Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds.
Hello, everyone! Thank you, as always, for your support and reviews. They never fail to make me smile. I've been battling writer's block for well over a month now and this has managed to escape but I'm not sure I like it. It's uber-fluffy, so be warned. I still have plans to make this much longer but when that happens … who knows? Anyways, enjoy this chapter!
Aaron hoped that Jack would sleep through the night but he was disappointed. The young boy woke his father by shaking his shoulder around midnight. Hotch let Jack crawl into bed next to him and that arrangement lasted approximately an hour before Jack was rushed to the bathroom. They repeated this cycle – an hour in bed, an hour in the bathroom – several times and when Aaron's alarm went off, he felt like he had gotten no sleep.
"Do I have to go to school, Daddy?" Jack asked miserably as Aaron wiped his face with a cloth. Aaron shook his head.
"No, bud."
"Are you going to work?"
"No, I'm staying here with you."
Jack sighed and Aaron patted him on the shoulder.
"You'll feel better soon, I promise."
Jack sighed again and looked up at his father.
"I feel bad," he said and Aaron tilted his head.
"Why do you feel bad?" He wasn't sure if his son was talking physically or emotionally.
"I don't want you to get in trouble."
"Why would I get in trouble, Jack?"
"Allie's daddy didn't go to work for a whole week and he got into trouble. All he does is sit at home now. Allie says he's sad all the time. I don't want that to happen to you."
"Is Allie someone in your class?"
Jack nodded.
"Trust me, buddy," Aaron said, smiling. "Everyone wants me to stay home and take care of you today. I won't get into trouble."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Jack's face relaxed slightly but Aaron could tell his son was still worried.
"Hey, Jack, why don't we talk to Mom? Would you like that?"
Jack nodded.
"One second," Hotch said, leaving and returning with a lighter. He lit the white candle that sat on Jack's bedside table and handed the boy the glass jar.
"What do you want to say to Mom?" Aaron asked, carefully watching Jack's face. Underneath all the evidence of sickness was intense sadness.
"I miss you," Jack whispered. "I wish you were here, then Daddy could go to work and you could take care of me."
"How does Mom take care of you, Jack?"
"She reads me stories and snuggles with me while watching Franklin and Berenstain Bears."
A tear ran down Jack's face.
"I'm sorry, Jack," Hotch murmured, rubbing Jack's arm. "I know I'm not Mom but we can still do those things. Mom would want us to do them, especially if they help you feel better."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
Jack sighed, his eyes locked on the flickering candle.
"I love you," he whispered, blowing the flame out. He turned to his father, who took the cup and pulled Jack into a hug.
"So, what will it be?" Aaron asked. "Books or TV?"
"Can I just go to sleep?"
"Of course. I'll be right down the hall if you need me."
Aaron tucked the blankets around his son, moved the waste bin closer just in case, and kissed Jack's forehead. He paused in the doorway and saw Jack staring at the framed photo of him and Haley that was on his bedside table. With a solemn face Hotch retreated to his bedroom.
The team gathered in the conference room early that morning.
"Hey, J.J.," Garcia said, coming in with an armful of files. "Any word from Hotch?"
The blonde shook her head.
"No," she said, glancing at Rossi. "Have you heard from him?"
The older agent checked his phone.
"No messages," he answered. "Is there a case?"
Garcia nodded.
"Triple murder in New Mexico. It's the third one in twelve days."
"That's one heck of a streak," Prentiss commented, glancing at her tablet. Garcia turned to J.J.
"What do we do about Hotch?"
"I'll call him," Rossi said and J.J. nodded agreement, relieved she didn't have to be the one to broach the subject. She knew how difficult it was to leave a sick child behind and Hotch's situation was even more difficult given Jessica's absence.
Rossi went into his office, pulling out his phone.
"Hi, Dave," Hotch's exhaustion carried through the phone line and Rossi frowned.
"Are you sure it's not you with the stomach flu?" he greeted his friend. "You sound terrible."
Aaron wiped his eyes, grateful that Dave couldn't comment on how he looked.
"I'm fine," he muttered. "Or I will be once Jack is better."
"How is he?"
"Not worse but certainly not better. I'm going to call the pediatrician as soon as their office opens."
"How are you holding up?"
"I'm tired. We've been up most of the night."
Rossi raised an eyebrow.
"That wasn't exactly what I was asking, Aaron."
Aaron knew there was very little point in hiding his feelings.
"I've been better," he replied. "Nothing I'm doing helps and Jack wants Haley."
"I'm sure you're doing everything you can." Rossi assured his friend. "I know it may not seem like it but Jack doesn't need you to be Haley; he needs you to be his dad."
Aaron sighed, glancing at the clock.
"It's awfully early for a social call," he said, switching the subject. "What's going on? Is there a case?"
"There is …" Rossi's voice trailed off. "But I think you'd better sit this one out. Jack needs you more than we do."
"Where is it?"
"New Mexico. Triple murder."
Aaron raised an eyebrow.
"Any patterns in victimology?"
"I'm not saying anything more, Hotch." Rossi said firmly. "You are not coming; you need to be with Jack."
Aaron smiled slightly.
"I wasn't going to suggest I come," he said.
"Then why did you ask?" Rossi shot back. "I know you, Aaron. Trust me, you'll be of more use to your son."
"I'm not sure if I should be offended by that."
"You shouldn't be," Rossi replied. "We'll sort out New Mexico with or without you but you're the only one who can help Jack."
Hotch smiled.
"Thanks, Dave."
"Don't mention it."
"You know how to reach me if you need to."
"We won't," Rossi replied. "But Garcia is here if you need anything. Tell Jack we all hope he's feeling better."
"I will. Have a safe flight."
Rossi hung up the phone and returned to the conference room.
"How's Jack?" Garcia asked.
"Same as yesterday," the agent reported. "Hotch is going to call the doctor this morning which means he won't be joining us."
"In that case," Morgan said, assuming command. "Baby Girl, what do we have?"
Hotchner tossed his phone onto the bed beside him and rubbed his eyes again before walking down the hall. Jack wasn't asleep but rather staring blankly past the photograph. Aaron sat on the edge of the bed.
"Hey, bud," he said, smiling. Jack managed a weak smile back.
"How's the stomach?"
Jack shrugged.
"Do you want some breakfast? I can make you a smoothie like Miss Garcia made."
Jack shook his head.
"Maybe later?"
Jack nodded and sighed.
"Alright," Aaron agreed. "I just got off the phone with Uncle Dave."
"Are you going away?"
"No," Hotch said. "I'm staying right here with you."
"And you won't get in trouble?"
"Not a bit," Aaron replied. "Uncle Dave made me promise I would stay with you instead of going to work."
"Really?"
"Yep." Hotch nodded. "And he said to tell you that the entire team hopes you feel better."
"Oh."
Jack sighed again and Aaron frowned slightly.
"Do you want to watch a movie?"
"No."
"What about a book?"
"No."
Hotch sighed.
"What do you want to do?"
"Can you tell me a story about Mommy?" Jack requested and Aaron smiled. He went to the other side of the bed and lay down, Jack curling up next to him.
"Alright," Hotch began. Before he could finish the story of how he and Haley met, Jack was fast asleep.
By afternoon, Aaron could tell Jack was getting uncomfortable and Hotch had just gotten off the phone with the pediatrician.
"Jack?" he asked, going down the hall. "We're going to take a little trip," he said, opening a dresser drawer for a clean shirt.
"Where?" Jack asked sleepily.
"The doctor's."
"I don't wanna."
Hotch turned around, a fresh t-shirt in his hand, and raised an eyebrow.
"The doctor will help you feel better."
"I don't wanna go."
"Why not?"
"Doctors are stupid."
"Jack," Hotch warned.
"I don't wanna go!"
Before Hotch could do anything, Jack ran out of the room and locked himself in the bathroom. Aaron followed, tried the knob, and sighed.
"Jack," he said firmly. "Open the door."
"Only if you promise I don't have to go."
"I can't promise you that," Aaron replied. "The doctor is just going to make sure that everything is alright."
"Everything is not alright." Jack answered and his father frowned.
"What do you mean?" he asked, pressing his ear against the door.
"It's not alright," Jack mumbled, his voice clearly weaker than a moment earlier. Aaron heard what he thought were sobs.
"Jack?" Hotch asked in a softer voice. "Jack, can you please open the door for me?"
"I don't want to go." Jack repeated.
"Jack, please open the door and we can talk about this."
"I don't want to go!"
Aaron felt himself getting frustrated, which was slightly absurd. He successfully negotiated with socio and psychopaths and yet he couldn't get his five-year-old son to open the door. The one difference was that unlike his job, Hotch literally had the key to this situation. Leaving the bathroom door, Hotch went to the kitchen and pulled open the second drawer down. He found the small bathroom key in a dish of rubber bands, thumbtacks, and twist-ties and returned to the door. He put the key in the lock and the door swung open to reveal Jack dry heaving, tears still streaming down his cheeks.
"Jack," Hotch murmured, kneeling next to his son and pulling him to his chest once he was done vomiting.
"I don't want to go." Jack whimpered, exhausted by the effort. Aaron reached over to the sink and got the still-damp cloth, using it to wipe Jack's face. He carried his son back to his room and sat on the bed with him.
"It's alright, Jack. I'm not angry," Aaron began. "But I want to know why you don't want to go to the doctor. You've been there before and it's never been a problem."
"I don't need to." Jack mumbled, not making eye contact with his father.
"Yes, you do. You're sick. Doctors are there to make us better when we're sick, you know that."
Jack didn't say anything.
"You said that everything is not alright. What did you mean by that?"
Jack sighed.
"It's not alright," he said. "Mommy never made me go to the doctor."
"Oh, I see," Aaron replied. "You don't want to go to the doctor because Mom knew how to make it better without the doctor's help. And now that Mom's not here, everything's not alright. Is that it?"
Jack nodded miserably and Aaron sighed.
"Jack," he said. "If Mom were here, I think she'd want you go to the doctor."
"How do you know?"
Aaron smiled.
"Mom would want you to go because she'd be worried about, just like I am. She'd want to make sure everything was okay inside your tummy and doctors can do that. You've never been this sick before, Jack, and we need to make sure it's just the flu and not something more serious."
Jack finally looked up at his father.
"My tummy hurts."
"I know it does, buddy, but the doctor can tell us the best way to help your tummy. What do you say?"
Jack nodded.
"Okay."
Aaron smiled and kissed the still-too-warm forehead.
"That's my brave boy," he said. "Mom would be proud of you, Jack. Now, let's get you cleaned up and ready to go."
An hour later, Jack was sitting on Hotch's lap in the doctor's office. A nurse pulled the thermometer from his mouth, glanced at the reading, and noted it in the computer.
"The doctor will be with you shortly," she said, leaving the room. Jack leaned against Aaron's chest.
"Is your tummy alright?"
There had been an incident on the drive over, one which would result in an interior cleaning of the car later on. Jack nodded but his eyes were closed. Luckily, the doctor appeared a few moments later. He gently examined Jack before talking with Aaron.
"You have nothing to be overly concerned about," he said, smiling.
"So it is just the flu?"
The doctor nodded.
"Yes," he said. "Though it appears to be a rather aggressive strain."
"Is there anything we can do to make Jack more comfortable?"
The doctor shook his head.
"I'm afraid not," he answered. "The usual things – bed rest, fluids, medicine – are the key to conquering this."
He glanced at Jack, smiling. Jack did not smile back.
"Can you do something for me, Jack?" the doctor asked and Jack shrugged. "I need you to eat as much as you can right now. I know your tummy hurts but food is how our bodies get energy to fight off germs. Do you think you can do that?"
Jack didn't respond and the doctor glanced at Aaron.
"I'll keep encouraging it," he told the doctor. "Is there any indication how long the flu will hold on? When can I send him back to school?"
"It varies, of course," the doctor replied. "But another two days or so and I think Jack will begin to feel better but it could take almost a week for him to be back to his normal self. As for school, he can go back after his temperature is normal for twenty-four hours."
"Thank you, Doctor." Hotch said.
"Of course." The doctor said, smiling at Jack. "I hope you feel better, Jack."
"Say thank you, Jack."
"Thanks." Jack's voice was hardly audible and Aaron sensed his son was falling asleep. The doctor nodded at Aaron again before leaving the room.
"Good job, buddy," Hotch said, kissing Jack's forehead. "Come on, let's go home."
Later that evening, Jack's fever had gone up and he was sleeping restlessly. Aaron leaned against the door frame, frowning as he watched. Soup and crackers hadn't gone well but at least Jack had eaten something. With a deep sigh, he left the bedroom and went to the kitchen. He glanced at his phone, noting Dave had tried to call him earlier.
"Aaron," Dave greeted cheerfully when Hotch dialled his friend. "How's Jack? What did the doctor say?"
"It's the flu," Hotch replied. "But it's one of those strains that's like the flu on steroids."
"Poor Jack. How's he feeling?"
"Terrible. His fever spiked about an hour ago. Whenever he's not throwing up, he's sleeping."
"Yikes."
"Yeah," Aaron said with a thin smile. "That about sums it up. How's the case going?"
"It's progressing."
"Progressing as in more bodies?"
"Unfortunately."
"Is there anything I can do?"
"No." Rossi answered firmly.
"Dave, please. I'm going crazy here, I need to do something."
"Sleep. You sound exhausted."
"I can't sleep. Jack needs me."
Rossi sighed.
"Trust me, Aaron. Working on a case is not the thing you need right now."
"Then what is?"
Aaron heard commotion in the background.
"I don't know but I'll call you back."
The line went dead before Hotch could reply.
The commotion at the precinct turned out to be nothing more than a rowdy DUI, though his timing was impeccable as far as Rossi was concerned.
"Fount of knowledge, how may I help you?"
"Garcia," Rossi said into the phone. "I have a favour to ask."
"Shoot."
"I just got off the phone with Hotch,"
"How's Jack?" Garcia interrupted.
"Not well," Rossi answered. "Neither of them are."
"Hotch isn't sick, is he?"
"No, but he's exhausted. Jack keeps waking up and at this rate, Hotch is going to be flat on his back before long."
"What do you want me to do, Sir?"
"Call Kevin and see if he can come to the office for a few hours. If he can,"
"I'll head over straightaway," Garcia replied. "Penelope Garcia's baby-sitting service is at your service."
"Thanks, Garcia. And listen, don't let Hotch talk you out of this. Tell him to take it up with me."
"Got it."
An hour later, Hotch was woken by a knock at the door. Frowning, he stumbled off the couch, checking his watch. He peered through the peep-hole and sighed.
"Garcia, what are you doing here?" he asked, letting the lab tech in. "You need to be working the case."
"Kevin is at the office," Garcia replied. "And, forgive me for saying this, Sir, but you look awful."
Hotch raised an eyebrow but he knew it was true. He likely had bags under his eyes and he hadn't shaved today.
"What are you doing here?" he asked again, noting Penelope was sporting an overnight bag. "Why do you have your go-bag?"
"Because," Garcia replied, taking of her coat. "I am going to take care of Jack tonight so you can get some sleep."
"That's not necessary."
"I beg to differ."
"Garcia."
"Sir."
Aaron sighed.
"Rossi put you up to this, didn't he?"
"Yes," Garcia replied. "And he said I shouldn't let you bully me out of it and if you have any problems to take it up with him."
Jack's voice carried down the hall. Hotch, still groggy from his nap, wasn't quick enough and Garcia reached the bedroom first. Jack was clutching his waste basket.
"It's alright, Jack," Garcia said quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed. She took the bin away once Jack was done. "Well, I bet that was no fun."
Jack shook his head.
"Hey, Jack," Garcia said, smiling at him. "Would it be okay I took care of you tonight so your daddy can get some sleep? We don't want him to get sick, too."
Jack glanced at Aaron, who was in the doorway, and then back at Garcia. He nodded and Penelope looked pointedly at her boss.
"You heard him," she said. "Off to bed with you."
"Come and get me if you need anything," Hotch said with a sigh. "Goodnight, Jack."
"'Night, Daddy."
Hotch went to his bedroom and dialled Rossi again.
"You sent Garcia to take care of my son?"
"Yes," Rossi replied.
"Why? I'm capable of taking care of him when he's sick."
"I didn't say you weren't." Rossi replied. "But you're wearing yourself out. Garcia was more than happy to do it and Kevin is at the office. There's no reason why we couldn't help you."
Hotch sighed.
"Fine," he said. "I suppose I'll go to sleep, since everyone is convinced I need to."
"You do. Goodnight, Aaron."
"'Night, Dave."
As I said, uber-fluffy. But cute nonetheless. The one thing that really bothers me is not knowing what Jack would call the members of the BAU. We know he calls Rossi "Uncle Dave" but it didn't sound right to have any of the others as aunt/uncle. Anyone have an opinion/insight?
Please review =)