Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds.

… so this is probably a bit unheard of in the fanfiction world but yes, two years after my last chapter update, I have returned. It's been an absolutely insane two years but in a new city, new apartment, and new school, the urge to get back in touch with this story has come thanks to finding the chapter outlines in the bottom of a box while moving. I'm terribly sorry for the wait and thank you all, in advance, for coming back. I hope to keep working on this and while I can't promise the speediest updates, I can promise it won't be two years again! I hope you enjoyed the long awaited continuation.

Dr. Keyes returned as she'd promised and collected the vials of blood from Aaron before inserting an IV line into his right wrist.

"What's in it?" he asked.

"Tylenol and saline," she answered, taping the cannula into place. "It's the only thing I can give you until we know what's making you sick. At the very least it will help your fever and keep you hydrated."

Hotch nodded and nestled his head against the pillow.

"Don't be afraid to call for myself or Dr. Reynolds if you need anything," Dr. Keyes told him. Hotch nodded again and, once Dr. Keyes had walked back to the desk she and Dr. Reynolds were using at the far end of the room, his head rolled to the left to look at Jack. The younger Hotchner was still asleep, the cloth Aaron had been using to wipe his face still resting on top of the covers.

"Hey," a female voice said softly and Hotch turned his head. J.J. was walking down the make-shift ward, a book clutched in her hand, and Hotch smiled at her.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Like a failure," admitted Hotch, slightly surprised he'd said it so bluntly. But then again, he and J.J. often talked about the realities of being a parent and an F.B.I. agent so why should he bother to hide it now?

"You can't blame yourself for this," J.J. told him. "That's exactly what the," she glanced over at the desk but Dr. Keyes was typing, focused on her computer screen and not listening to them. "What the unsub wants." J.J. finished.

"I didn't mean as an F.B.I. profiler."

"I know," answered J.J. with a knowing smile. "Neither did I."

"I hate everything about this. I can't make my son feel better, my entire team is in quarantine, your son is sick, and I can't manage to keep myself healthy enough to take care of the kids or help with the case."

"You can't think of it that way," J.J. insisted. "You're thinking like someone too close to the investigation."

"How else am I supposed to think? Our sons are lying there, poisoned."

"Exactly." J.J. emphasized. "They've been poisoned. You couldn't make Jack better because he wasn't supposed to get better. Neither was Henry. That's not failing at parenting, Hotch, and neither was getting sick. For all we know you've been poisoned as well."

"How?"

"I don't know, we're still trying to figure it out."

Aaron nodded but didn't respond. His mind was swimming with feeling of guilt and unanswered questions but mostly he just felt sick.

"Close your eyes," J.J. told him. "I'll be here in case Jack wakes up."

Hotch nodded again and lowered the hospital bed to a comfortable sleeping position. Within a few minutes he had drifted off and J.J. had settled herself in an armchair between Henry and Jack. For a while, she tried to read but her mind was too busy to focus. Finally, she closed the book and looked at Henry.

She could sympathize with what Hotch was feeling; there was nothing worse than watching Henry suffer and not being able to do anything about it but she was trying to keep an objective opinion.

"Daddy?" a small voice drew J.J. from her thoughts and she turned away from Henry to face Jack.

"Hey Jack," she said softly, smiling at him. "How do you feel?"

Jack rubbed his eyes with a clenched fist.

"Sick," he mumbled. "What's wrong with my dad?"

J.J. glanced past Jack at Aaron, who was still sleeping, and then smiled again at the little boy. She got up from her chair and sat on the edge of his bed.

"Your dad's got the flu, just like you do."

"Is it my fault?"

J.J. shook her head.

"No."

Jack looked so unsure of himself that J.J. pulled his little hands into hers.

"I promise you didn't do anything wrong," she said, squeezing Jack's hands. "Do you think you could eat something? Your tummy must be hungry."

Jack shook his head.

"No?" J.J. pressed. "What about something to drink?"

Jack pondered this.

"Can Miss Garcia play the straw game with me again?"

"The straw game?"

Jack explained the game and J.J. smiled.

"I'll go ask her," she promised, standing up. She hurried up the stairs and was on her way to the study, the room the BAU had decided to use for the investigation, when she found Dr. Reynolds in the hallway.

"Is everything okay?" she asked. Dr. Reynolds hadn't been doing anything specific, just milling around a few paces from the door. "Are you looking for someone?"

"No," Dr. Reynolds answered. "I was admiring the art."

He motioned to a painting hanging on the wall and J.J. glanced at it. It was a dull landscape painted in the impressionist style.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Dr. Reynolds asked, turning to gaze at it again.

"Sure," agreed J.J. "But if you'll excuse me, I need to speak with Garcia."

She walked past the doctor and went into the study. The encounter hadn't done anything to reassure her of Dr. Reynold's character – she had noticed earlier that he wasn't the most personable of doctors – but she didn't have time to dwell on it. She knew that Jack's desire for a smoothie wouldn't last forever.

"Garcia," she said. The lab tech looked up from her computer.

"How's Hotch?" she greeted in return.

"Sleeping," answered J.J. "But Jack is awake and was wondering if you'd play the straw game with him again."

Garcia's smile grew until it lit up her face and J.J. saw how much she valued taking care of the kids.

"Of course," she said, standing up quickly. "Provided there are straws in the kitchen."

"Cupboard above the fridge," Rossi said without looking up from the file he was reading. Garcia smiled at J.J. again and then hurried out of the room.

"What's the straw game?" Reid asked.

"Something Garcia cooked up to make Jack drink a smoothie, I think," J.J. answered. "Every time he takes a sip, he adds another straw to the cup. They try to see how many straws he can make fit."

"Distraction tactic," Reid commented and J.J. nodded.

"How's it going in here?" she asked quietly.

"We're still cross-checking names," answered Emily. "But so far nothing has come up. Garcia said it will take a while, though, something about a slow internet connection and getting past the Bureau's firewalls."

J.J. raised an eyebrow.

"We decided not to ask if it was legal," Morgan said in response and J.J. nodded again.

"How's Henry?" asked Will.

"Also sleeping," J.J. told him. "I should probably be getting back down there, I told Hotch I'd stay with Jack if he woke up."

J.J. met Garcia at the top of the stairs and together they went down, Garcia holding a handful of straws and a big plastic cup containing a smoothie.

"Hey Jack," Garcia whispered when she got close enough. Jack gave a small smile and sat up. J.J. adjusted his bed and pillows for him and then sat in the armchair, watching the game progress. She had to admit it was simple but effective; Jack finished the entire cup and broke his record.

"Fourteen straws, octopus fist bump!" Garcia exclaimed and Jack giggled as Garcia's hand moved away like the tentacles of an octopus. "Do you remember what comes next?"

Jack nodded.

"A nap," he answered.

"Right you are," Garcia replied, smiling.

"Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?" The joy of the straw game had left Jack and he sounded young and afraid.

"Of course, sweetheart," Garcia murmured. She put the empty cup and used straws on the floor and went around to the other side of the bed. Settling herself, Jack curled up against her and Garcia began running her fingers over his back lightly.

J.J. watched in admiration how much love and affection Garcia showed while taking care of Jack. It was a real testament to how close their team was – they were more than co-workers, they were family.

It didn't take long for Jack to fall asleep but Garcia didn't leave the bed or stop rubbing the tiny shoulders and for the better part of an hour, the room was quiet. The silence was broken by Henry crying.

"Hey little man," J.J. said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "What's wrong?"

Henry couldn't articulate anything as he fought himself awake.

"Did you have a bad dream?"

Henry nodded and J.J. collected him in her arms, finding it difficult to do with the IV tube snaking up to the bag of fluid.

"Shh," she soothed, rocking him back and forth and kissing his head. "It's alright, mommy's here."

Henry curled into the familiar body and J.J. could feel the heat radiating from her son's forehead. Garcia looked on with concern.

"His fever's not getting any better," J.J. muttered as she continued to hold her son. As she readjusted his position in her arms, her brow furrowed.

"Henry?" she asked quietly. "Did you have an accident?"

Henry nodded, tears still running down his cheeks in shiny tracks. J.J. sighed and kissed the hot forehead again.

"Doctor?" she called and Dr. Keyes joined them a moment later.

"He's wet himself," J.J. told her. "Can I give him a bath?"

Dr. Keyes nodded and unhooked the tubing from the cannula.

"Try not to get his hand wet if you can and if you don't mind, I'd like to do a quick exam while the bath is running," the doctor said and J.J. nodded. It was at this point that Garcia finally got off Jack's bed, carefully moving so the little boy didn't wake up.

"I'll go run the bath," she said and disappeared upstairs. Dr. Keyes asked J.J. to lay Henry on his back and then proceeded to listen to his heart and lungs, check his temperature, and feel his abdomen.

"Thank you," she said, looping the stethoscope back around her neck. "You can take him for a bath now."

"Is there anything new?" asked J.J., picking Henry up again.

"No," Dr. Keyes answered. "But the good news is that Henry is no worse than he was when I last examined him." She glanced at her watch. "I suspect we'll be receiving the test results in about three hours," she continued. "And then we'll be able to start more aggressive treatment."

The evening wore on. J.J. bathed Henry but it was Will who carried him back downstairs and tucked him into a clean bed. Not long after Will had gone downstairs, Dr. Keyes appeared in the doorway of the study.

"Excuse me," she said. "But I was wondering who I could speak to about Jack Hotchner's care now that Agent Hotchner has been taken ill?"

"Me," answered Dave, standing. "Let's go to the kitchen."

Rossi led the doctor to the kitchen and put on a pot of water for tea.

"How are they doing?" he asked, setting out two mugs and retrieving the teabags.

"Alright, given the circumstances," the doctor admitted. "But I need to take Jack off his antiemetic medication."

"Why?"

"As you know, we're expecting the test results from Atlanta around midnight and, as I discussed with Agent Hotchner before he took sick, the medication needs to be decreased before we can introduce any new drug."

"But won't taking him off of it make him sicker?"

"It won't make him sicker in the sense that the disease will have become more severe," the doctor said. "But you are right, he will start vomiting again. The medication is merely masking that one symptom."

Rossi sighed as he set a mug of tea in front of Dr. Keyes.

"Thanks," she said, picking it up and blowing the steam.

"There's no way to keep Jack comfortable while waiting for the test results?"

"I'm afraid not."

Rossi sighed.

"Then I suppose you'd better do what you need to. Can I stay with him?"

"Of course."

"And how's Aaron?"

"Agent Hotchner is stable for the time being. His symptoms are not as severe as Henry or Jack's. Most notably, he's not vomiting and his temperature is relatively low."

"Do you expect that to change?"

"If he is being made sick by the same strain of influenza as Jack and Henry, it most definitely will get worse. I took new blood samples but they won't be sent for testing until the messenger arrives with the results of the first batch."

"If it is the same," Rossi speculated. "How long do you think it would be before his condition starts deteriorating?"

"A few hours if he's lucky," the doctor admitted. "I'll be honest, it's not a great situation for anyone involved but until I have a confirmed lab result – at least confirming H5N1 if not a more detailed analysis regarding the type of strain – I can't do anything for Agent Hotchner apart from treating his fever, nausea, and any other symptoms he presents."

Rossi nodded his understanding.

"What about the rest of the team?" he asked. "We didn't think the strain was contagious but now Hotch is sick."

"We didn't think it was," Dr. Keyes answered. "But we're dealing with an enigma. There's no predicting how it will act. Agent Hotchner has been exposed a lot longer than the rest of you so it's no surprise he got sick first if the strain is, in fact, contagious."

"But that could mean we're all going to get sick eventually."

"I'm afraid so."

Rossi shook his head and swallowed the last of his tea.

"Unfortunate business," he said and the doctor agreed.

"Thanks for the tea," she added. "I'm going to take Jack off the medicine now, if you'd like to come down."

Rossi followed Dr. Keyes downstairs and once they entered, Dr. Reynolds stood up from behind the desk and trailed after them.

"Dave?" Hotch mumbled, his eyes barely open to see what was happening. His voice was hoarse and he seemed to have aged ten years overnight.

"I'm here," Rossi said.

"How's Jack?"

"The doctors are just about to change his medications to prepare for more treatment in a few hours."

Hotch swallowed and nodded.

"He's going to be scared. He hates throwing up."

"I don't think anyone is a fan," Rossi chuckled. "But don't worry, I won't leave him."

"Thanks."

"How are you feeling?"

"Rough. Everything hurts."

"Do you want me to see if they can give you something for it?"

Hotch shook his head.

"I'll be okay."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded.

"I'll be here for the next few hours at least," Dave told his friend. "Go back to sleep."

Hotch's eyes drifted closed almost automatically and Dave sighed – he hated seeing the people he loved like this – and turned to Jack. The process of changing out the medication was as simple as replacing the IV solution but it had woken Jack up nonetheless.

"Hi Jack," Dave said, pulling up the chair J.J. had been sitting in – Will was currently sleeping on Henry's bed – and perched on the edge.

"What are they doing to me?"

"Changing some of your medicine," Dave told him. "It'll be okay."

And it was – for the first half hour or so – and then it became less okay.

"Uncle Dave?" Jack interrupted – Rossi had been reading The Hobbit out loud to him – and Dave looked up.

"It's alright," Rossi assured him, reaching for one of the basins from the stack Dr. Keyes had left near the end of the bed. He managed to get it to Jack in time and Jack threw up in a spectacular fashion.

"Shh," Rossi soothed, rubbing Jack's back. "It's alright. Are you done?"

Poor Jack was never really done. It seemed that as soon as he'd settle down after a vomiting spell, another one would sneak up on him. Rossi didn't know when the doctors had seen to Henry but he, too, had had the medication stopped and was as sick as Jack. Will and J.J. were both in the great room with him and together the three of them took care of the sick boys well past midnight.

"Excuse me," Will called down the ward to Dr. Reynolds. Dr. Reynolds stood up and strolled towards them. "I'm sorry but do you not have your test results in yet?"

"I'm afraid the flight has been delayed by some inclement weather."

"Can they not be faxed or emailed?"

"No, the messenger needs to collect the blood samples I took from you all earlier this evening." In accordance with what they had been told at the beginning of their stay, Dr. Reynolds had collected a blood sample from everybody after dinner to send for testing.

"But we were told that the results would be here by midnight," J.J. put in. "And it's now almost one-thirty. These poor boys have been throwing up endlessly because you needed to take them off the medication in anticipation of treating them at midnight!"

"I'm sorry, Agent Jareau," Dr. Reynolds said, not sounding overly apologetic. "But I can't control the weather."

"You have to be able to do something!" J.J. exclaimed loudly.

"If you'll please calm down,"

"Don't tell me to calm down!" J.J. burst out. "My son is in pain and he is scared and you are telling me there is nothing you can do? You're a doctor; you're supposed to be able to help him!"

"Agent Jareau," Dr. Reynolds began again but J.J. had had enough. She stormed past the doctor and went upstairs.

"I'm sorry," Will apologized. "She's just tired."

"It's alright," Dr. Reynolds said calmly. "I know it's not easy but please rest assured that we are doing what we believe to be best for Henry, Jack, and Agent Hotchner."

"We know," answered Rossi. "But is there really nothing you can give them? Not even an over-the-counter medicine to help calm their stomachs?"

"I'll speak with Dr. Keyes when she returns."

"Where is she?"

"Getting a bit of sleep. She said she would take the shift at two o'clock."

Both Will and Rossi nodded and Dr. Reynolds returned to his desk.

"Do you mind if I check on J.J.?" Will asked Dave. "I can ask someone else to come down to help you."

Dave nodded and five minutes later, Reid appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

"I'm surprised you're still awake," Dave greeted him.

"Couldn't sleep," Reid answered. "Too many things to think about. I was reading."

"Don't I know it. Well, welcome to the infirmary," said Rossi, tucking the sheet around Jack who had (miraculously) managed to dose off.

"How are they?" Reid asked, looking from Henry to Jack to Aaron.

"About as good as could be expected. Here," Rossi handed Reid a pair of rubber gloves and a stack of disposable basins. "Prepare yourself."

"J.J.?" Will called softly, knocking on the bathroom door. He could hear her crying and tried again.

"Come on, darling," he murmured. "Open up and talk to me."

A minute later the door swung open but J.J. didn't emerge so Will went in and closed the door behind him. He held out his arms and J.J. moved into them, tears still in her eyes and a Kleenex clutched in her hand.

"He'll be okay," Will told her. "I can feel it."

"I know," J.J. replied. "But he's hurting so much."

"Dr. Reynolds is going to speak to Dr. Keyes to see if they can do something about it."

J.J. uttered a shaky sigh and laid her head on Will's chest.

"It'll be okay," Will repeated, smoothing back J.J. hair. His eyebrows furrowed and he took half a step back to examine his wife.

"Are you okay?"

J.J. shrugged.

"Tired," she admitted. "Worried."

"No," Will said. "I meant, you're awfully warm. Do you feel alright?"

Without waiting for her answer, Will placed his hand on J.J.'s forehead.

"You're burning up," he announced. "Don't even try to tell me you're fine, you need to speak to the doctors downstairs."

J.J. didn't object but let herself be led back downstairs.

"Doctor," Will said, going straight to the desk with J.J. following a few lazy steps behind him. Dr. Reynolds looked up. "I think J.J.'s got it, too. She has a fever."

Dr. Reynolds's gaze shifted from Will to J.J. and he stood up.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asked.

"I was too busy taking care of Henry to notice," admitted J.J. "He's my son, he comes first."

Dr. Reynolds made no effort to hide that he was annoyed by this answer – J.J. suspected he did not have children and therefore did not understand – and led J.J. to the bed next to Hotch.

"What's going on?" Reid asked.

"J.J.'s got a fever," Will told them, standing at the end of the bed and watching the scene unfold. Dr. Reynolds went through the basic tests and then asked J.J. to do what Dr. Keyes had said to Hotch a few hours earlier – change into a gown and get into bed. Soon she was settled with her own intravenous line.

"How are the rest of you feeling?" Dr. Reynolds asked Will, Reid, and Rossi.

"Fine," they answered, almost in unison, and Dr. Reynolds didn't have a chance to ask any more questions before Hotch woke up and sat up quickly, looking panicked. Will was closest, realized what was about to happen, and shoved a basin into Aaron's hands. Like a sideshow at a carnival, everyone watched as Hotch was mercilessly sick until he was panting for breath and sweat dripped off him.

"Sorry," he sputtered, glancing to his right. "How long have you been here?"

"About ten minutes," J.J. answered.

"Here," Rossi spoke and Aaron turned to his right. Rossi exchanged the basin for a cup of water.

"Thanks," Hotch muttered, sipping it carefully. He turned to look at Jack and his heart sank. His son had seen the entire episode and his eyes were wide in fear.

"It's alright, Jack," he said. "I'm okay. My tummy is upset, just like yours."

These words did very little to change the look on Jack's face and Reid hurried around to kneel between his bed and Henry's.

"Look here, Jack," he said quickly. "I have a trick to show you."

Hotch was immensely grateful for the distraction and he looked back at Rossi.

"How is he?" he asked quietly, sitting his bed up.

"Sick." Rossi answered. "Poor kid's stomach may as well be turned inside out at this point. Henry's too. The doctors took them off the anti-nausea medication in preparation for the new treatment."

"Is it working?"

"Given it's not here yet, no."

"What?"

"There was a flight delay," J.J. filled in the details. "So they're still waiting for the messenger to deliver the results and collect the blood samples."

"Which reminds me," Dr. Reynolds cut in. "I should take another sample from you, Agent Jareau."

He hurried away and Aaron looked at J.J.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. Like I told you earlier, it's not your fault."

"No," Hotch answered with a deep sigh. "But I know what you're going to feel like in a few hours."

Dr. Reynolds returned and took another vial of blood from J.J.'s arm and left without saying anything besides "get some rest."

"Is the rest of the team okay?" Hotch asked Rossi – Will had gone back to Henry – and Dave nodded.

"They're all in bed," he said. "But they're fine." He lowered his voice. "We left the database searches running overnight so hopefully by tomorrow we'll have a shorter list to work from. Once we know more about the strain of flu we should be able to deliver a more complete profile and start figuring out who this bastard is."

Hotch nodded and closed his eyes, swallowing hard to convince his stomach to calm down.

"You're better off not fighting it," J.J. said. Hotch looked at her in surprise.

"Trust me," she repeated. "There's no point. I tried when I was pregnant with Henry but it's going to happen either way so you may as well get it over with. You'll feel better if you do."

Hotch sighed and took the basin Rossi held out. It was going to be a long night.

I don't think anything I write could be good enough to justify a two year wait period but I hope you enjoyed the chapter nonetheless. Reviews are very much appreciated, thanks!