A/N: Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed. I lied when I said this chapter would have Mendoza and Hotch. It was getting too long so that will be in the next chapter instead. There's a little tiny bit of JJ in this one, but it's mostly Emily and Hannah again. The good news is that the next update should be pretty fast. I already have about half of it written.
Chapter 22
Hannah wouldn't remember Emily waking her gently and telling her to go to bed. She was still half-asleep when she got up from the couch and practically fell into the bed in Emily's guest room. As tired as she was, it didn't matter that she was in Emily's guest room instead of her own bedroom. The bed was comfortable, and Hannah fell back asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.
She slept hard until the medicine started to wear off. As it wore off gradually, she started coughing in her sleep, but it wasn't until a particularly hard coughing fit at 5:47 am that Hannah really woke up. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. There was no light streaming in through the crack in the gold drapes covering the windows. Without looking at the time on her phone, the fourteen year old deduced that it was way too early to be up. She fumbled for her phone on the nightstand and stifled a groan when she saw it wasn't even 6:00 am yet. No one should be up at this hour. She hoped her coughing hadn't woken Emily up.
She sat up in bed, looking around through bleary eyes as she reacclimated herself to the layout of the guest room. Hannah could just make out the outlines of the various bottles of medicine on top of the dresser against the wall directly in front of her. She briefly contemplated taking more cough syrup and trying to go back to sleep but didn't feel like she would be able to. Instead, she turned the lamp on the nightstand on and reached for her glass from the night before, draining the few remaining sips of water and immediately wanting more. Her mouth was so dry. She wondered if she could get more water without waking Emily up.
When she ventured into the hallway, Hannah saw that Emily's bedroom door was open and tried to be as quiet as humanly possible as she padded into the kitchen. Although she didn't know it, she didn't need to worry about waking her birth mother up – Emily was lying in her own bed, half-awake. The sound of her child coughing woke her up. Once she heard the girl moving around, Emily got out of bed.
While Emily was in the bathroom, Sergio stretched, hopped down from Emily's bed with feline grace, and made his way to the kitchen where Hannah was. Now that the cat was awake, he was ready for breakfast.
Hannah felt something brush up against her leg and immediately looked down, feeling immensely relived when she realized it was just Sergio. She didn't know what she had expected. "Hey, Serge," she greeted the cat, bending down to stroke his back gently. Without even thinking about it, Hannah adopted the shortened version of the cat's name that she had heard Emily use when talking to him.
Her dog slept with her in her bed at home so Hannah was used to taking care of an animal first thing in the morning. "You don't need to go outside because you're a cat, not a dog," Hannah mused, stating the obvious as she thought about what Alex always needed in the mornings. She was still tired and not really with it yet. "Are you hungry? Where does your mom keep your food?"
As she spoke to the cat, Hannah scooped him up and opened the door to the pantry to see if she could find his food. Alex's food was in a plastic bin on the floor of the pantry so that was the first place she looked for Sergio's food.
"What are you looking for, honey?" Emily asked when she found the girl standing in the doorway of the pantry.
Hannah hadn't even known the woman was awake. Startled, she jumped slightly and spun around to face Emily. Disliking the sudden movement, Sergio leapt down from Hannah's arms and sauntered over to Emily.
"You're worse than Sergio. Wear a bell or something," Hannah grumbled lightly. "What are you doing up so early anyway? Did I wake you up?" Hannah asked with a guilty expression.
"No," Emily lied, not wanting Hannah to feel bad.
"I was going to feed Sergio, but I couldn't find his food," Hannah told the woman.
"Oh, I'll feed him," Emily said. "Can I feed you or are you still on a liquid diet?"
Hannah winced at the idea of swallowing anything solid. "I'm not really hungry."
Emily expected that answer after hearing how hard Hannah was coughing earlier. The girl sounded awful. Emily instinctively felt her child's forehead. It was still warm - a definite sign of lingering fever - but Hannah wasn't burning up.
Her birth mother's hand was cold, and it felt good. The fever had Hannah feeling hot and sweaty one minute and chilled the next, but at the moment she was uncomfortably warm. When Emily removed her hand after mere seconds, Hannah immediately missed the feel of it. Before she withdrew her hand completely, Emily took the opportunity to smooth Hannah's disheveled hair back – an action that made the teenager suddenly self-conscious about how bad her bed head was.
Emily decided to call JJ a little while later and find out what Michael was eating – he had the same thing Hannah had, and, somehow, she didn't think the three year old was having smoothies for every meal. In the meantime, she would make her kid a damn smoothie. First, she fed Sergio since, unlike Hannah, he actually wanted to eat breakfast.
Hannah leaned against the kitchen counter and studied her birth mother as the woman prepared Sergio's bowl. She had never seen Emily like this before – hair in a haphazard ponytail with a few loose strands falling in her makeup free face. Every other time she'd seen her, Emily's hair had been down, sleek and perfectly straight. And Hannah didn't think she'd ever seen Emily with no makeup on. The young teenage girl who'd had no mother to help her navigate the multitude of brands and shades in the aisles of Ulta when she first started wearing makeup always took notice of what kind of makeup her birth mother was wearing. The woman usually wore, at a bare minimum, mascara and a natural-looking pink blush to give her cheeks some color. Sometimes she wore lipstick in a pretty shade of mauve that Hannah had tried unsuccessfully to find. She could have just asked Emily what brand and shade it was, but she didn't – that would have been too easy.
Now that she was seeing Emily with no makeup on at all, Hannah realized Emily had a natural beauty with her clear complexion and big, dark eyes that didn't really need mascara or eyeliner to be her most distinguishing physical feature. The fourteen year old knew she had Emily's eyes. She had no idea what her biological father looked like, but she imagined he had cold, hard eyes. She was glad she had her birth mother's eyes. She didn't want to look anything like the father she had heard nothing but terrible things about. Maybe she would ask Emily what he looked like someday, but she didn't know if she would like the answer. She really didn't want to hear that she had his hair, but she sure didn't get her wavy hair from Emily. She couldn't quite decide if she had the same skin tone as Emily. Standing in the kitchen next to the older woman who didn't need makeup for a flawless look, Hannah felt more self-conscious than ever about every teenage imperfection. She had always hated the freckles on her nose. This was not the first time Hannah had compared herself to her birth mother – an activity that was very normal for any adopted child – but it was the first time she knew for certain that Emily didn't have any freckles covered by foundation.
It wasn't just seeing Emily with her hair in a messy ponytail and with no makeup on that was new for Hannah. It was also seeing Emily do the same kind of mundane domestic duties Hannah had watched her adoptive mom do thousands of times but had never been able to imagine Emily doing. And yet Emily carried herself with the same self-assurance as always as she set Sergio's bowl down, put Hannah's water glass in the dishwasher, and began taking the ingredients that she would need for Hannah's smoothie and her own breakfast out of the refrigerator. The young teenager could easily picture the woman who spoke six different languages and had lived all over the world eating a croissant and sipping coffee in a café in Paris. She had never really been able to picture the jet-setting woman with a kick ass job cooking or cleaning the kitchen, not until she saw Emily doing exactly that.
Emily felt her daughter's eyes on her and looked at the girl. "What?" She asked.
Embarrassed at being caught staring, Hannah looked down and tried to come up with an excuse for her intense scrutiny. She remembered David Rossi telling her about Emily's mishaps in the kitchen and realized she had the perfect excuse. "Dave said to keep an eye on you in the kitchen," Hannah said, looking up to meet her birth mother's gaze with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Because she was used to her skills in the kitchen being questioned, Emily accepted the excuse with a roll of her eyes. "I'm not Julia Child, but I can make a smoothie, Hannah."
"Who's Julia Child?" Hannah asked, her face scrunched up in confusion.
"A famous chef," Emily told her. "She had a cooking show. They made a movie about her - Julie & Julia? Meryl Streep played her." Her kid was just staring at her blankly. Emily gave up on the reference that had gone right over the young teenager's head and handed the girl her smoothie. "Here. Just take your smoothie."
"Thank you." Hannah accepted the glass and took a sip of the icy beverage, letting it soothe her raw throat as she watched Emily crack an egg open. "What are you making now?" The teenager asked warily.
"Scrambled eggs," Emily replied. "Why? Do you want some?"
"No, thanks. Eggs seem…ambitious," Hannah said, trying unsuccessfully to be tactful. Based on Dave's unflattering assessment of Emily's cooking skills, Hannah would have pegged the woman as more of a cereal or bagel person. There were plenty of breakfast foods that required no culinary skills whatsoever.
Emily gave her kid an exasperated look. "Contrary to popular belief, I can actually cook."
"Okay," Hannah said, still looking a little skeptical.
In the end, Hannah had to admit that the scrambled eggs Emily made for herself actually looked good, but she was secretly glad she didn't have to eat the woman's cooking.
Following Emily's lead, Hannah took her smoothie into the living room and sat down on the couch next to the woman, who turned the TV on and queued up the first Harry Potter movie for their marathon.
Hannah glanced at Emily in surprise. "Don't you have to go to work?" It was a Friday, and she didn't want her birth mother to feel like she had to stay home on her account.
"I'm off until the day after New Year's," Emily told her.
"Did you take off because of me?" Hannah asked, not really sure how she felt about that. She knew Emily's job was important. Her lasting first impression of Emily was of the woman in her role as FBI agent. She remembered the older woman looking tall and strong and impressive as she stood there in her suit with her gun holstered at her hip. Now she knew her birth mother wasn't just an agent – she was the boss. "Because you didn't have to do that," the teenager continued without waiting for a response. "You can go to work."
Emily explained that they had too many members of the team taking time off so the BAU was taken out of rotation. Hannah seemed satisfied with the explanation and settled in to watch the first of many movies.
They took a break after the first movie to take showers. Emily's condo had two bathrooms – the en suite in the master bedroom and a smaller bathroom in the hallway that had a tiny shower, a sink with no counter space, and a toilet. It was fine for guests who needed to use a bathroom while they were over but not exactly ideal for a teenage girl to get ready in. Emily told Hannah she could use the master bathroom if she wanted, but Hannah assured her that the guest bathroom was fine.
Emily got her daughter a clean bath towel from the linen closet and made sure the rarely used shower in the second bathroom had body wash, shampoo and conditioner in it before leaving Hannah to it. The girl took note of the brand of shampoo and conditioner. She knew her hair was different from her birth mother's, and Emily's hair products might not work as well on her wavy hair, but she liked the lightly floral scent.
After her shower, Hannah brushed her hair out and put a clean grey hooded sweatshirt and black leggings with a single purple stripe down the side of each leg on – comfortable clothes for lying around the house. When she emerged from the guest bathroom, Emily called her into the master bathroom.
Emily was also wearing more casual attire – a long-sleeve purple workout top and black yoga pants. She was blow drying her hair but stopped when she heard Hannah in the hallway. The woman took a thermometer out of the medicine cabinet and had the girl take her temperature. It was just as she thought - Hannah still had a low-grade fever of 100.1.
"When did you take something last?" Emily questioned. She knew Hannah had Tylenol (among other things) in her room. She thought fourteen was old enough to know how much medicine she could take. While she didn't think Hannah would take too much of anything, Emily wasn't sure if the teenager was staying on top of the fever reducer or just taking it before she went to bed. Emily really didn't want a repeat of the scary high fever Hannah had the first night she was sick.
"Last night," Hannah answered honestly.
Emily shook two Tylenol caplets out of a bottle and gave them to her daughter. "You need to stay on top of the Tylenol. That's the only way your fever's going to stay down."
"Okay," Hannah conceded easily. "It's just that all the medicine is upsetting my stomach, but I think it's mainly the cough syrup." The teenager made a face as she thought of the strong taste that made her feel like she was going to be sick every time she practically gagged it down. It was Nyquil cough syrup, which is what her adoptive parents had always sworn by. Hannah had always hated taking it. She was pretty sure it was the only reason she threw up the other night.
"Cough syrup does taste pretty bad," Emily had to agree. She frowned slightly as she rummaged through the medicine cabinet, moving bottles and boxes out of the way until she found what she was looking for. She handed her daughter an old box of cold and flu medicine in a soft gel pill form. "You can try these pills instead if you want," she offered.
"Thank you," Hannah said, brightening a little. She figured anything had to be better than the nasty cough syrup.
They picked their movie marathon back up with Chamber of Secrets and were at the part where Ginny was taken into the Chamber when Hannah drifted off to sleep. The girl had somehow ended up lying down with her head in Emily's lap again, not that Emily was complaining. On the contrary, the mother was soaking up this closeness with her fourteen year old – a closeness Emily would never have allowed her own mother when she was a teenager, not that Elizabeth Prentiss would have ever taken care of Emily when she was sick. That was what the housekeeper was for. And that upbringing was why Emily was so fiercely independent, both as a child and now as an adult.
Emily knew part of the reason her kid's defenses were down was just because Hannah was sick right now. All kids wanted comfort when they were sick. She remembered Declan, who was always a warm, affectionate little boy, being even more cuddly than usual whenever he wasn't feeling well. She didn't really expect her teenager to be cuddly – teenagers were generally easily embarrassed by parental displays of affection. As kids entered their teenage years, they suddenly shied away from being hugged or kissed by their parents in public. It felt like a huge win to have this degree of familiarity and intimacy in her relationship with the daughter who had been so reserved in their initial interactions – a daughter who had not grown up knowing Emily's love. Emily didn't know if her kid would ever be this open to motherly affection and care from her again, but she was going to take full advantage of it while she could. And she wasn't going to let Hannah go back to keeping her at arm's length once the girl was feeling better. This week would be a turning point for them.
Emily stopped the movie and very slowly and carefully maneuvered to get up without waking Hannah. She then went into her bedroom to call JJ.
"Hey. Do we have a case?" The blonde profiler asked anxiously when she answered the phone.
"No," Emily said immediately, putting her friend's mind at ease. "Is Michael still sick?"
"Yes, but he doesn't think so," JJ replied with a pointed look at her youngest son. He was currently racing a toy car across her kitchen floor…and into her wall with a resounding crash. JJ cringed. That would leave a mark. "He was tired the last couple of days, but today he's just full of energy. Is it too early to give him Benadryl?" JJ joked.
Emily was able to laugh at her friend's struggle since her own kid was a lazy teenager. "I don't know. Hannah can't stay awake for more than a few hours at a time."
"That's how Michael was until today. I miss those days," JJ told her friend lightly.
Of course, JJ was glad her child was acting like he felt better, but now she and Will were fighting a losing battle trying to get the rambunctious three year old to rest. He was an active little boy. He wasn't interested in sitting still and watching a movie or being read to.
"Maybe the reason mine has no energy is because she's hardly eating," Emily mused.
"And mine is probably on a sugar high," JJ said ruefully. "I've lost count of how many popsicles he's had."
The mothers commiserated over the struggle of trying to feed their sick kids. JJ suggested oatmeal and soup – the only healthy foods she'd been able to get Michael to eat the first few days he was sick.
As it turned out, soup sounded good to Hannah. And the teenager wasted no time digging into the box of popsicles Emily bought. In fact, the only thing Emily got on her grocery store run that Hannah absolutely would not eat was oatmeal. The fourteen year old claimed oatmeal looked gross and tasted like cardboard. Emily responded by asking if she ate a lot of cardboard with a deadpan expression.
Hannah took it easy for her first two full days with Emily. They were working their way through the Harry Potter movies slowly but surely, with the sick, tired teenager falling asleep in front of the TV more often than not.
On the third morning Hannah was there, the girl woke up without a fever for the first time and was acting like she felt much better. They were watching the sixth Harry Potter movie, but the restless teenager was tired of doing nothing but watching movies now that she had a little more energy. Hannah was on her phone pretty much the whole time, playing a game to entertain herself while watching the movie she'd seen multiple times but still enjoyed.
Hannah glanced up from her phone when Harry finally figured out who his borrowed Potions textbook belonged to. "Okay, really? How did Harry not recognize the Half-Blood Prince's handwriting as the same handwriting marking his potions essays for the last five years? This is why he's not in Ravenclaw."
Emily looked at her teenager with amusement. "There are so many reasons why he's not in Ravenclaw."
Together, Emily and Hannah proceeded to analyze everything the main character of the series had done that wasn't the most intelligent or was, in Hannah's words, a 'dumbass move.'
They liked the books, but that didn't mean they couldn't enjoy mocking Harry's worst decisions.
The teenager was momentarily distracted by an incoming text message on a group text thread. "Can I go out on New Year's Eve?" She asked suddenly after reading the text.
The question took Emily by surprise. She knew most teenagers would rather be out with their friends than sitting at home with a parent on New Year's Eve, but it hadn't really occurred to her that her sick kid would even be well enough to go out. She hadn't discussed the prospect with Steve at all and didn't know what to do in this situation. "Oh…I don't know," Emily said hesitantly.
"I don't have a fever anymore if that's what you're worried about," Hannah reminded her birth mother unnecessarily.
"You haven't even gone twenty-four hours without a fever," Emily pointed out. But that was actually the least of Emily's concerns. She was just using it to buy some time. She didn't know whether the adoptive father would let Hannah go out on New Year's Eve or how late he let the teenager stay out or…anything really.
"But if I do, can I go out?" Hannah pressed on, undeterred by her birth mother's delay tactic.
"You have to ask your dad," Emily told the girl. It was the only safe answer she felt like she could give. Being either more laidback or stricter than Steve was with her daughter would definitely come back to haunt her later. If she said yes when Steve wouldn't have, he would have every right to be unhappy with her. On the other hand, if she said no, she didn't think Hannah would be too happy with her.
Hannah's face fell with disappointment. She knew her dad would ask questions and had hoped her birth mother would just say yes.
It was wishful thinking on the teenager's part – even if Emily had been comfortable saying yes without talking to Steve, she wouldn't have said yes without asking just as many questions as the adoptive father, if not more. With the things she had seen happen to kids in her job, Emily would never allow her teenager to go 'out' without knowing exactly where the girl was going and what she was doing.
Hannah would never have imagined the cool older woman as the stricter of her two parents. There were still times when she saw Emily as a little bit more of a friend than a parent, though that was changing quickly. The line between the two distinct roles was more blurred than ever in Hannah's mind after her birth mother had spent the last few days coddling her. The woman deferring to her dad on this reminded Hannah that Emily wasn't really her parent, not like her dad was. Of course, that wasn't fair to Emily, but Hannah didn't know everything that had gone on between her dad and her birth mother and failed to grasp the complexity of the situation. To the fourteen year old, it seemed pretty straightforward for the parent she was staying with to give her permission to go out with her friends, but it wasn't straightforward at all. Hannah didn't understand what an uncomfortable position she was putting her birth mother in.
By the time her dad called that night, just as he had every night he'd been gone, Hannah was prepared to make her case to him. She had her arguments ready. Her dad was a fairly stereotypical overprotective dad of a teenage daughter, but Hannah knew how to work him. When her phone rang, Hannah went into the guest room to talk to him.
"Hi, Daddy," was the last thing Emily heard before Hannah made it into the relative privacy of the guest room. Emily smirked slightly at the form of address. She had never once heard Hannah call Steve 'Daddy.' He was always 'Dad.' It was so obvious that the girl wanted something.
A little while later Hannah emerged from the guest room and held her phone out for Emily to take. "My dad wants to talk to you."
A/N: Thanks for reading! This is the last of sick Hannah. I know that's probably getting a little old. Please let me know what you think.
