December 18, 2013

"Is this a really good idea, Emily?" Elizabeth Prentiss asks, even as she watches her daughter rummage through boxes.

Emily's call had been an utter shock to the now-retired ambassador. Elizabeth hadn't even known her daughter was stateside – she's trying really hard not to be hurt by that – so hearing Emily's voice asking about old Christmas decorations had been all kinds of surprising. And, to be honest, it still doesn't make sense.

"It's not like either of us uses it," Emily pointed out, closing one box only to open another.

"Well, of course not," Elizabeth says. "Did you even decorate a tree? When was the last time you did?"

Emily's silent and Elizabeth knows her daughter well enough to know the answer is a negative. Of course it is. Elizabeth has no idea what sent her only child racing across an entire ocean – and much to her chagrin their relationship is definitely not good enough for Emily to confide that kind of information – but she knows enough to see that her daughter isn't happy.

"Emily-"

"Mother. Please."

Elizabeth grits her teeth behind Emily's back. As a parent she can't say this is ever what she wanted that first time she'd held her baby girl. This cloud of loneliness, the sadness she feels hanging over Emily's head. Elizabeth's always though Emily takes after her late father, and maybe a little too much. Her husband had always had such a big heart and Elizabeth knows enough about Emily's life to see the same in Emily.

So instead, the ambassador huffs. "I wish you'd told me earlier. I could have had Clara find it."

"Clara does enough," Emily argues in her mother's housekeeper's defense, reaching for another box.

This one has what Emily's looking for. Elizabeth can tell by the reverence and remembrance that washes over her daughter's face. She recognizes the angel Emily pulls from the box, of course. It had topped their family tree for well on twenty years. In fact, it had only been Elizabeth's decision to downsize to the Georgetown townhouse and she changed to a themed tree that had sent the angel into storage. Even Elizabeth hadn't had the heart to throw it away.

Jane, Elizabeth remembers, the name a ten-year-old Emily had given the tree topper. The angel had been a gift from Emily's paternal grandmother the year her father had died. Emily had seen it as an odd sort of sign and Elizabeth remembers tiptoeing down to find Emily talking to it like Jane could then talk to her father.

It had been both heartwarming and heartbreaking.

And even now, Elizabeth feels her throat clog with emotion. She knows Emily can see it when her not-so-little girl meets her eyes.

"Do you miss him?" Emily asks, smoothing down the yellowed satin skirt.

Every day, Elizabeth thinks, swallowing thickly. "Of course."

And maybe her daughter hears something in her mother's voice because Elizabeth sees the way Emily has to look away.

"Will you tell me what all of this is about?" Elizabeth asks softly.

Emily sighs. "Agent Hotchner's son, Jack. He misses his mom."

Elizabeth makes the connection swiftly and easily as she watches Emily stand gracefully. She makes her way back to Elizabeth and presses a kiss to her mother's cheek.

"Thank you, Mother. Merry Christmas."

. . . . .

Emily climbs the stairs slowly that evening. She'd needed a few hours after her mother's house to get control of her emotions. It's not a unique experience, by far. In fact, it's pretty much par for the course when Emily remembers John Prentiss. But she's better now, she thinks, knocking gently. Hotch answers it and the way he immediately slips into the hallway tells Emily maybe she's not as stable as she thinks.

"Everything okay?" he asks as he reaches for her, hands cupping her shoulders for a moment before sliding down her arms. He even tugs gently on the shimmering ribbon she'd wrapped around the angel's box.

"Yeah," she says, even as she leans into the touch. "Long day."

He doesn't ask, even though Emily can tell he wants to. She does like that about him, but it is a little surreal to have all of that legendary calm and patience directed towards her. Instead, he ushers her inside and straight to the couch where they've spread out all the tree decorations. It calms her almost immediately, especially when an eager Jack starts showing her each of the ornaments he'd made over the years. They even have a baby's first and a green ball with the kid's name in silver glitter. It's so obvious that Jack is a well-loved little boy.

"Hey," she says quietly, and Jack's head perks up immediately. He can tell there's something secret she wants to tell him. "Have you kept all of your advent gifts?"

His eyes absolutely light up and he races to his bedroom. She laughs when he comes back with a blanket. It's like he's squirrelled them all away, a secret he wants to keep for himself. She picks one up, the cookie from a few days ago, and finds the little gold loop.

"They're decorations!" Jack exclaims. It's an entirely different child from yesterday's tree hunting expedition. He scampers away. Emily closes her eyes for a moment, listening to Jack's excited chatter and Hotch's low replies from the kitchen. They both return moents later grinning at each other, then her.

"So, Buddy," Hotch says, "where do you want to start?"

It takes them the better part of an hour to hang the ornaments. Hotch had strung the lights before Emily's arrival, and thankfully so. It turns out Jack is shockingly picky about the placement of each particular piece. Emily had tried to help initially – despite the warning Hotch had whispered in her ear – but after the fourth correction she'd given up and cuddled beside Hotch instead.

But as Jack reaches for the star, Emily stops him.

"Come here, sweetheart."

Even Hotch is intrigued as Jack settles between them. She reaches for the box she'd brought. Jack accepts the gift gently and carefully, like he understands the precious nature of what the box contains. He takes his time opening it too. In fact, it's enough time for Emily to start worrying about whether this had really been a good idea.

But then Jack is unfolding the tissue paper and his eyes turn both shocked and reverent. "It's an angel."

"It's beautiful," Hotch rumbles from Jack's other side. "It looks old?"

She smiles tremulously, more at Jack than Hotch. "I got it when I was a kid. My dad's mom brought it back from Germany."

Jack looks utterly shocked. "Because of your daddy?" he whispers.

Her hand runs over his little head. "It is."

"But it's yours."

"I don't use it," she admits. "I dug it out of my mother's attic today. It used to go on my family's tree."

"But what happened?"

"Well, I'm not usually home," she admits.

Jack takes this in and ponders it a moment before he hands the box to Hotch. "Put her up, Daddy, please."

When he looks immediately to her, she smiles and nods reassuringly. It's what she wants. It's what the angel deserves. Jack climbs into her lap while Hotch adjusts the tree topper.

"This can be your family tree," he says. "And you can talk to your daddy while I talk to Mommy."

Her throat closes up and it takes her more than a few moments before she can say, "Sounds good."

This was one of my favourite chapters to write. Seriously. There's so much bittersweetness in this and I love it probably more than I should.

Next one's written and typed, but it's short. It's entirely possible that I may wait until I write 20 before posting 19, but we'll see how impatient I get. I'm not pushing or rushing the writing, I promise, but I'm getting really impatient to have this baby finished so I can move on to other things.

Gracias for the reviews ladies and gentlemen. I know I've been crap at replying to them this time 'round, but I feel like I should let you guys know that they always make me smile.