A Voice Cries Out

Chapter 25

She'd penetrated his dream. He'd been about to make the chess move to beat all chess moves when he felt the eyes of an owl staring down at him from the tree branch just above. And staring, and staring…

Reid blinked his eyes open to find the owl mere centimeters from his face. Rosie had inherited her mother's large, oh-so-blue eyes, and they were boring into him.

"Hi Daddy!"

Reid turned his yawn into an opportunity to put his arm underneath his daughter and scoop her onto his chest. With her laying atop him, he managed to croak, "Morning, Rosie Posie. Did you have a good sleep?" His voice needed coffee.

"I sleep in big bed!" The grin on her face brought one to her dad's as well.

"You liked sleeping in the big bed, did you? Maybe it's time to get you a big girl bed when we get home."

"Big girl!"

"You sure are." But you'll always be your daddy's little girl.

Reid turned his head to see that Henry was awake as well. Apparently he'd commandeered the TV remote, and was now sitting up in the bed, entranced by a cartoon.

"Hey, Buddy, how did you sleep?"

No answer.

"Little Man?"

Still nothing. Reid finally waved his hand up in down in front of Henry's face to gain his attention.

"Huh? Oh, hi, Daddy."

"Good morning. For a minute there, I thought I was going to have to project myself on the screen to get you to talk to me."

It was too late. The sentence had been too long. Henry's eyes were already back on the cartoon.

Reid gave up and diverted to the last occupant of the bed. For a moment, he allowed himself to luxuriate in the entire tableau…..himself, sharing a morning in bed with his wife and children. He did his best to hold at bay the reason why they all were where they were, and to simply exist in the moment.

Maybe Father O'Neill is right about one thing, anyway. Reid hadn't quite come around to the idea of organized religion, but he enjoyed his many discussions…..or debates…..with the pastor. That thing about God being able to do more than we can ask or imagine….I may have longed for this, but I never….absolutely never…thought I would have it.

A minute later, JJ stirred.

"Hey."

"Good morning, Beautiful."

"Hi Mommy!"

"Good morning, Miss Rosie. Did you sleep well?"

"Big girl bed!"

Reid explained. "We discussed it while you were sleeping."

"Discussed? More like she wrapped you around her little finger."

A beat. "Maybe."

JJ laughed at him, and then tried to get the attention of her son. Finally resorting to the same strategy as Reid, she got Henry to acknowledge her presence.

"Oh, hi, Mommy."

"Hi yourself, Little Man. I think it's time for us to get out of bed now. We need to meet everyone downstairs for breakfast."

The Jareaus would take Henry and Rosie while the Reids went to the hospital to be with William, and the others continued to work the case.

When even the promise of breakfast hadn't broken Henry's trance, JJ grabbed the remote and turned the television off, much to the moaning consternation of her son. As she scooted him into the bathroom, JJ turned to Reid.

"We are never putting a TV in his bedroom." She started to follow Henry into the bathroom, but turned back. "And not in hers, either. Even if I have to unwrap you from her little finger."

"Yes, ma'am."

Morgan looked at his watch again. "Does it really take this much longer to get two kids up and dressed? I mean, come on….they're little. Little tiny shirts and little tiny pants, and…."

"And little tiny fingers that get stuck in buttonholes, and little tiny toes that ball up when you're trying to put on their shoes…." Emily had spent quite a bit of time with her goddaughter. Having missed their arrival last night, she was looking forward to spending a little time with her this morning.

"Ah, but they are very cute little tiny fingers and toes, aren't they?" added Miss Rosie's proud godfather.

Morgan just rolled his eyes. It wasn't that he didn't like children. He had, in fact, become attached to a few he'd met in the course of his work. But they'd all been older kids, little persons who could carry on a full conversation with him. Whenever Morgan tried to envision a future that included children, all that would come to him was an image of himself on a ball field, giving pointers to a faceless son or daughter. His imagination skipped over infancy and toddlerhood completely, every time.

He changed the subject. "Now that his dad is awake, what do you think Reid will do?"

"What are you thinking?" asked his unit chief.

"I'm thinking that he hated this guy for all these years, then he practically holds a bedside vigil while the man is in a coma. I mean, I get that the man has no other family, so maybe the Kid didn't feel like he had a choice. But now that his dad is awake again, what does he do? Does he stay by his side, maybe find some kind of relationship…..or does he just say, 'okay, you're awake, see you later'?"

He had no frame of reference. For the ten-year -boy Derek Morgan had been when tragedy separated them, his father had never been anything other than his hero.

A moment passed with no response from the rest, as though it had been a rhetorical question. But one among them was merely giving it due consideration. Aaron Hotchner was much more familiar with the complexities of the father/son relationship, from both sides of the coin. The man of extreme privacy surprised them all when he offered his thoughts.

"I lost my father when I was young. Not as young as you did, Morgan, but….still. Maybe it was because I was older that our relationship was different from the one you had with your father….or maybe it was just because we were who we were. All I know is that I'd decided my father had feet of clay. He wasn't as understanding as he should have been, wasn't as kind….wasn't as faithful. Sometimes he could be outright cruel. In some ways, I hated him. But there were times I still looked up to him, still cared what he thought, even though I was disgusted with myself for caring. I even still wanted his advice….but I wouldn't ask for it. And then it all became moot…because he was gone."

He may as well have been dancing on the table in his underwear. To say that it was unusual for Hotch to share his private thoughts would have been a severe understatement. That he was sharing them with three other members of his team was anathema. But Emily saw through it. Or rather, she recognized it.

Unfinished business. She should know, she had enough of her own. Which made her decide to help her boss…her friend….through his.

"Our very first relationships are with our parents….the ones who conceived us, and the ones who raised us, even when they're not the same people. They're a large part of how we figure out who we are, and who we want to be."

Rossi chimed in. "Even if who we want to be is defined as 'anyone but them'." The conversation had brought him back to his own earliest relationships.

"Exactly," agreed Emily. "So, it's pretty normal to have mixed feelings about them. At least, I hope it is."

The others smiled in solidarity with her, as Hotch nodded his appreciation.

"I hope so too. But, what I was going to say was that, looking back on that time from my adulthood…..now that I'm a father myself….I realize how fragile those relationships can be. How tenuous. How hard it is to do the right thing every time, even if you can figure out what it is. I like to think that Jack still sees me as his hero, but I know it's only a short time before he starts to question that. Before he wonders about….everything."

Rossi had already been a bit of a sounding board for his old friend on this subject. And he'd tried to be encouraging. But they both knew that it was inevitable. Jack Hotchner would, one day, realize how his life had been affected by the choices his father had made. How he would react was a question that always weighed heavily in his father's mind. Rossi tried to offer some encouragement.

"He will. It's a healthy thing when a young man begins to question. But it's also a healthy thing when his older self begins to accept. We're all faulty creatures, we humans. We all make mistakes, we all do the wrong thing, some of the time. The big question is, do we forgive?"

Morgan had been listening silently to each of his colleagues, giving due thought to their remarks. But he was stuck on one thing.

"I don't know, Rossi. The man ran out on them. He was no hero to Reid. Pretty Boy doesn't have that image to reconcile anything with. The man just ran away and left them on their own. Are you saying it was just a mistake?"

Rossi had too much life experience to be ruffled. "I guess that depends on why he did it. We don't know, and neither does Reid. I know he gave Reid some cockamamie excuse when we were here before, but I'd have to be a lousy profiler to believe in it. To get back to your original question, Morgan…..about what Reid will do? My guess is that he'll ask his father a question. And he'll evaluate the answer."

"And?"

Hotch fielded it. "And he'll either see his own fragility in what his father tells him, or he won't. He'll relate to it, or he won't."

Morgan finished for him, answering his own question. "And he'll either keep William Reid in his life….or he won't.

Charles and Sandy made it downstairs ahead of the Reid clan. They greeted the team and caught up on sundries while they waited for the others. Finally, Henry came running into the café and over to their table.

"Hi, Uncle Thunder!" By now, even though he didn't get the joke, Henry knew it was a tease.

Morgan gave Henry the fist-bump he'd taught the youngster. "How's my man? Only a few weeks to 'pitchers and catchers'." They'd bonded over baseball.

"Yay!"

As he entered the café, Reid lowered Rosie to the floor. Immediately she toddled over toward the BAU table, aiming herself at Rossi's open arms.

"Here's my girl!"

Emily rolled her eyes. Rossi was so besotted with Rosie that he unwittingly monopolized her whenever they were all together.

"Rossi, she's my girl, too."

Henry was very direct with the godparents. "Actually, she belongs to Mom and Dad. And me, too."

Rosie didn't care. She was too busy beguiling the whole table with her smile. Even Morgan.

"You're a little cutie, aren't you? Just like your mom." He reached out to pinch her cheek, more because he thought that was what was generally done, than because he was particularly moved to do it.

"Who belongs to me," whispered Reid, as he leaned over to grab a mug from the table. He'd been soft enough that only Morgan could hear.

His 'big brother' just grinned at him, remembering a time when Reid had actually been insecure enough to think that Morgan might try to woo JJ right out from under him.

"Indeed she does," he whispered back.

The Jareaus thanked their daughter and son-in-law for the child-free evening, but announced that they were ready to show Henry and Rosie around Las Vegas. Fairy godmother Penelope had provided them with a full itinerary, complete with free passes to a number of venues.

"We'll check in with you during the day. Please give William our best." Sandy Jareau had been through too much tragedy in her own life to believe that any relationship was ever over….at least, any relationship not separated by death.

Allowing Henry his last bite of chocolate chip pancake, they took the kids back to the room to freshen up before they headed out. That gave the BAU team the opportunity to discuss the case freely.

"So, we know Reid's dad was assaulted, from the injury to his head." Morgan started them off.

"And we have a general description of the weapon used," added Emily. "Something elongated and rounded, like a pole, or a bat."

"And we have a possible motive in William maybe going to confront Albrecht about his taking credit for Daniel's discovery." But Rossi knew it was only a possible motive, and a possible identification of the assailant.

"Right. But my Dad doesn't remember being attacked, and he can't remember anything that happened afterward." As did the others, Reid thought they'd solved the case. But they couldn't prove it.

JJ went to the implications. "So, we think this was targeted against William, right? We don't think anyone else is in danger?"

Morgan agreed with her. "But they should pay for what they did. We still need to bring them in."

Rossi nodded in acknowledgement, but he thought there was more to it. He made eye contact with Hotch, who apparently agreed.

"We have an old case as well. This may be related to Daniel Reid's murder. We should assume we have two cases to resolve."

Unexpectedly, Reid felt his heart pounding. His uncle had been, for a very long time, a lost memory. Now that he'd become real, the nephew felt defensive of him.

Maybe because I relate to him, because it sounds like we were so much alike. Maybe not. All I know is that I want to vindicate him. I want it known that he didn't take his own life. I want him to be remembered as someone who still had hope, who planned for the future, who lived a life that helped others, however short it was. I need to make this happen. I need it for me. Not for my Dad...right?