In (sort of) keeping with the 'fathers and sons' theme I have going these last few updates, I present you another Hotch conversation. It's tagged to season 2's "Ashes and Dust" episode, but is set sometime around late season 5.

Happy reading =)

"I have so much paperwork. I'm afraid my paperwork has paperwork." – Gabrielle Zevin, Elsewhere

"Hey, Hotch."

I look up from the file I'd been studying to find Prentiss in my doorway. "Prentiss, what can I do for you?"

"Uh, I've got a kid on hold – he was accidentally transferred to me, but he's looking to speak with you. Says you gave him your card a few years back. His name is…" she trails off as she glances at the notepad she's carrying, "Liam Abby."

"Abby...Abby…" I murmur as I try to place the name. "Ring any bells with you?" I ask when I can't place it.

She stays silent for a moment as she thinks. "Didn't at first, but now that I think about it…was he the son from that serial arsonist case? The one with the EDF connection?"

"Oh, yes. You're right," I say with a nod, remembering the frustrating outcome of the case.

"You want to take the call?" she asks. "I can tell him you're not available if you'd prefer, I know you're swamped with paperwork today."

"No, go ahead and transfer him. And could you get Anderson to pull the file for me? I'm hoping it'll help jog my memory a little."

"No problem, sir."

I blink in surprise. "Sir?" I repeat skeptically. She hasn't addressed me as "sir" for some time…something must be up. Then it dawns on me…it's paperwork day. I let out a breath and shake my head. "You're behind on your paperwork, aren't you?"

She grins sheepishly. "To be fair, aren't we all always behind on our paperwork?"

"JJ isn't," I say, barely containing a smirk, which earns me a patented Prentiss scowl. "Just make sure you get caught up today," I say firmly, shooting her a meaningful glare.

"You got it, sir," she says with a nod and a grin. I resist the urge to shake my head again – the chances of her paperwork being submitted by the end of the day were about as likely as Reid wearing matching socks.

"Tell Anderson to come right in and drop it off, okay?"

Emily nods and then makes her way back down into the bullpen toward her desk. Moments later I hear my phone ring and I take a deep breath before picking it up.

"Agent Hotchner," I answer, wondering just what questions the boy is going to ask.

It's just been one of those days. After I finished talking with Liam Abby, I immediately had to take another call. And then another. And then another. By the time I'd had a few minutes to start chipping away at the large stack of reports and memos, the phone had started ringing again, this time with a detective from the Myrtle Creek police department in Oregon on the line.

Some time later I hang up the phone and rub my eyes. Staring at the tiny print of this particular case file had done nothing good for my aging eyes. The detective had been convinced he had a serial killer on his hands, and was all too willing to go over every tiny detail and shred of evidence in his cases. It had taken the better part of the call to convince him the deaths weren't at all connected, and that no, the team wasn't flying out to Oregon "just to be on the safe side". My eyes jump up when I hear a knock at the door.

"Hey Hotch, believe it or not, I've got my reports done!" Prentiss says, brandishing the files in front of her.

My eyes widen slightly. How long had I been on the phone? If Prentiss had finished her paperwork, it had to be near the end of the workday. A quick glance at the clock confirms just that. Realizing that Prentiss was still waiting for a response from me I let a somewhat uncharacteristic wry grin spread on my face. "Yes, thanks so much for submitting your already late reports, Prentiss."

"Did I mention I'm also carrying Morgan's completed reports?" she adds, holding out a second stack of folders.

My eyebrows jump up in surprise. "Seriously?"

She nods quickly. "We made a bet on who could finish first." I cringe, thinking of the subpar work they probably put in to save time. "Oh, no," she says, shaking her head. "Don't worry, Hotch. We had Reid go over them to make sure they were up to standard and neither of us were cheating."

I arch an eyebrow in response. "And he was okay with that?"

"Well it stopped us throwing paper at him…" she trails off.

"Ah," I say knowingly. "Well, in that case, I suppose a little motivation for you two was probably helpful."

"And in all likelihood, necessary," she adds with a grin.

"So who won?"

"I did," she says proudly. "Morgan is buying us all lunch tomorrow." She steps forward to hand me the large stack of completed files. "How goes your pile?"

I grimace and glance at the still rather large mountain of reports and files to be completed.

"That bad?"

I nod solemnly. "Even before that phone call earlier it wasn't likely to be finished on time."

"Anything I can do to help?" she asks, shooting me a sympathetic look.

I shake my head. "No, you should head home, Prentiss."

She immediately waves off my suggestion. "Hotch, please. Give me that stack of consults, I'll go through them so you can focus on the unit chief stuff that I can't do."

"You sure?"

"I don't mind, Hotch. I don't have a little boy waiting at home for me," she finishes softly.

"Thanks, Prentiss," I reply, shooting her a grateful smile as I hand over some files from the large pile.

She takes them and then holds out her other hand. I frown in confusion. Her gaze shifts to the rest of the pile and back to me. I sigh and then hand over the rest of the consults, watching as she takes them and heads off to her desk. With a renewed sense of hope of getting home at a reasonable hour, I dive into my paperwork.

I walk into the office balancing my briefcase, a coffee, and my bagged breakfast. By the time I get to my office door I've realized I have no free hand to unlock it, and there aren't any available surfaces to put my coffee down onto.

"I got it, Hotch."

"Prentiss?" I say in surprise, turning around to find her at her desk, files strewn across it, and a half empty extra-large coffee to-go cup.

She chuckles. "You say that like it's a surprise to see me."

"It is a surprise," I counter. "This is early, even for me."

She shrugs as she takes the coffee and bag from my hands, allowing me to unlock the door to my office. "I had to make sure I had enough time to redistribute the new files to Morgan and Reid," she deadpans, and I do a double take to make sure she's joking. When she finally cracks a smile, I sigh in relief.

"How did you make out on those files from yesterday?" I ask, remembering the large stack she'd taken from me to let me get home to Jack.

"Finished them."

My eyes widen. It was no small stack I'd handed her. "You did?" She nods. A thought occurs to me. "Prentiss, please tell me you didn't take them home to finish them."

"Okay: I didn't take them home to finish them," she says with a smile and instantly I know she did just that.

I groan lightly. "I didn't mean for you to have to do that. They could've waited," I point out as I deposit my briefcase onto my desk and grab my coffee and bagged breakfast from her.

"It wasn't a big deal, I didn't have any plans other than cracking open an expensive bottle of wine, so I figured I may as well finish them. And I did," she explains. "Before the wine," she assures me after a moment.

"Well, thank you," I say sincerely. Her finishing those files for me had given me more time with Jack. "And Jack thanks you too."

"He does?"

I nod. "He was confused when I got home pretty much on time, because I'd already called and explained I was going to be late. So I told him you offered to help me out and he felt he needed to thank you in some way for that," I say, putting down my coffee and fishing around in my briefcase for the particular piece of paper. "So he made you this."

She accepts the paper and a smile spreads as she takes in the carefully drawn figures and array of colours. "This is really sweet, tell him thanks for me. I'll have to put it up at my desk."

"I will," I say with a nod, knowing Jack will be ecstatic at that news. I take a seat in my chair and set about opening up my breakfast.

"How did that phone call with that kid go yesterday?" she asks, her gaze rising from Jack's drawing back up to me.

I take a bite out of my breakfast burrito and quick sip of my coffee before responding. "It went well. He had a few questions about his father's involvement in the case."

"That couldn't have been easy," she says sympathetically. "That was a tough case."

"Aren't they all?" I counter weakly. She wasn't wrong – the conversation I had with him was taxing to say the least.

"I suppose," she says with a shrug. "Still, it was good of you to answer his questions. I'd imagine it brought him some much needed closure."

"Hopefully," I agree with a nod. "He told me he's been trying to get some answers to wrap his head around it all."

"That's good."

"I thought so too."

"What did he ask?" she asks, her expression somewhat apprehensive. I stall before answering, but she must take my silence as disapproval. "You don't have to tell me," she adds quickly, probably worried she'd overstepped. "I suppose it isn't really any of my business. I was just curious."

"No, it's okay," I reassure her. I can't quite pin down why I'm okay with sharing his questions…maybe because I'm looking for reassurance that I'd given him the right answers. It's a role Dave would usually fill, but he isn't familiar with the case. "First he asked how his dad got mixed up in all of it. I told him his father wanted a better life for him and everyone else's sons."

Prentiss nods in agreement. "He told you as much during the case, didn't he?" she says, looking for confirmation.

"Yes," I answer simply.

"What else did he want to know?" she prompts, probably sensing I have more I want to say. A few years ago sitting here in my office with her having such a relaxed discussion would have been out of the question, but she and I had forged something of a bond after Foyet. She'd shown me support even as I did my best to push away the whole team, and if Dave's word is anything to go by, she had apparently stepped up in a big way while I was out recovering. Our professional relationship has grown substantially since her initial introduction to the team, that's for sure.

"He asked me why his father let himself burn to death."

She sucks in a breath quickly. "Oh," she says softly, sympathy in her tone. "What did you tell him?"

"That he wanted his death to mean something. He made sure to take the man responsible for the needless deaths with him, and ensure the safety of his family and the rest of the community."

"How did he take that?"

"He sees his dad as something of a hero."

"And what about you?"

I frown. "What about me?"

"Do you believe he was a hero?"

I think carefully before responding. This was another morally grey area…the man had spent years hiding away dangerous chemicals in the name of profit and job security, only to take up environmental activism to try and assuage his guilt. But he had made a large sacrifice in his act – he lost the small amount of time he had left with his son. On the other hand, he killed a man in the process.

"I think…" I begin slowly. "He was a father doing what he thought was best for his child."

She nods. "He was," she agrees.

"Anything going on in here I should know about?" Dave drawls teasingly as he pokes his head into the office.

I shake my head in amusement. "No, but there's a stack of unfinished paperwork on your desk that's taller than Jack," I shoot back.

"What are you looking at me for? She's always behind on her paperwork."

The three of us share a laugh before he saunters off to his office, and Prentiss gets up to head down to the bullpen.

"Prentiss-" I stop myself from being so formal, the work day hadn't started yet officially. "Emily," I correct myself. "Thank you again. Time with Jack is-"

"I know, Hotch," she interrupts. "Since my desk is clear – any consults I can take from you to lighten your load a little more?"

"Emily, you don't have to-"

"Hotch, really, I don't mind. I know what a treat it is to spend time with a parent who works a lot," she says and holds her hand out expectantly. "And I bet Jack would love his dad being able to pick him up from school this afternoon…" I hand over another stack of files and offer a small smile. "I'll have them in by the end of the day," she promises.

I nod and watch as she exits the office and makes her way down to her desk. Of course she would know how important spending time with a parent who works a lot is – it isn't likely her mother, the career politician, had a lot of time for her as she was growing up, so those moments were probably precious. Between her and Morgan, spending time with Jack doesn't seem like it's going to be a problem, and for that I'm intensely grateful. I take a moment to finish my breakfast burrito before I dive into yet another day of paperwork. I send a silent thanks for having such a wonderful team – they really are something else, and I'm so lucky to have them in my corner.

So...how did we enjoy the banter? Did his answers make sense? Let me know - I love to hear what you all think!

'til next time... :)