December 23, 2013

To meadowundertown. Without whom I would not have dug up the motivation to write this bastard of a chapter.

Hotch isn't sure what wakes him in the early morning hours of December 23rd. It's not the first time it's happened and it definitely won't be the last. At least this time he's pretty sure whatever it is, it's real rather than the phantom feelings that have also pulled him from sleep. Emily's still out cold beside him. It's not surprising since she'd looked exhausted when she'd returned from shopping with JJ. He's glad to see it. A year ago, the slightest of sound or movement would have woken her. It doesn't seem to have the same effect now.

He wonders if maybe Doyle is further away than they'd all thought.

As a result, Hotch is able to slip from bed without waking her, though he can't seem to stop himself form sliding his fingers through the hair splayed over his pillow. There's a tiny smile on his face as he moves carefully out of the room. He pulls the door, but doesn't close it on high alert as he heads towards a glow that should not be shining in the apartment. He's pretty sure he turned out all the lights. He hears very quiet murmuring next and feels himself relax, just a little. Knowing there's a real reason he woke always makes him feel just a little less crazy.

"Jack?"

His little boy looks more than a little guilty as his head whips around. Hotch sighs. True, it's is too late and too early for Jack to be out of bed, but Hotch isn't mad. It's strange, is all. Jack's always been a champion sleeper, something he's glad his son inherited from the Brooks' side. This kind of thing, this night wandering, is exceedingly rare.

"What's wrong, Buddy?"

Jack shrugs and turns back to the tree. He's turned the lights back on and that glow that had brought him out here settles over them both as Hotch sits beside his son.

"I was talking to Mommy."

Hotch's heart lurches painfully. "What does Mommy say?"

Jack gives him a look that is definitely too adult for the kid's young face. "Mommy can't talk back."

And that pain in his heart intensifies.

"It's okay, Daddy," Jack says, crawling into his father's lap. He's getting too big for it, but that's a whole other painful discussion. "It's Mr. George's fault. And it's okay. I still have you."

God. Isn't comfort supposed to work the other way around? Hadn't he come out to check on Jack? They fall silent, but Hotch knows his son. It's just a matter of time. Hotch's patience is legendary.

"Daddy, I want Emily to stay."

He has to swallow thickly before he can say, "I do too, Buddy."

It's another couple of moments before Jack says, "Do you think she will? Maybe if we ask nice?"

"Jack, we can't ask," Hotch replies seriously. "If Emily wants to say, that's her choice and she has to make it by herself, okay?"

Jack is so very much not impressed by that answer. "Why?"

Hotch puzzles that over for a moment. The problem is it's not really his story to tell. "Emily left because she wasn't happy," he says carefully. "And she needed to leave."

"But we're here," Jack replies with characteristically simple logic. "And Emily's happy with us. I know she is. She's always smiling."

And this is where it gets complicated. How does he explain Doyle and her death and the paranoia and terror that comes from all of that? "She is, I think. But it's not always that easy." He casts about for an example. "Remember when we moved here?"

Jack nods.

"I told you we needed somewhere that was ours, just you and me."

They'd needed a fresh start, away from everywhere Foyet and the divorce had poisoned. And isn't that a new perspective on Emily's mindset in the aftermath of Doyle.

"Is that what happened to Emily? A bad man hurt her and she went away?"

"Emily didn't feel right," Hotch says carefully. "She didn't feel safe."

"But you're here. You keep people safe. Why not Emily?"

As if the situation isn't complicated enough. "Sometimes, that's not enough."

"Did Emily not know you would make her safe? Because that's silly, Daddy and you should tell her."

"She knows, Buddy."

He believes that, and knows Emily does too. They all trust each other implicitly. But Doyle had been dead and even that hadn't been enough. Doyle was a ghost that no one but Emily could fight.

"Then why won't she stay?"

He doesn't have an answer and so, he does the next best thing. Deflection. "Why do you want her to stay?"

Jack shrugs, but it's so obviously evasive.

"Buddy?"

Jack turns and buries his face in Hotch's shoulder. When he speaks, Hotch has to decipher the mumbling through the sleeve of his t-shirt.

"I don't miss Mommy so much when Emily's here."

Oh. Oh his little boy. Hotch wraps his arms around Jack tight, just the right amount of pressure. Sometimes Jack still relates being hugged too tight to Haley's death.

"We have to let Emily choose," Hotch says. "For the right reasons. Then maybe she'll be happy here again."

"And then we can keep her?"

"Yeah, Buddy. Then maybe we can keep her."

. . . . .

Emily leans her head against the wood of Hotch's bedroom door. This sucks, she thinks. Her emotions are haywire, part guilt, part sadness, part driving motivation to come home.

Home.

God. It's such a complicated word, and this is the first time in a very long time where it hasn't felt complicated at all. But she also sees why JJ had been so adamant that Emily take her time in making the monumental decision on the tip of her tongue. She cannot, cannot, make a decision like this based on the sadness wrenching her gut. She wants to, God, does she want to. She wants to call Easter now, demand that he help her return Stateside, but she can't. She knows she would be setting a chain of events in motion to deal with the stabbing pain in her chest, the lead weight in her gut.

So instead, she pulls herself away from the door. She's not even sure why she decided to eavesdrop anyway. It never works out well, and she knows that. She forces herself to breathe as she curls back up beneath the sheets.

Things, she hopes, won't feel so brutal in the morning.

So, the apologies

1) Obviously for how long this took. Because seriously. My muse has been literally dead for weeks now, it feels like. I mean, there was the Castle oneshot on VD, but I had every intention of writing way more than that. I might still do the CM one I was thinking of. Years 'Verse piece with Kate, because we totally don't see near enough of her. I think it's just because she's not as vivid as AJ in my mind.

2) This turned really dark really quickly. I don't think I'm projecting? Who knows. But even the next chapter (which is written! I have to type it up) is pretty sad. Sad on Christmas Eve. Gracious. But I think it is/was necessary and it was shockingly cathartic to me in terms of Emily head canon. It's also my favourite tradition. You shall see!

Endless thanks and gratitude to each of you for following and waiting so bloody patiently.