Author's Note: As I said on The Hours post a few days ago, I'll come back when I can. I'm here today. Merry Christmas!

Picking up a little later with them, same day.

Little Piggies & Priceless Vases

Hotch pulled up in front of his old house just after three thirty. After he'd turned off the jeep's engine, for a moment he sat there, just staring out at the home that had once held his whole world.

Now just a piece of it was in there.

And at some point, likely some point relatively soon, this would just be another house on another street, that meant nothing to him at all. And that was because Haley had been talking about moving. She wanted something a little smaller, with fewer bedrooms . . . and fewer memories. That's how she'd put it.

Fewer memories.

And he kind of got that. Because even for him, coming back to this address week after week, so often, if he pulled up when the right song was playing on the radio or the right shade of leaves were on the trees, he'd suddenly flash on a different day. A day from his past. Sometimes a good day.

Very often a bad.

Because so much of the last two years at this address, had been bad. Still though, he'd told his ex-wife that if she needed help settling on a new place, he'd take some time and look at her short list with her. And he had made that offer for the days when he flashed on the good memories, and for how he'd once wanted to spend the rest of his life with the woman who now received just a percentage of his paycheck. Because regardless of the pain that she had put him through over the last year of their marriage . . . the separation part . . . he was trying not to be bitter. And he knew, from twenty-three years of knowing Haley, that she didn't know the first thing about buying a house, aside from how to measure for curtains. And he wasn't being a chauvinistic asshole there.

That was experience talking.

For the two houses that they'd owned together, the Starter, and then this home here that they'd finished in, he was the one who had checked the boiler, and the wiring, and had hired the home inspector before their final walk-thru. And he had done all of that before they'd ever put down a penny on the property. So essentially Haley had picked the dimensions of the house that she wanted, and he had found her a house that was built to last.

Unfortunately Hotch couldn't say the same for the marriage.

Although as he walked up the front pathway, thinking about how it had all turned out with first Emily, and then Hotchkin, he was reminded that those were good things.

The best things ever.

Which meant that really, there shouldn't be any further lamenting over the demise of a marriage that had stopped working years ago. It had worked for long enough. Long enough to make Jack.

And Jack was enough to make every day of it worthwhile.

It was a point Hotch vowed to keep in mind every time he walked up these steps, and rang this bell. Because even if Haley was still going to bust his balls from time to time because she wasn't yet ready to move on from the past, well, hell, that was on her.

Because he had moved on already.

So all that lingering annoyance and frustration that would pop up from those bad days in the past, or the occasional ball busting days in the now, what the hell was the point of that? Again, the universe had already evened his accounts by giving him Emily and Hotchkin. Plus, he still got to see Jack every weekend, and talk to him every night. And that was a pretty good custody arrangement. The best really he could get given the current travel demands of his work, combined with Jack's young age.

What he had was better than what most divorced dads walked away with.

And that wasn't even counting the 'allowances' Haley gave him beyond what was just in the court papers. She never busted his balls on those days where a particularly bad case, would make his world go to black. No, if he asked to pick up Jack for dinner on a random Wednesday, or called much too late in the evening just because he needed to make sure his boy was all right, she was always nice about it. Always understanding. So he should be grateful for that too.

Grateful that she could still be kind.

So when Hotch saw the knob start to turn on the door that he no longer entered, he made sure to put a smile on his face. A real one, not the wry one that he'd been expressing to his ex for the last ten months. And when Haley stepped into the doorway, he could see the faint look of surprise on her face.

"Hi."

The word came with a confused twisting of her brow. Like she couldn't quite figure out what exactly he was so happy about.

But before Hotch got out more than a pleasant, "hello," he heard the sound of little sneakers pounding down on the hardwood. And seeing the flash of movement coming up fast behind his ex-wife, Hotch's small, polite smile, broke into a full, two dimpled, grin.

"Hey, buddy!" Hotch called out as he twisted to look behind his ex-wife, "how ARE you?!"

"DADDY!"

The word came as an exuberant screech, while Jack raced down the last few steps of the front hall. And realizing what was about to happen, Haley jumped to the side so Hotch could catch Jack as he made a flying leap into his father's arms.

"I missed you whole bunches!" Jack yelled as he slammed into his father's chest.

And feeling his eyes immediately start burn, Hotch gave Jack a tight squeeze in return.

"Yeah, pal," he cleared over the lump in his throat, "I missed you whole bunches too." Then he leaned back to look down at him, "but I'm home now, and we're going to have a great weekend. Pizza for dinner tonight, and afterwards we'll watch Shrek before bedtime." Hotch's eyes crinkled as he brushed back his son's hair for the first time in three weeks.

"Does that sound good?"

Although he had already seen Shrek more times than he could count, tonight, Hotch would happily sit through it again. Because it was one of his son's favorite movies. And after a miserable seventeen days apart, it was all about making Jack happy.

So seeing his little face light up, right before he fist pumped a, "YES!," Hotch knew that the proposed 'green ogre' viewing plans for the evening, were good ones. And as he shifted his son over and onto his hip, Hotch's eyes snapped back to his ex-wife's.

She had a faintly amused expression on her face.

He ignored it.

"All right," his eyebrow inched up, "so Monday morning around eight?"

Another allowance . . . letting him extend out the weekend.

"Yep," Haley nodded while handing him Jack's backpack . . . Mr. Bobo, Jack's prized bear, had his head poking out the top of the bag, "that's fine. And uh," she cleared her throat, "if you'd like to take him for dinner a couple days next week, that's fine too." Haley's gaze shifted down to her son leaning against his father's chest.

"He's missed you," she finished quietly.

Feeling a stab of physical pain at her words, Hotch tried to cover his wince by looking to the ground. But Haley saw the movement for what it was . . . shame . . . and to his surprise, she actually reached out to touch his arm. Then she leaned up to whisper in his ear.

"I didn't tell you that to make you feel badly, Aaron, I told you that so you'd know how much he loves you."

Then she dropped back down, and when his slightly watery gaze shifted over to hers, she gave him a soft, genuine, smile . . . the first one in a year.

"You guys have a good weekend," she said quietly. "And you," her eyes snapped over to her son's as both her smile and voice brightened, "be a good boy for Daddy." She smacked a quick kiss on Jack's cheek, "I love you, baby."

"Say goodbye, Jack," Hotch prompted with a husky whisper. And Jack responded with a dutiful, "bye bye, Mommy."

And so they started down the steps, with Hotch wiping the corner of his eye, and Jack waving happily over his shoulder.

"Bye bye, Mommy!" He called out again, "bye bye!" And Hotch couldn't help but chuckle.

He was such a happy boy.

God . . . he gave him a tight squeeze . . . what had he ever done to deserve him?

"Hey, buddy," he patted Jack's bottom, "how about we stop and get some ice cream for after dinner?"

From the immediate, "YAY ice cream!" and second fist bump in as many minutes, Hotch had confirmation as he walked up to the jeep, that once again he'd proposed a solid activity plan for the evening. His eyes crinkled.

Thank God three year olds were easy to please!

/*/*/*/

Hotch got back to Emily's a little before five.

This was after a quick run to the 7/11 to get the milk (promised to Emily) and ice cream (promised to Jack), before stopping by Hotch's apartment to not only grab replacements for his ready bag, and his extended local stay at Emily's . . . until she could maneuver those stairs on her own, he wasn't leaving her alone . . . but also to pick up a few of Jack's basics, to cover him for his two night sleepover there.

Basics for Jack included, but were not limited to, toothbrush, pajamas, fire truck blankie, four animated movies (Shrek was on the top of the stack of course), three Dr. Seuss books, two Golden books, pack of crayons, two coloring books, the Super Friends Memory Game (basically you matched up the super hero pictures with the identical super hero pictures, Hotch enjoyed it) a half dozen toy soldiers, and an equal number of Matchbox cars.

It wasn't everything that Jack had back at Hotch's, but it should be plenty to cover him for the weekend.

And although Hotch had explained to Jack in the car that they were having a, "fun," sleepover at daddy's friend's house . . . a point that Hotch maybe should have mentioned to Haley too, but, oh well . . . and Jack had seemed fine with that news at the time, he'd actually started to get a bit anxious when they pulled into Emily's parking lot. And now that they'd reached Emily's door, it was clear that his son's anxiety was inching through the roof.

It was even worse after Hotch pulled out his keys.

And looking down to see him clenching Mr. Bobo so tightly in his arms (his little fingertips were turning white where they were pressing into the brown fur), Hotch's expression immediately softened as he put their bags on the carpet. Then he knelt down on one knee to give his boy a hug.

"It's okay, buddy," he whispered in his ear while giving him a gentle squeeze, "you don't have to be nervous. I promise we're going to have a good time here. We'll have pizza and watch TV, but we'll just be sitting on a different couch while we do it. And my friend," his eyes crinkled slightly . . . and very much involuntarily, "Miss Emily, she's a very nice lady. I think you'll like her. But she did have that little accident I mentioned to you, so she'll probably be sleeping a lot anyway. So it'll mostly be me and you, just like always," he patted his back, "all right?"

He'd had to mention Emily's "accident" to prepare his son for the bruises on her face. Although they'd faded considerably since her abduction a few weeks earlier, the discoloration of her skin was still noticeable. Now it was mostly a brown and yellow tint on her cheek and around her eyes.

It was still enough to catch his son's attention.

Though at the moment Hotch wasn't sure exactly what had caught his son's attention. He was clearly thinking about something. But after a few more seconds of him nervously staring . . . and Hotch beginning to feel like the worst father in the world for putting his little boy through the ringer like this . . . Jack finally bit his lip.

"I play cars?" He asked quietly.

Feeling a flood of relief that THIS was the major issue troubling his boy, Hotch immediately shot him two dimples.

"Absolutely you can play cars, bud! That's why we packed them. A whole bunch. And you can color, and you can read your books, and you can do everything else that you do at Daddy's house. It'll be all just the same." He touched his cheek, "I promise."

It took a second for what he said to sink in, but finally Hotch saw the tension start to leave that sweet little face. Then Jack gave a tiny nod.

"'K."

It was clear that he was he still nervous about going somewhere new, but at least he no longer looked completely terrified at the prospect.

Like Hotch was dragging him off to the electric chair or something.

And though Hotch would have liked to pick him up to carry him the last few steps inside, with all the bags, toys and bedclothes, he didn't really have a free arm. So he had to suffice with one more hug, and one more kiss on the cheek, before he climbed back up to his feet. Then he put the key in the lock, and turned the knob.

The door was slowly falling back as Hotch picked up all of their bags and weekend gear again.

And once his arms were full, he gently guided Jack through the entranceway with his knee.

"See bud," he said softly, "it's nice in here, nothing scary."

Fortunately Emily, and by extension Emily's home, were both very 'inviting.' No weird clown paintings or shiny black furniture.

Basically nothing that would have put Jack out of his element.

Nope . . . Hotch turned around to shut the door with his hip and flip the deadbolt with his elbow . . . everything was all very 'normal' and cozy. It even smelled nice and cozy from that cinnamon potpourri Emily kept on the side board. So as he and Jack continued down the hall, Hotch pointed out the bathroom off to the right, and then the kitchen off to the left.

And then they reached the living room.

Jack had been slowly shuffling along the whole short trip through the apartment. Mr. Bobo was still clenched in his arms, but when they walked into the living room, Hotch saw Jack's grip lessen slightly before he looked up at his father with a bright smile.

"Piggies!"

For a second Hotch had NO idea what the HELL he was talking about, but then his eyes shot across the room to where Jack's had been looking a moment before, and he started to chuckle.

"That's right, buddy," he huffed while dropping their bags to the carpet, "piggies."

Emily's ceramic piggy bank collection. It was a small, though admittedly quite amusing, little gathering of porcine figures that she'd been picking up at Target over the last year and a half. They were all designed for different occupations and activities. Rodeo Pig, Hello Kitty Pig, Downhill Racer Pig, and Hotch's personal favorite . . . Construction Worker Pig. He didn't know why that was his favorite.

He just liked it.

And Jack, after a quick, surreptitious look around to make sure that they were really alone . . . like Emily was going to jump out at them from behind the sofa, perhaps . . . darted across the room to get a closer look at the piggy banks.

Fortunately, given that the pigs were on shelves about two feet above his head, there was no risk of Jack actually knocking them down. Still though, Hotch added the perfunctory, fatherly, "just look okay, pal, don't touch." To which he got back the perfunctory, childly, distracted murmur of, "k,' Daddy."

Which Hotch wasn't quite sure meant that he was actually listening to the instruction, or had already memorized it as a rote autonomic response to parental nagging.

Something akin to breathing.

Either way, though Jack was bouncing on his little sneaker covered toes, his tiny fists were staying firmly clenched down at his sides.

For now.

And after he pried his boy away from the bookcase, and settled him down in on the carpet with his bag of toys, and SpongeBob on the TV, Hotch patted his head, and whispered, "be right back, buddy."

Then he practically sprinted to get up the stairs to check on Emily.

Although when he reached the middle of the upstairs corridor, he ended up having to stop short. But that was because the woman in question was just coming out of the master bedroom.

"Hey," he hurried over to give her a kiss, "how are you feeling?"

Emily's eyes crinkled as Hotch pulled back.

"I'm good," she answered softly, "had my slice and my soda, and took a little nap, but I just heard the TV come on down there, so I figured you guys were back and I'd come say hi." Then she brushed her hand across her chest.

"Do I look okay?" She asked with a faintly worried brow, "I thought it might look strange for him to see a big person in pajamas in the middle of the afternoon, so I got dressed."

Well not so much 'dressed' as she changed out of her Hello Kitty nightclothes and into Hotch's Academy t-shirt (it was looser over her stomach than her own), and her plain navy pajama bottoms (which were also getting a bit snug in the elastic waist).

She'd also put on a bra, because . . . duh.

"Sweetheart," Hotch's lips twitched as he brushed Emily's hair back behind her ears, "you look adorable either way. And for future reference," he pressed a kiss to her forehead, "he probably would have loved your Hello Kitty pajamas. The first thing he did when he came in, was run over to look at your ceramic pigs."

"Oh," Emily's face lit up, "he liked the pigs!?"

Oh good! That was at least something they could talk about. Because she was thinking after Hotch left, that she had no little kid books, or toys, or anything else in her home that a three year old would consider, "fun."

"He very much liked them," Hotch's eyes crinkled slightly. "I had to make sure he was setup with SpongeBob and a Dr. Seuss before I left him alone down there."

It was of course just then that Hotch heard a small crash from 'down there.' He flinched.

Crap.

And as he turned to run down the hall, a thought popped into his head that he'd never had before, 'please God, don't let that have been a pig!'

But no, Hotch shook his head as he stopped short at the landing and looked down over the rail, it wasn't a pig. It was a vase. And by his recollection of general dinner chit chat with Emily, it was an antique one that she'd picked up in Italy. It was about three hundred years old.

So basically NOT something that he could replace with a gift card for Pier One.

And even though Hotch knew that he needed to run down and tend to his son/get the glass off the floor, still he paused for a moment to look over at his girl with a faint wince.

She'd just turned up at his side.

"I'm so sorry, Emily." He shook his head regretfully, "I should have childproofed the room before I left him alone."

In his defense though, he'd only left the room, fifty-three SECONDS ago! The room should have survived intact, for fifty-three seconds!

Emily's eyes crinkled.

"Honey, it's fine." She patted his arm, "it was time I rearranged some stuff down there anyway. I think in the upstairs closet I have a nice set of," her lip quirked up, "non-breakable tea tins, I picked up in England. We'll replace all the glassware on the shelves, with those instead. But in the meantime," she slipped her hand into his and started walking them over to the stairs a few feet away, "help me down there so I can say hi and tell him it's okay the vase got broken."

Because that really was HER only concern at the moment, making sure Hotch's son wasn't terrified of coming back to her house again!

Because sure enough, just then she heard a small, teary sniffle coming from downstairs. And then, "Daddy, I broked it!" and she felt a pang in her own chest.

Oh! The poor thing!

And even as Hotch was walking them down, and calling over to his son that it was, "okay," Emily could see the little tears sliding down the little face. And as soon as they reached the living room, Jack made a beeline across the room.

He crashed into Hotch's stomach.

"I sorry, Daddy!" He cried again, now into his father's shirt, "I wanted to see the piggies!"

And even though she hadn't even been INTRODUCED to this little boy yet, Emily's eyes started to sting. Maybe it was just the pregnancy hormones, or maybe it was just that he sounded completely HEARTBROKEN (poor baby!), but before Hotch could do more than even put his hand on top of his son's head, she was wiping away a tear from the corner of her eye.

Then Hotch pulled his arm off her waist to hoist his son up from the floor.

"It's okay, buddy," he murmured while rubbing his hand down Jack's back, "I know it was an accident."

Though . . . Hotch bit back a sigh . . . it was a VERY unfortunate one for the first introduction of his son to what would, hopefully, one day be his stepmother!

Speaking of . . . he shot a side eye look at Emily to see her practically on the verge of tears herself . . . he still needed to actually get this introduction done. And hopefully do it before Emily's empathetic pregnancy tears resulted in a full on sob fest between the two of them!

So after giving Jack a few more seconds of sniffing, and rubbing his nose on his shirt (one he was planning on changing anyway) Hotch patted his back.

"Feel better?" he whispered in his ear, and Jack sucked in a ragged breath, "uh huh." So Hotch shifted his son slightly to move him onto his hip, before he gestured over to Emily.

"Okay then," he gave Jack a little smile, "this is my friend, Miss Emily. Remember, we talked about her in the car?"

Emily's eyes crinkled. They were still slightly watery, but her tears were mostly staying where they belonged.

Off her face.

"Hi, sweetie."

Emily greeted Hotch's son with the softest tone she could manage, while still speaking audibly. Anything to keep from frightening him off. But still, for a second Jack didn't respond to her. He just stared over, his eyes wide and glistening. And then again . . . he burst into a fresh batch of tears.

"I sorry!"

"Oh honey," she murmured while taking his little fingers, "please don't cry. It's okay. I'm not angry, and your daddy's not angry. It doesn't matter that the glass got broken. It was just an accident."

Hearing another pitiful sniffle, right before Jack lifted his head, Emily made sure to give him a soft smile.

"So how about we go find some milk while daddy cleans up that glass?"

Though she would have liked to offer him a cookie . . . that was her personal 'post cry' preference as a kid, slash adult . . . she figured that might send the wrong message about breaking the vase. Yes, it was an accident, and accidents happen quite often when you're three. But he was still touching something that apparently Hotch had already made clear he wasn't supposed to touch. So cookies didn't seem right. Cookies were a "treat."

Milk was a neutral.

And she could see from the little nod hat Hotch gave her over Jack's head, that her offer had been the correct one.

Score one for the future mom!

Still though, Jack was a little wary about taking her fingers . . . understandable, she was a new person . . . so after Hotch put him on the floor with a gentle pat, and a, "it's okay. Go on with Miss Emily, buddy, I'm just going to get the glass over here," Emily sufficed with just guiding him along with her hand on his shoulder.

He was still sniffing and rubbing his nose as they walked down to the kitchen.

Then Emily stopped short.

"Oh wait," she looked back, "Aaron, did you buy milk? Because you said the other one went bad, right?"

That's good Em, make your first promise to the kid, a lie!

"Oh, yeah, yeah," Hotch bounded over to the groceries he'd left on the coffee table, "I did pick up milk." He picked up the bag, "here it is. And uh," he looked up with a wince as he started walking into the kitchen, "and there's ice cream in here too," he held the bag out with a wry smile, "melting, ice cream."

Oops.

Emily started to laugh.

"Well," she snorted, "we'll just count the points for buying the ice cream, and not the points for melting it." Then she looked down to Jack with a little smile, "silly daddy, huh? Melting the ice cream on the table."

Jack looked up with a tiny, nervous, smile.

"Uh huh," he rubbed his watery eye, "silly daddy."

Feeling an immediate burst of happiness, Emily's head snapped up as her gaze shot over to Hotch's.

'He smiled at me!' She mouthed with a big grin.

Hotch began to laugh at Emily's reaction to Jack, but he quickly covered that by bringing the back of his hand up to his mouth.

Three minutes in, he huffed to himself, and they were already adorable together.

Then he leaned over to kiss her cheek, before he leaned down to kiss the top of Jack's head.

"You guys have your milk," he gave Jack a gentle pat to the back, "and then we'll have pizza, okay?"

"Right," Emily nodded happily as she pulled the bag closer to her chest, "pizza. And you bought stuff for salad, so maybe," her eyes shot down to Jack's, "we could get the salad ready while Daddy cleans up, okay?"

Jack sniffled, and nodded.

"K," then he wiped his other eye while adding with a matter of fact sniff, "Daddy says I'm a good helper."

"Yeah," Emily shot a grin over to Hotch, "is that right, Daddy?"

Sweet Jesus, this kid was flipping ADORABLE! Was this the angel faced little specimen, an example of the kind of babies Aaron Hotchner's sperm made?! Was THIS what she was getting?! Because seriously, thank GOD she got on that Baby Hotchner Bandwagon before somebody else snatched him up!

"He is," Hotch chuckled while patting his boy's head, "he is a very good helper. So you guys do your stuff and I'll grab the food from upstairs once I'm done in the living room."

And with an agreeable, "okay, sounds like a plan to me," from Emily, the three of them separated again.

Though as Hotch walked over to the bookcase, from behind him, he could hear the other two chattering in the kitchen. His eyes crinkled.

He was just so happy that they were getting along.

Though ten seconds later, when he actually reached the remnants of the three hundred year old vase, he was surprisingly, a bit happier still.

"Oh hey, Emily," he called over as he stooped down, "I actually might be able to glue it. The pieces are pretty big." Then he looked across the room at her standing over by the refrigerator, "do you want me to try? Or I could just gather them and bring them to a restorer to have it done professionally."

"No, no," Emily's brow darkened slightly as she pushed the freezer door shut with her hip, "don't be silly. I'm sure you can do it," Then she winked at him, "I have faith in you. And either way once you're done," she looked down at Jack with a little smile, "we'll have a new, one of a kind, vase."

Perhaps one that someday they would put out for special occasions and family dinners. It could be a 'memento' of their first meeting together. And she could hear Hotch huff, "yes, that is true it'll definitely be a one of a kind," as he set about gathering up the chunks of glass. So she turned back to Hotch's mini me, standing by her side.

He was still waiting for that glass of milk.

And he was doing it so patiently, with his chubby little tear stained cheeks, and his wide eyes staring up at her, that he made her ovaries hurt. She just wanted to scoop him up into a giant bear hug!

But of course if she did that, she'd probably scare the ever living crap out of the kid, and he'd run screaming into his father's arms. Which meant that basically said course of 'bear hug action' was a big fat, "no."

So instead of giving into her new mommy instincts, she just gave Jack a little smile as she pointed back to the jug on the counter by the sink.

"Come on, sweetie," she put her hand on his shoulder to start walking him around the island, "let's go get that milk now."

A/N 2: Eagle Eye Girl'verse readers, might recall Emily dragging Hotch off to Target to buy ceramic pigs in "To Rossi's House We Go." Again, different story, same possessions :) And also, fun to find a new way to tie things in from one universe to the next.

And if you just read "The Sick Boy and The Sitter" this is a good dichotomy to see the Emily/Jack relationship between day one and the point where she is basically pseudo step-mom. Also, Mr. Bobo's first appearance in this world! He is sort of a secondary character :)

Thanks everyone!