A/N: Thank you for the lovely reviews! Especially kathlyn4060 and vickyvicky890! I love to hear that you guys are enjoying the story, so keep them coming. :)

If you're curious, there is a reference to a senator in this chapter, and it's the senator from 13x16. I figure, if Emily's parents have connections, he could've been one of their friends, so I'm taking a little creative licence here.

Chapter 11: Sad and Teary Eyes (Be Alright by Dean Lewis)

"Thanks for the drink Fred," Simon said as he and Senator Mayhew made their way out of the clubhouse, "Next poker night, you bring the chips and I'll bring the salsa," he joked as he held out his hand.

"Alright, and you tell Elizabeth that we'll be around for dinner next Tuesday," Fred replied, shaking Simon's hand and patting his shoulder, "Jessie will be back for the weekend, so check with Elizabeth if it's ok for her to come along, if not that's fine, I'm sure she can find some way to keep herself busy."

Simon nodded and watched his friend walk away, waving when he turned at the valet stand to hand over his ticket. As he turned back to look out over the green, Simon took a moment to enjoy the warmth of the sun on his face and the cool breeze against his skin. He was glad to be back in DC, even if it was just for a couple of weeks. He had lunches and dinners with friends, and even found time to spend with Zac, but he was keen for his next assignment.

Simon had become increasingly doubtful about the story that he and Elizabeth were told about their daughter's demise, not that he'd shared his doubts with Elizabeth. He wasn't sentimental and he wasn't sure why he felt this way, but he couldn't believe that his daughter was actually gone. He wanted to believe that, if Emily had actually died, he would feel something. The world would feel different... emptier or colder.

And it didn't.

Therefore, Simon's logical conclusion was that Emily wasn't dead... she was in hiding. And since the party in July, when he'd been talking with Aaron about it, he had been slowly gathering the evidence to prove his theory. He wasn't being foolish about it though, keeping his suspicions to himself and only digging through trusted channels. Thus, his upcoming assignment.

"Mr. Prentiss."

Simon blinked a couple of times and turned to find one of the club staff leading Hotch in his direction. As the young man reached him, Simon held out a hand and smiled, "Aaron."

Hotch huffed and shook his hand, "Simon," he replied, going for nonchalance in an effort to hide his nervousness at the prospect of spending an afternoon of golf with Emily's father. As he stopped beside Simon, Hotch adjusted the golf bag on his shoulder and took a moment to study the older man. He looked in good spirits, which could be a good thing and could offer Hotch a reprieve from the stress of his day-to-day life. Then again, it could also mean that Hotch was in for eighteen holes of ball-busting from a man whose CIA history included co-authoring the textbook on advanced interrogation techniques.

Simon tipped his head towards the path leading to the start of the course, inwardly tickled as he watched Hotch's anxious nod in response, "I've already got the cart ready," he explained. He started them on their way towards the caddies, who were waiting by the golf cart, Simon's golf bag already on-board.

Hotch handed his bag over to one of the young men, who strapped the bag to the back of the cart, and he watched as Simon waved the men away, climbing into the driver's seat and waiting for Hotch to join him. As soon as Hotch was seated, Simon started the cart down the lane to the first hole.

"Thanks for the invitation," Hotch said, biting his tongue at the sir that was attempting to tack itself onto his gratitude. He knew that Simon had been insisting on Hotch ditching the formalities, and even though it took everything in him to bypass his Southern values, he was determined to not piss Emily's father off. His only goal for today was to have this man respect him, and that started with respecting Simon's seemingly simple request.

"It's about time, isn't it son?" Simon replied, glancing over at Hotch and smiling gently.

Hotch nodded, "Yes sir," he said softly, grabbing hold of the railing on the side of the cart as Simon took a corner a little faster than necessary. He figured this was a test, and he was determined to pass, feeling an intense drive to impress the man as much as possible in this one afternoon. Simon might not know for certain, but Hotch had big plans for when Emily returned and he would like to know that her father was as much behind any potential relationship as her son was.

Hotch wrinkled his brow, glancing over at Simon as they passed another cart full of golfers, "So how long are you back for?" he asked.

"Only until next Thursday," Simon replied, pulling the cart to a stop at the first tee and turning to look directly at Hotch before he continued, "Then I'm off to Paris."

Hotch pursed his lips and nodded, "Beautiful city," he said simply, "Is there anything in particular that's taking you there?" he asked, hiding behind his sunglasses and casting a sideways glance at Simon.

Simon shrugged, "Company business," he replied, impressed at Hotch's ability to school his features and minimise any reactions. He was really hoping to get a hint that he was on the right track, but apparently this would take a little more than just an idle threat of a golf-cart collision. Simon began to consider other techniques to get the man talking, while simultaneously grateful that it was taking more than subtle intimidation to break Hotch's resolve. If Emily's life depended on Hotch's ability to keep this secret to himself, Simon was pleased that the man seemed to have such a strong hold on his secrets.

The two men climbed out of the golf cart, Hotch walking to the back of the cart to take the driver out of his bag and Simon joining him after a moment. Once they both had their clubs, tees, and balls, they made their way over, Simon taking the first shot. It landed on the green and Hotch raised his eyebrows. It had been about six months since he'd last played, and Hotch couldn't help but wonder if this was Simon's tactic. He shook his head as he realised that he was getting too caught up in his theories about what Simon was doing, when he should just be taking advantage of a day on the green.

As Hotch set himself up to take his first shot, he took a deep breath and swung the club, landing the ball a couple of feet from the hole. Simon let out a whistle, and Hotch bit his lip and furrowed his brow, unsure if beating Simon during this round was his best strategy. His worry was abated when Simon pat him on the back and smiled.

"Are you sure you haven't played in a while?"

Hotch chuckled and shrugged, "Lucky shot," he replied, smiling at Simon's good-natured eye-rolling as they headed back to the cart, returning their clubs to their bags and climbing in. As Simon started the cart on the path again, heading towards the green, he looked out over the expanse of rolling fairways, dotted with trees and bunkers. It had been a while since Hotch had a chance to golf, and even with the obvious pressure to impress Simon, he felt himself relax.

Hotch sighed and glanced over at Simon, expertly steering the cart around the course, "Did Emily ever go golfing with you?" he asked, a bold image of Emily dressed in a short skirt and polo shirt flitted across his mind. He shook the thought out of his mind as he looked to Simon for a response.

Simon chuckled and nodded, "Emily loved to golf when we were living in the Middle East, because it was one of the few places she could just be a normal kid. She actually managed to bring her handicap down a fair way," he replied, eliciting a raised eyebrow from Hotch, "But then one day she just stopped… she would still come along, but she'd sit under a tree and drink lemonade and read books."

Hotch huffed and shook his head, "And what about Zac?" he asked, wondering if maybe they could invite him along next time.

Simon shook his head as they pulled up to the green, looking around for his ball as he stepped out of the cart and headed to the back, "Zac was never really one for sports," he replied, "His version of athleticism has always been jumping around at rock concerts."

Hotch chuckled and nodded, "That sounds about right," he replied, "Although, he is surprisingly good at kicking the soccer ball with Jack."

Simon smiled, "So I've heard," he remarked, "I may need to see that for myself one day."

Hotch shrugged, lining up to tap his ball into the hole, "Well next time you're in town, you should join us at one of Jack's games."

"I'd enjoy that, Aaron," Simon replied with an enthusiastic nod, "I'm sure Elizabeth would too."

Hotch watched as Simon tapped his ball with an impressively precise amount of force, sinking the ball in one shot. He breathed out a sigh of relief as his phone started to buzz in his pocket, relieved that the call hadn't come in when Simon had been lining up his shot. As he took his cell out of his pocket, Hotch looked up apologetically.

Simon held up a hand, "It's fine son," he said softly, tipping his head towards the cart, "I, of all people, understand the call of the job."

Hotch looked down at his cell and wrinkled his brow, following Simon back to the cart as he answered the call.

"Assistant Director Sinclair," Hotch said seriously, glancing briefly at Simon before he looked back at the path ahead of them, "What can I do for you, sir?"

"Agent Hotchner," Sinclair replied sternly, "Sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but I need you to meet me at my office, first thing tomorrow morning."

"Yes sir," Hotch replied, biting his lip, "Do you mind telling me what this is about?"

"I need to speak to you about a special assignment," Sinclair explained, "That's all I can say for now, but be at my office by 8am. You can drive out to Quantico after."

"Yes sir," Hotch repeated, "I'll see you at 8."

Hotch heard the click in his ear and lowered the cell, opening a text message to Rossi, letting him know that he would be in a little later than usual on Monday, after the meeting at Pennsylvania Ave, and that he would email him later about case assignments for the team.

"That sounded serious," Simon commented, casting a concerned glance in Hotch's direction, "Anything wrong?"

Hotch pursed his lips and shrugged, "I'm not sure," he replied, "I guess I'll find out tomorrow morning."

Simon nodded, pulling up to the second tee, "Robert Sinclair doesn't call his unit chiefs on a Sunday for something small…" his voice trailed off and he raised his eyebrows, "I'd be happy to look into it, if you'd like."

Hotch huffed and shook his head, taking his club out of the bag, "I'm sure it's nothing," he replied, "But I appreciate the offer."

Simon nodded, "Well, I'm here till Thursday, so you just let me know if you need my help," he replied, looking over at Hotch as he took his shot. As the younger man stood back from the tee, Simon raised his eyebrows, lining up to take his own shot, "And on that note, you let me know if there's anything you want me to take with me to Paris."

"Simon," Hotch urged, his suspicions confirmed, but he stopped when the older man held up his hand and stepped closer to him. Hotch took a deep breath as he prepared himself for whatever Simon was about to say.

"She is my little girl, Aaron," Simon said, just above a whisper, "I'll be damned if I let anything else happen to her. And I'll be damned if anyone tries to stop me from protecting her."

Hotch furrowed his brow, knowing better than to try and convince Simon to leave well enough alone. If it was Jack, nothing could stop Hotch from trying to protect him, so he couldn't expect anything less from Simon Prentiss. The man had obviously deduced that Emily's death was a cover, though Hotch still didn't know how, and he figured that would be a fruitless line of questioning. Even though they still weren't any closer to finding Doyle, Hotch was starting to wonder if they should just bring Emily back, although he had to question his motives with that one.

"I won't tell you how I know," Simon explained, breaking Hotch from his thoughts and bringing him back to the present, "But I know… and I'm not angry with you, Aaron," he continued, "I know you were just doing what you needed to do to keep her safe."

Hotch nodded, "All I ask is that you don't let her out of your sight until we have him," he said sternly, "We can't lose her again."

Simon nodded, starting the walk back to the cart and offering Hotch a determined look, "I won't Aaron," he said firmly, "I promise."

Hotch pushed his way through the back door of the house, spying the boys on the couch and glancing down at his watch. It was well-past Jack's bedtime, but Hotch couldn't be upset at the sight of his sleeping son. He softly placed his briefcase on the floor behind the armchair as he made his way around to take a seat.

Zac looked up from his book and smiled, nodding down at Jack, who had tried so hard to stay awake in order to see Hotch, but missing the mark by about thirty minutes. He kept his voice low, so as not to wake Jack, "How was your day?" Zac asked, folding the corner of the page to mark his place, "Did you go to that meeting with your boss?"

Hotch nodded, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and running his hands down his face, "It was a long day," he replied, tipping his head towards Jack, "Thanks for staying with him."

Zac shook his head, "How many times do I have to tell you, Dad?" he urged, "Family doesn't say thanks."

Hotch huffed and nodded, "So, uh… I have a favour to ask you," he started, looking up at Zac, "That meeting I went to this morning, it was about a special assignment that they want to send me on, but in order for me to feel ok with taking it, I need to know that Jack will be looked after..." Hotch paused and took a deep breath, "... the Assistant Director is sending me to Pakistan."

Zac raised his eyebrows in surprise, "Wow," he said, shocked by the news, and unsure of what to ask, "What's the assignment?"

"It's an investigative taskforce," Hotch explained, shrugging, "I don't really know much more than that, except that the FBI, CIA, and military intelligence services are butting heads on everything from interrogation techniques to what kinds of potatoes should be stocked in the mess, and I'm being sent in to try and help smooth things over."

Zac nodded, swallowing hard over the lump in his throat at the thought of Hotch leaving, "How long will you be gone?" he asked, running his hand over Jack's hair. There was no doubt in Zac's mind, he'd be there as much as Jack needed him, especially if it would make it easier for Hotch to feel ok with being gone. This was what being part of a family was all about: backing each other up and supporting each other's life decisions.

Hotch shrugged, "It could be anywhere from one month to ten weeks," he replied, "But I'll know more when I get there."

"Dad," Zac urged, his term of reference and tone suggesting his concern, "That's such a long time."

Hotch nodded, running a hand through his hair, "I know, but… I need to Zac," he replied, "I'm trying to keep the BAU together, and if I do this for the director, I think it'll help."

Zac frowned, "So you're going to Pakistan to bank up an IOU with the director?" he asked, "I'm not sure that makes sense."

"It makes sense to me," Hotch replied, frowning, "But I won't do it if you and Jessica aren't on board. I need to know that Jack will be taken care of, and if either one of you object, then I won't go."

Zac looked down at Jack, fast asleep and oblivious to the importance of this conversation. He worried that Hotch was taking more time away, when this was such a critical moment for Jack. One month would be manageable, but any more than that seemed excessive. Zac had been the kid whose parent's career took them away for long periods of time, and even though he and his mom were close, right up until her death, it didn't mean their relationship wasn't impacted by her long absences. He'd spent countless nights lying in bed awake, knowing that his mom was overseas, doing dangerous work, and at least when Zac had to experience that, he was old enough to kind of understand. Jack was so little, all he'd know was that his dad was chasing bad guys even further away than usual.

Zac looked up at Hotch, studying the worry on his face, the way his lips were pursed and he was picking at his nails, and he sighed. This wasn't really a choice for Hotch. It came down to Hotch doing whatever he could to protect the team, and was just another example of how similar his mom and Hotch were. They'd do anything for their family.

When Hotch looked up, desperation in his eyes, Zac finally nodded, allowing Hotch a moment to let out a sigh of relief.

"I'll help out, of course," Zac said softly, "But I have one condition…" he paused for Hotch to nod, before he continued, "The second Jack says he wants you back, you come back…" Zac shook his head and looked over at Hotch, "I've been left behind before, and I know how it feels to be told that your parent's work saves people's lives, and so you feel like you can't say that you miss them."

"Of course, Zac," Hotch replied confidently, "If Jack struggles with it, I'll be on the first flight back. But I'm hoping that between you and Jessica, he won't even miss me."

Zac rolled his eyes, "You're ridiculous, but sure…" he paused and wrinkled his brow, "But I don't want Jess to feel like she has to do too much more than usual. My work is more flexible than hers, so I can stay here and look after Jack as much as possible."

"I really appreciate this Zac," Hotch said softly, feeling tears well up in his eyes at the young man's generosity. He just couldn't see any other way to save the unit, without making this sacrifice. A temporary downsizing in exchange for the long-term sustainability of the team was worth it.

Zac shrugged, "I literally just said this five minutes ago… family doesn't say thanks, Dad."

Hotch huffed and shook his head, "I'll also get JJ to check on you guys, if that's ok?" he asked. He'd been in constant contact with Zac four months, and in a way, it had helped him to make sure that Zac was safe. The threat of Ian Doyle was constant and looming, and the last thing he wanted was to take this brief assignment, only to have Emily's worst fears realised. At least, if JJ was seeing the boys regularly and keeping an eye on things from home, Hotch could sleep relatively soundly.

Zac nodded and swallowed hard over the lump in his throat, "So how are you going to break it to Jack?" he asked, nodding down to the sleeping boy by his side.

Hotch raised his brow and shook his head, "I have no idea."

"Jack-in-the-box!" Zac called out from the kitchen, "Pancakes are ready!"

Hotch made his way up the stairs from the ground floor and dropped his duffel by the front door, turning back to walk into the kitchen. He poured a cup of coffee from the machine in the corner and turned back to steal one of the pancakes from the plate on the counter.

"Mmm," Hotch remarked, smiling at Zac around his bite of food, "These are good."

Zac huffed and shook his head, turning off the burner and flipping the last of the pancakes onto the top of the pile, "You know, you could wait until we're all sitting at the table, and then you could add syrup and butter," he teased. Zac turned back to put the frying pan back on the cooktop, to cool down, before he turned back to Hotch with a small smile.

Hotch chuckled and shrugged, "I'm about to live in the desert for god knows how long... syrup and butter are a luxury I need to learn to live without," he joked, before he let out a sigh. Hotch tipped his head towards the front yard, where Jack had gone to play in an effort to avoid his dad, "I'll go and get Jack," he said, making his way around the corner and out onto the front porch. As he stepped through the front door, Hotch looked to his left and found Jack sitting on the porch swing, pushing it back and forth with his feet on the brick wall that enclosed the porch.

Hotch walked over to the seat and dropped down next to Jack, placing his arm on the back of the seat, behind Jack's head, "You coming inside for breakfast?" he asked, looking down at his son.

Jack shrugged, staying silent and turning the baseball over in his hands.

Hotch furrowed his brow and ruffled his hand through Jack's hair, "Buddy, I know you're confused about all of this, but I promise, you'll be having so much fun with Zac and Aunt Jessica that you won't even miss me."

Jack sniffed and Hotch lifted him up from the seat, sitting him in his lap and holding him close, "Jack," Hotch urged, "What's going on?"

"Mommy left because of a bad man," Jack started, "And Emily left because of a bad man…" he paused and sniffed, running the back of his hand under his nose, "What if a bad man finds you where you're going and you have to leave to be an angel too?"

Hotch closed his eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of Jack's shampoo, "Buddy, I'm not going to be an angel… I promise… I just have to do some special work and that's why I have to go away," he explained, as best he could, "But I'll be back before you know it, and we'll talk every single day, and you'll be so busy with Zac and Aunt Jessica and getting ready for school, ok?"

Jack nodded gently against Hotch's chest, and he gripped at Hotch's shirt with his tiny little fists. He sat up and he looked at Hotch, "I love you Daddy."

Hotch smiled sadly, pulling Jack close, "I love you too, Jack…" he paused and looked at Jack in the eyes, "Now how about we go inside before the pancakes get cold?"

Hotch looked down at his ammo bag and duffel and checked that his passport and credentials were safely stowed, before he looked up at the boys. Jack launched at him, throwing his little arms around Hotch's legs, and Hotch stooped down to lift him up into his arms. He pressed a kiss to Jack's cheek, inhaling the scent of his shampoo one last time, before he squeezed him tight.

"I love you buddy," Hotch whispered.

"I love you Daddy," Jack whispered back, sniffling against Hotch's shoulder.

Hotch reluctantly stooped back down to place Jack on the floor, offering him a small smile, "Now you do everything Zac tells you to do, be a good boy and eat all of your vegetables."

Jack nodded, a small smile on his face which lit up suddenly when Jack looked up at Hotch, "Oh!" he said brightly, "I forgot to give you a present!"

Hotch and Zac watched in confusion as Jack ran into the living room, and emerged a moment later with his hands behind his back. When he reached their huddle again, Jack held out an object for Hotch to take in his hands, and when he looked down at the small gift, Hotch smiled sadly.

"Optimus Prime can stay here and look after me and Zac and Aunty Jessica," Jack explained, "And He-Man can go with you and look after you, Daddy."

Zac bit his lip and reached down to ruffle Jack's hair affectionately, admiring his little brother and what was possibly the sweetest gesture imaginable.

Hotch smiled gently and nodded, kneeling down again to hug Jack one last time, before he turned and tucked the small doll into his duffel bag. As he stood, Hotch looked over at Zac, reaching over to pull him into a hug, exceedingly grateful that the young man had come into their lives. Hotch couldn't imagine taking this assignment if Zac wasn't around to keep Jack safe.

"I'll call you guys as soon as I land in Germany," Hotch said softly, taking a step back after a moment and squeezing Zac's shoulder, "I really appreciate this."

Zac nodded and smiled, "I won't say not to worry, but I promise, I'll look after him…" he paused and tipped his head, "Love you, Dad."

Hotch huffed and nodded, "Love you too, Zac."

A horn sounded out the front, and Hotch stooped down to pick up his bags, hefting them over his shoulder as he started towards the door. As he made his way down the front steps, reaching the front gate, he turned back and smiled sadly at the sight of Zac holding Jack in his arms, both boys waving. He lifted his hand to wave goodbye, before he pushed the gate open and made his way across the sidewalk to the waiting SUV. After his bags were packed in the trunk, Hotch looked up again, finding the boys in the same spot, and he waved one last time as he climbed into the SUV. A moment later, the car pulled away from the curb.

As the car disappeared around the corner, Zac sighed, looking down at Jack with an encouraging smile, "You know what, Jack-in-the-box?" he asked, tickling the little guy's sides and grinning at his giggles, "I think we should bake a cake for Aunty Jess."

"Yeah!" Jack replied excitedly, suddenly distracted from his dad's absence, "Can we put sprinkles on it?" he begged as they made their way inside.

Zac nodded, placing Jack on the floor and chuckling, "I think we can manage that."