Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. This is a work of fiction.
A/N: I was going to post a new chapter for my current story today but I've taken a mental break from it and I didn't want to leave you guys with nothing. This was originally supposed to be a two-shot but I'm thinking it'll probably be three or four chapters. Let me know what you think.
"Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all."
― Alfred Lord Tennyson
I.
May
Everything goes to shit in May.
It's their first weekend with an empty house in a long, long time. Thank God for older brothers. He hasn't let anything ruin his day, thus far. Not the son-of-a-bitch they put away for torturing and killing four girls. Not the formal reprimand he got from Strauss about the way the team handled it. His natural reaction to finding his wife crying when he walks into the master bedroom that night is to comfort her, pull her close, ask what's wrong. His hand falls from her knee when she tells him.
He witnesses some of the things that anger can do on a daily basis. He's felt anger. Work makes him angry. His mother-in-law infuriates him. His children make him angry sometimes. He just about loses it when his favorite team doesn't win. But nothing compares to the red he sees when his wife tells him that she bedded another man.
Things are good between them. They haven't had a fight in months and even then, it was over something so silly he can't even remember what it was. The kids (mainly the middle one) haven't gotten into any trouble in at least a week, a new record. And they're ordering take-out and binging Star Wars tonight while making out like teenager. Well, they were supposed to.
And she decides to tell him now.
He sees red, doesn't know how to control the harsh things that come out of his mouth. He hated it when his father did it to his mother over the simplest of things. But he doesn't hit her. That he would never, ever do.
But he does leave.
June
His phone buzzes for the umpteenth time that morning as he works on the case file before him. Strauss has been breathing down his neck about this one for a while now. JJ knocks on the door a few minutes later, letting him know that the team is waiting for him in the conference room. His phone buzzes again. He has half a mind to turn it off but he's got three kids. Two of them about to move overseas.
But of course, it's neither of the kids.
13 missed calls, a slew of text messages.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
Please, call me back.
Let's talk about this.
A new incoming call. He ignores it.
ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE
Hotch, please.
I'm so sorry.
He pulls out a desk drawer and places the phone inside. There will be more when he's done with the briefing, he's sure. But he doesn't want to deal with it now.
July
He takes off on a Thursday to pick his children up from the airport. They tell him about London on the drive home. It's been a month since they moved there with their mother. She still consults with the bureau but she wanted new beginnings for her career. They had this conversation before their world fell apart.
One of his children is adjusting. The other, more dramatic one, wishes to move back to the states immediately.
Good morning.
The texts have faded to Good mornings and Goodnights based on DC time not whatever the hell time it is in London. She still calls but he doesn't answer unless it has something to do with the kids.
But when he finds himself sitting in the emergency room at nine o'clock one evening because their daughter broke her arm, he doesn't call her. Fifteen is old enough to call herself.
Goodnight, Hotch.
August
Good morning
He gets into a knock-down-drag-out fightwith an unsub that ends with the younger guy (just a kid really) in cuffs, a bullet to the shoulder, and him with his ass beat. Reid asks him if he's alright but he's too busy catching his breath to give an answer.
"You're getting old," Jack laughs at dinner. He opted out of moving to London. One, he didn't want to leave his girlfriend. And two, it's his senior year and he doesn't want to spend it making more friends.
He knows that Jack has regular contact with her and Jack knows the entirety of what happened. His son knows how to put aside grudges, unlike him. He stays quiet when Jack tells him that he's going to London next weekend. It's the last weekend before the start of his senior year.
"You can't stay mad at her forever, dad," Jack says.
Jack wouldn't know, he's never been cheated on.
Goodnight.
He starts to text back but changes his mind.
September
His phone rings, it's her.
"Hello?"
"Hey, dad, it's me," his daughter says on the other end. "Mom took my phone."
"Why did she take your phone?"
"It's a long story involving boys."
He sits up straighter in bed, "I'm sorry?"
"Ha!" she says on the other end. "Gotcha! I just wanted to talk to you, is all. It's been a while."
"I know, love bug."
They talk about school and her favorite books. He talks her out of quitting violin but she'll only continue if he swears to come to her concert next summer. He promises. She wants to know about his job and what number girlfriend her Uncle Rossi is on since she left. And when she's done she puts her brother on the phone, but he's too distracted by video games. He passes the phone to his mother.
There's a long awkward silence.
"Goodnight, Hotch," he hears her say.
"Good morning, Emily."
He hangs up but doesn't fall asleep.
October
Good morning.
He schedules a meeting with a lawyer but Rossi talks him out of it. The older man is the only person on the team who knows what happened and he wants him to talk to her. To at least have one good conversation that doesn't involving screaming.
He'll think about it.
Happy Birthday, Em.
She sends back a smiling emoji.
November
He spends Thanksgiving alone.
Not even Jack wants to deal with him, anymore. So, he spends the holiday with his girlfriend and family.
December
He spends Christmas tracking down a female serial killer in New Jersey. He's catching a quick nap at the hotel when Jack calls to tell him that he landed safely. The phone gets taken away by his youngest son who wants to know why he wasn't on the plane as well. He tells him that he had to work.
"But you always work."
He gets home three days after the holiday.
"Hello," answers a voice laced with sleep.
"It's me."
"Is something wrong?"
"I just wanted to hear your voice."
to be continued