24I'm so so so sorry for neglecting this fic! It's just that things have been crazy lately, but I promise I will not abandon this story!
To his surprise, the rest of the night was very uneventful. He had assumed he was going to hear her pacing around or at least tossing and turning, but after he had laid out sweatpants and a t-shirt for her to change into, Emily had disappeared in his room and seemed to have actually slept through the night. Although he knew this was most likely attributable to the fact that she hadn't slept in days, Hotch still felt some weird sense of pride. Nevertheless, she was here, right? Which meant that if she didn't trust him – if she didn't feel safe around him – she wouldn't have stayed. Wouldn't have come here in the first place... Didn't it?
Sighing deeply, Hotch flipped the last pancake onto the plate Jack was holding. "Here you go, buddy". The five-year-old smiled widely. "I loooove pancakes!" Hotch chuckled. "I know. That's why I made them for you. Why don't you sit down and start eating already? Daddy will be with you in a second, okay?" The little boy nodded absentmindedly, excitedly jumping over towards the kitchen table while staring at the half-melted chocolate chips in his pancakes.
Meanwhile, Hotch had walked upstairs and was pacing back and forth in front of his bedroom door. What if she was still asleep? Should he wake her up? And how? He placed a hand on the door handle, then removed it. What if she had indeed locked the door? Would he scare her by trying to open it? And did he have a right to enter the room without her permission? Hotch hesitated. After another couple of seconds, he finally opted for a gentle knock. "Emily? You're awake, aren't you? I... I made breakfast. Pancakes." He paused. "I think you're awake, but if you don't feel like coming out just yet, that's okay. I just... wanted to let you know."
With these words, he walked back downstairs, surprised to see that his son had already finished his pancakes and was now eyeing the ones on Emily's plate. "Miss Em'ly's not here, daddy. Can I have her pancakes then?" Hotch sighed. "She might still want them, buddy. But why don't you take another one of mine?" The little boy shrugged, then grabbed his fork and used it to spear one of his father's pancakes. Jack had finished it before Hotch had even really sat down. He stared at his son incredulously.
"What?" The five-year-old smirked and Hotch couldn't help but smile.
"Nothing". And apparently, nothing was too boring for Jack. "Daaaad? Can I go play now?"
Hotch rolled his eyes. "Go ahead. But put your plate in the sink first, okay?"
"Kay." The chair screeched over the floor. Dishes clinking in the sink. And with a loud thump, thump, thump, the five-year-old disappeared upstairs.
Rushing around the corner, Jack literally almost ran into Emily, who had just stepped out of her room. Only a fraction of a second before colliding with her though, he froze, suspiciously eyeing her. "Good morning, Jack" Emily tried but the little boy didn't seem to care. She frowned. "What's wrong, sweetie?"
Jack pouted, letting out a defiant "I'm mad at you". Emily gave him a puzzled look.
"You were scweaming at my daddy." Jack clarified, clearly upset. "Last night. I heard you. Don't scweam at my daddy! I love my daddy!" Emily bit her lip. "I do, too, Jack." The five-year-old shook his head. "No! You scweamed at daddy. You don't scweam at somebody you like!"
Emily felt guilty. How could she explain that to him? She gulped. "You're right, honey. I shouldn't have screamed at your daddy. Sometimes, people get mad when they're actually just scared, you know?" Jack looked conflicted. "Why are you scared, Miss Em'ly?"
"I... something really scary happened to me, Jack. And right now, I'm just... overwhelmed. Do you know what that word means – overwhelmed?" The little boy shook his head. "It's... when everything's just too much and you don't know what to do. And then you end up doing the wrong thing." "Like scweaming at my daddy?" Emily nodded. "Yes, like screaming at your daddy." "So you don't hate my daddy?" Head-shaking. "And you didn't want to make my daddy sad?" Another head-shaking. Jack seemed to be satisfied with her answer, but the previously upset look on his little face had now been replaced by concern.
"When I'm scared, my daddy always says "You're safe. I will always protect you. And I love you."" The little boy hesitated for a second, then excitedly suggested: "I can go tell my daddy to protect you, too! Then you don't have to be scared anymore!" Emily was touched by the confidence and trust in his statement. And when the five-year-old suddenly wrapped his tiny little arms around her, she desperately tried not to start crying.
...if there are any readers/followers left after 11 months of not updating this story, I would really really appreciate some feedback! :)
