Open Season

There was no cell reception on the mountain.

Emily didn't exactly mind – she was used to Ian texting her constantly about things he'd know if he stopped to look before asking her, so the peace was a welcome change.

And sure enough, when they did finally get a cell signal after coming down off the mountain for a night spent in the town's only motel, she had fourteen missed call which, she'd admit, was a new record.

The first one was Ian asking her where the thermometer was. The usual.

The next, he'd apparently found the thermometer. He said Declan had a fever and she was starting to worry. He'd never been sick without her there to take care of him.

By the fifth, Declan's fever was over 103 and Emily wanted to throw up with worry. She wanted to get on the first plane out of Idaho and take her baby boy in her arms and make everything all better. But she couldn't, they still had a case to solve and no one knew she even had a son.

She called Ian, trying to keep the panic from her voice, to keep a level head so he wouldn't scare Declan. She knew he was worried, though. They agreed that he'd watch Declan's fever overnight and if it got any higher, they'd go to the emergency room. She was really hoping it wouldn't come to that.

Ian put Declan on the phone, then, and it was clear in his voice that he wasn't feeling his usual effervescent self. "I don't feel good, Mommy..." he said pitifully.

"I know, Schnecke," she said consolingly. "I know." His sad little voice was wrenching at her heart, making it all the more difficult to stay put.

"I want you to take care of me," he whined. And God, how she wanted to be there just then.

"Mommy has to work, buddy. But Daddy is going to take very good care of you until I get home," she promised.

"I don't want Daddy..." he practically sobbed.

"I'm sorry, baby," she soothed. "I can't come home yet, I'm not done catching the bad guy. But I promise Daddy knows what he's doing. He'll turn on your favourite movies and you can watch them all day long – you won't even notice I'm gone, okay? Before you know it, I'll be home."

"Soon."

"Very soon," she agreed, hoping it was true.

She was woken in the middle of the night by Ian calling yet again. Declan had come down with the chicken pox. He was itchy, uncomfortable, and cranky. And all he wanted was Emily.

Also, Ian wanted Emily. And not just because he never caught the chicken pox as a child somehow. All in all, it was a really shitty time for her to be clear across the country.

Emily had barely gotten any sleep and she had already guzzled a pot of coffee when Morgan joined her in the lobby of the motel. As if sensing her mood, he didn't crack any jokes about her appearance.

He clinked his coffee mug against hers as if commiserating. She grunted in acknowledgement of his greeting, then they drank in silence until Gideon joined them. She was grateful for the companionship, even if it was a silent one.

She was thinking of that moment as they sat across from each other on the jet and she suddenly found herself desperate for the words. "Can I tell you something?" she asked before she knew she was going to say anything.

He smiled fondly. "Anything, Princess."

"And you won't say anything to anyone?" she pressed.

"Not a soul."

"Even Garcia?"

He winked. "Even her."

"I have a son," she said, taking the plunge since she had already gotten that far. "No one else knows – it's a long story. He's six and he's an absolute sweetheart and right now, he's got the chicken pox and I miss him to death..." She let out a heavy breath and sank back into her seat.

If he were surprised by her whirlwind admission, he hid it well. "Chicken pox is the worst," he agreed. "My sisters and I all got it at the same time. I don't think my mom slept a wink all week." He seemed to notice her face fall a little at that. "It must be hard to be away from him so much."

She nodded. "I never thought chicken pox would be so appealing," she said wistfully.

He chuckled a little. "You catch it as a kid?" he asked.

She nodded. "When I was five – we lived in Russia at the time. My mother was busy trying to keep the peace with the Soviets, so she was too busy to take care of me, leaving it to my nanny. She covered all my spots with zelyonka – it means 'green stuff'. Burned like absolute hell, but it worked. I always told myself that I was never going to be that parent that was never there. And yet...here I am."

"Hey," he said gently. "You want to be there. That's a big difference from being an absent parent. I'm sure he understands."

"I never wanted him to have to..."

"Coming from someone who's been there," he said, leaning forwards to take her hands in his, "The fact that you feel bad for missing things, that shows that you're a good parent. I never cared that my dad missed things because I knew it hurt him more than it did me. I just cherished all the more the things he made it to."

"Yeah?" She smiled hopefully.

"You're a hell of a mother, Princess. Trust me."

She fixed him with her best stern glare. "You wouldn't be hitting on a mother, now would you?"

He burst out laughing. "You say that like you're chewing glass," he teased.

"No offence to your mighty ego," she said with a smirk, "But I doubt my fiancé would appreciate your charms."

"Fiancé, huh?" She didn't miss the subtle shift in his flirtatious smile.

She nodded. "Kieran," she said, using Ian's WITSEC identity (it meant 'little dark one' which made Ian laugh). "Irish expat. I met him when I worked in Boston. Declan is his son, but I adopted him when he was three."

"I'd love to meet them someday," he said and she knew he meant it. She didn't point out that it probably wasn't a good idea, given that Ian already had a jealous streak and Morgan flirted like his life depended on it.

Morgan didn't ask why he wasn't allowed to tell anyone about her family, but she knew he was forming his own theories. She also knew he'd keep it to himself – if there was one thing Derek Morgan was, it was a man of his word.

"I'd like that," she agreed, even though it could never happen.