A/N: Hey all! Back again with a new chapter. I'm so glad you all enjoyed the first part! I hope you equally like this next installment. And, as always, thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.

Chapter 1:

~ 1 year ago:

Hotch closed the case file he'd just finished up and stared blankly at the short, but daunting stack that remained. No matter how hard he worked, there was always a plethora of un-subs just around the corner.

And… with that dismal thought, he was so done tonight. He had to get out of there.

Rubbing at his tired eyes, he glanced first at his desk clock—ten pm—and then at the single photo also on his desk: Jack's latest school photo. It was hard to believe that when the summer ended his baby boy would be moving into the sixth grade. Where did the time go?

Jack was currently at sleep-away camp—hence Hotch's ability to work late these past few nights. And even though he acknowledged that his son was growing up, Hotch still made sure to carry his phone wherever he went, ringer on, just in case on the off chance Jack called and wanted to come home.

Who was he kidding? That wouldn't be happening; from the brief letters he'd received so far, his son was having a blast, which meant for the next three weeks he'd be going home to a silent house.

Sighing, he stood up to gather a few things before switching off his desk lamp. He walked over to his office door, opening it. He expected outside his office to be just as dim as inside it and it was, save for one one-hundred watt bulb shining its light down below in the bullpen. Someone else was as averse to going home as he was?

He glanced over the railing, only to see a familiar blonde head buried in her hands. Alarms instantly sounded off inside his head.

JJ? What was she still doing here? Hotch had sent the team home hours ago. And he knew he'd seen JJ leaving with Garcia. Had she come back? Why?

Henry, Hotch knew, was at the same camp Jack was. In fact, he and JJ had researched and chosen Camp Kiwanis together. It had been a week of extra hours spent together that he'd treasured: heads bent close together over one laptop, laughing together, JJ's smiles—sometimes orange-tinted because of her notorious love of Cheetos. He'd had a great time alone together.

Maybe too good of a time, he suddenly realized.

Hotch shook his head to dispel his wandering thoughts. The time he'd spent with JJ wasn't the point right now. What was was the fact that he may have an empty home to go to tonight but she did not. As far as he knew, Will was at home waiting for her. So, again, why was she here?

Enough with the wondering, Aaron, go down and see if she's all right, a voice in his head chided.

Right.

He descended the stairs two at a time, eager to get to the bottom of her distress. She still hadn't moved from the pose he'd discovered her in: elbows propped up on her desk, face in her hands. And now, as he approached her, he could hear her punctuated sniffles.

"JJ?" he said urgently, forgetting for a second that she probably believed she was alone on the whole floor. And that his voice, in the quiet room, would most likely startle her.

She looked up abruptly, eyes wide with fright—Mission accomplished, Aaron. JJ stared at him, uncomprehending for a millisecond. And then, he could tell, it hit her: where she was and who had discovered her.

"Aaron, oh God," she exclaimed. Any color in her face that she had before drained away. She was so very pale.

Deathly.

Oh God—

"Is it Henry? What happened? Is he all right? JJ—"

She stopped frantically ripping tissues out of the box on her desk to stare at him, open-mouthed. "Henry?" Her voice was raw, she'd obviously been crying for some time. "No, no. Oh God, no. He's fine."

Hotch sagged into a nearby chair, relief flooding his veins. "Oh… I thought—Thank God."

If anything were to happen to that little boy, Hotch didn't know what he'd do.

Through Jack and, of course, JJ he'd been spending quite a bit of time with the eight-year old. Henry was rambunctious and outgoing in a way that Jack wasn't. He enjoyed their outings—especially if it was all four of them together—because it gave him the opportunity to get to know one of the best parts of JJ. Hotch loved that little boy, just like his—

"Henry's fine," she reiterated, cutting off his thoughts in a timely fashion. "He's having a great time. Sent me a letter that said pretty much just that."

He sighed, relaxing marginally. Henry was fine. And talking about her son put a small smile on her face.

Hotch leaned forward in his chair, a mere foot of space between them. He resisted the urge to reach for her hand, reminding himself—more and more of late—that she was a married woman.

"What's happened, JJ?" he asked, trying to inflect a calming note into his voice.

She wiped at her eyes with the wad of tissues she'd procured. Her blue eyes met his and he could see the trust she had in him. They were boss and subordinate, sure, but more than anything, especially lately, they were friends first.

She gave him a weak smile in acknowledgement of their friendship, but it soon cracked and he could see her fight back a fresh round of tears before she stared down into her lap.

He allowed her a silent moment to attempt to compose herself, however when her chest began to heave for breath, it was apparent that she was far from composed.

Propriety be damned, he reached for her hand in her lap, squeezing it lightly, only thinking of her comfort. "I'm here, JJ. You can tell me."

JJ looked at him with an unreadable expression on her face. Tears streaked down her cheeks.

He should have probably let go then. But the next thing he knew she was turning her hand over in his, entwining their fingers, squeezing tightly as if he were her lifeline. And who knew, maybe in that moment he was.

"My uncle… Ezra, he passed away today… I found out after I went home," she confessed.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry, JJ," he said lamely.

She accepted his condolences with a small nod. "My dad was always busy with work, but Uncle Ezra…" she trailed off, remembering. "You know, he bought me my first bike, taught me how to ride without training wheels… He was so patient with me. He never let go, not once, only when I told him too…"

"He sounds like an amazing man."

"He was." Her face darkened then. "My mom and dad called him the black sheep of the Jareau family when I was younger, when they thought I wasn't listening. I didn't know what that meant at the time. They called him a screw-up, too. That I understood. Just because he didn't have a nine to five job like everyone else in that stupid town.

"He was creative, though, a real free spirit, you know what I mean…"

"Uh huh," he answered, realizing what JJ needed right now was a sounding board.

She shook her head. "Uncle Ezra wasn't a screw-up. Not to me. He was the best part of our family—"

JJ went silent then and for a moment Hotch thought she was done talking about her uncle. Then she surprised him with what she said next.

"When my sister killed herself, it was hard for me to understand why she'd do that. I was only eleven—I felt lost without her. I turned to my parents for answers, but for a long time they were too caught up in their grief to realize that their other child was drowning in hers. My uncle was the one to help me through it. He's the one who made me see light and rainbows again. I will never forget him."

Her voice broke on a sob and she openly cried in front of him. Hotch felt privileged to be let in on such a private moment. Still, he realized he wasn't the one she should be sharing all this with. Where was Will?

"JJ," he began questioningly, when her sobs died down. "Why are you here? Why aren't you at home?"

She looked up at him, eyes wide with surprise, shimmering with her tears. He handed her a few more tissues.

"Thanks," she said as she took them form him. Taking a deep breath, she continued. "I was at home…"

"And Will?" he prompted. He was her husband; he should be there for her.

A sour look came over her pretty features. "He was with me when my mom phoned—The funeral is Saturday…"

"Why don't you and Will leave tomorrow, then. Take as much time as you need, JJ."

Instead of his words having their desired effect—relief and comfort—her face remained in its sour countenance and a flash of anger made her eyes look as dark as a stormy evening sky.

What had he said?

"I'm going alone," she said, voice hard.

"But, JJ, you shouldn't be alone, not right now," he said delicately. "Your uncle meant everything to you. You need support."

"I agree." She stood up, pacing away from him. "But Will doesn't want to come with me."

"What?" he stood up abruptly, sending his chair rolling backwards a good few feet.

She turned around to face him; he saw the anger had faded, replaced with the sadness of her grief, and, quite possibly, the stress of Will's refusal.

Hotch closed the distance between them. JJ had to look up when she said, "He hates my mother, my family. He hates being around them. He avoids it every chance he gets."

"That's no excuse. He should still be there for you."

"I know," she said grimly. "We argued about it. And now, here I am."

He shook his head, completely bewildered. First, he'd only ever met JJ's mother, but how could you hate a woman as sweet as Sandy Jareau? Second, Will was JJ's husband; he'd sworn to stay by her side through the good times and bad. No matter what. He claimed to love her, so why the hell was he causing her extra pain. "That isn't right."

She shrugged her shoulders helplessly, an uncharacteristic gesture for her.

Damn Will for putting her through this. Damn him for not loving her in the way she deserved, the way Hotch did: completely. Damn him for getting to her first.

Hotch sensed he was on the verge of saying something he wouldn't regret, but, he was sure, she would. His anger was blocking his filter and he really needed to step back, take a few deep breaths and gain perspective in that moment, before he opened his mouth.

"Will or no Will, you shouldn't go alone," he started off slow enough. And then, he blurted out, "I could go!"

"You?" she exclaimed in shock.

He wanted to slap his face the minute the words had slipped out.

Her reaction made him see sense. Of course, he couldn't be the one to accompany her to her beloved uncle's funeral. As much as he wanted to be there for her, it wouldn't be appropriate.

"No, no, you're right," he backtracked, as if she had outright said, 'No way.' "It wouldn't be proper."

He began to turn away, embarrassed with himself, when she halted him with a hand on his arm.

Hotch met her eyes questioningly. He was surprised to see the affection in her eyes, for him.

"Aaron, don't get me wrong, I would be honored if you came with me. You've… you've become one of my best friends…"

For a brief instant, he let himself bask in her praise. Nevertheless, he felt an unsaid 'but' missing from her sentence. So, he said it for her, "But…"

She blew out an annoyed sounding breath. "Will's gotten it into his head that—" She stopped abruptly, looking away.

"That what, JJ?" he prompted gently.

When her eyes re-met his, he could see the uncertainty there. What was more, JJ was blushing. "That you have feelings for me!"

"Oh!" he said, caught off guard. The New Orleans native was more perceptive than he gave him credit for.

"Which is completely absurd, right?" she asked laughingly. "I mean, you're with Beth, for goodness sake."

"We broke up months ago."

"Oh!" she gasped out.

He hadn't meant to tell her that. This wasn't about him. Still, when she asked why, he answered truthfully. "Ironically, she thought there was something going on between us or at the very least that I had feelings for you."

"Oh wow," she breathed out. "Do you?" she added more shrewdly.

"Feelings, feelings?" he threw back at her.

"Yeah."

Looking into her beautiful blue eyes, watching him intently, he couldn't lie to her. But at the moment, he couldn't exactly burden her further with his truth. "JJ, you are one of my best friends. I value your friendship greatly."

"I see." It was only his imagination that projected disappointment into her tone, or so he thought. Still, he wondered if she caught on to the fact that he didn't exactly answer her question. Probably. He didn't work with clueless people. But if she had, she chose not to point it out.

"You still need someone to go with you," he spoke up, mostly to cover up the awkward pause that developed. "Why not ask Garcia? I'll get you and her a week's paid leave."

"You could do that?" she asked in awe.

He nodded, confident that he could. "Cruz owes me a few favors."

The next thing he knew, JJ threw her arms around his torso, hugging him tightly. "Thank you, Aaron. You don't know how much this means to me."

After everything she'd just told him, he had a pretty good idea. He was positive that having Garcia along would make a whole lot of a difference to JJ's mental well-being. She needed a friend and if he couldn't be there, either Garcia or Reid were the next best choices.

"You're welcome, JJ," he said simply.

The hug lasted a few more moments. Hotch made sure to savor every second of it, sure that it would be a long time before they'd ever be this close.

He loved JJ; it had been a slow realization that had come about over the past few months. However, she was a married woman and there was nothing he could do about that.

For now, he'd be there for her when her husband wasn't. It was enough for him to make her happy even when the person who was supposed to be doing that was slacking. One thing was certain, though, Will needed to watch himself; he needed to smarten up before he woke up one day to find that JJ had caught on to his games and had left him.

Present Day:

"Are you telling me I lost JJ because I refused to go to her uncle's funeral?" Will asked incredulously. "Come on, it's not like it was her mother's."

Hotch put his head into his hand, shaking his head in disbelief. Was the man really that clueless?

"No," Hotch conceded.

"Good, because I think the real reason why I lost her was because you two were screwing around behind my back," Will added vulgarly.

Hotch gave the man his patented death glare stare. "No," he said pointedly. "Not going to her Uncle Ezra's funeral was just one neglectful act in a long list of them."

"What are you talking about?" Will asked all surly with the implications of him being a bad husband.

Hotch wasn't implying anything, though. He was out right stating a fact. Will had been a terrible husband.

"What about the time Henry broke his arm?"

"What about it?"

"Well…"

That's it for this chapter. Hope to have the next one up by next weekend.

Thanks to everyone who is reading, favoriting, and alerting this story. Also, thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter: angry penguin; Christiangirl; livingvicariously75; whiteswan; Lalina92; jekkah; JJmyst; 1029; whimsical-one-ga; princesslolitatheorca654; RatherBeAWriter; Cannybarin; aaronhotchnerlove; Guest #2; Casie01; and Guest #1.