This page is a side-blog for my Criminal Minds fanfic, mostly Hotch-centric (because I love this grumpy old dude and I don’t want to annoy my followers with my nonsense stuff).
So, on this blog, I’ll post my finished texts and, as I’m a lazy person and that English is not my mother language, the drafts I’ve got for now. There will be also headcanons stuff (to let your understand my point of view on the guy) and maybe reflexions about him if I’ve got the time to.
Hope you’ll enjoy your journey anyway and help me motivate myself to write the full texts one day. :)
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My main blog is there > https://nicodemuslily.tumblr.com/
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Summary: Halloween is up to three days now and Hotch is in trouble: Jack has changed his mind about his costume and there's a contest at school. Fortunately, Garcia may has an idea to save him.
Characters: Penelope Garcia, Aaron Hotchner and Madame Bouvier
Contents: S10E05. Mention of Haley's death, a tiny bit of angst, but it's mostly safe. It's more a story about Madame Bouvier than about Halloween or Hotch, but I wanted to write a little something for the occasion. :)
This text was written for Halloween (but I'm late. ^^; ).
PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.
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Read on AO3
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When Penelope entered the BAU director's office, she knew immediately that something was wrong. It was extremely subtle, but over time, the analyst had learned to detect the microscopic changes in his facial expressions. And there, he was obviously worried.
“Oh, I don’t like that face,” she said, frowning. “What’s going on?”
Hotch hadn't called her in for questioning, but he still took the trouble to answer her.
“Nothing serious,” he swept away, smiling shyly.
Then he corrected himself:
“Well, kind of.”
“What that’s supposed to mean?” she bounced back, suspicious.
The giant was naturally anxious. He sometimes made mountains out of molehills, just as he was capable of facing a situation alone that required the support of his kins. In fact, she had to prepare for all eventualities. Including having to fight hard to get the truth out of him.
“Jack has changed his mind about his Halloween costume,” he revealed, defeated.
“Three days before the thirty-first?” she exclaimed, realizing, just as he had, the extent of the disaster.
“Yes. And he wants Darth Vader.”
“Ah,” she commented briefly, taken aback.
This made the task at hand even more complex. She knew children well enough to know that any other suggestions would not satisfy him. However, this character was particularly popular with both adults and younger fans, and all the outfits and gadgets related to him were snapped up as soon as they hit the shelves.
“Good point: I see who this is,” Hotch went on. “On the downside, given the date, I'm more likely to find him a stormtrooper costume. And again…”
Despite being thirty-seven years old, the Star Wars franchise continued to captivate audiences, and every year, inhabitants of this galaxy far, far away came to stroll the streets of America.
“Maybe you can make one yourselves? A Jedi, for example,” she ventured nonetheless. “All you need is a bathrobe and a neon light.”
“I don’t think it’ll be enough. The school is organizing a contest for the best costume. It's going to have to be top notch,” he explained before sighing. “But honestly, I don’t see how I can do that.”
The voluptuous blonde's neurons began to stir, the gears of her brain turning at full speed. Then a name popped into her head and everything became clear.
“…I may have a solution,” she announced, looking victorious.
“Really?” he reacted, interested.
“Let me give a phone call before and I’ll tell you then.”
“If you manage to get me out of here, I don't know how I could ever repay you.”
“We'll find something,” she said, winking at him.
She turned on her heels and left the room, before returning to drop off the documents the branch manager had asked her for. Then she rushed into her office, ignoring Derek and Spencer's calls, grabbed her personal cell phone, scrolled through her contact list, and tapped on the avatar of the person she needed.
“Penelope, my beauty!” Iphigénie answered on the spot. “How are you?”
A smile spread across the former hacker's face right away. Her friend's good humor and mischievousness were evident in her voice.
“I have a favor to ask you, my dear.”
“Tell me.”
“It’s not for me, it’s for a friend of mine,” she warned her quickly.
She knew her interlocutor would do anything for her, but she didn't know if the same would be true for her loved ones. Especially since she didn't know them at all.
“Let me explain: he is the father of an adorable little boy, and he would climb to the top of the Empire State Building with his bare hands for him if he had to. And I'm not saying that to exaggerate,” she clarified. “I'm sure he could do it, even if it's completely stupid.”
“But it would be so classy,” the shopkeeper replied with a laugh.
“We agree,” she conceded before continuing. “In short, the problem is that he is convinced he is an unfit father because he works like a maniac.”
And it wasn't for lack of pointing it out to him that Jack had never once reproached him on this subject.
“Where’s the mother?”
“Six feet under,” she said with a twinge of sadness.
“Oopsie!” apologized Iphigénie. “How am I supposed to help him?”
“His son has finally decided on his Halloween costume, and he wants nothing less than Darth Vader. And he needs a costume that stands out because he has to win the school contest.”
“How old is he?”
“Eight.”
“What an interesting challenge.”
Penelope breathed a sigh of relief. The seemingly insurmountable goal did not seem to deter the store manager, quite the contrary.
“Do you think you could take it up?”
“He should come see me at the store in two days.”
“Thanks, gorgeous! You’re the best!”
If she could have, she would have embraced her immediately. These were not fake words, she knew that. If the saleswoman claimed she could do it, it was because she already had an idea in mind and was confident she would achieve her goal.
“Are you going to tell him?” resumed the latter, suddenly worried.
“About what?”
“”
Her friend was a singular person. A wonderful being who didn't quite fit into any category and who had suffered more than once because of her differences. However, the analyst knew that there was nothing to fear from Hotch on that front. Being himself somewhat unusual—although he was probably unaware of this—and having seen his fair share of oddities, he had long since ceased to take offense at this type of peculiarity. Not to say that he considered it part of the remarkable diversity of the human race.
“Oh, don’t worry about that. There is little chance that he will pay attention to it.”
“ I trust you.”
They greeted each other, and Garcia rushed into her supervisor's office to tell him the good news. On the appointed day, he arrived as agreed at the little shop, in the pouring rain. He picked up the requested costume, relieved, and hurried home to see his son's eyes light up with joy.
What Madame Bouvier couldn't see, but guessed nonetheless, as she dialed the number of the computer expert. She was in her office in Quantico, frantically typing away on her keyboard to assist the team that had been called in for a new investigation.
“Darling, I hope I don’t disturb you.”
“Never, sweetie,” she affirmed, sincerely. “Everything’s fine?”
“ Your friend stopped by my shop. He told me that you were working together.”
“Yes, that's true,” she confirmed, an amused smile playing on her lips.
She had deliberately not described the giant to her and was not surprised by her interlocutor's astonishment. Hotch was a disconcerting person in many ways, and plenty of people fell into the trap of his stern appearance.
“That guy is an FBI agent?”
“He’s the head of the unit I’m working with, yes.”
“Hou! Someone is lucky.”
“You have no idea,” she agreed laughing.
Because yes, not only was the man gentle and kind, but he was also incredibly sexy. She couldn't have found a better boss.
“Did everything go well?” she asked next, concerned about her friend's well-being.
“ And you were right, he didn't even flinch or anything. Polite, smiling, and absolutely adorable. A real gem,” she said admiringly. “He just ran away when I offered to read his palm.”
“Too bad, the story would surely have been epic. Sad, but epic,” she added. “Maybe that's why he didn't want you to read them.”
Indeed, even though he kept many things to himself—mainly so as not to worry his loved ones and those close to him—the giant had not had an easy life and never had. Penelope had met enough people who had been shattered by their childhoods that she could read between the lines for Hotch. She had long since realized that he was hiding terrible cracks behind his impeccable suit.
“Anyway, I would have loved to have a father like him.”
“To be honest, I kind of think of him as my second dad,” she confessed, blushing.
She knew it might sound cliché, and perhaps even naive given her past, but these were not empty words. The director had been the one who had helped her get out of the hole, and she just had had to appear before him. He had immediately taken her under his wing and continued to defend her tooth and nail, even though she didn't fit the mold of the perfect little federal agent. He didn't care at all about her appearance, the way she spoke, or the knickknacks scattered all over her office. He trusted her and held her in as high regard as the other members of the team, who were armed with all kinds of degrees.
“I totally get you, honey.”
A light began to flash on her phone's handset.
“Oh, I have to go; it’s back to business.”
“Good luck, pretty.”
The following Monday, as agreed, the branch manager returned the costume to Madame Bouvier before heading to Quantico. The analyst found him a little later, when she brought him some new documents.
“So, did everything go well?”
“What?” he croaked, looking up at her, bewildered.
“Jack's contest,” the young woman reminded him, not hiding her amusement.
“Oh, yes. He finished in first place. He loved his costume so much that he fell asleep wearing it,” he said before picking up his phone from his desk. “Look.”
After browsing through his personal photo gallery, he stopped at one of them and turned the screen toward her so she could see it. She discovered Jack snoozing on the sofa, clutching Darth Vader's helmet, still wearing the outfit. He then showed her the other photos Jessica had taken at the school, where the little boy was beaming among the other participants. A gentle warmth filled her chest. She was so happy for the kid.
“You and your friend saved my life,” Hotch continued, clearly grateful.
“That's what you call a big first,” she joked instantly, delighted.
“As long as it's in this context, you can start over as many times as you want.”
Summary: It's almost time to get back home for the BAU and their friends/spouse/kids but there is still one mistery to solve.
Characters: BAU team + Will, Henry, Jack and Jessica
Contents: mention of food, of child death (and of its consequences on their parents), of divorce, and some people cry, but it's for a good reason.
This is a text written for the CM Summer Time challenge organized by @imagining-in-the-margins.
To be honest, the dialogues have been written two years ago for the same challenge, but the text is know ready to be published. :D It'll have 13 chapters.
PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.
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Read on AO3 / lire sur AO3
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It was almost 6:30 p.m. when they got back to the house. It was still daylight and a gentle warmth prevailed inside.
“Wouh! That was quite a bike ride!” exclaimed Penelope, her cheeks flushed by the sun.
“Let me remind you that I was the one pedaling.”
The explosives expert was drenched with sweat. He had caught his breath on the drive home, but the dark marks on his T-shirt bore witness to his exertions.
“And you did a great job,” she congratulated him, kissing him on the forehead. “To reward you for your efforts, we'll prepare the meal. Don’t we, Spence?”
“Always prepared!” declared the tall, lanky boy, who still had bandages on his fingers.
“I pass, thanks,” Hotch declared.
“What? No! We have planned local dishes.”
“They'll surely be very good,” he replied, unmoved by her pleading look, “but tomorrow I have to fit into my costume.”
The director may have been tall, but he wasn't the biggest eater in the troupe. Derek and Dave were beating him hands down on that field.
“Oh, it’s fine! There's always a little wiggle room in clothes,” objected the first one.
“It's tailor-made, Morgan. There is zero room,” he stated with full knowledge of the facts. “In any case, I can't help you with that because...”
“POOL!”
“Here.”
Jack and Henry were running all over the living room, chasing each other between the sofas and armchairs.
“It's true that there are two who didn't tire themselves out on the way back,” JJ said ironically, who had also sweated a lot.
In order to return the bikes to the rental company on time, the father had pulled his son along the entire way back, and the mother had taken over from her husband to pull the cart behind her. This exercise was much more tiring than pedaling on your own, especially since a seemingly endless false flat was there for a good part of the way.
“Yes, Jack. I’ve heard,” blew his sire. “Go put on your swimsuit; I'll be right there.”
“Yeah!”
He raised his arms victoriously to the sky and, still accompanied by Henry, galloped up the stairs to the upper floor. The giant turned to his former sister-in-law.
“Jess, while I take care of Jack, could you please gather his things in my room?”
“Yes, of course. Do you want me to take care of your suitcase?”
“No, it’s already done. Just bring me his things, I'll put them away later. And leave him some clothes for the trip home.”
“Done,” she said winking.
And she began to walk away when Garcia cried out:
“No! You’ve got no right to talk about that. The weekend is not over.
“Sorry,” apologized her superior.
“At the same time, it's true that our plane takes off tonight,” Emily remarked.
“La, la, la!” sang her colleague, her index fingers pressed into her ear canals. “I don’t hear a thing!”
Even though she went to hide in the kitchen, the reality was that they weren't going to sleep here that night. They had booked the latest possible flight but would still have to leave the house after the fireworks to return to Virginia. And the next day, they should be ready to start a new week of work. The enchanted interlude would soon come to an end, and they had only a few hours left to enjoy it.
“Dad!” shouted Jack appearing again next to the agency head. “We go swimming!”
It wasn’t even a question. The son ordered his father to follow him one last time into the pool.
“Yes, yes. Give me some time to dress up with a swimsuit.”
Hotch exchanged a silent glance with JJ, who responded with a knowing raise of her eyebrows. Then he too headed for the bedrooms.
“Pool!” Henry chirped in turn.
“Here come the second challenger,” Will joked.
“Maybe we shouldn't let Hotch handle the two little ones...” JJ pointed out, kneeling down to inflate her son's floppy armbands.
“Ok, I get it,” Prentiss declared. “I'll take over for cooking. Go play with your little monster.”
The initial plan was for the first to assist the IT expert, while the second would relax on a deckchair with Derek and Dave, waiting for diner. But the young mother hadn't really had the opportunity to spend time with her son since the beginning of the trip. Her colleague therefore agreed to sacrifice herself—without too much regret—to make amends for this faux pas. JJ smiled, delighted.
“Will, can you take care of the suitcases meanwhile?”
“Of course,” he said, kissing her.
“Hey! I forbid you to talk about that here!” Penelope stormed out of the kitchen, a whisk in her hand. “Shou! I don't want to hear the word “suitcase” in this space until further notice.”
Everyone laughed, but the instruction was followed. The boys, their respective mother and father splashed around as long as possible before lunchtime rolled around. During this time, the other tenants of the house packed their belongings, cleaned up, and loaded the trunk of the van. The shutters of rooms emptied of their occupants were closed, and the belongings of those who were busy elsewhere were gathered together. As soon as the fireworks were over, they would only have a few minutes to hit the road and rush to the airport.
They ate again on the terrace, enjoying the sea breeze until the very last moment, washed the dishes, and cleaned the table while Garcia, helped by JJ and Emily, packed up her clothes and knickknacks scattered throughout the house. Then, with all their luggage piled into the car, they went to the beach. Fireworks would start being set off from the nearby town at eleven o'clock, and other people had had the same idea as them. However, they had no trouble finding a place to settle down with a view of both the launch pad and the sea. The weather was pleasant, and the mosquitoes had decided to leave them alone. All that remained was to wait for the first rocket to take off.
“Well, now you can tell us,” Prentiss began, addressing her colleague, “how much did it cost you?”
With the mystery still unsolved, all eyes turned to the instigator of this weekend.
“Nothing at all,” she declared, smiling.
“Penelope, you're not going to pay for this rental all by yourself,” Morgan continued. “Tell us how much we have to give you.”
“Nothing. In any case, not for the house,” she clarified.
“What does that suppose to mean?” frowned JJ, confused.
The former hacker sighed, pulled her sequined shawl tighter around her bare shoulders, and announced:
“It’s a gift.”
“For us?” asked her longtime sidekick.
“No, for all of us.”
All the adults looked at each other with the same expression of bewilderment. They didn't understand what she meant by that. Hotch, who had already caught her altering the BAU accounts to grant additional funds to the unit, was immediately concerned.
“Penelope, what have you done?”
“Everybody calms down, it’s all right.”
“No, everything is not fine,” objected the former police officer, who was as suspicious as their superior. “We can’t have such a house, for this weekend, for free. There must be something.”
She sighed again, pouted, and then spoke again under the gaze of seven pairs of eyes.
“And I intended to keep this to myself, but you're leaving me no choice.”
The analyst took a deep breath and began, her eyes fixed on the waves breaking on the sand.
“As Jess and Will may not know, I volunteer to run support groups for people who have lost a loved one...”
Her eyes shifted surreptitiously toward the giant, whom she had encouraged to speak up after the tragedy that had affected them all, to no avail.
“…who have been traumatized by something or someone, who have been abused, robbed, injured... in short, who may have crossed paths with the kind of people we are pursuing and who need to express themselves.”
The agents had discovered this parallel activity by chance, and although it had caused her trouble at the time, they had allowed her to continue with this mission, which was vital to her mental balance.
“It’s a heavy task. Well done!” Jack's aunt congratulated her, impressed.
“Thanks, sweetie,” she reacted winking at her. “Four years ago, a couple arrived on the verge of breaking up. They had just lost their little girl and couldn't stand the sight of each other. They were this close to divorce.”
Instinctively, JJ and their partner tightened their fingers around their spouse’s hand. After the atrocities committed in Foyet, their fear that a deranged individual would attack Henry had grown and regularly returned to haunt them.
“But, as they talked, they grew closer to each other again. Two years ago, they came to tell me that they were leaving the state. That they had decided to fulfill the dream they had shortly after their marriage. To build a large house with an ocean view, a garden, a swimming pool, and plenty of bedrooms to accommodate their family and friends.”
New glances flew her way, but she paid no attention.
“Yes, you’ve guessed. This house is theirs,” she confirmed, a radiant smile on her lips. “A week ago, they called me. They remembered that I had a large family and that I dreamed of going away for the weekend with them. So, they told me that the house was free this weekend for me and whoever I wanted; and that I didn't have to pay anything, as a thank you for everything I had done for them…. That’s it.”
A silence lingered, interrupted only by the rolling waves. So, that was her big secret. Her generosity, altruism, and empathy had enabled her to offer them this respite from bullets, corpses, and madmen. She had rebuilt the life of a couple torn apart by tragedy and, in return, she had given them this timeless moment.
“Okay. I hate you if I'm the only one crying,” Emily moaned, wiping a tear from her cheek.
JJ, who was also crying, laughed and hugged her. The blonde with glasses came to join them.
“Can I have a hug too?” asked Jack, in his father's arms.
“Go,” he authorized him.
Jack jumped to his feet and threw himself into the fray, where he was greeted with great kindness. The three women covered him with kisses, before jumping at the sound of the first firecracker. A blue corolla unfolded in the dark sky.
“We owe them so much for that,” emphasized the former liaison officer.
“I bought a huge card for that purpose.”
“Watch out, she's going to steal your job soon,” Dave whispered to the director, who was usually the one who organized everything for the team.
“And I gladly let her. As long as she doesn’t fire me.”
“Never!” shouted the analyst.
“Hush!” Henry interrupted them sharply. “Look at the s’ow!”
Everybody laughed.
“Yes, sir!” Derek replied, stroking his hair.
They fell silent and, their eyes fixed on the multicolored explosions, savored the final moments of this long Fourth of July weekend.
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Feel free to leave a comment if you want to. I'll be more than pleased to answer you. ^_^
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First chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/codename-mom/791125045952069632/4th-of-july-113?source=share
Summary: The team reunits to have a break and eat, when Jack and Henry have noticed something.
Characters: BAU team + Will, Henry, Jack and Jessica
Contents: food and major cuteness! X3
This is a text written for the CM Summer Time challenge organized by @imagining-in-the-margins.
To be honest, the dialogues have been written two years ago for the same challenge, but the text is know ready to be published. :D It'll have 13 chapters.
PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.
___
Read on AO3 / lire sur AO3
___
Emily noticed that Dave and Jessica were missing, and turned around to go meet them. She found them standing by the side of the road, the second one wiping her face with a handkerchief. Her insides immediately twisted, spurred on by her instinct.
“Is there a problem?” she interrogated them, slowing down.
“No, everything is fine,” Rossi replied peacefully. “We are wandering.”
“Don’t… don't wait for us,” stammered the young woman, putting the piece of fabric in the pocket of her shorts.
Her eyes were red and her cheeks, pink. She had been crying, and the female profiler was dying to ask her why. However, she was aware of the coldness that had settled between them and reassured herself by thinking that the retired man must have done what was necessary to make her smile again. Beneath his somewhat gruff and selfish exterior, the Italian-American was a caring person who loved nothing more than seeing those around him happy.
“Oh, don’t worry. We're moving at Jack's pace,” she said with a smile. “So, apart from Derek, who's racing ahead like a rocket, we're not that far ahead.”
The trio set off again less than a minute later and quickly caught up with the main group, which had stopped on the road. They gathered around the blue, white, and red bicycle lying on the ground. Jessica immediately felt her heart rate quicken. It was her nephew’s.
“What happened?”
“He lost control of his bike,” JJ told her.
“He may have taken the curb,” Will surmised, handing Henry the water bottle so he could rehydrate.
“But, look, he’s on his feet.”
Indeed, the toddler was standing on his own two feet next to his father, who had gotten off his bike. He did not tremble, stagger, bleed, cry, and was breathing normally.
“Are you okay?” Hotch enquired anyway, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Yes, I’m fine,” assured his son without any hesitation. “Can we go now?”
“Wait, I need to put your saddle back on straight,” he said, putting the bicycle back on its wheels. “Are you sure you are okay? Are you in pain somewhere?”
“Everything's fine, Dad,” Jack repeated with a sigh.
His father was about to reply when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He looked at the screen and saw that it was Garcia. The analyst must have been anxious about not seeing anyone anymore. He picked up the phone and said right away:
“Eagle mom at Majestic Unicorn, you can tell Hot Chocolate and Ingenious Twig that everything is fine. The Mischievous eaglet fell off his bike, but he's already ready to get back on.”
The spectators frowned in unison and exchanged bewildered glances, amused smiles playing on their lips.
“No, there's no need to turn around to give him a hug,” he continued, paying no attention to the silent conversation. “I just told you he was fine. Go on, we are on our way.”
The federal agents chuckled to themselves, perfectly imagining the voluptuous blonde ordering their colleague to turn back on the spot and come to the kid's rescue.
“Yes, okay. Roll,” he ordered her with a bored look.
He then hung up and turned to Jack, who was grinning from ear to ear.
“Well, I have to give you a hug from Penelope. Waiting for the real one.”
His son spread his arms, and Hotch took him in his own, taking the opportunity to kiss him on the forehead. Then he got up to finally take care of the bike, whose saddle was crooked.
“Am I Mischievous eaglet?”
“Yes.”
“Why ‘eaglet’?” he frowned, perplexed.
“Because Penelope decided that my nickname would be ‘Eagle mom’. So, you must be an eaglet.”
Prentiss bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. She had never imagined that the giant would adopt this name right away. It seemed that as soon as it came from the IT expert, there was nothing to complain about. She felt no jealousy whatsoever; on the contrary, she found this singular relationship touching.
“That means I'm going to become an eagle later,” Jack deduced, feeling very proud. “So cool!”
“That's it,” commented his father, standing up straight. “Go, climb on it.”
“Is that Spencer, Ingenious Twig?” continued the boy as he stepped over the frame.
“Yes.”
“What does ‘ingenious’ mean?”
“It means: very clever.”
The boy nodded, weighing up what he had just learned, then replied:
“I would have said, ‘Ingenious noodle’. Because a twig is straight, while a noodle is soft. Like him.”
The adults around him snickered, even Jessica, who knew less about the multi-graduate but had still noticed his hunched posture.
“Okay,” smiled the head agency. “We keep it. Come on, go, or we'll never make it to the picnic on time.”
“Oh, no!” exclaimed the little boy, suddenly panicked. “They’re going to eat everything!”
He quickly pressed down on the pedals, nearly running over his father's feet, and began to ride away.
“Jack, Jack!” Hotch called him back. “Calm down, we are the ones with the lunch. It's more likely that they will starve to death.”
“Well, they should have slowed down,” declared the kid, who had stopped further away.
Everybody laughed. Then, hilarious, they got back on their bikes and caught up with him before continuing on their way until they reached the picnic area. The place was a vast lawn dotted with groves of trees, with playground equipment for children and, scattered here and there, stands and trucks selling food. Morgan, Garcia, and Reid had settled down not far from a shaded area, and the second woman was waving her arms around to get their attention. Jack and Henry galloped toward her as fast as their short legs would carry them.
The others caught up with them shortly afterwards and laid out all the food they had bought two days earlier and prepared the day before on the two tablecloths they had found in the house. They then ate while chatting happily, enjoying this well-deserved break. Other families gravitated around them and paid no attention to them whatsoever. Everyone went about their business, smiling, laughing, and enjoying lunch in the carefree atmosphere of this long weekend. A moment suspended in time that eased tensions and offered a welcome respite for the Bureau’s employees.
Jack and Henry, having wolfed down their sandwiches, chips, and applesauce, rushed toward the swings, slides, and other merry-go-rounds. Their respective parents kept an eye on them while participating in the ongoing conversations. Then the first one came back to them in a rage, the second one close behind.
“There's ice cream over there!” he exclaimed, pointing to the right.
“Ah...” said his father, who had not anticipated this expense in his mental budget.
“I want an ice cream!”
“Yes, I figured that out.”
“Please, please, please, Daaaaaaad!” his son stamped his feet, overexcited.
“Hey! Calm down right now or you won't get anything at all.”
Jack froze immediately, knowing full well that his father was capable of denying him this treat. Henry, meanwhile, had come to snuggle in his mother's arms and was staring intently at her, his eyes moist. It was another method of begging, but the goal remained the same.
“I'd like some ice cream too,” Emily confessed, a greedy gleam flashing in her eyes.
“Same,” did her female colleagues.
“I’m in,” Derek affirmed, raising his hand.
“Are you sure that's good for your figure, Romeo?” the analyst pointed out mockingly.
“Don’t worry about that, baby girl, I handle it.”
“Well, shall we go?” interjected Prentiss, who was now really craving ice cream.
“Let’s follow Eagle mom,” replied JJ.
Hotch gave her a sidelong glance, but she held his gaze, smiling. He sighed, his eyes rolling in their sockets, then stood up, urging his offspring to show them the way. The entire group moved on to a huge glacier that was overrun with picnickers. The store staff rushed to fill orders at top speed, sweating but satisfied with this influx of customers. The team got closer and discovered the range of fragrances available.
“Wow! There's plenty to choose from,” noted the former liaison officer.
“Oh, yes! Great!” rejoiced the former hacker. “What are you taking?”
“Everything,” answered the brunette, who didn't know which way to turn.
In front of her were about fifty different containers, offering an enticing array of colors. There were very classic flavors—vanilla, strawberry, chocolate, lemon—and others that were much less common—morello cherries, Twix, crème brûlée, and violet. And everything looked tasty.
“Hey, Eagle mom, would you mind buying us an ice cream?” Morgan asked, looking mischievous.
“What?” the giant reacted, grumpy. “And who’s going to pay mine?”
“Me,” JJ, Emily, Derek and Penelope exclaimed.
“No, me!” they said, annoyed.
“I said it first!” objected the ambassador's daughter.
“No, it's me!” the Chicago native counterattacked.
“I'm sure I spoke first,” asserted the mother.
“Calm down,” interjected the director. “I don’t want anything.”
This admission instantly scandalized them. With their mouth open and their breath taken away, they stared at their superior as if he had just insulted the President of the United States. Dave, Jessica, and Will exchanged puzzled glances.
“What? No! You have to take something,” Garcia insisted.
“No, thank you.”
“There are pancakes too,” added the slender blonde, indicating to a nearby stand that was less crowded.
“And waffles,” stressed the brunette. “Waffles are good.”
“And over there, there are churros,” reported the former police officer, pointing to a shop on the other side.
“I don't want anything at all, stop it,” growled their leader, who hated being forced into a corner.
“But…” Emily commented.
“So, Jack, what do you want?”
That question put an end to the debate. By redirecting all his attention to his son, he made it clear to them that the discussion was over. Rossi saw the expressions of disappointment on the faces of the rejected quartet, as well as on Spencer's, who clearly wanted to join his colleagues' plan.
“Chocolate!” shouted the little boy, his arms raised to the sky.
“There aren't any left,” noted his father, who could easily see over the crowd. “You'll have to get something else.”
The kid pouted, disappointed, then moaned:
“I can’t see the signs.”
“Wait.”
The titan bent down to pick him up and place him on his shoulders. Perched up high, the kiddo could see what everyone else could no longer see because of the crowd gathered in front of the window.
“That!”
“Smurf? Is that what you want?”
“Yes.”
“Your tongue will turn blue,” emphasized the unit leader, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Yeah!”
This prospect seemed to appeal to him even more than eating this impromptu snack. A few customers in front moved away with their orders, freeing up space for the duo to approach. A teenager not even twenty years old leaned toward them and asked:
“What it will be for you?”
“One scoop of ice…”
“No, two!” Jack corrected.
“No, one. You're going to struggle to finish it...” he argued knowingly.
“Not even true!”
“One scoop of Smurf ice cream, please,” ordered the giant, ignoring his passenger's last exclamation.
“With a cone!” he negotiated.
“With a cone.”
“Okay,” registered the salesman, grabbing his tools.
Hotch moved aside to let the next people access the counter. He took the opportunity to bring his son back down to earth. The latter kept his hand in his, jumping up and down with impatience. Dave took the opportunity to move closer to his disciple and whisper in his ear:
“Aaron, accept the kids’ proposal.”
The ‘kids’ in question were adults of legal age. Rossi called them that in response to the fact that they had nicknamed them ‘Dad’ and ‘Mom’. A frivolity that the director did not share with him, but which he had given up trying to correct over time.
“Why? I’m not hungry.”
“I know but accept.”
The giant frowned and looked at him, before he glanced at the quintet of agents, who were undoubtedly sad. He then realized that their request was not entirely innocent. Each of them, for different reasons, wanted to give him this gift. Rejecting it meant preventing their wounds from healing. Part of him thought that none of this was necessary, but he also knew that his way of thinking was not conventional.
“Fine,” he abdicated. “But I'll have a waffle, because I feel like I'm going to have to finish Jack's ice cream.”
“Yeah!”
The five moved over to the next booth and, in unison, each held up a five-dollar bill for the waitress.
“What can you do with all that?” JJ asked her.
As for the colossus, he had decided to please everyone. So, after giving Jack his sky blue ice cream, he turned to Jessica.
“What will you take?”
“Blackcurrant. Thanks.”
He placed his order with the same employee and leaned toward his other neighbor.
“You, Dave?”
“I’m rich, I can pay my own ice cream.”
“At this point, you know…”
“Coffee,” he said, surrendering without further argument.
“A scoop of coffee with a cone, please,” he added. “Will, what do you want?”
Caught off guard, the police officer blushed and stammered:
“What? No, I…”
“You know, six or nine, it doesn’t make any difference.”
The logic was strange, Henry's father thought, but he accepted.
“Okay. So… uh… rum-raisin.”
Hotch spoke to the teenager again and topped it off with a cookie-flavored ice cream scoop for Henry.
“Is that all?”
“No, there’s five more, but I don’t know where they are. Serve other customers first.”
They took a few steps back, ice cream in hand, so that the other vacationers could pass. Dave quickly spotted the latecomers.
“Here they are.”
“And they're loaded,” joked Will, who was helping his son eat his meal without getting food all over his clothes.
Indeed, the five FBI agents were heading toward them, proudly holding their loot in front of them.
“There you go!” Penelope and Spencer announced.
Placed on a piece of cardboard, a chocolate waffle was topped with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, a dollop of whipped cream, mini cookie crumbs; blue, white, and red sprinkles, and a handful of Maltesers that had rolled into the holes. And to top it all off, the saleswoman had stuck a miniature American flag into the frozen sphere.
“… Good thing I said I wasn’t hungry.”
“Don’t you like it?” the analyst worried on the spot.
“Yes, yes! Thank you,” he said, picking up his meal. “Uh… what do you want for an ice cream?”
“ChocolatemintstracciatellastrawberryOreolemon.”
“Not all at once, please,” he sighed. “And there is no chocolate anymore.”
“Oh,” Emily commented. “Well, let’s go for caramel then.”
___
First chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/codename-mom/791125045952069632/4th-of-july-113?source=share
Next chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/codename-mom/798738965756870656/4th-of-july-1313?source=share
Summary: All the team is cycling alongside the sea when Dave noticed that Jessica is far behind them. He makes a stop to wait for her and maybe have a little chat with her.
Characters: David Rossi and Jessica Brooks
Contents: angst, anger, grudge, misunderstanding, sadness; mention of what happened between Hotch and Foyet.
This is a text written for the CM Summer Time challenge organized by @imagining-in-the-margins.
To be honest, the dialogues have been written two years ago for the same challenge, but the text is know ready to be published. :D It'll have 13 chapters.
PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.
___
Read on AO3 / lire sur AO3
___
Dave was riding quietly on the road that went along the coast, some distance behind the leading group. It didn't matter to him because he knew it was a straight line anyway and that they would all end up in the same place in the end. Then, as he said the day before, he was on vacation. He ran enough the rest of the time, so he wasn't going to deprive himself of the chance to stroll, enjoying the scenery, the warm breeze, and the sound of the waves. He also noticed that Jessica was pedaling even slower than him.
He hadn't followed all the events, but he understood that she had clashed with the other women in the group on the first day. And, obviously, this had led to the scene they had experienced the night before, when she had clearly shown her disapproval of their behavior towards the agency director. He thought he could see the reasons for this knee-jerk reaction and, in a way, understood why she was angry with them; but he also knew that there were some things she didn't understand.
“Oh, don’t wait for me,” she said, realizing that he had stopped before her. “I’m not used to do biking.”
“Good, me neither. We might as well struggle together.”
She smiled and brushed away a strand of hair that had escaped from her helmet and was falling over her nose.
“And you can call me by my first name,” he added, starting up again beside her.
“I know,” she blushed. “It’s just that… I know how important you… you are for Aaron.”
“Oh, it’s nothing. The student has long surpassed the master,” he affirmed, honestly.
He hadn't seen his disciple for years and was able to see how much he had progressed when he left his retirement lair. And his mind, already sharp when he recruited him, had become even more refined than he had imagined.
“You… you should tell him.”
“I think he already knows it.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
He frowned. He knew that Aaron was blind to his own qualities. That wasn't really what bothered him.
“… Is everything okay?” he inquired cautiously.
“What?” she croaked, surprised. “… Yes. Why?”
“I feel like you’re angry.”
She turned her head away, focusing on her handlebars and biting her lower lip. A dilemma was playing out in her mind. On the one hand, she wanted to pour her heart out about what was getting her down, but on the other, she couldn't ignore the fact that she was going to be talking to someone who was part of her ex-brother-in-law's team. Someone very close to those who were getting on her nerves.
“… Annoyed, rather,” she admitted after a long silence.
“Well then, what’s going on?”
“Nothing. I… It’s not my place to discuss it.”
“You’re still mad after what happened yesterday, aren’t you?”
Without warning, the young woman slammed on the brakes and came to a sudden stop. Dave was slow to react and stopped a little further away. However, he made the effort to back away when he saw her shining eyes.
“… It's just that...” she began, before letting go of the handles to straighten up. “Aaron is full of praise for his team. Given what he told me, I expected to meet people who... who would hold him in as high esteem as he holds them. And instead, I'm faced with people who can't even call him by his first name!”
That was what he was thinking. She couldn't understand why the other agents kept such a distance from their superior, even though he behaved almost like a mother to them. It was a complex dynamic, influenced by many unspoken issues and misunderstandings.
“I see and understand that their behavior bothers you but know that the relationship you have with Aaron is quite unique.”
“What do you mean?” she raised an eyebrow, disconcerted.
“You're probably the only person I know who isn't impressed by him.”
The branch manager stood at six feet tall, wore tailored, understated suits, and was always clean-shaven and well-groomed. Added to this was an expressionless face and perpetually furrowed eyebrows, which tended to put people who didn't know him off. Witnesses regularly cowered when he approached, and suspects thought twice before attacking him. And the man was aware of this imposing stature that genetics had bequeathed him and spared no effort to appear smaller than he was, with varying degrees of success.
Even within the FBI, few could suppress a shiver when he walked toward them. This was especially true given that a rumor was circulating about him in the corridors of headquarters and Quantico, which further dehumanized him. Someone, one day, had nicknamed him the Iceberg, and the nickname had spread like wildfire throughout the Bureau, to the point that even agents who had arrived since then had heard about it and used it themselves. To everyone who didn't work with him, he was a block of ice on legs. An uncompromising and cold monster, incapable of smiling or feeling the slightest empathy.
It was completely untrue, of course, but the reputation stuck with him. The profilers had also heard about it and should have ignored it, but that was not easy. Because, despite all his kindness, he remained a serious, austere giant, attentive to ensuring that certain rules were followed to the letter. As a former prosecutor, he was well aware of what could create loopholes in criminal cases and became stricter as soon as his flock strayed too far. And, although very lax on certain points, others were not open to negotiation.
“You’ve been working together for years,” Haley’s sister replied logically.
“Yes, and so we know that he's not mean despite his gruff exterior, but I can assure you that the whole gang clenches their buttocks as soon as he raises an eyebrow.”
“So, what? Does he yell at them whenever they call him Aaron?”
“No. But they still have to dare to do it.”
“Aaron wouldn't hurt a fly,” she said before turning pale. “Well, as long as you don’t…”
Her throat closed up before she could finish her sentence. Dave knew what she was referring to. Despite his impressive stature and powerful voice, the giant was as gentle as a lamb and always took care not to hurt anyone inadvertently. He only raised his voice as a last resort or when his interlocutors touched on a sensitive issue. But, generally speaking, he was pretty harmless. The only outburst of rage they had ever seen from him was against George Foyet. The love of his life’s murderer. Jessica had not been told the details, but she knew that he had been killed by her ex-brother-in-law, and she had seen his damaged hands. She was smart enough to put two and two together.
“I know,” he went on. “But it remains a barrier that they find difficult to overcome.”
“On the other hand, when it comes to insulting him for no reason, they obviously don't mind,” she flared up, suddenly regaining her confidence.
“I wasn't there that day, but I imagine they panicked. They improvised based on how they felt at the time, and not in the happiest way, I grant you.”
“And they never apologized.”
Her gaze was fixed on him, provocative. She challenged him to find fault with that. However, he lacked the information needed to respond.
“… What did Aaron told you about that?”
“Nothing,” she slammed. “I discovered that at diner yesterday evening. But I see how he behaves outside Quantico, and some of his... apprehensions are becoming very clear now.”
“Which apprehensions?”
She raised her eyes to the sky. For her, it was so obvious. For the novelist, it was more subtle. His superior compartmentalized his professional and personal lives so thoroughly and walled off his emotions so easily that it was difficult to know what he might be hiding.
“Didn't they ever wonder why he never invited them to his birthday party?” she asked haughtily. “I know he goes to theirs because he asks me to babysit Jack on those evenings—or he takes him with him—but I also know that the reverse is not true.”
That was the truth. Aaron celebrated each of his subordinates' new earthly revolutions but never organized anything for his own. He didn't make a big deal about his birthday and usually made sure he wasn't available on that day. He had always attributed this to his disastrous childhood, which had left him with no fond memories of this date—combined with the fact that he hated being the center of attention—but it was possible that there was another reason after all.
“Well, imagine that they ask themselves this question every year.”
“If they need an answer, I can provide one.”
“Jess, I think I understand what you're getting at,” he said with a sigh, “and like you, I'd like to set things right. However, there are two major obstacles standing in our way.”
“Which ones?” she spat, doubtfully.
“First of all, the three agents concerned are certainly very kind, but they also have a certain pride that means apologizing for saying a potential truth—while glossing over its hurtful aspect—is not one of their priorities.”
“A potential truth?” she repeated in a threatening tone.
“Aaron and Hotch do not necessarily behave in the same way. In this case, he is indeed exigent and very demanding. As for Emily saying he was macho, I can't go into details but know that the context of that conversation lent itself to that kind of shortcut. At present, she would no longer make the same statement.”
She took in the arguments, mulled them over in her mind, and pouted before continuing:
“…What is the second obstacle?”
“Aaron himself. You know him as well as I do: when he has an idea in his head, he can't think of anything else. And once he is convinced of something, it is extremely difficult to make him see that he is wrong.”
Especially when it was a negative concept concerning him. His extremely low self-esteem prevented him from seeing his qualities, even with a well-argued speech.
“So… there’s nothing we can do. That’s it?”
“No. It will take time and a lot of energy, but little by little—small gestures after small gestures—he will eventually see reason.”
She looked away, lowered her head, and tears welled up in her eyes. Dave didn't know exactly the nature of his disciple’s relationship with Jessica, but he guessed that the two were very close and that the pain of one caused the other to suffer.
“I… I so much wish it was already the case.”
“Me too,” he agreed, before steering the conversation toward a more cheerful topic. “Otherwise, everything is going well with Beth?”
“Judging by the silly smile he has every time he talks to her on the phone, I'd say yes,” she replied, smiling too.
“Good.”
“The last time I saw him like that was…”
Her words were crushed before they could leave her mouth. This new beginning must not have been easy for her. Somehow, this meant to her that their bond was now only held together by Jack. The Brooks were nothing more than a page turned in his past, one he would only revisit because his son was genetically linked to them. But time would cause this thread to become thinner and thinner, until it might break. Beth represented a new adventure, new relationships, and, since she was restless, a possible new life elsewhere. However, the co-founder of BAU knew one thing for certain.
“… He won’t forget her, you know.”
She shook her head, her lips pressed tightly together, her eyes brighter than ever.
“I just want him to be happy. I just want them to be happy.”
Her tears began to roll down her cheeks and she began to sob, her face hidden in her hands. Rossi immediately took her in his arms to calm her down.
___
First chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/codename-mom/791125045952069632/4th-of-july-113?source=share
Next chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/codename-mom/798135699491766272/4th-of-july-1213?source=share
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Summary: The day after, JJ is watching her son negociating with Aaron to go swimming before breakfast when Will notices something.
Characters: BAU team + Will LaMontagne Jr., Henry, Jack Hotchner and Jessica Brooks
Contents: mention of food and possible death, light angst and that's all I think.
This is a text written for the CM Summer Time challenge organized by @imagining-in-the-margins.
To be honest, the dialogues have been written two years ago for the same challenge, but the text is know ready to be published. :D It'll have 13 chapters.
PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.
___
Read on AO3 / lire sur AO3
___
The next morning, JJ stood in the dining room, watching her son follow Jack around the garden like a duckling. The older boy had decided to go swimming before even having breakfast, and Henry immediately embraced the idea. The two were now talking with Hotch and Jessica, sitting on deck chairs, and the negotiation seemed to be difficult. The mother guessed that the director was making sure that she and her partner were aware of the situation and was giving them instructions so that the boys could wade without putting themselves in danger. The kids raised their arms in victory, then jumped into the pool, splashing the stone tiles.
“Who set the table?”
JJ turned to her spouse, who had just spoken. She looked around and, frowning, asked:
“Why? Is there a problem?”
“No, not at all. On a contrary, it… it’s perfect,” he commented, hesitating. “Too well, even.”
“What do you mean by ‘too well?”
How could a table be too well set? Especially since, from what she could see, it looked more like a joyful mess.
“Well, look. At first glance, it looks like it's arranged randomly,” he remarked too. “Not all the cutlery is on the same side, the plates and glasses don't match, some have cups, others have bowls, and others have nothing. But, in fact, there are exactly two pieces of cutlery that are reversed and...”
“Aaron and Penelope are left-handed,” she realized all of sudden.
“Henry has asked for a dark plate at every meal since we arrived here. And there is one right where one of the only three plates with a bowl should be, which are for the only three people who have milk and cereal.”
“Henry, Jack and Penelope.”
The rest of the household avoided these foods, which are very high in carbohydrates.
“And the others have cups and/or glasses, depending on whether they drink tea, coffee, and/or fruit juice,” Will pointed out. “Look, even the butter, jam, and sugar are placed in strategic locations.”
In other words, whoever had arranged all this tableware had not been incredibly lucky. He or she had observed them very carefully.
“Who’s the psychopath who set this table?”
The answer jumped out at her before she even had time to think about the question. It was so obvious.
“… Aaron.”
“Are you serious?”
“That's the kind of thing he does, yes,” she admitted, suddenly embarrassed. “He doesn't ask questions, but he records everything he hears and sees and then uses it to... give us stuff or... do that. He must have seen how we organized ourselves during the last three meals and used that to set the table.”
Ever since she had known him, he had always acted this way. Very respectful of everyone's privacy, he only touched on the surface of things. He didn't ask how many brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, and uncles his subordinates might have. He didn’t ask what they like to eat, to drink or to wear. Didn’t ask what misfortunes they may have experienced in the past, during their childhood or adolescence. And never, ever asked anything that might remotely concern their sex lives. But he listened, observed, and remembered everything there was to know about them, and when the time came, he used it to make them happy. It was often very small things, seemingly insignificant, but which brought smiles to their faces when they came across them.
“… Where he is?”
“Outside, with Jessica,” she answered pointing at the pool with her chin. “They've been talking for a good quarter of an hour.”
“Maybe you should do it too.”
“What?”
She hadn't expected to receive this advice, just like that, out of the blue.
“Emily, Derek and you, you should take some time to discuss with him.”
“Why?” she retorted defensively.
Will sighed and got closer to her to take her hand.
“JJ, someone who does this kind of thing, doesn't do it for random people. They do it for people they care about. And, in this case, he does so even though you haven't been very nice to him.”
She suppressed her urge to roll her eyes. Sleep had eluded her for hours after the scene the night before, and she had tossed and turned countless times in bed before fatigue overcame her anxiety. If she had felt very uncomfortable on the day she had to insult Hotch, her discomfort had intensified when she had to justify herself, and even more so when she had faced Jessica's judgmental gaze. She didn’t want to live it again for the fourth time.
“I already explained myself to him.”
“Did you apologize?”
A flash of lightning shot through her chest. Unsettled by the fact that she suddenly had to argue about a simple word that normally would not have any consequences, she could not remember her exact words. Maybe she asked for an apology, maybe not. Perhaps she had stood her ground and assumed her retort. After all, he shouldn't hold it against them.
“JJ, there were four of you facing him that day, and if the one who knew him best decided not to say anything, there must have been a reason.”
A vice tightened around her guts. Her partner was right. If Gideon had remained silent, it was because he knew that their reproaches would hurt the giant. He would take the blows without flinching, but he would bear the scars of their attacks. He would never forget and would ponder their words at length, until they became engraved in his flesh and became part of his being, as if they had always been there. For all these years, he was convinced that he was a macho, authoritarian bully. What he wasn't before and, fortunately, what he didn't become afterwards. But he thought he was, sincerely.
“If you think it's that simple,” she whispered, her eyes sparkling.
“I'm not saying it is,” Will conceded, stroking her cheek. “But one day, you will have to take the time to sort things out. And the sooner the better. I don't think I need to remind you that you put your life in danger with every mission, and that neither you nor he will live forever. And I would like, as much as possible, that when the day comes that he disappears, you will have no regrets about him.”
Since that day, the giant had come close to death several times, and although he had survived, it had not been without some casualties. And yet, none of these warnings had motivated her to take a step toward him to make amends. Until it was too late, and he died convinced that he was a despicable person. But where? When? How should the topic be addressed? The titan had a head as hard as concrete, and it was very difficult to make him see reason, especially when he was the one directly involved. Unless…
“… Hotch and Jessica come back,” she said, tensed.
Indeed, the pair was walking calmly in their direction. The children had been told to get out of the water and were rolling around in their beach towels.
“Hello, Jessica. Hello, Aaron,” Will waved at them, enthusiast.
“Hello,” Jack’s aunt answered politely.
She was slightly more relaxed than the night before, but the slate had not yet been wiped clean.
“Hi, Will. Hi, JJ.”
“Have a good night?” the latter asked smiling.
“Fine. The deck chairs were comfortable.”
“What?” she did, confused.
“Jack wanted to sleep under the stars, so we went to the poolside.”
“Henry would have loved to do that so much!”
An anvil fell to the pit of her stomach when she realized they wouldn't be able to do it tonight. She had never considered sharing this activity with her son, who, like all children, loved to gaze at the starry sky.
“Well, at least we know where we can go now,” her partner said, patting her on the shoulder.
Her son and Jack then burst into the dining room and ran across the huge place to reach the stairs. They climbed up without any discretion and, laughing, rushed into their bedroom to get dressed.
“By the way, what's the plan for today?” enquired Jessica, returning to them with wet towels in her hands.
“A bike ride, picnic included, before returning here to watch the fireworks on the beach,” announced Hotch, picking up the one that belonged to his son.
“It sounds cool.”
Will took Henry's property and went on:
“But we don’t have any bike.”
“No,” confirmed JJ. “We need to go see the rental company when they open. And that's why we're going to have to shake up the sleepers.”
“No need,” said the director. “They are already moving.”
Probably awakened from their sleep by the cavalcade of little monsters, Derek, Penelope, and Emily descended the stairs, half awake. The boys followed shortly after, a toy in each hand and still as noisy as ever despite their parents' encouragement to be quiet. Hungry after their morning swim, they sat down at their usual table and demanded their food. The shouting woke Dave and Spencer, who were sleeping on the ground floor, from their beds.
After breakfast, everyone scattered to get ready and then gathered to get into the van. Forty minutes later, they arrived in town, parked, and went to the bike rental shop, which the analyst had spotted earlier. The manager greeted them with a big smile and looked at their reservation. Then it was time to distribute the vehicles for the next six hours. The children were excited to discover their bikes, their eyes lighting up whenever they spotted an Ironman or Cars sticker on the frame or handlebars.
Penelope still managed to attract their attention, as well as that of the adults.
“Okay,” she called across the shop. “For Hotch and Jess, you have classic bikes. Just like JJ, Emily, and Dave,” she continued reading from the sheet the rental agent had given her.
“I wouldn't have minded a less classic bike,” remarked the last one.
“More electric, for example?” his disciple whispered, a mocking grin playing on his lips.
“You read my mind.”
The giant shook his head as he stopped his son from playing with all the bells in the store.
“Here's our big champion of the day,” continued the blonde with glasses.
She presented Jack with a blue, white, and red bicycle; very patriotic, but much less stylish than the one decorated with spider webs and little Spider-Men all over it.
“… Thank you,” he said still squinting at the other vehicle.
His father realized that he would have to find an explanation to justify why he couldn't have the other bike that caught his eye—working brakes, better tires, anything that would help him move on.
“And Henry, my dear, you will have the immense privilege of spending the day in this royal carriage.”
She brought him an apple green fabric cart to attach to the back of one of the adults' bikes. There were plastic windows on the sides and a folding door, also transparent, at the front.
“Can I have a bike?” he begged immediately, not particularly enthusiastic about climbing in there.
“Sorry, honey,” JJ intervened, kneeling down beside him, “but you're a little too small for that. We're going to spend the day out and about; you'll be more comfortable in this.”
The toddler was only four years old and had not yet fully mastered his balance. Spending a quarter of the day pedaling hard while trying to ride straight would be far too exhausting for him and frustrating for those who knew how to ride a bike.
“Can I go in the carriage too?”
“No, Jack. Actually, you’re too big for that,” retorted his sire. “But don't worry, when you get tired, we can attach your bike to mine so you don't have to pedal anymore.”
“Okay,” he agreed, without taking his eyes off the green sphere.
He looked fascinated, as if he were discovering this system for the first time. Hotch then wondered whether Haley had had the opportunity to share it with him or not. He would never get an answer, of course, but he diverted his attention by stroking his chin.
“Come here so I can adjust the height of your saddle.”
Jack and he moved away from the group a little to give them space, as did Will and his partner, who had to screw the carriage attachment to one of their means of transport.
“And what kind of bike do I have?” worried Spencer, who realized he hadn't been mentioned yet.
“You, my friend, are coming with me on this machine blessed by the gods.”
The manager reappeared with a tandem bike with three seats and three sets of pedals. The frame was chick yellow.
“All we need now is a volunteer to take the reins.”
All eyes instinctively turned to the former police officer and the one who still was.
“I'm going to have to tow Henry,” the latter reminded them.
“Okay. I'll sacrifice myself,” the first abdicated, without seeming particularly disenchanted by the idea.
On a contrary. Even if…
“Are you aware that you will be the only one pedaling?” emphasized the agency manager, who was well aware of his passengers' athletic abilities.
Summary: Following the previous chapter. Penelope can't sleep and she's not the only one.
Characters: Penelope Garcia, Aaron and Jack Hotchner
Contents: mention of food and major cuteness! X3
This is a text written for the CM Summer Time challenge organized by @imagining-in-the-margins.
To be honest, the dialogues have been written two years ago for the same challenge, but the text is know ready to be published. :D It'll have 13 chapters.
PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.
___
Read on AO3 / lire sur AO3
___
That same night, Penelope tossed and turned in bed, furious. She grumbled under her breath, thinking back to everything she would have liked to say to her friends when she discovered their obnoxious behavior. Hotch and her always had a singular relationship. He was the first to see beyond appearances with her. Despite her outfit, despite her lack of hygiene, despite her foul language, despite her blatant arrogance, he had seen who she really was and what she could bring to his unit. He had recognized all her qualities, ignoring all her flaws, and had gone out of his way to get her into the BAU. And this, without losing her soul along the way.
Yes, he was tall, he was impressive, he didn't smile much, and he was demanding, but behind his suit, behind his frozen expression, behind his monotone voice, hid a teddy bear with a heart as big as this. She may not have been a profiler, but she had instincts and, from her time on the streets, had learned to analyze the people around her. And he had been classified as one of the nice guys the moment she saw him. The director was a sweetheart, a Care Bear, a box of sour candies, a huge tub of vanilla ice cream covered with rainbow-colored chocolate sprinkles. He was her comfort, her constant support.
Consumed by the rage coursing through her veins, she pushed back the covers and got up. She couldn't stand staying there, rolling on herself anymore. She was too hot. So she got out into the hallway, went down the stairs, and crossed the living room, which was plunged into darkness, lit only by the moonlight. She opened the French window leading to the terrace and closed it behind her. She hesitated to sit down on a chair when her eye was drawn to a figure lying on one of the deck chairs. She took a few steps, narrowed her eyelids, and guessed that it was the branch manager. He couldn’t sleep either.
For a moment, she decided to leave him alone to think. She had long understood that if he wasn't as sociable as his colleagues wanted him to be, it was because he needed moments of calm and solitude to recharge his batteries. Then she thought that positive words might help him fall asleep. And her also. So she ran down the few steps leading to the pool and sat down on the chair next to him. She was greeted by a profusion of beautiful stars.
“Wow! The sky is amazing here!”
“Penelope, go back to sleep, please,” he commanded her immediately.
The tone was not aggressive, far from it. It was more an advice than an injunction.
“I'm lying down.”
“In your bed.”
“No.”
She felt his dark gaze fall on her, then almost heard him shrug inwardly.
“… Okay. Do as you wish.”
He didn’t want to fight. A battle a day, that was already too much. He had already ruined two out of three evenings of what should have been a pleasant and relaxing weekend, and he wasn't going to fall out with the last few people who were still somewhat on his side.
“You resent them, don't you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
She was expecting that reply.
“Very well,” she said before launching into her speech. “So, let me speak. I completely understand why you are angry with them after what they said, because I was too when I heard about it earlier.”
And even then, the word was weak.
“But there is one thing you need to know about yourself that you are probably not aware of. These people, who sleep peacefully in their rooms, are champions. They are the best of the best of the best, with honors,” she added in the same tone as Will Smith; “and that's why you hired them. And yet, you are a bar of soap to them. You smell good and make them beautiful day after day, but as soon as they try to catch you, you slip ten feet away. As soon as they try to break through your shell to understand who you are, you slip away from them. They are frustrated because all they see is that you are square and that you hurt their eyes; whereas I know that, at the heart of this big block of suit and tie, lies a multicolored bath bomb.”
A silence passed. A long silence, during which she watched the luminous trail of an airplane scratching the veil of night.
“…A bar of soap?” he repeated, with a smile in his voice.
“Okay. I improvised on the metaphor, but you understood what I meant.”
A brief burst of laughter escaped from the giant's chest. More of a sigh than a laugh, but enough to dispel his anger.
“On the day I leave, I am curious to read what you will write on my card.”
“You’re leaving?” she moaned, suddenly worried.
“One day, yes. If all goes well, when it's time for me to retire.”
“I hope it’ll be as late as possible.”
They were twelve years apart in age, so it was only natural that he would leave his position when his time at the FBI came to an end before hers did. However, she preferred not to think about it, convinced that she would never find a better boss than the one she had now. No one would understand her as well as he did, nor give her as much freedom. The thought of him leaving was already tearing her apart.
“And I hope you’ll still be by my side that day.”
“Oh, of course I’ll be there that day. And I would stick to you like a barnacle on a rock.”
“I can’t wait.”
They laughed lightly, caressed by the warm breeze coming from the ocean. Everything was quiet around them, and there were no other lights nearby except for the moon and its cohort of shining points. She was captivated by the stellar spectacle before them, which she never thought she would see anywhere other than on her screen.
“Are you familiar with constellations?”
“What?” he said, surprised by this sudden interrogation.
“I have always lived in cities where the sky is ugly as hell, so I don't know anything about stars. But maybe you do.”
“A little. I'm far from being an expert, though,” he added right away.
He too was a city dweller, but luckily he had cousins living in more remote areas, where the night was less disturbed by light pollution.
“Oh, tell me what you know! Please!”
“Okay, okay,” he calmed her down rapidly. “So, what we have?”
She saw his head turning right and left, searching for shapes that were easy to recognize for a novice like her.
“Ah, there. The trio of closely spaced stars.”
“Where?”
“Right there,” he said, pointing to the right. “They are very close to each other and form a straight line. And the one in the middle shines brighter than the other two.”
She looked in the direction indicated, lost herself in a constellation of rhinestones located light years away from them, then finally saw them. The existence of these triplets became so obvious that she wondered how she could have failed to notice them before.
“Ah, yes! There they are, I can see them!” she exclaimed enthusiastically. “What it is?”
“It’s Orion’s belt.”
“Like in Men in Black?”
She didn't see it, but he narrowed his eyes to try to remember what she was referring to. He then remembered the movie he had watched with Jack and the ginger cat with his galactic collar.
“… Yes. Except Orion is not a cat, but a hunter.”
“A hunter?”
“Yes, they are harder to spot, but there are a whole bunch of other stars above and below that form Orion's chest, arms, bow, and legs.”
She tried to spot something similar, but quickly realized how difficult this quest would be.
“… Let’s stick to the belt. What else?”
He searched for a moment and raised his arm toward another part of the sky.
“… There. The distorted W is Cassiopeia.”
“A W?”
“Over there.”
She focused on what his index finger was pointing at and searched the surroundings until she came across zigzagging stars, one of which was clearly setting off on an adventure.
“Oh, yes! Seen! Cassiopeia, that’s it?”
“Yes,” he agreed. “And right next to it are the constellations Ursa Major and Ursa Minor, which can be spotted thanks to this star that shines brighter than the others.”
“Oh, I know that! It's not a star, actually, it's Venus,” she declared, proud to show that she did have a little knowledge after all.
“True. It is commonly called the evening star because it was used—and still is used—to guide people. It is the first star visible at dusk and the last to disappear.”
They gazed for a moment at this space object that seemed so tiny from their perspective, when in reality it was as much larger as Earth itself.
“It's crazy to think that from here, we can see another planet.”
“Yes.”
A peaceful silence passed, during which they continued to gaze at the iridescent ceiling. The Milky Way stretched from one end of the sky to the other, a magnificent reminder that they were but a speck in the universe.
“You know what?” suddenly resumed the giant.
“What?”
“I’ll search for Jack. I forced him to go to bed even though he didn't want to. Back home, he won't have the opportunity to see such a spectacle.”
“Go ahead!” she encouraged him, delighted at the thought of seeing the little boy again.
Jack was the firstborn of the BAU and therefore held a special place in her heart. At the age of six, he had already been through many trials and tribulations, yet he was an adorable bundle of love who hugged her every time he saw her, gave her drawings, and she showered him with gifts whenever she had the chance.
“Don’t move,” said Hotch sitting on his seat.
“Nothing will make me move from this deck chair.”
The father then slipped away and returned a few minutes later with a sleeping toddler in his arms. Exhausted by his busy day, he had finally succumbed to sleep despite the sadness and bitterness of the evening's end. The giant carefully settled back down under Garcia's emotional gaze. She loved seeing the two interact and share moments together. Childhood was but a fraction of a second in a human being's life, and the innocence of children disappeared in the blink of an eye. It was essential that the director take advantage of this interlude to prove to his son that he was not just a forgotten trinket on a dresser. To prove that he was his most precious possession on Earth.
“Jack, my dear, wake up,” he encouraged him, gently stroking his head.
“Hmmm.”
“You should open your eyes; you're going to miss something unforgettable.”
The boy, whose head rested on his father's chest, opened one eye slightly. His hair was tousled and he had a pillow mark on his cheek.
“Where are we?” he muttered, his voice still sleepy.
“By the pool.”
“Why?” he asked grumpily.
“Look.”
His father pointed to the sky, and Jack agreed to lie on his back as well. He woke up instantly.
“Ooooooh!”
Both adults smiled in unison. Speechless, breathless, the little boy stretched out his arms in front of him, closing his little fingers in the air.
“There’s so much! It looks like we can catch them!”
“It’s true,” admitted Hotch. “But even for me, if I stretch out my arms, they are still too far away.”
As if to set an example, he raised his hands to the sky in turn, but to no avail. Then he let them fall and wrapped them around his offspring, amazed. Wearing his Spiderman pajamas, his eyes wandered from side to side, lost in contemplation of this unexpected enchantment.
“Why are there so many stars here? More than at home.”
“Actually, there are just as many in DC, but you can't see them because of the city lights.”
“I say we should turn off the lights.”
“I completely agree,” said the young woman, smiling from ear to ear.
Jack turned his head in her direction, only then realizing she was there.
“Penelope? You want to catch the stars too?”
“Exactly. Oh, look!”
“What?” he reacted, staring the sky.
“There was a shooting star.”
“Oh,” he did, disappointed.
“Don’t worry, there will be more,” his father reassured him.
Very attentive, they focused on the sparkling immensity, hoping that the miracle would happen again. They didn't have to wait long before a fleeting glimpse appeared before their eyes.
“… There!” yelled Jack, very excited.
“Quick, make a wish!”
“Okay. I wish…”
“No, don’t say it,” Hotch interrupted him. “Otherwise, it will not happen.”
He immediately closed his mouth, lowered his eyelids, and clenched his small fists against his chest as he took a deep breath. The federal agents watched him do it, amused.
“Ho! That one's for me,” she exclaimed as she saw another glowing piece of debris fly by.
“Did you make a wish?”
“Yes, sweetheart.”
“There, Dad!” pursued the kid. “Did you see it?”
“Yes.”
“Did you make a wish?”
“Yes.”
Silence settled in without disturbing them, each admiring their own corner of the universe without thinking about anything else. They breathed peacefully, their hearts beating quietly, relaxed and at peace. A few insects chirped in the surrounding plants, but even the mosquitoes seemed to have decided to spare them.
“Dad?”
“Yes, Jack.”
“Can we sleep here, tonight?”
“Yes.”
Surprised by this direct and positive response, the little boy turned his head toward the giant and asked:
“Really?”
“Yes, it’s hot enough and there’s nothing to fear about.”
The nearest neighbors were a good half-hour walk away, the town was the same distance by car, and the beach was deserted. Only crabs and sea flea were moving around on the sand. A few bats flew like arrows above their heads and then disappeared into the darkness. The place was truly heavenly.
“So, cool! Are you staying with me?”
“Sure.”
“Penelope?”
“Always, my prince.”
“Yeah!” he shouted, throwing his arms and legs up in the air.
“Stay here, I'll go get some blankets.”
Hotch got up again, went back into the house, and reappeared about ten minutes later with everything they needed. He found his son and the analyst playing together, clapping their hands in rhythm.
“Here,” he said to the second one.
He handed her a blue blanket with yellow patterns.
“Oh, thank you! It was nice of you to think about me.”
“You stay with us, it’s normal. And that's for the adventurer.”
“Yeah!”
Jack immediately wrapped himself in his blanket adorned with starfish and tropical fish, and curled up against his father as soon as he lay back down. Garcia then asked him more questions about space, and Jack and she listened intently to his answers. Until his deep, soft voice lulls them to sleep, one after the other. With a smile on his lips, the giant soon fell into the arms of Morpheus.
___
This is my favorite chapter! I love those two chatting together. Their alchemy is soooo great! ^_^
___
First chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/codename-mom/791125045952069632/4th-of-july-113?source=share
Next chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/codename-mom/796832649610166272/4th-of-july-1013?source=share
Summary: Following the previous chapter, it's time for diner. But things won't go well.
Characters: BAU team + Will, Henry, Jack and Jessica
Contents: mention of food and of what happened in S02E15; angst, arguing, anger, cries, and autistic Hotch subtext (yes, it's my hc).
This is a text written for the CM Summer Time challenge organized by @imagining-in-the-margins.
To be honest, the dialogues have been written two years ago for the same challenge, but the text is know ready to be published. :D It'll have 13 chapters.
PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.
___
Read on AO3 / lire sur AO3
___
However, the meal did not go as planned. Everything had started off in a generally positive atmosphere. Jessica even seemed to have put her past resentment aside—perhaps helped by the afternoon spent with Penelope.
“Afterwards, shall we go to karaoke?” suggested Jack, devouring yet another shortbread cookie.
“Oh, yes. It's true that you have a score to settle,” Will replied with a smile.
“A score to settle?” Derek raised his eyebrows, confused.
“Because of last night's draw.”
He gave him a discreet wink so that the former police officer would understand that the child did not know the truth about what had happened the night before.
“Ah… yes,” he stammered before catching himself. “I'll tell you right now that you're going to tire yourself out for nothing. The victory is for us.”
“Why? Did you practice when you were at the beach?” Penelope smiled. “I know some seagulls that must have had a good laugh.”
“The scores were much closer than last time,” Emily defended him.
“We have given you a head start.”
“Not at all!” objected Morgan. “You caught us by surprise the first time, but now that we know what to expect, you are unsettled by our talent.”
“Yeah!”
The trio challenged each other with their eyes, but Henry's father chose that moment to ask the question that was spinning around in his head.
“Wait, I still have a question: how, after being locked up in a basement for 36 hours, did you decide that the first thing you wanted to do was karaoke?”
“What?” croaked Jessica, suddenly pale. “What’s this about a basement?”
“Oopsie!”
“Well done...” his partner congratulated him.
The only adult who did not work for the Department of Justice turned to her brother-in-law, but it was JJ who summarized the case for her, choosing her words carefully so as not to shock the innocent ears that were hanging around and without going into details. Jessica's eyes immediately turned to Hotch.
“When were you planning on telling me about this?”
“Never,” he revealed, honest.
He had already taken great care not to mention to his wife all the times he had come close to death when he was married, so he was clearly not going to confide in her sister. This was despite the fact that they had shared a strong friendship for years. The giant had always made sure that his loved ones did not feel anxious about stepping outside, and he had no intention of changing his stance on the matter. Everything related to his job was confidential.
“Was I born?” Jack demanded, his thin eyebrows furrowed with anxiety.
“Yes, but don’t worry. Neither Penelope nor I were injured.”
“Your dad tells you the truth,” the analyst agreed, taking his hand. “In fact, we never saw the villain who did this to us during the entire time we were there.”
They didn't even notice when he took them away. They only discovered his identity once they had returned to Quantico.
“Yes, uh… In fact, we had already caught him,” confessed JJ, then a liaison officer.
“He just didn't want to talk,” added Derek, who had spent a very frustrating day and a half at the time.
“Yeah, so we're back to my question: what happened in that basement?”
“Are you still working on that?” wondered the agency manager in surprise.
By now, he thought they had given up on the idea of getting to the bottom of this story.
“Of course!” exclaimed Prentiss. “You disappear for thirty-six hours, and when we find you, you loudly proclaim that you can beat us at karaoke. In terms of weirdness, this one takes the cake.”
“Why?” replied the former hacker, as if it were something completely normal.
“Well, just imagining Hotch with a microphone is weird enough,” Derek observed, a mocking smile playing on his lips.
“You say that, but if my memory serves me correctly, the results were unequivocal.”
The team composed of the titan and his fellow sufferer had indeed crushed the competition without breaking a sweat. However, that wasn't what intrigued their colleagues the most.
“No, but at what point, when you're stuck in the middle of nowhere, do you start thinking that karaoke would be fun?” JJ pointed out. “Something must have happened.”
“But what do you expect us to have done in there?” the branch manager defended himself. “There was nothing but a basement window and pebbles.”
“Ah, yes, the pebbles...” said Penelope, smiling knowingly.
“Look! There!” Morgan shouted, pointing at her. “What that’s supposed to mean?”
“Nothing!” hammered their superior. “Look we only talked together.”
“For thirty-six hours?” Emily charged up, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
She had little doubt that her female colleague could have kept talking for so long. Very talkative, she could discuss anything for an infinite amount of time without getting tired. On the other hand, Hotch was more of a man of few words, speaking only when absolutely necessary. So, it was pretty hard to imagine them chatting away for almost two days.
“Yes. Well, we took a few breaks to sleep.”
“Did you manage to get him to sleep?” asked the former police officer, turning to Garcia. “You knock him up?”
“No.”
“Derek,” growled the man in question.
“What? It’s true. You never sleep,” he remarked, in an annoyed tone. “You don't eat, you don't drink, you sleep two hours a night. If you weren't forced to cooperate during the investigations, you would have been dead long ago.”
“Derek,” JJ rebuked him, suddenly embarrassed.
The atmosphere had suddenly turned gloomy. Most of the smiles had disappeared and the tension had risen a notch.
“What?” croaked the titan, inquisitorially.
The profilers exchanged glances, and Ambassador Prentiss's daughter spoke cautiously on behalf of her coworkers.
“He’s right. At the office, if someone forgets you at lunch time, you spend the day with an empty stomach.”
Instinctively, Hotch turned his head toward his loved ones, who avoided his gaze. But the fact was that he did tend to forget to satisfy his most basic—vital—needs when he focused on a task. He always needed outside intervention to remind him of his duties to himself. Until now, his subordinates had carried out this mission discreetly.
“Okay,” he grumbled, irritated. “Well, add dependency to the list you made of my flaws. Can we go back to the basement? Or to the karaoke?”
“What list are you talking about?” Jessica asked on the spot, puzzled.
“Nothing.”
“Aaron, what is that list?”
“Jess…”
“I want to know!”
This time, a leaden blanket had fallen over the group. All eyes were on the duo, and the young woman stared intently at the giant. He glanced at his empty plate, biting his lower lip, his nails dug into the palm of his left hand. He finally stood up and, still without looking at his interlocutor, turned toward his son.
“… Jack, it’s time to go to bed.”
“No, karaoke!” whined the little boy, who wasn't tired at all.
“It’s late, Jack, we’ll see tomorrow.”
“Dad!”
“Jack!”
The toddler blenched. His father was not in the habit of raising his voice, let alone against him. He realized that the man would not have the patience to negotiate, so he slowly got up from his chair. Hotch grabbed his wrist, and they left the terrace before going upstairs. A long silence passed; mainly awkward but also charged with electricity.
“Anyone want some more cake?” Spencer whispered, feeling extremely uncomfortable.
“What's this list all about?” Jessica harpooned them.
Those who were present that day felt their heart rates quicken.
“It… it’s nothing,” stuttered Emily.
“Did you really make a list of his flaws?”
“No, not at all,” JJ immediately objected, tense.
“So, what did he talk about?”
The trio exchanged more glances. They never imagined for a moment that this event would come to light, let alone in the presence of people outside the FBI or who were not present at the time of the incident.
“Jess, I’m not sure we’re allowed to tell you about it,” Derek said, trying to sound reassuring.
“What about me?” Penelope retorted right away. “Because I'm also interested in this list thing.”
“Me too, actually,” Dave joined in.
Spencer, meanwhile, frowned in confusion, while Will, holding Henry in his arms, made himself as small as possible. The agents then realized that they had no choice: they had to talk. Without going into too much detail about this investigation, which had turned into a nightmare. JJ was the one who began the explanations, recounting the kidnapping of the youngest member of the group by a suspect with multiple personalities: Tobias Hankel.
The latter had decided to film the confinement of their colleague, who seized this opportunity to slip a message to the director. A coded message that only he could decipher because it was based on a conversation they had had before flying to Georgia.
“He wanted to verify his theory that Spence's criticism was a message intended for him.”
“That was the case,” said the young man, confused. “I didn’t think… I never thought that he was.”
In his reply to a question from his captor, he had stated that the director was narcissistic. That he thought of himself first and foremost and took all the credit for the efforts of his subordinates.
“We know,” the brunette appeased him. “Only, you know Hotch: he needs proofs.”
“Then he asked each of us to state one of his worst flaws.”
“And what did you say?” Jessica continued, on her guard.
They swallowed in unison. Their superior had insisted that they talk, promising that he would never hold it against them and beginning the pounding by admitting that he had no sense of humor. At the time, Morgan had followed suit and spoke first again.
“I said he was a drill-sergeant. Sometimes.”
“A bully,” revealed JJ.
“Macho,” Prentiss finished, her throat dry.
Jessica opened her mouth, horrified. Garcia, in shock, blurted out:
“You said that?!”
“He caught us by surprise! We improvised,” Derek objected.
“As if you didn’t really think he was a drill-sergeant!”
“Of course, but…”
That was the last straw for Jack's aunt, who abruptly got up and left the table. There was a brief silence, and then the Chicago native continued:
“Did I say something wrong?”
“No. Not you only. You three!” the analyst railed, so furious that she had tears in her eyes.
“If he asked me the same question now, I wouldn't answer that way,” Emily assured him.
“But you did! And you… a bully?”
“I… I explained myself to him later.”
She was the only one who had to justify herself. Gideon had pushed her into Hotch's office, who, while he understood where the other two's reproaches were coming from, didn't understand where hers was coming from.
“So, you really thought he was?”
“The wording may have been a bit strong…”
“Penelope,” Morgan interjected, “It was an impromptu poll. Who’s dumb enough to take that literally?”
She didn't answer right away but glared at them. A tear rolled down her cheek, which she vigorously wiped away with her fingertips, then she shook her head and spat:
“… And you’re the profilers?”
She left them with this venomous remark and went back into the house.
__
Upstairs, the tension was also palpable. Jessica was furious. Her blood boiled in her veins and her muscles were tense with frustration. She still couldn't believe what she had heard. She didn't recognize her longtime friend in the words they used. These people, who were closer to him than his own son and who were supposed to be experts at analyzing human behavior, had no idea who their superior was. They behaved like irresponsible children, taking advantage of their manager's generosity, and then insulting him. To treat him as if he was nothing more than a name on a door, a rank, a superior entity without emotion.
Except that she knew he was none of those things. He had his faults, like everyone else, but clearly not those. And everything they said, everything they did, had an impact on the giant's opinion of him. She now understood some of his reactions so much better; some of his thoughts. They were merely a reflection of what his team thought of him.
She found her ex-brother-in-law as he was leaving Jack's room, where she could hear him crying into his pillow.
“Aaron.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he declared on the spot. “Go back with them.”
“I won’t go back there.”
The giant turned around and passed her, expressing:
“Then, good night.”
“Where are you going?”
“To sleep.”
“But…”
He froze, turned his head toward her, and gave her a suggestive look.
“Please.”
She didn’t insist.
__
On the terrace, the team faced another problem. The multi-graduate was shaking from head to toe, shocked by what his few words to get himself out of trouble had led to. Hotch had always been a benevolent figure to him, even before he joined the BAU. He had overcome all the obstacles put in his way by the bigwigs at the Bureau to get them to accept him into his unit, even though he did not have the required physical abilities. And he always looked out for him after that, taking the time to chat and analyze events so that he could enjoy his career at Quantico. The fact that his words had backfired on this father figure was unbearable to him.
“Don’t worry, Spence. It's not your fault,” JJ assured him, her hand enveloping his. “You couldn't have predicted that he would do that and that we would respond to him in that way.”
“That's true,” Derek agreed. “Hotch doesn't need you to ruin the mood.”
“Derek. I think you've done enough,” Emily reminded him.
“What? He's smart enough to have moved on by now.”
“Perhaps you should reconsider your assessment of his intelligence.”
All eyes turned to Dave, who had remained silent throughout this heated conversation. He sat in his chair, his fingers intertwined on his chest, seemingly calm.
“… What?”
“Tell me, was Jason there?” he asked, without animosity.
“Yes,” confirmed Prentiss.
“Did he answer his question?”
“No,” asserted JJ. “He… He shook his head and kept his distance.”
“That's what I thought,” said Rossi, looking serene. “Well, I suggest that tonight you ponder the question of why. This should help you better understand the man you call ‘Mom’. So, good night.”
And he too left, leaving them with this riddle.
___
First chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/codename-mom/791125045952069632/4th-of-july-113?source=share
Next chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/codename-mom/796198477233291264/4th-pf-july-913?source=share
Summary: Another day in paradise and it's time to decide what to do during that beautiful day. Penelope has a very peculiar idea.
Characters: BAU team + Will, Henry, Jack and Jessica
Contents: food, food and more food mentioned and described.
This is a text written for the CM Summer Time challenge organized by @imagining-in-the-margins.
To be honest, the dialogues have been written two years ago for the same challenge, but the text is know ready to be published. :D It'll have 13 chapters.
PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.
___
Read on AO3 / lire sur AO3
___
About two hours later, everyone was out of bed and gathered around the breakfast table.
“Okay,” threw Emily after she had drunk her coffee. “What’s the plan for the day?”
“Pool!” shouted Jack.
“Pool!” Henry imitated him raising his arms in the air.
“I think we’ve got two volunteers for the swimming pool,” declared Will, smiling.
The two boys were impatiently waiting for the adults to finish eating so they could go swimming. Sitting on their respective fathers' laps, they were already ready to dive in.
“I'm going to enjoy the beach today,” announced JJ, who hadn't had a chance to set foot there yet.
“I'll pass,” Spencer replied with a grimace.
“What?” Interrogated Prentiss. “The beach or the pool?”
“Both.”
His colleagues laughed, expecting this answer. A germaphobic, the multi-graduate avoided these two places like the plague, as they were breeding grounds for germs. However, they always found it amusing to hear this Las Vegas native express his distaste for sand.
“Well, I had the idea of doing a cooking class,” Penelope said, puffing out her chest.
“Are you serious?” Derek replied, staring at her over his sunglasses, a mocking smile spreading across his lips.
“What? I’m sure kids will love it.”
“I thought I heard them talking about pool,” Will reminded her, stopping his son from rolling his toy car across his plate.
While waiting for all the adults to get up, the toddlers had turned part of the table into a racetrack, and the cars regularly veered off course between the toast and scrambled eggs.
“They won't stay there all day,” Hotch pointed out. “It might be a good idea to keep them busy in the late afternoon.”
“Yes! And Dave and you could be our clerks.”
“I'm on vacation,” the former retiree immediately objected.
Of the whole group, Rossi was the best when it came to food. His Italian genes had deserted him when it came to singing but made him unbeatable in everything related to the culinary arts. His evasive response to this suggestion did not bode well.
“What's a ‘clert’?” asked Jack, so the carts were now competing in a duel.
“It's a kitchen assistant,” his father explained, moving a dangerously placed glass out of the way. “Who help doing a part of the recipe.”
“Oh. You should go to the beach with JJ, then.”
Except for his aunt, who suppressed a smile, everyone else around him stared in astonishment at this gratuitous jab.
“Jack!” the analyst snapped, shocked.
“No, he’s not wrong actually. It’s less dangerous for me to go to the beach.”
“Don’t say that. I'm sure you're very talented in the kitchen.”
The boy shook his head vigorously.
“This little creature, who lives with me, doesn't seem to agree.”
“Oh, but that's normal,” Garcia brushed off. “All children complain about their parents' cooking before remembering it with nostalgia.”
“Oh, he will remember. But certainly not with nostalgia,” Hotch corrected with a smile.
“Penelope,” Jessica interjected, “I'm afraid I have to agree with my nephew.”
The giant had many talents, but preparing food was definitely not one of them. Even when following the recipe precisely, something always happened along the way that made the result unfit for consumption.
“Well, now is the time to improve,” declared the voluptuous blonde, determined.
She was committed to her class, which she believed would be a convivial occasion, creating precious memories for those who participated.
“Okay. Let’s vote,” suggested Morgan. “Who wants to go the beach?”
Henry’s parents, Emily and he rose their hand.
“Who wants to make cupcakes?”
Penelope naturally volunteered, as did Jack, Spencer, Jessica, and Hotch, who was dragged in by his ex-sister-in-law.
“Dave?” Emily called out, raising an eyebrow.
The novelist sighed. He would have liked to relax quietly on the terrace, a glass of lemonade in his hand, far from the hustle and bustle of the pool and in the shade of the roof. But obviously, that was not one of the options available.
“Okay,” he abdicated. “Go for cooking. But that's because I want to eat something other than sugar paste unicorns.”
“We can do that?” exclaimed Henry on the spot, intrigued.
“Yes, my dear,” said the computer expert proudly.
“I want!”
Everyone burst out laughing. The voting ended on this enthusiastic note, and the boys were given permission to go swimming in the pool. Their fathers accompanied them, the director dressed in a diving suit to hide his scars and a Jurassic cap to protect him from another sunstroke. Will had opted for a much more classic outfit, consisting of simple swim shorts. Derek joined them shortly after, while the girls stayed inside to chat, except for Jessica, who went to sit on one of the deck chairs and took photos of Jack and Aaron.
They met again for lunch a few hours later before the two groups went their separate ways to pursue their respective activities. Henry had hesitated somewhat about following his parents, but then the lure of chocolate chips won him over. And then, he was not alone in this adventure, his friend was there too. For their part, beach lovers headed out through the small gate leading directly to the sea, towels under their arms, sunglasses on their noses, caps and hats on their heads, and a good supply of sunscreen in their pockets.
The sun was setting on the horizon when they returned to the house. They crossed path with Spencer and Dave, sat on the terrace. The youngest had band aids on every finger of his left hand and one on his right thumb.
“Oh, my God!” cried JJ, horrified. “Spence, what did you do with your hands?”
“I was in charge of cutting up the ingredients.”
“Aaron insisted that he stop when he attacked the second hand,” his neighbor joked half-heartedly.
“So, I took care of the decorations with Jack and Henry.”
“It was so great!” affirmed the first one, installed on the floor with the second one.
A huge coloring sheet had been spread out on the slats of the terrace, and everyone was busy coloring their part of the drawing, going over the lines to varying degrees.
“Okay. So, what’s on the menu for tonight?” worried Morgan.
“Lots of crisp, colorful salads!” trumpeted the analyst, placing a salad bowl on the table.
“With carrots and cucumbers shaped like stars and flowers,” Jessica added, bringing another one.
“Henry ate what was left over from the cookie cutters,” Hotch said as he arrived with a stack of plates in his arms.
His parents found it amusing, not particularly surprised by this exaction. And they did not hold it against him because, in the end, he had eaten vegetables.
“You spent all that time making salads?” Emily frowned, surprised that they had invested all their time in those two containers.
“No. Dave took care of the main course, and we made the desserts,” Garcia explained as she lined up the glasses next to the dishes.
“Dessert--s?” noticed Will, circumspect.
“Yeah!” confirmed Jack, with a green felt-tip pen mark on his cheek. “With Penelope and Spencer, we made lots of little shortbread cookies in lots of different shapes!”
“And Hotch baked a cake,” added the class manager.
All eyes turned immediately to the head agency. And none of them seemed particularly reassured after the revelations at breakfast.
“Is that true?” tried to know JJ.
“Um… yes,” he said, placing the cutlery in its proper place.
This hesitation did not calm their momentary anxiety.
“What? Did it burn?” enquired the Chicago native.
“No, Jessica made sure it was cooked properly.”
“So, what's the problem?” Prentiss continued.
The giant exchanged glances with Haley's sister, who placed the roll of paper towels between the salad bowls before slipping away. It was Penelope who spilled the beans, a bottle of soda and water in each hand.
“Okay. It was originally a marble cake recipe, but it turned out that with all the shortbread cookies, there wasn't enough chocolate left to melt, so Hotch used chocolate chips instead. And then, he had already mixed the eggs with the sugar when he discovered that he actually had to separate the whites from the yolks in order to beat the whites until stiff. Ah! And he also added less sugar than expected. So, in the end, instead of a marble cake... we have a chocolate chip cake.”
Apart from the witnesses to the scene, everyone opened their mouths without uttering a single word. They were amazed by so many twists and turns for a simple chocolate cake recipe.
“I'm sure it will be very good,” said JJ, the first to speak again.
“Otherwise, it doesn't matter, there are plenty of shortbread cookies,” Jack said as he painted the wall of a house a bright yellow.
A remark that did not offend his father in the slightest.
“And what’s the main course, actually?” Will questioned them curiously.
“Lasagna al parmigiano.”
“Okay. Where do we make reservations?” Emily asked, suddenly very interested.
Everyone laughed before gradually settling down for dinner.
___
First chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/codename-mom/791125045952069632/4th-of-july-113?source=share
Next chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/codename-mom/795564297918038016/4th-of-july-813?source=share
Summary: The day after Hotch fainted, Will gets up pretty early. But someone is already there in the kitchen.
Characters: William LaMontagne Jr., Hotch and Jack
Contents: angst, guilt, mention of nausea and after-effects of sunstroke, talk about pregnancy, and mention of food.
This is a text written for the CM Summer Time challenge organized by @imagining-in-the-margins.
To be honest, the dialogues have been written two years ago for the same challenge, but the text is know ready to be published. :D It'll have 13 chapters.
PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.
___
Read on AO3 / lire sur AO3
___
The next morning, Will left the bed before his spouse and went down the stairs, rubbing his eyes. The house was bathed in silence, disturbed only by the distant surf. After the director fainted, the karaoke session was cut short and everyone returned to their rooms. When he went to bed, he dared to glance at his watch and discovered that it was nearly two o'clock in the morning. Not an unusual schedule for a policeman like him, but not ideal for resting. So, he wasn't surprised that everyone was still asleep. Everyone, or almost.
“Ah, I thought I heard something,” he said, catching sight of the figure standing in the kitchen.
“Will? Did I wake you?” Hotch worried immediately, cup in hand.
JJ's partner noticed that he looked much better. First, he was standing on his own two feet and his eyes were open, a phenomenal improvement on the previous evening. He'd also regained his color, in addition to the sunburn that still marked his face and arms.
“No, don’t worry. It's force of habit,” he reassured him as he approached.
“Oh. Okay. There’s coffee, if you want,” he said pointing to the full coffee pot.
“Perfect!”
He retrieved a receptacle from the drainer and helped himself generously. He then placed the glass container back on the plate to keep the coffee hot for the next batch. Then he leaned against the cupboard and took his first sip. The burning, bitter liquid flowed down his throat, and he felt as if his body was finally waking up. It was a figment of his imagination, he knew; the coffee wouldn't really kick in for a good half-hour, if not an hour.
The giant was resting against the central island, scrutinizing him intently, surely spying the moment when he would be most receptive.
“Sorry about last night,” he did sheepishly.
“No problem. You'd spent the day in the heat, it’s normal.”
He'd never thought of blaming him for anything. In fact, he was mostly happy to see that he was in better shape.
“Derek must have said I'm a mood killer.”
“Mmh, no. I didn’t hear him saying that.”
The Chicago native seemed as worried as the others. JJ had explained that the relationship between the two men was often strained, but it was obvious that they didn't hate each other. They just had different points of view and struggled to position the cursor to discuss them without going at each other's throat.
“Really?”
“On the other hand, he said you’re not a light weight.”
“Of course, if you had to move me afterwards...” he smiled, aware that he wasn't the lightest of the bunch.
“Well, you helped us. A bit,” he added mockingly.
In truth, he had painfully put one foot in front of the other, but enough so that he and Morgan didn't have to shoulder his full weight.
“Sorry.”
“Hey, it's all right,” he insisted, as he saw his face darken. “The main thing is that you weren't hurt in the fall.”
The colossus bit his lower lip, looking down at the tiles, his mug forgotten on the counter. As long as he'd been concentrating on the hostage situation, he hadn't realized anything. But when the tension had died down and one of the local policemen had driven him home, he'd felt a growing sense of unease. He had been very hot, had begun to sweat more than he should have, and a violent headache had gripped his skull. The nausea came a little later, at the end of the meal.
He had tried to put on a brave face for as long as possible. Everyone was having a great time around him, and Garcia was looking forward to kicking the other team's ass, thanks in part to his help; there was no way he was going to spoil it. He'd done his best to ignore the urge to vomit, but the dizziness had made it difficult to stand. Unfortunately, the evening was dragging on and the gallons of water he swallowed did nothing to change his situation.
He had collapsed helplessly and regained consciousness lying in bed, a wet glove on his forehead. Emily, sitting next to him, had encouraged him not to move too much and to rest. He had closed his eyes again and only reopened them at the very first light of dawn. He immediately felt much better and was able to move around without having to lean on the walls. There was still the guilt of having ruined the evening. He took a breath and dared to ask the question that had been nagging at him.
“… Then, who won?”
“No one. Penelope didn’t want to go any further without you.”
The analyst had decreed that the game was on pause until the next opportunity.
“Okay,” he nodded, curiously relieved.
A silence passed, during which they each took another sip of their beverage. Then Will started talking again, smiling.
“As I passed through the children's room, I saw that Jack was fast asleep.”
“After the day he had yesterday, the opposite would have been surprising,” his father also smiled. “But it won’t last.”
“He’s great with Henry. He’s very careful with him.”
“Yes. He takes after his mother.”
Hotch subtly darkened. Haley had passed away more than two years earlier, but her memory was still vivid. The policeman didn't dare imagine how he'd feel if he were to experience the same situation, if he were to hold JJ's lifeless body after having shared a quarter of his existence by her side. Unless you were a sociopath, you didn't come out unscathed. And, above all, it stayed in the memory. Beth may have been present, but she would never totally eclipse Jack's mother's past presence. However, Will felt that his interlocutor was mistaken. He knew Aaron better than Jessica's sister, but the giant's protective, caring temperament was undeniable. His son may have had his mother's good nature, but he certainly had his father's gentleness.
“… Henry's very fond of him, anyway,” he resumed, diverting his attention from his dark thoughts. “He was just waiting for him to arrive on Friday evening.”
All week, he'd been telling them about the upcoming weekend, telling them all about what he was going to do with his friend, even though no one knew what the house looked like or what activities were possible in and around it.
“Wish granted,” bounced the manager, smiling. “Everything is fine with Henry anyway?”
“Yeah. He’s adorable. It's good to see this little monster jumping out at us when we get home.”
“I know that too.”
The boys gave them that touch of innocence, tenderness and naivety that lightened their hearts and minds when they returned from work. They saw so many horrors in their daily lives that settling down for ten minutes or an hour to gallop plastic figurines, watch an animated series where everyone was nice, or tell fantastic stories where everything had a happy ending, allowed them to escape, to disperse their sullen reflections, to dilute the gloomy images of their day. And even if they required energy they didn't always have, digging deep down to find a little was more than worth it.
Will's stomach suddenly contracted. He hadn't planned to broach the subject during their stay here, but given the tenor of their discussion – and the fact that it was just the two of them – he figured this might be a good time to let him in on it. It was difficult to anticipate the giant's reactions, but he felt he had a duty to be honest with him. So, he can do what’s necessary without being caught off guard.
“Speaking of...” - he swallowed – “speaking of children, I don't know if Jennifer told you, but we're... we're thinking of having a second one.”
“Is it true?” he replied, clearly unsettled.
So, JJ had kept the secret. She might reproach him for speaking up, but he couldn't back down now.
“Yes. Not… maybe not right away, but... not too long from now,” he softened his words, so he wouldn't be too hasty either.
Hotch nodded, then a mocking smile stretched his lips.
“Be careful, the second often has nothing to do with the first. And, generally speaking, when the former is cool, the latter is much less so.”
“You were the second one?”
“First.”
They both laughed. His partner had once told him that meeting Sean Hotchner had been very disconcerting. The two brothers had nothing in common, either physically or mentally, and their discussion had been stormy. He crossed his fingers that his children would be much more cohesive.
“Seriously,” he began again, “I'd understand if that were a problem...”
“Why should it be?” the titan raised an eyebrow.
“Well, pregnancy means absence.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he assured serenely.
He couldn't decide whether he was really accepting the situation without worrying, or whether he was masking the stress it was causing. Of all the gang, the director was the most adept at concealing his emotions.
“JJ being pregnant, the BAU's workforce is shrinking and you're in demand all over the country.”
“Honestly, don’t worry about that. Do what you want,” he urged him with a smile.
Of course it didn't suit him, but he trusted the new profiler: she'd warn him soon enough to give him time to organize himself. And, if he couldn't find anyone to replace her, the team would operate with a skeleton crew. This was already more than the original BAU, which consisted of just two agents. What's more, he'd known that she'd wanted to expand her family for some time now, so Will's announcement didn't come as a total surprise.
“But… it really doesn’t bother you?”
“We'll manage, as we always have up until now, whenever one of us is absent. And it’s temporary.”
Will nodded in turn, reassured.
“Okay. I… I’ll pass on the info to her.”
“Dad!” exclaimed a small voice upstairs.
“Ah, that's mine,” Hotch identified him before exclaiming. “In the kitchen, Jack!”
An unobtrusive trampling was heard on the stairs – the two men exchanged a knowing glance – and the little boy sprang up beside them. He rushed into the arms of his father, who lifted him easily from the ground to kiss him on the cheek. Jack reciprocated, then turned to the other individual in the room.
“Hi, buddy.”
“Hi, Will!”
They bumped fists, with the same cheerful smile.
“Did you sleep well?” the giant interrogated him, putting him back down on the floor.
“Yes. Can I go in the pool?” he continued without pausing.
“Don’t you want to have a breakfast first?”
“Yes.”
“What do you want?”
Jack leered unobtrusively at the cereal box on the kitchen worktop. He wasn't allowed to eat it at home because, according to his father, it was too sweet. He only enjoyed it when he slept with his aunt; his paternal grandmother, Ada, cooked him the same breakfast as his ascendant.
“Can I have this? … A little?” he added, innocently.
Will repressed a burst of laughter and Hotch sighed.
“You’re lucky, it's the Fourth of July weekend.”
“Cool!” he rejoiced. “With fruit juice, please.”
“Fine. Go sit.”
Jack ran to the table and climbed onto a chair where two cushions had been stacked. Will came to sit opposite him, bowls, cups, plates and cutlery in hand. He began to spread the dishes around him when Jack asked, his little legs dangling in the air:
“Who won at karaoke?”
“It’s a draw.”
“Really? That means we have to do the rematch tonight.”
“Exactly,” said his father, placing the cereal, milk and orange juice beside him.
___
Honestly, knowing what's going on in CME (I don't watch it but Tumblr is a perfect place to be spoiled), it's so weird to write a full chapter from (mostly) Will's perspective. ^^;
___
First chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/codename-mom/791125045952069632/4th-of-july-113?source=share
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Summary: The night is falling and Hotch is still away when Penelope offers a new activity for the evening.
Characters: BAU team + Will, Henry, Jack and Jessica
Contents: angst, sunburn, and fainting
This is a text written for the CM Summer Time challenge organized by @imagining-in-the-margins.
To be honest, the dialogues have been written two years ago for the same challenge, but the text is know ready to be published. :D It'll have 13 chapters.
PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.
__
Read on AO3 / lire sur AO3
__
Night was beginning to fall on the mansion and Hotch still hadn't returned. The water battle had ended in the pool, with no team declared more victorious than another. Then Will and JJ, on their side, and Jessica, on hers, took care of showering the children, while Penelope, Dave and Derek prepared the evening meal. Spencer had managed to find a book and was getting to the last few chapters, sitting in one of the living room armchairs.
In the hours that had followed the heated poolside dialogue, Haley's sister had taken great care to dodge the other women in the group and even kept her distance from their fellow members. The policeman was the only one not to be the target of her anger. However, she returned to them when the first stars shone in the sky, worried.
“Shouldn't he be back by now?”
“Some hostage situations take an enormous amount of time,” Dave explained, pouring wine into a decanter to aerate it. “Unlike in the movies and TV shows, it rarely takes a few minutes to wrap up.”
“Statistically…”
“Spencer, don’t,” JJ stopped him.
She didn't know what he intended to say, but given that he sometimes threw out anecdotes that weren't at all reassuring, she preferred to cut to the chase.
“But maybe if we call the police station, we can get some information.”
“Don't worry, Jess, the big boss handles this kind of situation perfectly.”
“Derek's right,” JJ agreed, “Aaron was trained specifically for this.”
She didn't seem any more reassured than that, but didn't insist.
“In any case,” continued Penelope, “like Jessica, I hope he won't be long, because look what my little elves and I have found.”
The computer expert returned from the garage accompanied by the boys, who were grinning from ear to ear. In her arms was a large box, with musical notes of every color drawn on it.
“A karaoke”, Rossi recognized, as he spotted the photos of the microphones.
“Oh, yes. And Hotch and I are going to give you a kick in the teeth... just like last time.”
“In your dreams, pretty girl!” retorted Morgan, who still hadn't digested her past defeat.
“The last time?” repeated Jack’s aunt, lost.
The surprise was understandable. It was hard enough to imagine federal agents singing along to beloved hits; it was even harder to imagine the agency director taking part in this kind of activity. And yet…
“One day,” JJ recounted, “for some reason Penelope and Aaron had a furious urge to challenge us to karaoke.”
“And guess who have won?” smiled the first one, proud.
“It doesn’t mean it’ll be the case again this time.”
“You bet?”
“Derek's right,” Spencer interjected, raising a finger in the air to suspend their exchange. “The likelihood that you'll score similarly to last time, assuming the song list is the same and the sensitivity of the mics is the same – albeit low-end equipment compared to the club we went to - ...”
“Pretty boy,” Morgan interrupted him putting a hand on his shoulder.
“What?”
“Shut it. Please.”
“Derek!” taunted Garcia, kicking him in the shin for lack of use of her hands.
The ex-policeman winced and began to hop around holding his leg, which made the boys laugh a lot. He went to retort something when the doorbell rang. Everyone immediately abandoned what they were doing and rushed to the entrance. Will was the first to arrive, so he opened the door, revealing a familiar face on the threshold.
“Hotch! You’re back!”
The luscious blonde didn't give him time to say anything or make a move; she threw herself at him and hugged him.
“Why are you ringing?” asked Dave once she'd released him.
“I didn’t take the keys when I left.”
“Is it just me, or have you tanned?” remarked Emily, with a sneer at the corner of her lips.
“Yes, I feel like saying, ‘Yeah, thank you, Andre. I’ll have the veal piccata.” declared Penelope, laughing.
Normally rather pale, the agency head sported red marks on his forearms, calves, feet and, above all, his face.
“The command post was not sheltered,” he explained, looking exhausted.
Jack slipped in among the adults and, grinning from ear to ear, asked:
“Did you win?”
“Yes, I won.”
“Cool!”
He then leapt towards him and his father lifted him off the ground, loading him onto his hip despite his drawn features.
“Ah! That's news worthy of a good bottle,” rejoiced the eldest member of the group.
“Water for me, I’m thirsty.”
“And a bottle of water for table fifteen! One!” trumpeted JJ, also relieved to be back among them.
Hotch then walked away in the company of Garcia, Rossi, Reid and his ex-sister-in-law. So, he didn't hear the dialogue between his three subordinates.
“Still, I'd have given anything to see the look on the hostage takers' faces when they discovered they'd been put out of their misery by a guy in a Flash McQueen cap”, Prentiss admitted, hilariously.
“And the flip-flop”, added the mother.
“The FBI's standing has taken a serious hit,” finished Derek, as amused as his colleagues.
Shortly afterwards, everyone settled down on the terrace to enjoy the relative coolness brought by the night and dine together. But this time they didn't linger, as the children and Penelope were overexcited at the prospect of starting the karaoke session. Morgan and Will set about installing all the equipment on the TV in the living room while the teams were being put together. Jack and Jessica sided with the giant, while Spencer and Emily formed an alliance with the former liaison officer. Henry logically followed his mother's lead, while the Italian American opted for the winners of the previous race. The two technicians of the day leaned the other way, with the former looking for revenge.
And the vocal confrontation got off to a flying start, with the analyst and their superior outpacing the other team by a mere thousand points. Their opponents reduced their lead with an impressive performance from the two female profilers. They caught up again on a Hotch miss, and it took a flawless performance from his partner to give them some breathing space. But everyone seemed to be enjoying this suspended moment, smiling, hugging, applauding and exclaiming with joy.
Everyone except the giant, who, once the evening was well under way, sat down on the sofa. Eyes closed, head tilted back on the sofa, he grimaced more than he smiled. Garcia, worried, sat next to him. Hearing him sing, she could tell at once that he wasn't at his best, and that he was gritting his teeth to put on a brave face. So, as not to dampen the mood.
“Everything’s fine?”
“Yes,” he said, reopening his eyelids and straightening his head. “Rough day.”
He looked like he’d aged ten years more.
“And not just for you, apparently,” she smiled, pointing to the two forms lying beside him.
Jack and Henry had fallen asleep in the armchair, curled up together. The hubbub a stone's throw away didn't bother them at all.
“I'll put him to bed in his room.”
“Wait, I'll come with you,” Will declared as he approached them.
The two men each retrieved their “belongings” and climbed up to the bedroom floor. The boys slept in the same room, one in the single bed and the other in the bunk bed on the top bunk. They had already spread all their toys and clothes everywhere, and the fathers had to be careful where they put their feet so as not to fall with their precious load.
Downstairs, the battle continued as if nothing had happened. With fatigue and alcohol, precision had given way to improvisation, and the underdogs were scraping up points with gibberish and approximations. The jubilation came to an abrupt halt when Will came running back to them, looking anxious.
“Come! Aaron fainted!”
The microphones were placed at random in the living room, and the group followed the policeman to the corridor where Hotch lay. He was slowly regaining consciousness when Jessica and Emily knelt beside him, concerned.
“What happened?” asked JJ.
“We'd just put the little ones to bed and were heading back down the corridor when he stopped to hold his head in his hands. His eyes were closed, but he was still responding. And then he collapsed.”
She could tell from the way he spoke that her companion was in shock. He may have seen death on a regular basis, but it was still very special to see someone close to you pass out without any warning.
“He didn’t say anything?” enquired Derek, as worried as the others.
“Yes. That he was fine, and I have to go back with you.”
“He's pale and feverish,” declared Jessica, placing a hand on the titan's vaguely conscious forehead.
He could barely open his eyes and his hands were shaking. Sweat beaded on his white face, and they all realized it had nothing to do with the ambient temperature.
“In my opinion, we're dealing with a case of sunstroke,” Dave surmised.
“Guys,” bounced Prentiss as she gets to her feet, “Carry him to his room. Penelope and I will get a bucket or a basin. And don’t listen to him.”
“I'm going to get some water and something to rehydrate,” added Jack's aunt, giving way to the men.
And so, the day ended on a bittersweet note.
___
If you hadn't catch Penelope's line to Hotch, it means you haven't seen Hot Shots. :D
___
First chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/codename-mom/791125045952069632/4th-of-july-113?source=share
Next chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/codename-mom/794295936561119232/4th-of-july-613?source=share
Summary: A few hours after Hotch's arrival, it's time for lunch and to decide what will be the schedule of the afternoon.
Characters: BAU team + Will, Henry, Jack and Jessica
Contents: mention of food, of hostage situation and light angst.
This is a text written for the CM Summer Time challenge organized by @imagining-in-the-margins.
To be honest, the dialogues have been written two years ago for the same challenge, but the text is know ready to be published. :D It'll have 13 chapters.
PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.
___
Read on AO3 / lire sur AO3
___
Despite the early hour at which the last arrivals had joined the holidaymakers, the morning flew by and it was soon time for lunch. In the kitchen, Hotch and Derek had started a very serious discussion about the upcoming menu.
“With meat?” frowned the tallest.
“Of course,” affirmed the other, a beer in the hand. “What would a barbecue be without ribs and sausages?”
In front of them, on the central island, were trays of meat still wrapped in cellophane.
“And Penelope let you buy all this?”
The analyst was a vegetarian, with vegan tendencies, and never hesitated to proclaim that it was monstrous to make animals suffer when there was another way.
“She called us barbarians,” confessed her usual accomplice, “but she didn't stop us taking them out of the store.”
And she had sulked for a few moments, until he agreed to bend the budget so she could let off steam in the pastry department.
“On the other hand, what do you want to cook with a barbecue?”
“She's certainly full of good ideas,” said the manager, who was constantly surprised by his employee's inventiveness.
“Yes, she suggested stuffed peppers.”
“That I’ll eat gladly.”
“What?” choked the younger, outraged. “And my skewers?”
The unit leader repressed a smile, amused by his subordinate's reaction. Clearly, he was hoping for her approval, and not just of his work at the FBI.
“I'll eat it too,” he assured him, to put his mind at rest.
“Are you serious?”
Obviously, it was not enough. Despite her best efforts to treat them as equals, jealousy was rife among the siblings.
“Derek, don't insist,” intervened JJ, who was in the same room as them and hadn't said anything until then, concentrating on her task. “You know very well that he won't make a choice between us.”
“But I want him to choose.”
“In the meantime, I've made a rice salad,” she announced proudly, placing the salad bowl in front of them.
“And I’ll taste it too,” affirmed Hotch.
The young woman gave Morgan a victorious smile and left the kitchen with her head held high. Her colleague shook his, disillusioned.
“You can’t have it all; you have to choose.”
“Why? You just have to know how to dose.”
“Hotch!”
“Derek,” Dave called out as he entered the room, “I think you've forgotten who you're talking to. It’s like asking your mother to make a choice between you and your sisters.”
The ex-policeman glanced at the giant, who showed no desire to contradict his mentor's words. He turned back to the last.
“Don’t you want to know?”
“I'm already glad he's willing to eat something.”
Morgan pouted; his superior laughed quietly and followed Rossi into the lounge with the drinks. Half an hour later, they were all at the table, their plates full of multiple dishes. Discussions were going well and the mood was upbeat. As the adults lingered on the terrace, the two boys were allowed to leave the tables and frolic in the garden, galloping along with their flip-flops. Parents regularly checked that they didn't get too close to the pool and that they kept their caps on, while still chatting with the others.
Then Prentiss was suddenly sprayed by a jet of water.
“Hey!”
“Sorry, Emily,” apologized the BAU’s first-born, armed with a multicolored plastic pistol a third of his size.
“Jack, where did you get this?” his father immediately questioned, eyebrows furrowed.
“There's a whole trunk of them in the garage.”
Beside him, Henry, who had a pistol, green and red, in each hand, nodded vigorously in support of his buddy's words. All the males on the table exchanged knowing glances. Will turned his in direction of his partner who sighed:
“Fine. Go.”
The policeman and his counterparts all rose from their chairs, including Reid, and threaded their way behind the two little ones who led them to the hideout. The women watched them with the same expression, half-dismayed, half-amused.
“And we lose them for the rest of the day,” Emily commented.
“You'll notice that they disappear when it's time to clear the table,” remarked JJ when she saw the pile of dishes in front of them.
“I'd say it's the perfect opportunity to perfect our tan,” suggested Penelope, her straw hat already on her head.
“Sounds like a good idea,” said Jessica, putting on her sunglasses.
The aquatic guerrilla warfare was well underway – Hotch, Derek and Will against Dave, Spencer and the kids – while the girls were sunning themselves by the pool, when a voice called out:
“Excuse me.”
The women lifted their heads and their sunglasses in a single movement. They then discovered a policeman leaning against the fence separating the garden from the beach.
“Sorry to interrupt but I’m looking for agent Hotchner. Aaron Hotchner,” he clarified, a little embarrassed to burst into this idyllic picture.
He also looked dying of heat in his black uniform.
“Why do you think there is someone of that name here?” answered JJ, careful.
“The van rental contract is in his name and this is the address shown on the contract.”
Eyes immediately swiveled to Penelope.
“Sorry,” she said drawing a shy smile. “I thought his name was more serious than mine.”
It was true that many people made the same mistake about her when they heard her surname. The image forming in their heads was the antithesis of reality. Which wasn't always to her advantage.
“Why are you searching for him?” Emily interrogated him, her sunglasses back on her nose.
“There's a hostage situation in town and we need an experienced negotiator.”
“Call SWAT,” encouraged JJ, who, like her colleagues, wanted the giant to enjoy his time off.
The unit leader spent far more time than they did within the walls of Quantico, arriving long before them and leaving long after. He gave his subordinates the breaks they wanted, but never gave himself any. Besides that, he worried that one day his son would reproach him for never having been there for him. These three days away from the FBI were a chance for him to take a breather and share a moment with Jack.
“Already done. They've lent us some sharp shooters, but their negotiator is on sick leave and we have none.”
The quartet sighed in unison. They understood that they had no choice.
“You call or I do it?” asked JJ to Emily.
“What? He’s not there?” worried the intruder.
“Yes. That's the sniper on the roof up there,” said Jessica.
The cop looked up and saw the bump protruding from the tiles, spraying a large twig trying to reach him.
“Oh,” he did without knowing how to react to that.
“I'll take care of it,” declared Prentiss, grabbing the walkie-talkie lying not far from her.
The communication devices were with the water pistols, and Will had entrusted one to his companion in case Henry needed help.
“Smart crow to Eagle mom, do you copy?”
The receiver sputtered for a few seconds, then Hotch's deep – and surprised – voice replied:
“… Prentiss?”
“Affirmative.”
“What kind of nicknames are these?”
JJ and Jessica chuckled, imagining the giant's confused face.
“Penelope chose them.”
“…Ah,” he said summarily. “What’s going on?”
“Do you see the police officer leaning on the fence?”
“Does he bothering you?”
The interested party straightened up, suddenly anxious.
“No,” she alleged, smiling. “And he’s hearing what you’re saying.”
“Are we making too much noise?”
“Still not. There's a hostage situation in town and, apparently, you're the only confirmed negotiator for miles around.”
The reply was long in coming. They imagined all the cogs in his brain racing to draw up a list of the pros and cons of this standpoint.
“It’s the weekend,” he finally grumbled.
“Please, there are children involved,” intervened the policeman, raising his voice and tiptoeing closer to the walkie-talkie.
“It seems that chil…”
“I heard,” he cut her up in a firm tone. “I’m coming.”
“He's coming,” she signaled to the importunate guy.
As promised, he did appear at the poolside, but certainly not with the appearance expected of the renowned FBI negotiator he was. Indeed, he was wearing grey shorts, a white T-shirt and a red and white floral shirt; flip-flops on his feet, sunglasses on his nose and a Cars cap – on loan from Jack – screwed onto his head. Penelope discreetly took a photo of the policeman's stunned expression.
“What?” growled the colossus, as the other remained mute.
“Uh… nothing. I…” he stammered. “I excepted another kind of outfit.”
“For a long time, I thought he slept in a suit too,” threw Garcia, making her neighbors laugh.
The manager wasn’t laughing at all.
“Do you need a negotiator or not?”
“Sure. My… my car's over there,” he explained, stretching his arm to the left.
“Let’s go.”
“See you later, Hotch,” waved JJ.
“Good luck, sir.”
Jack's father disappeared, following the policeman to the beach. Jessica, for her part, had lost her smile. Disturbed by the latest dialogue, she questioned the federal agents.
“Why do you call him ‘Hotch’?”
“Because that's what he wants to be called,” retorted the brunette.
“Even when you aren’t working?”
“Oh, no. Now we can call him Aaron,” asserted the computer expert.
“But you don’t,” she stressed, serious. “I've been listening to you since this morning and, apart from Dave, none of you call him by his first name.”
The colleagues gave each other the same puzzled look. It wasn't surprising that she wondered about the way they behaved, but her tone didn't tell them anything.
“Dave is special,” started JJ. “He was his supervisor and mentor before retiring. It's hard to turn the tables completely now that Hotch is at the helm of the BAU.”
“You call him Aaron too from time to time,” underlined Emily.
“It’s true that with the kids, we got closer. We try to help each other as much as possible.”
From the moment Henry was born, her relationship with the titan had taken a quantum leap. Already in a singular position in relation to the profilers, in that she supported him in his tasks, becoming a parent within the BAU had given them other common topics of conversation.
“Okay,” conceded Jessica, icily. “It makes two on a team of six. You, Penelope, you are even calling him ‘sir’. What’s the issue? Does he hit on your fingers if you call him by his name?”
“No, not at all,” assured the defensive ex-liaison officer.
“I know that he doesn’t like me to call him ‘sir’, but I can’t prevent myself. He’s so… impressive.”
“If that's all there was to it,” Prentiss punctuated, widening her eyes.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
This time, there was no longer any doubt. There was something in their attitude that didn't please her at all. The girls exchanged glances again, silently negotiating which of the three would start the dialogue. JJ was the bravest.
“Well, let’s that he’s a bit…”
“Stiff,” Emily finished.
“Yes, and…”
“Uptight.”
“That’s what you think about him?”
She was obviously shocked by their words. Shocked and irritated too.
“We know he's not mean,” the mother tried to reassure her, “but it takes a lot of patience to get a smile out of him.”
Words that didn't relax her at all. On a contrary. She stiffened, gritted her teeth and gathered her belongings, ready to distance herself from them.
“… I see,” she muttered. “It explains a lot.”
“Meaning?”
JJ didn't get an answer, because Jack landed right next to them, red-faced, his Jurassic Park cap askew.
“Jess! Where’s Dad?”
“He had to go and help the local police,” she said harshly. “What’s going on?”
“I've got a boo-boo there.”
He stretched out his leg in her direction, revealing a scratched knee from which a few drops of blood were beading.
“Oh. Don’t worry. I've got everything I need in the suitcase,” she declared, regaining her maternal tone. “Come with me.”
She stood up, her towel in one hand, and handed the other to her nephew. They then headed for the house, without a glance at the federal trio. A heavy silence settled between them, barely disturbed by the exclamations of the boys a little further away.
“What do you think she meant by that?” JJ finally asked.
“Not a clue,” admitted Emily, unsettled.
___
First chapter >> 4th of July - 1/13 – @codename-mom sur Tumblr
Next chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/codename-mom/793661763172368384/4th-of-july-513?source=share
__
By the way, I'll be in holidays for a moment then, so I may won't be able to post the next chapters properly. :)
Summary: Hotch is coming! *insert Jaws main theme*
Characters: Penelope Garcia, JJ, Aaron Hotchner, Jack Hotchner and Jessica Brooks (and, at the very end, Henry LaMontagne).
Contents: mention of food. And that's all. :)
This is a text written for the CM Summer Time challenge organized by @imagining-in-the-margins.
To be honest, the dialogues have been written two years ago for the same challenge, but the text is know ready to be published. :D It'll have 13 chapters.
PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.
___
Read on AO3 / lire sur AO3
___
The next morning, before the sun had even risen, Garcia was roused from her slumber by the melody of her second telephone. A message had just come. She partially lifted her eye mask, winced and read Hotch's text announcing that they had arrived. She finished removing her blindfold, walked around the bed and out into the corridor, looking for someone more likely to be driving at this particularly early hour.
“JJ,” she mumbled, scratching at her door.
There was no answer, but she sensed movement on the other side of the slammer. Soon, it opened to reveal a blonde a little more awake than the first.
“Penny?”
“Mom just sent me a message,” she said, struggling to keep her eyelids open. “She’s at the airport.”
The team had taken to calling their superior “Mom” for his overly protective side. It started out as a joke, but the nickname stuck. However, they were careful not to use it in the presence of the interested party, since he didn't appreciate it as much as they did.
“Seriously?”
“He said: ‘first thing Saturday’.”
JJ rolled his eyes, suddenly regretting their leader's rectitude.
“Why me?”
“I didn’t succeed to awake the others.”
“Okay,” she sighed. “I’ll go. But I want a coffee when I've finished getting ready.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The mother returned to her room, grabbed the first items of clothing she could find in the dim light of the bedroom, placed a kiss on Will's forehead as he stirred in his sleep, and headed for the nearest bathroom. She made a quick wash, aware that she had over an hour's drive to the airport, then went down to the kitchen. The place was deserted, but she found a full mug with a note beside it. It was written: ‘Thank you! :)’ with lots of little hearts around it. She giggled and took her first sip.
She took advantage of this pause to send a message to Hotch, informing him that she would be the one to meet them, but that she would need a little time. The answer was not long in coming.
“Okay. Thank you.”
An unsurprising dryness on the part of the giant, which she didn't mind. When she finished her coffee, she felt a little more alert. She climbed into the car shortly afterwards and drove to her destination with the road to herself. In the transit lounge, she had no trouble finding her passengers. Jessica, Haley's sister, spotted her first and waved her hand in her direction. Hotch was sitting next to her, Jack asleep in his arms.
“Hello, JJ,” he greeted her once he'd managed to get to his feet.
“Sorry I’m late. Hello, Jessica.”
“Hello, JJ,” she replied, with a smile she'd often seen on another face and now found in the little boy.
She sometimes found it hard to realize that it had been two years since the tragedy. And so, life went on, without a care for those who had stopped along the way.
“You weren't expecting me so soon, were you?” smiled the giant, snapping her out of her thoughts.
“Honestly? No,” she confessed. “And right now, it's Sleeping Beauty's castle in the house.”
“Let me guess,” bounced Jessica, “you drew straws and lost.”
She smiled.
“There's a bit of that but, actually, with Henry, I'm used to getting up early. Not like this little one, as I can see.”
“The hardest part was getting him through the checkpoints,” told his father. “He may talk in his sleep, but he doesn't sleepwalk through the security gate by himself.”
The two women laughed, without even making the subject of their conversation start.
“The car is over there.”
“We follow you,” declared Hotch.
“Need a hand?”
“If you could take one of the two suitcases, that would be a great help,” he conceded, pointing to the luggage with his chin. “I handle Jack.”
So, JJ grabbed a suitcase while the colossus reasserted his grip around the toddler, who was beginning to slip off his shoulder. They then calmly made their way back to the parking lot.
“You didn't tell me you were managing a soccer team,” Jessica threw as she spotted the van.
“That’s because I wasn’t aware of that.”
“Wait for the house.”
“Penelope didn't show you any photos?” inquired Jack's aunt, turning to her ex-brother-in-law.
“Nothing at all. It was confidential.”
“I hope it's a good thing,” she said, unsettled by the analyst's method, which she wasn't all that familiar with.
To tell the truth, although she knew the names of the team members and a few anecdotes about them, she had only really come into contact with them at her sister's funeral. This was going to be a voyage of discovery for her. And for them too.
“With her, I can expect anything,” affirmed the titan with a smirk.
Jessica settled herself in the back with Jack, still in dreamland, and Hotch sat in front on the passenger side. A few moments later, JJ started up and took the right road.
“Sorry to be so early.”
“You just wanted to make the most of the weekend,” the driver reassured him with a smile.
She knew all about her boss's anxious nature and his efforts to cause as little disturbance as possible. But if it had been hard for her to get out of bed before daybreak, she could understand why he'd insisted on being there at the crack of dawn.
“Yes. I didn’t think about the fact that someone have to pick us up.”
“Maybe we could have taken a cab, though,” Jessica pointed out.
“I don’t have the address.”
The curly blonde widened her eyes in surprise.
“Okay. When she wants to keep something secret, she doesn't do it by halves.”
“Why do you think I hired her?”
“I thought it was because of the pink stationary card on which she had written her cover letter.”
“Also.”
The three laughed and calmed down when Jack frowned. They chatted quietly all the way, getting to know each other and catching up on the latest news, without rousing the youngster from his slumber.
“We're on our way,” declared JJ as she caught sight of the distinctive portal.
Out of the corner of her eye, she observed the reactions of her passengers, who stared at the house in amazement.
“Wait till you see the inside.”
She parked as best she could with this vehicle whose dimensions she still couldn't quite visualize, and Jessica and Hotch got out. The second took his son in his arms but left the luggage in the trunk while he toured the building. They gazed at the scenery with the same air of wonder as them the day before.
“It pays well to be a technical analyst at the FBI,” Jessica observed, transfixed.
“In my memory, not that much.”
The agency head's brown irises fell back on his subordinate.
“We've already asked her how much it cost, but so far she won't tell us.”
“I’ll talk to her.”
He, too, preferred Penelope to avoid squandering her money, even to please her friends.
“How many bedrooms are there?” asked Jessica.
“Too much.”
They laughed again and JJ added:
“Jack could go in the same room as Henry. There is a bunk bed and another small bed. And then there are two bedrooms with double beds.”
“Perfect,” she commented.
“Take a look at the garden.”
Henry's mother led them to the terrace. The sun was rising over the sea, painting the sky pink.
“Do we agree it's ugly?” ironized Jessica.
“Very,” agreed Hotch smiling. “Jack, honey. Wake up. We arrived.”
He stroked the toddler's cheek to wake him from his sweet dreams.
“Mmmmh...” retorted the little boy, trying to dodge his attacker.
“Come on. At least, open one eye to see the swimming pool.”
“… pool?” he babbled, raising his head with difficulty.
“Yes. And more. But you need to open your eyes for that.”
Suddenly motivated, Jack's eyelids gradually spread, then widened as he took in his new surroundings. Fully awake, a smile spread across his round face, running from ear to ear.
“Do you like it?” his father asked him.
“Yeah!”
The three adults smiled in unison.
“Can we go in the pool?” begged the child, hastily.
“You may have a breakfast first.”
“Okay,” he conceded, still squinting at the water.
The colossus put him down again, keeping his hand in his own. He had no desire for his offspring to go wading alone, without an adult to look after him. He could swim, but he knew the statistics and accidents happened so quickly.
“We need to get the luggage out of the car too,” Jessica remarked.
“True.”
“I can take care of Jack while you put your things away,” offered the new profiler.
She and the kid already knew each other, but Hotch had never left him in the hands of anyone outside the family circle until now. Whenever they'd found themselves outside the walls of Quantico, the LaMontagne couple and the Hotchners, his father had stayed with him all the way. So, he knelt down beside his son and questioned him:
“Could you stay with JJ for a while?”
Jack looked at her as if they were meeting for the first time in their lives.
“She’s not going to eat you.”
“Where are the others?”
“They are sleeping. It's very, very early, and they must have partied a bit last night, so they're tired,” he explained gently. “They'll be here later.”
“Did Henry have a party too?”
“No,” replied his mother, holding back a laugh. “It shouldn't be long before he wakes up.”
“Are you having breakfast with us?” the toddler worried again.
“Once I've tidy up our things, yes.”
“Okay.”
He wrapped his arms around his father's head – to reassure himself one last time – then broke away to take JJ's hand in his own. They made their way to the kitchen, where Henry emerged barely fifteen minutes later, his hair a mess, disheveled, but with an undeniable air of delight at the sight of his buddy sitting at the table with his mother. Hotch and Jessica busied themselves taking luggage up to the bedrooms and unpacking everything necessary, while the household gradually awoke from its slumber. Soon the whole group was gathered around the breakfast table, chatting happily.
___
First chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/codename-mom/791125045952069632/4th-of-july-113?source=share
Next chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/codename-mom/793027575042703361/4th-of-july-413?source=share
Summary: It's time to take the plane to discover the house by the sea where the team will spend the next three days.
Characters: Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia, David Rossi, Emily Prentiss, JJ, Will LaMontagne Jr. and Henry LaMontagne.
Contents: mention of food, alcohol, abduction and mosquitoes.
This is a text written for the CM Summer Time challenge organized by @imagining-in-the-margins.
To be honest, the dialogues have been written two years ago for the same challenge, but the text is know ready to be published. :D It'll have 13 chapters.
PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.
___
Read on AO3 / lire sur AO3
___
Friday arrived both very quickly and very slowly, depending on everyone's tastes. In any case, it was now time for everyone to meet at the airport. Derek quietly made his way to the rendezvous point, bag slung over his shoulder, confident he'd be early. But his eyes widened when he caught sight of the tall, gaunt figure waiting at the spot.
“Pinch me, Spencer arrived first.”
Usually, the multi-graduate was more the type to arrive last – or second-to-last, Prentiss being good enough to show up half an hour behind schedule – having forgotten to comb his hair or put on his clothes properly. There, it wasn’t the case at all.
“I didn't want to miss the plane,” he explained factually.
“What? Are you in a hurry to go swimming?” mocked the ex-policeman, a toothy grin on his lips.
“Swimming? No, what a question!” he replied, revolted. “I’ll stay in the house, far away from the sea, from the sand and from the sun.”
“Tell me again why you are coming with us.”
“To be with you,” he answered, in a tone of the obvious.
Morgan smiled and ran a hand through his hair:
“Good answer, handsome.”
Penelope appeared in turn, dragging two brightly-colored suitcases covered with fluorescent stickers.
“Look at that! An angel fallen from heaven,” exclaimed the explosives expert. “Hello Miss, on which flight are you boarding?”
“Same as you, I hope," she quipped at once.
They burst out laughing. Then she turned to Reid.
“Where are your sunglasses?”
“What for?” he asked, as if this were nonsense.
“He's not planning to leave the house,” Derek huffed at his longtime accomplice.
“That's what you think,” trumpeted the young woman, looking determined. “My program calls for everyone to take part in outdoor activities.”
“You never talked about that before.”
“Because she knew that you would have said no otherwise.”
“It's okay, Spence,” she reassured him, patting his arm. “You will survive.”
The youngest member of the group didn't seem at all reassured by her words. For the time being, he was perhaps even less sociable than the agency head; his shrimp-like appearance and extraordinary skills having brought him more problems than happy memories. Fortunately, the wheel has been turning since he joined the BAU.
“Here's Dave,” Morgan announced as the ex-retiree walked toward them.
The Italian American quietly approached them, in an outfit similar to what he wore to the office, neither more nor less formal, but not necessarily suitable for a beach holiday.
“Rossi,” the anxious Spencer accosted him; “Garcia has outdoor activities planned for all of us.”
“I’ll lend you some sunscreen.”
The Las Vegas native frowned, puzzled, as the other two laughed behind his back. Emily showed up in the meantime, looking distressed.
“Everything’s fine?” enquired the luscious blonde.
“Sergio made a scene. He's upset that I'm not there to watch the fireworks with him.”
She'd wanted to give him one last cuddle before leaving, and he'd deliberately hidden himself where it was hardest for her to get to him: under the bed, right in the middle, so that she couldn't reach him from either side. She was worried because the tomcat didn't appreciate the noise of the explosions and the bright lights of the fires at all. He usually spent this traumatic moment holed up at the back of the wardrobe, but he was more appeased when she was around. He must have sensed his mistress's anxiety and made it clear that he didn't agree with her decision to abandon him.
“The one in Washington DC has been postponed until next weekend,” declared Reid.
“I'll send him a message right away,” she said, grabbing her cell phone.
Her colleagues laughed and she smiled, relieved by this news. They then waited a few moments to see if the last of the gang had arrived, then headed for the baggage check-in area. One by one, they passed the airport staff to check in their tickets and, for those who needed it, had their hold luggage sent off. And they waited around, scanning the area for familiar faces, regularly checking the time on their watches or phones.
Finally, JJ appeared in the distance, Will and Henry behind her. The couple hurried in their direction as Penelope waved to them.
“Hurry up! Check-in is almost over.”
“Sorry,” apologized the mother, her cheeks flushed. “Impossible to get our hands on his comfort plush.”
“At least everyone's here,” Dave pointed out to ease the tension.
“No, Hotch is missing,” remarked Derek.
“He had a meeting tonight, so he'll join us in the morning,” explained Garcia as the last three arrivals slipped through the security cordons.
Morgan raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the young woman, who held his gaze, confident in the manager's words.
“… I’ll believe it when I’ll see him.”
“He promised me,” affirmed the analyst, eyebrows furrowed.
“Yeah…”
“He promised Penelope,” Rossi added facetiously.
Once the last pieces of luggage had been placed on the conveyor belt, the whole team crossed the airport to the boarding area. The flight was a hop, skip and a jump, and they spent more time going through airport formalities than they did above ground, but they arrived safely. They then found a rental vehicle that could accommodate them all: a midnight-blue van, into which they crammed their suitcases and bags as best they could. Derek took the wheel, and the organizer of the trip entered the GPS coordinates of their vacation spot.
Following the on-board computer's instructions, they drove for almost an hour and a half before coming to a halt in front of an impressive construction. Surrounded by a vast, exuberant garden, the house had a single story but stretched over some ten meters. Large bay windows pierced the first floor walls, adorned with thick cyan-colored wooden shutters. On the second floor, some of the windows were embellished with beautifully crafted balconies and the same shutters to prevent heat from entering the building. The slightly sloping roof was covered with slate-colored tiles.
“My friends, this is our home for the next three days.”
“Wow!” commented JJ, mouth agape.
“I couldn't have said it better myself,” added her partner.
They passed through the high sliding gate painted in the same tones as the shutters and approached their rental. They had rolled down the windows of their van to get a better look at the details of their accommodation, and the sea spray hit their faces.
“Okay,” resumed Emily. “I think I can ask this question on behalf of everyone: how much did it cost you?”
“Please, let's save the material questions for the end of the stay,” Penelope evaded. “Enjoy the moment.”
Her bracelets rattled as she waved her arms in the air.
“I'm not sure that argument works on Aaron,” Dave declared.
“Hotch? Why?”
“That's the first question he's going to ask you, baby girl,” Morgan seconded, maneuvering to approach the access road. “And he won't let you go until he gets the answer.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.”
“Where the pool?" suddenly worried Henry, sitting upright in his seat like a meerkat.
“Here’s an interesting question.”
With the car parked in front of the entrance, everyone got out and paused to admire the edifice more closely. The ex-hacker urged all her friends to step into the house, and they were on the stoop in no time. They landed in a huge hall, which also served as a living room, with tables, sofas and other armchairs scattered around. On their right was a vast kitchen and its outbuildings. To their left, a corridor led to a bathroom and two large bedrooms. A staircase, visible from the living room, led upstairs to other bedrooms and bathrooms. Everything was elegantly decorated. It was simple, natural and not at all ostentatious.
“Honey, can you pinch me?”
“You, first.”
“And wait until you see the view,” said Penelope, encouraging them to cross the room.
In line with the front door, two large French windows opened onto a shaded terrace with a new table and a dozen chairs around it. As they stood there, they saw the garden suite spread out in front of them, with its swimming pool and its bevy of deckchairs, its hard-built barbecue and, above all – above all – a breathtaking view of the beach, the ocean and the orange sky as night fell.
“No, seriously, how much did it cost you?” asked Derek, no longer smiling at all.
“It's funny, I've had tinnitus for some time now. You said?”
“Very funny. I’m serious, Penelope.”
The luscious blonde was the lowest paid member of the team, despite their boss's best efforts to get her a salary commensurate with her abilities. But unlike them, who had special agent status, she was “just” a technician. Hence their concern as to how she could have obtained such a jewel.
“We'll do the accounts at the end of our stay,” she dodged again.
“And as a first expense, I suggest we do groceries because, this is all very nice, but the fridge and cupboards are empty,” Emily informed them as she walked back towards them.
“Okay. Who’s volunteer?”
“Me,” affirmed Morgan raising his hand.
“I’m in.”
“I'll pass,” said Dave. “Just bring me some edibles.”
“We'll take care of unpacking the suitcases with Will.”
“Okay,” said the Chicago native. “Spencer, you’re coming with us.”
“What? Why?” the tall, lanky man choked, taken aback.
“Because you are the most picky of us when it comes to food.”
“Really?”
“If Derek says so...” JJ asserted, a mocking smile on her lips.
Since the younger had no say in the matter, the group split into two and went about their business. The suppliers negotiated at length in the aisles of the local supermarket, the couple settled in their belongings and those of their offspring, trying to make him understand that repeating “we go to the pool?” every thirty seconds wasn't going to make it go any faster, and Dave reclined on a deckchair, drink in hand, jacket hanging off the back and toes out in the open.
As evening fell, they all gathered on the terrace to dine under the stars. Before attacking the meal, Garcia raised her glass of mint diabolo and declared:
“To what promises to be a memorable weekend!”
“To Penelope, for suggesting this great idea,” JJ continued, imitating her.
“To my beauty, who didn't tell us she'd won the lottery.”
“To all of you for inviting me,” Will thanked them, delighted to be here.
“To those who have chosen this excellent vintage,” said Dave, his wine glass in hand.
“To the pool!” exclaimed Henry, sitting on his father's lap.
They burst out laughing. Emily ruffled his hair, and he received a kiss on the cheek from his mother.
“Did you know that mosquitoes are much more active at night?”
“Spencer!” scolded Penelope, JJ and Derek.
“We're going to be eaten alive,” he moaned, nervously scanning the air around him.
“At least...” ironized the eldest of the group.
Everyone laughed, except the main man, who was the only one to have kept long sleeves on his arms and legs.
“In any case, thank you all for coming.”
“We wouldn't have missed it for the world,” confessed the former liaison officer, only too happy to be reunited with the members of the BAU and to enjoy their presence in an informal setting.
“There's just one who'd rather be in a meeting than here.”
“Derek!” snapped the instigator of this stay, always quick to defend the director.
“What? It’s true.”
She was about to reply when one of her phones rang. Although she had promised to disconnect, she couldn't bring herself to abandon her Smartphones in Virginia. Still, she agreed to bring only one to the table.
“Speak of the devil...” hissed Morgan, taking note of the caller's name.
Garcia glared at him but hurried to pick up the phone. Everyone around her fell silent – including Henry – and listened, hoping to hear the words of the only one missing.
“Hello?... Yes… Okay… Yes, we’re in the garden, we were about to eat the diner.”
“It's mostly us who are eaten,” grumbled Reid, without being particularly discreet.
“What's going on?” continued the analyst, rolling his eyes at him.
“I'll bet my dessert he's not coming,” tossed Derek, no less loudly.
“Okay,” followed JJ, holding out her hand to seal their pact.
Penelope felt like punching them but held back to place a finger in her ear and concentrate on her interlocutor's words.
“… No. Do… don’t worry… Anytime. A… Yes, that’s it. Good night.”
She hung up and all eyes swiveled in her direction, impatient.
“So?” dared Rossi.
“He… In fact, he was asking me if Jessica could come. She had originally planned something else, but her plan just fell through. And since there are lots of rooms in this house, I said yes. I… I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not in the least,” declared JJ, before retrieving his neighbor's fruit salad plate from across the table. “Here, Will, you've earned an extra dessert.”
And her husband gladly accepted, to the laughter of the profilers.
“Yeah, well, have fun while you can. When the Big Guy gets here, you won't be laughing so hard,” the loser grunted.
“Derek, don’t be disparaging. Hotch is perfectly able to have fun.”
“Yeah? Where’s your evidence?”
“I spent thirty-six hours locked up in a basement with him and I keep a very good memory of it.”
“What?” Henry's father interjected, taken aback.
His wife then explained that shortly after their adventures in New York, and following a gala organized by the FBI, the head of the agency and the technician had been kidnapped and held captive for almost two days. By the time the team had managed to track down their colleagues, they had seemed more complicit than ever.
“Since then, despite testing the waters regularly, we still don't know what really happened in this cellar.”
“Here's an interesting challenge,” he said, rubbing his chin.
“Good luck,” threw Emily, who had exhausted all her tactics to no avail.
___
First chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/codename-mom/791125045952069632/4th-of-july-113?source=share
Next chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/codename-mom/792393409076903936/4th-of-july-313?source=share
Summary: Taking advantage of a three-days weekend of the 4th of July, Penelope brings the team in a house next to the sea, far away from unsubs and victims. Three days which will be full of surprises and actions.
Characters: BAU team (S07)
Contents: well, Penelope is impressed by Hotch, so it's a little bit angsty; but there's not much to tell about that chapter. (Ah, yes! There's a mention of marshmallows! :) )
This is a text written for the CM Summer Time challenge organized by @imagining-in-the-margins.
To be honest, the dialogues have been written two years ago for the same challenge, but the text is know ready to be published. :D It'll have 13 chapters.
PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.
___
Read on AO3/lire sur AO3
___
The sixth floor of Quantico was buzzing with activity. It was the eve of a three-day weekend in early July, and the federal agents were as excited as kids on a December twenty-fourth. And even more so the main BAU team, clustered near the kitchenette. They were all eagerly awaiting the return of their analyst, who had just received a vitally important call. And there she was, trotting back towards them, lips pursed to hold back a smile.
“So?” asked JJ, quicker than her counterparts.
“It’s good. Everything's ready, all we have to do is pack our bags and jump on the plane.”
“Do they mind if we arrive on Friday evening?” inquired a worried Emily.
“No. They told me that, in any case, everything would be ready by late morning, early afternoon.”
It was still Thursday.
“I imagine that, given the amount of the rental, they might well give us one more evening,” Dave pointed out with a sneer at the corner of his lips.
“By the way, did someone talk to him?”
Derek had pointed to the manager's office where Hotch was working unsuspectingly. All eyes were on Penelope.
“Why me?” she whimpered, suddenly much less enthusiastic.
“It’s your idea,” remembered her the novelist.
“You’re the one he knows best.”
“It doesn’t mean he’s going to say yes. On a contrary.”
The oldest member of the team certainly found it easier to talk to the colossus, but the reverse was also true. The giant had no trouble refusing his proposals.
“Whereas you...” began the former liaison officer.
“What, me?”
“Hotch likes you a lot,” said Prentiss, with a hint of mockery.
Underneath his ice-cabinet exterior, the BAU chief hid the heart of a teddy bear, always quick to protect his subordinates and gloss over the sanctions they should receive.
“Like all of you here,” retorted the bespectacled blonde, defensively.
“He forgives you for more things than we do,” said the one who didn't have any.
Like all parents – even if they never dared admit it – the titan was more forthcoming with some than with others, and especially with the ex-computer pirate.
“Really?”
“He didn't say anything when you broke the coffee machine after you tried to brew mini marshmallows in it”, Spencer related with a smirk.
“I'm sure it could have turned into something extraordinary.”
“Penelope,” whispered JJ, turning her mum-like gaze on her.
“Fine. I’m going,” she sighed. “Wish me luck.”
“Good luck!” they exclaimed in unison.
It didn't take long for the keyboard expert to reach her destination, even though her legs were shaking. Hotch wasn't mean, she knew, but she couldn't help but find him impressive. And in spite of herself, the feverishness was always there when she found herself face-to-face with him. As it would be in a few moments.
She knocked discreetly on the open door, and he immediately raised his brown eyes to her.
“Can I?” she asked with a tiny voice.
“Yes, of course,” he said smiling.
“If I disturb you, tell me now, I’ll come back later.”
“No worries, Garcia. Sit down,” he encouraged her, pointing to the seat in front of him.
“O… okay.”
With no choice but to enter, she took small, hurried steps forward and sat down shakily in the chair in front of him.
“Are you sure?” she insisted, nervous.
“Yes.”
“Great.”
The lack of vivacity she put into this exclamation caused her opposite to frown.
“…What brings you here?” he asked, concerned.
“Uh… well… you… do you have any plans for the weekend? Oh, of course you've got plans,” she continued, without giving him time to reply. “Penelope, stop asking stupid questions. Sorry to have bothered you unnecessarily.”
She got to her feet, ready to run off, when he replied:
“No.”
“Wh… what do you mean by ‘no’?”
“I have no plans for this weekend,” he specified calmly. “Apart from going to the march on Monday with Jack and Jessica.”
It was three days before the National Day. The little boy was overexcited at the prospect of watching the military parade through the streets of DC.
“But… what about Beth?”
The ex-prosecutor had been in a relationship with the woman in question for several months now, and she had expected him to want to take the opportunity to spend more time with her. To continue weaving the bonds of what would perhaps become a new family.
“She’s in Europe until the next weekend.”
“Oh.”
Working for a museum, his partner regularly crossed oceans to exchange ideas with her peers scattered all over the world, and above all to see the works with her own eyes rather than through a screen. This time, the date coincided with Independence Day, but the piece of art seemed well worth the trip.
“Why do you ask?”
“Uh… Well, it just so happens that I've floated the idea of an extended weekend with the whole team, in a big house by the sea,” she announced, shyly.
When she had first thought of this prospect, she had found it brilliant, and the enthusiasm of her friends had only galvanized her drive to fine-tune everything. But now that she was face to face with him, she doubted her plan.
“Where?”
“In Florida. The shack's gigantic, there's plenty of room for everyone, including children and spouses,” she clarified, her will to convince him coursing through her veins. “So, you can come with Jack if you want to. Will will be there with Henry, so the boys can have fun together. What's more, there's plenty to do on site: there's a swimming pool, table soccer, pool table and it's just a stone's throw from the beach. And there’s a barbecue, of course.”
Hotch lowered his eyes, deep in thought. She pursued:
“Everyone's on board, all that's missing is you. But I understand if you want to spend some quiet time with Jack. Father and…”
“Okay.”
“What?” she croaked, taken off-guard.
“Seems a very good idea to me and I’m sure Jack will love it.”
She could hardly believe what her ears were telling her.
“For real?”
“Yes.”
“Oh. Okay,” she reacted, before her smile split her face in two. “Wow! I… I didn’t expect to convince you that fast.”
“Why? It’s an excellent suggestion.”
“I also know that you enjoy quiet moments from time to time.”
The giant was not an example of sociability. He was polite, helpful and respectful of others, but he shunned crowds, preferring the quietude of a meal tray in front of the TV or a book by the light of his bedside lamp to a pub crawl. In fact, she had rather expected him to refuse.
“Which is not the case for Jack,” he objected with a shy smile.
The toddler was about six years old and had all the energy and propensity to make friends with everyone of his age. Staying cooped up for three days with only his father for company wasn't necessarily what he'd most hoped for.
“… I see,” she nodded. “By the way, I've managed to negotiate for us to move in on Friday evening.”
“Sorry, I'll have to pass.”
“But you’ve just said…?”
“I know,” he interrupted her, “but not on Friday evening. I've got a meeting starting at six o'clock and I really don't know when it's going to finish.”
She wrinkled her eyelids, sniffing out a tactic to call in sick.
“…You're not going to back out?”
“I'll be there first thing Saturday morning,” he assured her, half-seriously, half-amused.
“Watch out if you don't.”
“I won't back out.”
A smile stretched her lips. More than ever, she was looking forward to spending the weekend with her loved ones.
“Thank you so much.”
Hotch returned the smile and Garcia leapt from her chair. She joined the others in no time and told them the good news.
___
Next chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/codename-mom/791759218017517568/4th-of-july-213?source=share
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Summary: After being arrested by the Internal Affaires, Hotch is now free to go and, most of all, free to find Jack back. But the boy doesn't react the way he expected and he doesn't get why.
Characters: David Rossi, Jessica Brooks, Jack and Aaron Hotchner
Contents: post S11E22 "The storm". Angst, guilt, anger, mention of gun and gun violence, food, and a happy ending. :)
This text was written for Father's Day too (but with a lof ot delay).
PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.
___
Read on AO3
___
Throughout this nightmarish day, Hotch had been plagued by the same question: how was his son doing?
The preteen had seen several SWAT men storm into his living room, and one of them had held up his father with an automatic rifle. This was no ordinary scene. It was violent, shocking, brutal, traumatic. And if the child had already been through some unusual experiences, that didn't mean that this event was going to slide over him and leave no mark. On a contrary. In fact, he feared that, even if there hadn't been a gunshot, it might have stirred up memories deep inside him.
So, as soon as he was cleared of the charges against him, all his attention was focused on the reunion with his offspring. He had found him sitting at his desk, in a chair that seemed much too big for him, scribbling on a sheet of paper. Jack had never stopped drawing, improving his technique day by day. An activity that his father left him free to do. If he could express his emotions in this way, then he certainly wasn't going to deprive him of it. Especially since, until now, he had always shared his productions.
Not this time. As soon as he caught sight of him at the entrance to the room, he closed his binder abruptly, stowed it in his bag and walked past him, making it clear that he didn't wish to have any physical contact with him. Hotch would have liked to take him in his arms, hug him to his chest and tell him it was all over. That everything was back to normal. To appease him and to reassure himself. To be sure that this liberation wasn't just a bad dream. Instead, he had to be content with watching him leave the office without a word or a glance for himself.
Since his car never left the parking lot of the building they lived in, it was Dave who drove them home. Le trajet se déroula dans un silence pesant que l’Italo-américain n’osa pas briser. The journey continued in a heavy silence that the Italian-American didn't dare break. Regularly, the giant scanned the central rear-view mirror to observe his passenger, who stubbornly stared out of the window, eyebrows furrowed, jaws clenched, indifferent to the ambient unease. The BAU co-founder abandoned them on the sidewalk and hurried off, but not without an empathetic glance at his superior.
“Jack…” he tried as they were taking the direction of the hall.
“Don’t want to talk.”
His son had spat out this line. The lapidary tone didn't call for a comeback, and Hotch didn't insist. They walked up the corridor without exchanging a word. While he regularly looked in his son's direction, he stubbornly kept his nose down, concentrating on the patterns on the carpet. On arriving at their home, the branch manager noticed that his door had been repaired. He made a mental note to thank Will for taking care of this, as well as the kids. They entered shortly afterwards and, once he had checked that the alarm had been deactivated, asked:
“Do you want to eat something?”
“No. Not hungry.”
Jack then headed straight for his room, still without meeting his progenitor's gaze. The latter dared one last attempt at reconnection:
“Jack, I’m sorry. I… I don’t know exactly why you’re angry but know that I’ll always be there for you.”
The preteen froze, turned to face him and, eye to eye, threw out:
“Really?”
And on this poisoned interrogation, he presented him with his back and went to hide in his room. Bewildered by this unexpected behavior, Hotch stood paralyzed in the living room for a long moment until his irises came to rest on Haley's face, framed on the TV stand. She was smiling in the photo, but he had the impression of seeing disapproval in her icy pupils.
A knot in his stomach, he sat down on the sofa and took his head in his hands. Why? Why was he so mad at him? I didn’t understand. Logic would have it that he was worried and relieved to know he was free. Instead, he seemed to resent him terribly. What mistake had he made? What had he said – or done – to cause this rejection of his presence? Of course he wasn't perfect, far from it, but for his only son to be happy to see him go to prison was a step he didn't think he'd taken.
Waiting for more information, he sighed and grabbed his cell phone to call Jessica. With her ex-sister-in-law due to come and look after her nephew the following day, it was essential that she be kept abreast of the latest developments.
“Good evening, Aaron!” she answered joyfully. “How was the taxi this morning?”
“Uh… not exactly as expected.”
“What does that supposed to mean? What's happened to you now?" she continued, far less playful, but still a little mocking.
The federal agent thought she'd smile a lot less in a few minutes.
“Jack didn’t go at school today.”
“What? Why?”
He could hear the concern in her voice, as well as a hint of reproach. So it wasn't just him who found him incompetent, even if she did a good job of hiding it. Except, this time, he had a good excuse.
“Because SWAT broke down our door as we were leaving and I was taken to jail.”
A silence followed, during which he visualized Jack's aunt, speechless, statuesque.
“…What?”
“But Will, JJ's husband, had the door repaired while I was pleading my case and, apparently, nothing was stolen,” he soothed her at once.
“Aaron. SWAT broke down your door?! To take you to jail, too," she said firmly. “Why?”
He couldn't go into the details of the case, but he couldn't leave her in the dark either. She was smart enough not to go around telling everyone about their adventures.
“It was a set-up by a guy I'd put behind bars. Internal Affairs was convinced I was going to blow up Quantico.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, it sounds absurd when you put it like that, but all the evidence was there.”
He heard her gasp on the other end of the line, unable to determine whether it was relief or annoyance.
“But, where was Jack? He didn't stay in the apartment, reassure me.”
“No. Since JJ was there, she called Will to the rescue to drive everyone to Quantico. He stayed on to watch the boys while my team tried to clean this can of worms.”
“Jack must have been so happy to see you back,” she surmised, a smile in her voice.
He thanked her in spirit for having brought the subject that justified this phone call to the table.
“Well, actually… no.”
“What do you mean by ‘no’?”
“I was thinking like you but he barely talked to me. And, now, he’s locked up in his bedroom without having eaten anything.”
“He really didn’t say a word?”
“No. He just said that he didn’t want to talk. I only know that he’s angry but I don’t know why.”
She was silent, probably asking herself the same questions he had earlier, then suggested:
“… I think it's best to leave him alone tonight. Maybe he'll be more talkative in the morning.”
“I'm keeping my fingers crossed that this is the case," he said, pained by this reaction of repulsion. “I thought it best to warn you, so you wouldn't be surprised by his silence tomorrow. Or in case he told you about it.”
Jack was entering that period of human life when children reject their parents, more or less violently. This was perfectly normal behavior, in view of their upcoming independence. However, as he was still a child in need of reassurance, he turned to others for answers to his questions. And, in this case, he was turning his feelings over to his aunt, who had always been there for him since the day he was born.
“If he tells me why he Is angry, do you want to know?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” he affirmed, aware that it could feel weird. “I want you to keep all the trust he has in you. If he ever understands that you tell me everything, he might shut down completely and I'd like to avoid that as much as possible.”
Jack was a much more sociable boy than he was, who had no trouble bonding with the people around him and seemed to be well-liked by his classmates. However, his father wanted him to always have an adult he could turn to, rather than just teenagers.
“Okay. As you wish.”
“I might not be here when you arrive; I've got a meeting first thing in the morning,” he continued, his insides in knots.
“I’m used to it, you know.”
“Thanks for your help anyway.”
“I know," she said, without animosity. “Try to sleep a little tonight.”
“It's a long shot.”
After the customary greetings, they both hung up. His gaze then met Haley’s.
“Fine! I know I suck. There’s no need to look at me like that.”
He sighed, put his phone down on the coffee table and went to the bathroom to take a shower. It didn't help him get rid of everything that was taking over his mind, but at least he was clean. He then returned to the kitchen to set the breakfast table and prepare his belongings for the next day. Then he headed for his room, took one last look at his son's room – there was light filtering under the door – and went to bed without eating. His last meal had been this morning, but he wasn't hungry.
Early the next day, Hotch was finishing his coffee, ready to leave, when Jack burst into the living room. He gave her a dark look that spoke volumes about what he was thinking. His father hesitated, then threw:
“… Hi.”
“Still don’t want to talk.”
His offspring's cold tone dissuaded him from forcing a dialogue, so he confined himself to watching him go about his business until his cup was empty and it was time for him to leave. After rinsing the container, he retrieved his satchel, his gun, his keys, and, passing by the sofa where the pre-teen was sitting watching TV, said:
“Have a good day, Jack.”
He obtained no answer. He probably should have reminded him of good manners, but realized it would have served no purpose other than to make things worse. So he gave in and reached Quantico without paying much attention to his surroundings. Rossi arrived in his office several hours later to find him deep in thought, mug in hand.
“Are you planning to drink it one day?”
“What?” he shuddered, only realizing his mentor's presence.
“How long have you been nursing him?” ironized the writer, pointing to the dark beverage.
Hotch realized that this was the coffee he'd served himself shortly after arriving on the sixth floor, and that the level hadn't dropped since.
“Oh… uh… I don't know,” he stammered, putting the mug back down beside his keyboard. “It must be cold by now.”
“May I ask what's bothering you?” asked Rossi, taking a seat opposite him.
The ex-retiree was the closest thing the agency manager had to a father figure – even if he didn't like to use the term – and he knew he could find in him the support and listening skills he needed to answer his questions. Not at all impressed by his status or his unappealing appearance, Dave was far more forthright than many of the people around him.
“It’s Jack,” he confessed sighing.
“Does he find back his tongue?”
“No.”
“Sorry,” he did, sincere.
“I don't understand,” confided the colossus, settling back into his seat. “I've spent the whole day waiting for the moment when I can find him, and when that moment finally arrives, he ignores me completely. I thought he would be happy to see me again, but not at all. It would almost look like the opposite.”
“I doubt he’d wish you to stay in jail.”
“So how do you explain the fact that he hasn't spoken to me since last night?”
It didn’t make any sense to him. Like Henry, he had looked terrified at these heavily armed men who had barged into their home without warning. Which, at ten years old, was totally understandable. What wasn't was that he wasn't happy to have found back his only living relative.
“He's witnessed an impressive scene, so give him time to digest,” advised the novelist.
“But it's not my fault that SWAT broke down my door.”
“It depends. What did they want with you, Internal Affairs?”
Hotch then remembered that, in his haste to reassure his son, he hadn't talked to his men about what had just happened. He didn't know what they'd learned during their investigation, or even if they'd had time to look into it, given that their attention had been diverted elsewhere, but he owed them an explanation. To restore trust between them, he had to justify his return to prison.
“… Let's just say they didn't like the fact that I left out a detail in my report about Peter Lewis.”
“Which detail?” frowned Rossi, intrigued.
“The fact that I was drugged.”
This detail was known to his team, who had studied the serial killer's modus operandi.
“You hid that?”
“Of course.”
“Why?”
“So, it doesn't backfire on me,” he said in a tone of the obvious. “Strauss may no longer be there to stab me in the back, but there are others in high places watching my every move to get me out of the way. And if they found out I'd been under the influence of drugs, that was it for me.”
“It happened just once.”
“And I could have shot you all.”
That had been Mr. Scratch's aim. Destroy the BAU through its director. Beyond the fact that it gave him free rein to continue his horrors, it was also an opportunity to torture someone, which was the goal of these odious manipulations. But he had fought back with all his might and managed to divert his weapon towards the puppeteer, without managing to hit him though. The murderous impulse was still there, however, when Rossi crouched beside him to see how he was doing.
“That’s ridiculous,” judged his interlocutor. “Reid was under Dilaudid and nobody ever blamed him up there.”
“Because they never knew.”
“What?”
His surprise was not feigned. And for a good reason…
“Dave, I had to fight like never before to get them to agree to integrate him into the unit. A kid who could barely dress himself and failed physical tests didn't belong in the FBI according to them,” he reminded hm. “So you can imagine that I took all the reports from the agents present to make sure it didn't reach their ears.”
“And did you take over ours for the Lewis case too?” his eldest advanced, suspiciously.
What he did was dangerous. If this were to be discovered, management wouldn't even bother to listen to his justifications. He would be sacked on the spot, without any financial compensation, and with the assurance that he would never again be able to work for the government or the Department of Justice. Nevertheless, he also knew that they wouldn't have been much more attentive if they'd read that one of their unit leaders had ended up on hallucinogens during a mission. Even if absorption of the products was not voluntary. But Jack was far from being of age, and if he wanted to get a decent education, he needed money. A lot of money. Which he still didn't have enough of to afford to lose his job.
“Only one of you mentioned it, really, so I didn't have much to do.”
“How did they know then?”
“They interrogated Lewis himself. Who told them that, apparently, the idea of decimating my unit myself had made me laugh a lot.”
“Did it?”
“I have no idea. I remember nothing or barely.”
He had a perfect memory of what he had seen – the scenes the sociopath had conjured up for him – but he didn't know what he himself might have done in that time. His body had moved without him being aware of it. He'd resurfaced sitting on the floor of a living room, unable to understand how he'd gotten there. Whether he laughed, cried, screamed or remained stoic throughout, the murderer was the only witness.
“But why did they interrogate Lewis?”
“Because they were convinced that I was the perfect example of a killer at work.”
“A killer at work?” Rossi repeated, confused.
“Yes. The guy who works his ass off, polite, helpful but not very sociable, and then one day shoots all his colleagues with a Kalashnikov.”
“Yes, I know what it is. But it doesn’t fit you at all,” he affirmed, perplexed. “You’re the last person in the world who wants the BAU to disappear.”
Which was saying a lot. If the unit had been founded by Dave and the late Jason Gideon, he had taken it over and developed it into what it was today. He had put his heart and soul into developing this tiny agency, losing his family in the process, and the very idea of having to leave it one day twisted his insides.
“Well, it wasn’t obvious for them.”
“How did you convince them of the contrary?”
“I dismantled their arguments one by one, and then made them understand that if they kept me any longer, it could backfire.”
“Did it work?”
“With Rawdon’s escape, yes.”
It was perhaps even more that had convinced them that he'd gone astray than anything he'd said before, but the result had been there: they'd set him free.
“Okay,” nodded Rossi quietly. “Otherwise, for Jack, I advise you to let him come to you.”
“And if he never wants to talk to me about it?”
“Could he do that?”
“If he takes after me a little, yes.”
He locked up so many memories, so many emotions and thoughts inside him, that he wouldn't have been surprised if his son had done the same for him. It had never been his intention to teach him to behave this way – on the contrary – but children imitated their parents with such subtlety that it was difficult to control what they retained and what they discarded, temporarily or permanently. Even they weren't necessarily aware of it until an outsider pointed it out to them.
That evening, father and son sat face to face at the table, dining in dead silence. Jack couldn't take his eyes off his plate, and Hotch restrained himself from urging him to speak. With his yoghurt finished, the pre-teen left his chair and headed for his bedroom. The titan had barely touched his dish, fled by hunger. He sighed and didn't force himself. He got up and collected all the dishes and rubbish left behind. He put the first one in the sink and threw the others in the garbage can. Without any gusto, he emptied the dishwasher, refilled it with what they'd used, set the breakfast table and went to lie down on the sofa. He reached for the remote control abandoned on the coffee table and pressed a button at random.
Human beings immediately flashed across the screen, opening their mouths and gesticulating frantically, but he couldn't hear them. Unable to concentrate on the images, his mind drifted to his descendant. A little voice was screaming at him to call Jessica for questioning, but he'd promised not to find out. However, the mystery surrounding Jack's attitude was eating him up inside. Why? What he has done? And what did that “really?” he'd thrown in his face mean?
The sound of a door opening snapped him out of his trance. His tenant reappeared in the living room and came to sit in the armchair at the corner of the sofa, his knees drawn up against his chest. He was in his pajamas and obviously still annoyed. Without saying a word, Aaron muted the television. He didn't start the dialogue, giving Jack the opportunity to begin or return to his lair. He chose to speak.
“Why didn't you do something?” he shouted, irritated.
“About what?”
“Why did you turn yourself in, just like that, without saying anything?”
So, that was the issue. That he'd let it happen? To let him know that he took his reproach very seriously, he sat back down on the sofa.
“What would you have preferred? That I get shot? In front of you and Henry?”
“No. But you hadn't done anything wrong, you could at least have negotiated.”
“I didn't even know what I was accused of, Jack.”
The men who had arrested him had not justified their action, and he had to wait several hours before they finally deigned to explain why he had been handcuffed in front of his family and friends.
“No matter, you were innocent!” his son shouted, putting his feet back on the ground. “They had no right to break down our door like that.”
“Actually, yes. If SWAT feels someone is dangerous and armed, they have the right to blow the door off their home,” he explained calmly.
The argument unsettled the boy for a moment, but he was still too wound up to admit defeat. He continued, disdainfully:
“And so that's why you let it happen?”
“Jack, he had an automatic rifle pointed at me. If I'd said one wrong word, I'd have ended up with more holes in me than a colander.”
“Why did you say the wrong thing?” he shouted, angrier than ever. “Obviously, this whole mess was a mistake since you're here. You had every right to kick his ass.”
“We don’t kick the ass of a SWAT officer. Even less when he’s armed and you’re his target.”
“Dad, you spend your life negotiating and then, all of a sudden, not a word comes out of your mouth! Why?”
This made the situation even clearer. He was the one who didn't understand his attitude that morning. Who couldn't understand why, despite his gun and his negotiating skills, he'd rose up his hands and put one knee on the ground without even proclaiming his innocence. He had given up his freedom, without even fighting to keep it, even though he had a child to support. He'd gone from hero to coward in the blink of an eye, not to mention openly declaring that his offspring didn't deserve him to go out of his way for him.
“Jack,” he began, “the people I deal with are sociopaths or completely clueless types who all have calibrated, documented attitudes that my team and I have learned to recognize in order to deal with them. These are rarely people trained to shoot first and ask questions later. You don't mess with SWAT agents,” he added, hoping he'd catch the subtlety. “And given the fact that he'd been told I was planning to blow up Quantico, it was a good thing I didn't insist.”
His listener frowned. Not because of annoyance. This time, confusion prevailed.
“… Why did they think you’re about to blow up Quantico?”
“That's what those who ordered my arrest were led to believe.”
“What do you mean?”
“Internal affairs. FBI agents investigating about other FBI agents.”
“But you didn’t plan to do it?”
“Of course not,” he confirmed, smiling discreetly. “But when in doubt, it would have been simpler to eliminate me to make sure nothing happened. And if I'd resisted longer, that's exactly what he could have done. And you would have been rid of your troublesome father.”
“Don’t say that,” he replied, worried.
He would have liked to touch him, to hug him to reassure him, but refrained once again. Jack was still standing at a distance, which was a sign that not everything was settled between them. He offered him the opportunity to say more.
“That was what bothers you? The fact that I surrendered instead of fighting?”
Jessica's nephew looked down for a moment, nervously fiddling with the T-shirt of his pajamas and pulling one knee up against his chest. He wasn't sure what he was going to say.
“…I thought you'd never give up a fight,” he mumbled, dodging his glare.
“You know, sometimes you’d better wait until things blow over. And in a duel where both opponents have their finger on the trigger, it's crucial to know how to make the right decision at the right time,” he declaimed, in the most neutral tone possible. “I often work with SWAT, and while they're trained to keep calm and some to negotiate, many are cowboys who can't see beyond the orders they're given. For him, I was ready to kill three hundred people at once, including the people I'd been working with for over ten years. And since he didn't know me, he had no reason to think it was all fake.”
“Like, they didn’t check before?”
“It’s not their job. Their job is to storm buildings to eliminate civilian or terrorist threats. That’s all.”
Jack turned his attention back to his hands, now wrapped in his T-shirt. He chewed his lower lip, indecisive. He was clearly no longer angry with him, but didn't know what to do with what he'd just learned and experienced two days earlier.
“Are you disappointed?”
“… I don’t know,” he confessed after a silence. “Maybe a little, yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
He pouted, dithered a little longer, and then left the armchair to join his father on the sofa. He didn't stick to him, keeping a few centimeters between them.
“What are you watching at?”
“I don't know,” he acknowledged, turning the sound back on. “I turned on the TV at random, but I didn't follow anything that was going on.”
He thought this touch of humor would relax his son, but he quickly noted that it had saddened him even more.
“Sorry for rejecting you on your return,” he apologized, uncomfortably.
“It's not like I've been waiting all day for the moment when I could finally find you.”
“Hey!” rebuffed the preteen, offended after putting his pride aside.
“It's okay,” the colossus tempered him right away. “You were angry, it was normal.”
And to prove that he hadn’t any grudge against him at all, he ran a hand through his chestnut hair and pulled him close to kiss him on the head, as he'd always done since he was a baby. By reflex, Jack extricated himself from his embrace, without however putting into it the brutality indicative of his repulsion towards him. He was rejecting this embrace, not the peace treaty they'd just signed.
“Don't you want to watch something else?" he asked, once back in his seat.
“Go on, chose.”
He bent down to grab the remote and flicked through a few channels before stopping on a scene where two actors were facing each other, looking annoyed.
“That’s better.”
“I trust you,” he affirmed, not recognizing the scenery or the protagonists' outfits.
“You’ll see.”
Hotch spent very little time in front of the television, preferring the occasional big-screen movie or the quietude of a book when his work gave him some free time. His son, on the other hand, nourished his creative spirit with films, TV series, cartoons, comic books and video games. His cultural level in this area was unquestionably superior to his, even though he was only ten years old.
“By the way, Dave is inviting us to his place tomorrow evening to meet his second wife.”
“What?” croaked Jack turning to him, baffled.
“Joy’s mother.”
He'd already told him about the grown-up daughter his oldest collaborator had discovered only a few weeks earlier, as well as the grandson he'd added to the family tree immediately afterwards. An anecdote that made the kid say there was no need for TV when you knew David Rossi.
“Didn't they get divorced?”
“Yes. But it seems that the father-daughter reunion has also brought mother and father closer together.”
Jack smiled, doubtful.
“So what? Are they going to marry again?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Why not? With Dave, I'm no longer surprised by anything.”
And the idea appealed to him all the more because, once settled, the novelist would have much less free time to try and drag him into bars to find someone with whom he could remake his life.
“In the meantime, he wants to know if I'm coming alone or with someone. Should I tell him you're still sulking or...?”
“Is he going to cook?”
“There’s a good chance, yes.”
“So, I'm coming,” he declared, a glint of gluttony in his eyes.
“Okay.”
Hotch retrieved his phone to text their upcoming host, and then slid it across the coffee table. He then focused his attention on the screen, where a third figure had appeared, and orange lenses masking his irises. Jack snuggled up to him and he made no comment. The pair smiled in unison as they witnessed the next scene.
Summary: Jack and Aaron are under witness protection for three months now. The teenager wants a T-shirt of his favorite videogame but his father can't afford it because of their new situation. Pissed, Jack reacts pretty badly to this refusal.
Characters: Jack and Aaron Hotchner
Contents: angst, argument, mention of divorce and Haley's death; but there's a happy ending.
This text was written for Father's Day (but with a lof ot delay).
PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.
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Read on AO3
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Hotch was ironing in the living room when he heard Jack, sitting on the sofa, exclaim:
“Oh, so cool!”
The teenager was surfing the Internet with the TV on in the background. His father rose his nose from his task and asked:
“What?”
“Look, Dad.”
His son, ecstatic, extricated himself from the old sofa, laptop in hand, and approached him to show him the page of the site he'd just stopped at. It featured a T-shirt flocked with an illustration referring to a video game his offspring loved.
“Do you like it?” he enquired already knowing the answer.
“Yeah! It’s so bad!”
His eyes were shining from excitation.
“Do they have a physical store?”
“…No, it's just online sales," he said, his enthusiasm suddenly dampened. “Why?”
“We can’t make this kind of order, Jack. It might attract attention.”
It had been three months since they had had to leave everything behind: family, friends, possessions and home, in order to escape the clutches of Peter Lewis. Three months of pretending to be people they weren't, with invented identities and pasts. It was the second time they'd moved, and Jack had barely had time to acclimatize to his first college before he'd had to change. He had now been there for just under two months and was just beginning to settle in. He worked as a stock boy at the local supermarket, mainly relegated to the warehouse to minimize contact with the public. His salary was paid into an account managed and monitored by the marshals in charge of their protection. And if he could afford to pay for the T-shirt, an online purchase requiring full contact details was totally out of the question.
“Seriously?” growled the teenager.
“Yes.”
“But everybody orders stuff online every day!” he snapped on the spot.
“I know but we can’t.”
He controlled the sound of his voice to appear calm, but his insides immediately knotted up and his throat tightened.
“It sucks!" burst Jack, glaring at him.
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s all you can say!”
The retort slapped him in the face and made his heart miss a beat.
“Jack…”
“Never mind!” he vociferated, picking up his laptop again. “I’m fed up with all that!”
He swept his hand through the air to let him know he didn't want to hear any more from him, and walked off towards his room.
“Jack, please…”
“There’s no please! You’re useless, except for screwing us!”
His door slammed violently a few seconds later and, if he didn't hear it, Hotch guessed he'd pulled his headphones over his ears and pushed the volume all the way up to cut all ties with him. He felt dizzy and had to hold on to the ironing board to keep from wobbling. He took a few long breaths to calm his erratic heartbeat and began to think of a solution.
He fully understood his son's fury, but his words had just cut deep into his chest. His sorrow, his pain, his disappointment had splashed across his face, freezing his blood in his veins. He felt nauseous and had the impression of losing it again. He mustered all his strength not to fall over and resume his reflection. He had to do something to appease the anger burning in Jack's mind. Before he followed an impulse that would put them both in danger. Hands trembling, he reached for his mobile and sent a message to the only contact on record.
A handful of days later, he sat down at a table in a restaurant, alone. A man met him there about ten minutes later.
“Hello, Aaron," greeted the newcomer in a friendly tone.
“Hello, Parker," he replied, cheerlessly.
Three men protected them, and Parker was the team leader. Only he could communicate with the outside world. This limited workforce reduced the risk of escape.
“What’s going on?”
“I need you to do me a favor.”
“Which one?”
Hotch took his phone out of his pocket and activated the screen to show him the page of the website the teenager had spotted. The desired garment was prominently displayed.
“Jack made me understand that he loves this T-shirt. Only, it's only online sales, which is totally forbidden to us.”
“You made me move for a T-shirt?” Parker raised an eyebrow, clearly annoyed.
“I know it's a totally off-the-wall request, but it's his birthday in two weeks. His real birthday," he clarified in support of his request.
According to his new identity, he had been born in May, but October was here and with it, the date marking his true birth. What father and son couldn’t ignore.
“Aaron, we're not here to run your errands," the marshal reminded him, irritated.
“I know but I ruined his life three times already, I wish to make him happy at least once.”
He blamed himself so much that sleep had eluded him ever since. All his mistakes, all his errors, all his failures, all the things he'd done wrong in relation to his son circled around in his head, haunting his dreams as soon as night fell. Jack was the most important person in his life, and he'd do anything for him, but there was every reason to believe that he was incapable of doing what it took to make him happy. Divorce had first imploded the family unit, then his pride had led to the death of Haley – his child's only point of reference at the time – before his job, three months earlier, destroyed what little stability they'd been able to build. The teenager was right all along: he knew nothing but how to get them into trouble.
“Please.”
Parker sighed, dodging his stare. He was a father too, so he must have understood how crucial this request was for the former federal agent.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said after a long silence.
“I’ll give you the money back, of course.”
“I don't think that's where the problem lies," he stressed acidly. “What size he needs? Which color?”
“Everything is there.”
He presented him with his phone again and Parker took a photo of his screen. They couldn't exchange documents, one way or another – e-mails, Bluetooth, MMS – because no link was to be made between the marshals and the people they were protecting. Hotch then packed up his Smartphone.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. The boss hasn’t signed yet.”
The remark was honest: it wasn't he who would decide whether or not to grant him this favor, but his superiors. Protocols were very strict in this area, and his background as an FBI employee gave him no special privileges.
Two weeks later, the D-day had come. Thirteen years earlier, he had held a wriggling, flushed newborn in his arms, unhappy to be taken from the warmth of his mother's womb. Thirteen years earlier, he had welcomed this new life with some trepidation, doubting his ability to make an upright man of integrity. Thirteen years earlier, he had made a promise to himself to do everything in his power to make this baby happy. Thirteen years later, the infant had grown up and he no longer spoke to him unless absolutely necessary.
Hotch stood in front of his bedroom door, package in hand, and hesitated. He was scared. Scared of how he would be received – badly, no doubt. Scared of how he would take this gift. Scared to discover that it wouldn't make any difference. That resentment, anger and hatred live on. That their cohabitation turns into an ordeal, for both of them, until the youngest comes of age and demands his emancipation on the spot. That their relationship be no more than a line of text on a piece of paper. That he'd spend the rest of his life dying to call and hear from him, knowing that Jack would never pick up.
While he waited to find out, he knew that his son was doing his homework. He could wait until dinnertime, but he wanted to know. So, he dared. He knocked on the door. He perceived the teenager's annoyed sigh, who then shouted:
“What?”
“Can I come in?”
“Why?” he replied on the same tone.
“I’ve got something for you.”
A silence passed, tense.
“… Okay.”
Hotch entered, took a few steps under the gloomy gaze of the occupant of the premises and handed him the cardboard box, which bore no label, ribbon or anything else that might enlighten him as to its contents.
“What's this?" he growled, snarling.
“Open it, you’ll see.”
“Where does that come from?”
“A safe circuit.”
Jack scanned the box and then the deliveryman as if they were both covered in detritus, then grumbled:
“… Put it there.”
He had pointed to the corner of his desk with his chin, without making a single gesture in his direction.
“You… you won’t open it?”
“I’m busy.”
The reply was clear-cut. Cautious, Hotch obeyed, placing the object in his hand where it least bothered his son.
“I… I'll go and buy some food," he continued, chilled by his interlocutor's icy reaction. “Do you want anything in particular?”
“No, I don’t care,” he spatted back to his homework.
“Okay. See you later.”
“If you say so.”
Any decent parent would surely have put their child in their place in such circumstances, but the giant chose abdication. Believing that the plaintiff was in the right, he left the room, closed the door gently behind him and returned to the living room. He retrieved his car keys, wallet and shopping bags and left the apartment, aiming to bring back only the things Jack loved. He may have hated him, but the fact remained that it was his birthday, and it was only logical that he should only have food he liked. And if, for him to enjoy them fully, he had to savor them alone, then Hotch would slip away.
***
In the bedroom, Jack stood statuesque in front of his notebook, pen suspended above the page. He was intrigued by this package that had appeared out of nowhere, arriving by “safe circuit”. What that supposed to mean? And most of all, why? He knew it was his birthday today – his real birthday – but since no one around him knew about it, there was no reason to celebrate. And anyway, they couldn't buy anything other than what they needed to fill the fridge and kitchen cupboards.
He was under witness protection before but had no memory of it. He was four years old, and his memory had retained nothing of that period. Now he had nine more, and he couldn't take it anymore. He wanted to leave this apartment that wasn't his, leave this town that wasn't his, turn his back on these people who meant nothing to him – who didn't even know who he really was – and go back to where he should have stayed.
He didn’t belong here. Everything seemed bland, sad and uninteresting. This apartment was too small, there was nothing to do around it and the college was lame. He missed his buddies, he missed his family, he missed DC. Here he was, trapped with his father looking at him as if he had an explosive belt around his hips, having to pretend that all was well in the best of worlds, when he'd just turned thirteen and none of the people he cared about could be there to celebrate with him.
Yes, he wanted to break everything around. He wanted to throw it all away. To scream, to strike, to run eastwards to rediscover his roots, his bearings, his equilibrium. But it was out of the question. If he was back again in this program, it was for his own safety. The suspects tracked by the BAU were no joke. He knew this all too well, even if he had only vague recollections of what had happened the day he lost his mother. It was blurred, indistinct, more sensations than real images. The result was still the same. A sociopath with a grudge against his father had killed the woman who had given him life.
And now, there was a second one. A deranged, mentally ill man who had already claimed several victims. Who was caught up before he escaped. Like the other one. No wonder his father dropped everything to keep him safe. He was afraid the scenario would repeat itself and he'd lose someone he cared about again. In other words, him. In fact, he should be dying of fright too, but he wasn't. He was just furious. He was fed up with the whole thing, fed up with having to lie, fed up with having to hide, fed up with not knowing how long he could stay there before moving again, fed up with not knowing how long the whole circus would last. He wanted to go home.
Meanwhile, he had no choice but to grit his teeth and wonder what was in that damn box. Where did it come from? It looked like his wrappers for petits fours and other canapés, but he doubted his father would have presented them to him like that. There was no particular sound coming from it, so it wasn't a bomb, an alarm clock or any other equipment with a noise-making mechanism. His father had seemed disappointed not to see him rush into it. It must have been important to him. Which didn't guarantee that he'd like it.
He sighed, dropped his pen and let his curiosity run wild. He grabbed the box. It was light. Very light. If it was just an empty box with a card, he'd make lint out of it. He really wasn't in the mood for that kind of surprise. He undid the tape that was in the way and lifted the lid. Amazement marked his face, then a smile stretched his lips. That was it. It was the T-shirt he'd spotted two weeks earlier. The T-shirt he thought he'd have to give up.
He jumped up from his chair and removed it from its container to unfold it. It was the color he wanted, the size that suited him, and the drawing was just as he'd imagined. It was perfect. Taking off the polo shirt he had on, he immediately slipped on his new top and turned to his mirror. It was comfortable, fell just right at the shoulders and was just the right length. Everything was neat.
He then realized that this present hadn't magically reached him. He hurried out of his room and galloped into the living room. The place was empty. His enthusiasm dropped sharply. His father had gone shopping, solo, with the certainty of being an incompetent, a nobody. Jack suddenly realized that he wasn't the only one to have lost everything in the fight. The family he missed was above all his father's family. And by leaving the BAU, he'd not only lost his job, he'd also had to cut ties with his friends. The only ones he’d ever managed to make. He had thrown away fifty years of his life for a single purpose: to protect his son. And the son in question thanked him telling him he was useless.
Embarrassed by his own attitude, he returned to his den, biting his lower lip. A serious discussion should take place between him and his father when the former returns. In the meantime, he sat down at his desk and tried to concentrate on his homework. An hour later, he heard the front door open and close, and his stomach lurched in his chest. His senses on the alert, he forgot his algebra exercises and spied his father's movements in the adjacent room. He heard him set the table, rummage through the cupboards again, move a couple of objects and then his cavernous voice broke through the wall between them.
“Jack! Diner time!”
The tone was neutral. Not angry, not sad, not anxious. Indifferent? He surely expected him to send him away, as he had done earlier. He was wrong, but the mistake was predictable.
The teenager took a breath and stood up. He turned off the desk lamp and retraced his steps to the dining room. He found his father concentrating on the screen of his phone – the one his character was supposed to use as an illusion, and whose number only his supermarket colleagues knew. It was an antediluvian model, with which he couldn't go on the Internet or exchange images, but it had the advantage of being untraceable.
“Dad.”
The giant looked up to see that his son had put on his present. Jack smiled shyly, embarrassed. His father put his phone down on the counter and smiled too.
“It suits you well,” he said simply, without moving from his spot.
Following his instincts, the teenager threw himself into his arms. His sire welcomed him against his chest without making the slightest remark.
“Thank you," he murmured, tears welling up in his eyes.
“You don't have to thank me, you have to thank the guys in witness protection. They were the ones who placed the order.”
Jack stepped back to focus his gaze on him. Was he really giving all the credit for this unexpected gift to the marshals? And, at the same time, it was not that surprising. But that didn't stop him from lecturing him.
“Dad, stop it! They didn't guess on their own that I wanted this particular T-shirt.”
“Maybe.”
“You're a pain," he said, slapping him on the shoulder.
Not that it would hurt him, far from it. His father's smile widened, and he pulled him close again to kiss him on the forehead.
“Happy birthday.”
The schoolboy felt his eyes burning. He would have liked his family and friends to be there to celebrate this special day with him, but circumstances made this impossible. Instead, he had his father, who had given him the T-shirt of his dreams. And that was cool!
“What did you bring to eat?”
“Only things you hate.”
“Ha, ha. Very funny," he said, smiling in spite of everything.
“Sit down. It must be hot enough by now.”
He didn’t obey. He would, but not now. A delicious aroma wafted through the air from the oven, and he couldn't wait to eat his festive meal; but he had something else to do first.
“Dad.”
“Yes?” reacted the titan, his gaze turned towards the protective glass through which a soft light filtered.
“I’m sorry.”
His father stood still for a moment, then straightened up to look at him. He wasn’t smiling anymore. Jack's heart leapt violently against his ribs and a vice gripped his throat, but he couldn't stop there. What he'd blamed on the former FBI agent must have hurt him more than he'd ever dare admit, and he needed to make amends.
“I… I shouldn’t have said that. I… I know you didn't mean for all this to happen and that you're doing your best for me. I… Sorry.”
“… It's normal for you to be angry with me," replied the giant calmly. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not mad at you.”
He already knew it. He was never mad at him. No matter what he did or said, he never held it against him. But that didn't mean he wasn't affected by his actions. As usual, he'd had to put all the blame on himself, but the pain hadn't been any less. He would have liked to tell him that this wasn't how he should react but preferred instead to return to snuggling up to his chest.
“I love you, Jack.”
“I love you, Dad.”
Then they parted, grinning like two idiots, and the teenager finally sat down at the table. His father took the dish of macaroni and cheese out of the oven and was amused by the greedy gleam in his son's eyes. It wasn't his grandmother's he affectionate so much, but it was the closest brand he'd come to it. He was salivating in anticipation.
They chatted while eating, as they had always done until their altercation, devoured their dark chocolate, pecan ice creams; then settled down in front of the TV to play video games. They cheated as much as each other, taking turns in bad faith to win an equal number of games. Then, it was time to go to sleep. It was a school day the day after, and he thought he'd go with his new T-shirt. Because, objectively speaking, it was the most beautiful in the world.
