And then Aaron tuned back in to his boss asking him if he and Haley were all right

Quote, "the agent said that you and your wife were rushed to the hospital," end quote.

And he winced . . . FUCK!

Yeah, that was not a development he was expecting. That anybody ANYWHERE would have ever connected Haley with the cluster fuck that this day had been. So after a faint groan, he explained about Emily. Short version, "a woman he'd been chatting with in line," how serious her injuries had been, and how the Secret Service got to the mix-up with her identity.

They saw his wedding ring.

When he had finished speaking, there was a faint pause, and then a quiet, "oh, I see," from his boss. And in that moment Aaron was NINETY-NINE percent POSITIVE, that his chief thought that Emily was his mistress. He rolled his eyes.

Super.

But he had neither the time, nor the inclination, to deny the non-verbalized allegation. It was bad enough that he'd had to discuss his personal life AT ALL, so he certainly wasn't going to continue to discuss it further for no good reason. Besides, he knew that if he attempted to 'explain' anything more about Emily or their relationship, it was just going to sound even more like some kind of pathetic cover for an affair.

So he just left it vague.

That he was still at the hospital, (didn't explain why) and probably wouldn't be getting back to the office that day. To that he got a concerned, "oh yes, of course Aaron, take as much time as you need, just call me tomorrow," so he knew, fictional alleged mistress or not, there was no judgment there. He didn't know if he was relieved, or insulted, but either way, after a few final words . . . they both hung up.

Once that call was done, Aaron stood there by the phone bank . . . which was starting to get a little busier, two other people had just joined him . . . tapping his fingers against the edge of the little counter.

He was trying to think if he was forgetting anything.

No . . . he slowly chewed on his lip . . . that should be it. For a brief moment he'd considered calling Haley, but then he didn't really see any reason to upset her. After all, he personally was fine, and . . . he rolled his eyes slightly . . . he REALLY didn't want to have to explain, over the phone, the 'Emily situation.'

Not after the reaction he got from his boss.

No, that would be a MUCH easier conversation to have in person. And he didn't usually get home until at least six o'clock, so it wasn't like she'd be expecting to see or hear from him before then. If all went well with Emily's surgery, he'd be out of the hospital and heading home well before six. And if he was held up . . . his brow creased worriedly . . . if things took longer, than he'd just bite the bullet and have the conversation on the phone.

His gaze dropped down to his watch.

Five-thirty. If he hadn't left the hospital by five-thirty, that's what time he'd call her.

So with a plan now in place on how to handle the awkward conversation with his wife . . . very, very carefully . . . Aaron scooped the rest of his dwindling change, back into his pocket. Then headed back down the hall to his seat by the potted fern . . . and waited for Emily's mother to arrive.

A/N 2: This was one of those chapters that just kept going on and on and on, and I decided to go back and cut it where I did because it DID just keep going on and on. So I decided to leave it as a transitional chapter to kick things forward, and then we'll pick up with the more complicated 'relationship' elements next time around. So Haley will make her first appearance and we'll find out how Emily is doing.

You might have noticed Aaron seems to have forgotten that he was supposed to be meeting his wife, and two dozen other people, out for his birthday dinner. But given the other things on his mind at the moment, those birthday plans slipping away, is perfectly understandable. Also, he really didn't want to go to that thing anyway, so he might have just blocked it out :) Either way, it is going to create a bit of a mess. And as to whether he should have called his wife IMMEDIATELY, remember this is the early 90s. This is not a world of social media and ubiquitous cell phones and text messages and constant personal interaction. Back then, you left home in the morning, and you generally didn't have any contact with your family until you got home at night. And that was totally normal. So his plan to just wait and tell her about his day in person so that he could explain things fully, was a logically sound one. But of course, he'll regret it anyway :)