AN: I know I'm taking a lot of liberties here, so please don't take the story too seriously if it starts encroaching on your religious sensibilities. Thanks for your patience and understanding. :p

TWO: No Room

Months passed. Hotch was not completely convinced that his dream had any more significance than the suggestion of a troubled subconscious mind, but he decided that for the time-being he would do as the dream had suggested. Maybe he wouldn't stay with Beth in the end, but there was no harm in taking care of her. She didn't have any family nearby, and she would need a lot of support to have this baby on her own.

It worked out for Beth to stay with Jack when Hotch had to be gone on a weekend here and there; that way Jessica could pick up extra work, Jack wouldn't be left unsupervised, and Beth would have someone to call Hotch if she went into early labor or had other problems. JJ had recently given birth to her second baby, and she was still on maternity leave. She often went to check on Beth and help her out with housekeeping. She told Hotch that the one time their paths had crossed when the two of them were both pregnant, Michael had shifted dramatically in her womb, as if he were excited to meet Beth's baby. That was ridiculous, of course, but JJ took such pleasure in telling the story that it still made Hotch smile.

Even though he knew it was not his baby, Hotch found himself feeling more and more anxious about Beth and her child. To compound his worry, the strange, luminescent space object was still wreaking havoc on the weather system. Finally, the order to evacuate came. Civilians were removed first, but the FBI didn't wait long to shut down their offices and move agents to temporary headquarters elsewhere. Agents with children were supposed to go first, but while he had sent JJ ahead with her family, Hotch remained to help put together a case.

The case was unusual to say the least. It involved an online chatroom in which someone calling himself "TheKing" had been discussing plans to set up a monarchy in America. The discussion took place behind strong firewalls and it had taken NSA a long time to break in. As soon as they did, the chatroom essentially disintegrated, and very little data remained. Such conspiracies didn't normally take priority, but there was enough authentication to convince the NSA to pass the case on to the FBI.

"Garcia's given us all she can from the chatroom," Rossi said. "I think she's going to do more good going to temporary HQ with you. But we could use more help on this one. We have only a very general idea of where to look for this guy. We need someone who understands the king delusion."

"That's not you?" asked Morgan.

"I may be friendly with a few minor politicians, but this is a whole other animal. I wish Jason could give us his input."

"Maybe he can," said Reid.

Hotch looked up at him. "What do you mean?"

Reid cleared his throat. "I, um... we've been in touch. Through the mail. Letters. Postcards." He cleared his throat again. "I think he'd be interested in this case."

"It's out of my depth," Morgan admitted. "I think I'll do more good at HQ, too."

"Same," said Prentiss. "I've met politicians as well, foreign dignitaries, ambassadors... but there's a big difference between them and someone who wants to stage a hostile takeover and style themselves as a monarch."

"Okay," said Hotch. "Dave, you and Reid try to get hold of Gideon. In the meantime, work on the one chatroom user whose IP address they managed to trace. That's our best lead. And get out of D.C. as quickly as possible. That's an order."

"Sir, would you like to carpool?" Prentiss asked.

"Thank you, but I'll be taking Jack and Beth with me. We'll have a car-full."

"Beth is still here?"

"What are you still doing here?" Rossi demanded. "Go on. Get out of here."

Hotch rolled his eyes, but he started packing up his things. "We should all get going. They're saying there could be standing water in the streets by this time tomorrow night. I'm planning to leave first thing in the morning. You should all leave tonight if you can."

"This thing is gonna miss us, right?" Morgan asked, his careless tone hiding the worry we were all feeling.

"According to my calculations," Reid began, "even if the object is one-tenth the size of the moon—and we can't tell its size very well, due to the extreme luminescence of its aura—its current trajectory suggests—"

"Reid," Morgan cut in, "cut to the chase."

"It should miss us," Reid said.

"Should."

Reid squinted one eye. "Eighty-five percent sure."

Morgan sighed. "Well, there's fifteen percent of me right now that wants to say it was nice working with you," he said, shaking Reid's hand.

"Everybody ready to go?" Hotch asked when he, Beth and Jack were finally in the car together.

"Yes," said Beth.

"Ready," Jack said, patting the backpack beside him on the seat.

"We got all the suitcases in?" Hotch asked.

"Yup."

"Okay, here we go. Let's hope home is still there when we get back."

Hotch had told Jack a simplified version of what was going on between him and Beth: he wasn't sure who was the baby's father, Beth said she didn't know either, she thought it might be a baby sent straight from God, Hotch was afraid that might be a lie, Beth needed help until they could figure everything out, and for now they would stay together. Jack had adjusted well, and though he sometimes seemed anxious about the way things might turn out, he continued to treat Beth with unbiased affection.

By now, Beth's pregnancy was very obvious. She couldn't put her shoes on without help and her feet were swollen. She sometimes couldn't sleep because of the baby moving or other discomforts that came with having an enlarged abdomen, and she sometimes craved unusual foods at random times. This was the second time around for Hotch, but it was new to Beth and exciting for Jack. The one thing Beth said that gave Hotch an unexplained sense of reassurance was that the baby never kicked too hard. It didn't seem like he was weak, but like he wasn't feeling the need to jerk around violently as some babies did. On those occasions when his movement kept her awake, she felt as if he knew she was awake with him and took comfort in it, eventually calming down to fall asleep as she finally did.

They knew it was a boy; their last prenatal checkup had reaffirmed the previous ultrasound. Hotch had mixed feelings on the news. He wanted to feel proud, but knowing it wasn't his son made him feel strange.

"Immanuel means 'God with us,'" Beth said, looking up at Hotch from the baby name book she was consulting. She had already worked her way through a lot of names.

"Kind of a mouthful," Hotch replied. He still wasn't completely comfortable with accepting the strange dreams they had had as truth.

"He could have a nickname."

"I'm not calling him Manny."

"Okay... Isaiah means 'God is my salvation.'"

"He doesn't need saving; he's supposed to be the savior."

"Yeah... you're right. How about Jehu? It means 'Jehovah is He.'"

"Definitely not. Jehu was a king of Israel, but not someone I'd recommend that a kid look up to. Next?"

"Okay... Oh, here! 'Jehovah is salvation.'"

"What's that one?"

"Jesus."

"Do we really want to give him a Spanish name?"

"It's from Hebrew, Yeshua."

"We could just name him Joshua, then."

"Or we could pronounce it the Anglicized way."

"I don't know... people would always be getting it wrong."

"It's the best meaning I've found so far. I'm writing it down."

"I like it," Jack put in. "If he gets to be my brother we'll both be J's. And then if we get another brother, we can give him a J name too."

Hotch grimaced. "One kid at a time, buddy. Please."

They finally got to their designated check-in point in Bethlehem, Virginia.

"Name, please?" a civil servant asked when they pulled up to the roadblock.

"Aaron Hotchner and Beth Clemmons," Hotch answered.

"Everything's done alphabetical," the man said. "She'll be up near the head of the line."

"We want to stay together," Beth said, leaning forward to talk across Hotch.

"You can, but you'll have to go to his spot, not yours."

"That's fine."

The man gave them directions to get to the "H" section of the line. Once they'd gotten into place behind a "Hobart" vehicle and in front of a "Hubert" vehicle, Hotch saw just how slowly the line was moving.

"We should have left last night. This is ridiculous..."

"It's not your fault," said Beth. "You wanted to give us one last chance to sleep in our own beds instead of in the car."

"At this rate, we'll be sleeping in the car tonight anyway."

"It's okay," Jack said, though he'd been drooping for the last hour. "I don't mind sleeping in the car."

Hotch smiled a little. "Well, I hope it won't come to that... we'll see."

They continued to crawl forward for another hour, until the line began moving more quickly. Their relief was short-lived—Hotch soon realized that officials up ahead were beginning to turn cars away. When it was their turn at the front, a patrolman told them, "There's no more room for evacuees here. We got orders to send you on to the next town."

"We have to stay here," Hotch said, getting out his FBI identification. "I'm a federal agent. My team is supposed to rendezvous in Bethlehem."

"I'm pretty sure they meant there are absolutely no places left you can stay," the officer said, looking down at a tablet in his hands. "That includes public places like hotels. Since you're FBI I'll let you in to look, but I think you'll just be coming back out again."

"We'll take our chances. Thank you."

The warning proved accurate: not a single establishment would take them in. Hotch tried arguing with one innkeeper.

"We just need a roof over our heads. We can sleep in the lobby if we have to."

"It's booked," the man said grimly.

"It's very important," Hotch said, again feeling the need to show his ID. "I'm not just an evacuee with a family; I'm also here on official business."

"I'm sorry, agent. My hands are tied... if I let one more person stay in here, I'll be in violation of fire code."

Hotch sighed. "Okay... I understand." He turned to leave.

"Hey, sir? Uh... agent?" someone said, following him.

Hotch halted. "Yes?"

"Hey," said the stranger, a middle-aged man in denim overalls. "My wife and I are traveling with our horses. We've got a roomy horse trailer out in the parking lot. You'd be in next to the animals, but if you spread a blanket over the hay bales at the front, it would make a decent bed. At least you'd be a little more comfortable than in your car."

"You're probably right. I'll take a look at it."

If you were raised on the Christmas story, you will have seen several amusing parallels by now. Sorry/not sorry. Hope you're enjoying it.