A/N: Okay, so I'm really not sure why I decided to write this fic. It's just… about a year ago, the idea of it, popped into my head and stayed there. And now I'm finally getting around to posting it. Anyway, here it is…

Disclaimer: I own no one.

Curled up in the fetal position and with his face to the wall, Henry LaMontagne lay in his bed, tightly clutching a picture frame, close to his chest. He ignored the knocking that came from his bedroom door. He had isolated himself, in his bedroom, for nearly three days. The only time he'd come out, was for a glass of water or if he needed to use the restroom. He barely said a word to anyone. He just wanted to be left alone.

"Henry, come on," Will LaMontagne's voice came from the other side of the door. "We have to go. We can't be late."

Henry cupped his hands over his ears, hoping if he ignored his father, he'd go away. But, Will didn't go away. He continued to knock on the door and plead with his son to get out of bed and get ready. Finally, Henry got angry and shouted, "GO AWAY! I'M NOT GOING," he tossed the picture frame at the door. The frame broke into pieces as it connected with the white wooden door. Henry felt his heart tear even more, when he realized what he had just done. That frame was very important to him, but now it was ruined, simply because he had a fit of anger.

From the other side of the door, Will hung his head in sorrow. He didn't know what else he could do. "I've tried everything, and he still won't leave his room," he said to Aaron Hotchner, who had been patiently standing next to Will. "I don't want to be late, but I don't know what else I can do. This is like a never ending battle. How can I force him to do something that he doesn't want to do," Will asked.

Aaron felt sympathy towards his friend. "Will, they won't start the funeral without you," he said. "You just gotta give Henry some time. Trust me, he'll come around. You just have to be patient with him."

"Can I try talking to him," asked Jack Hotchner. He had been standing next to his father. "I mean, I know what he's going through, so maybe I can get through to him," he suggested.

Will stepped aside for Jack, "I'm willing to try anything," he said.

Jack stood at Henry's door and knocked on it. "Henry, it's me, Jack," he announced. "Can I please come in?"

After a moment, the door finally opened. Henry showed no type of emotions. "Hey, Jack," he quietly said as he stepped aside to allow his friend to enter his room. Will and Aaron stayed out in the hallway, as Henry once again, shut the door. They didn't want to overstep their boundaries and cause Henry to become angry again. They hoped Jack would be able to get through to the nine year old.

With his knees up to his chest, Henry was now sitting on the floor, hugging the broken picture frame, close to his chest. Tears were threatening to escape his eyes, but he forced himself not to cry. Ever since he had learned of the incident, Henry had not once shed a single tear. He wasn't sad, he was angry. Angry that someone very important to him, had been taken away.

Jack sat next to Henry. For a few moments, both boys sat in silence. The twelve year old knew exactly what his nine year old friend was going through, right now. For he had gone through the same pain, eight years earlier. He wanted Henry to talk to him. To hell him how he was feeling, but he didn't want to force the words out of him. So, he just decided to wait, until Henry was ready to talk.

Fortunately, Jack didn't have to wait any longer. Henry let out a sigh and without looking at his friend, said, "Jack, when your mommy died, did it feel like your heart was being ripped apart?"

"Yes it did," Jack quietly said. "And after all these years, I can still feel the pain of losing her. Every time I remember her, it feels like my heart is being ripped apart, all over again. But I promise you, it won't always be like that."

Suddenly, without warning, Henry let out a sob and the tears began spilling from his eyes. "Yes, it will. The pain will never go away," He cried as his eyes finally met with Jack's. "Maybe someday, it'll go away for you because it wasn't your fault, when your mommy died. But it was my fault, when my mommy died."

Jack was shocked by Henry's words. "Henry, why would you say that? Why would you say it's your fault," he asked.

"Because I'm the reason, she was at that stupid store," said Henry. "I needed some cough medicine and we didn't have any here. So mommy decided to go to the store to buy some," he explained. "If I could've just waited another day for the medicine, mommy would still be alive today. She wouldn't have gotten shot by that bad man. Because of me, daddy lost his wife and Michael is gonna grow up, without very much memory of who mommy was," he wiped away a tear with his hand. "I feel like my punishment is that I'll have to live the rest of my life, with this pain. The pain of my heart being ripped apart."

Jack placed a comforting hand on Henry's shoulder and said, "Henry, do you think Aunt JJ blames you for what happened to her?"

Henry just shrugged his shoulders and said, "I don't know. Maybe."

"No she doesn't," said Jack. "No one blames you for what happened that night. You didn't know what was going to happen that night. Yeah, JJ went to the store to get some medicine for you, but what happened while she was there, is not your fault. You couldn't help that you had a cold and needed some medicine," Jack paused for a moment and then continued. "And trust me, the pain will go away. Maybe not permanently, but there will be days when you'll think of her and you won't feel the pain. You won't feel the pain of losing her. There will be days, when you'll think of her and you'll smile, maybe even laugh. Because that's how it is for me."

Henry was silent for a few moments, before speaking again. "I wish I could trade lives with Michael," he suddenly said.

"Why," Jack wondered.

"Because he's only two years old," said Henry. His eyes were watery. "And when he gets older, he won't remember mommy and he won't be sad or miss her."

"That' isn't true," said Jack. "I was only four years old when my mommy died. Just two years older than Michael is. I don't really remember her, as much as I'd like to, but I still miss her," he paused for a moment, before continuing. "And I bet when Michael is old enough to understand all this, he's gonna wish he was you, instead. He's gonna wish he had all the memories, you had with your mom."

Henry wiped away his tears. "I didn't really think of that, Jack," he said. "I guess you're right." He went back to staring at the picture in the broken frame.

"Who's in the picture," Jack asked.

"Mommy and me," said Henry. "A few months ago, my school had a mother and son dance, and there was this photographer, taking pictures," he turned the picture, so Jack could see it. "And this is the one of me and mommy."

In the picture, JJ was sitting in a chair and Henry was standing next to her. They both were smiling and looked very happy. Henry was wearing a light blue tuxedo with a matching bow tie. And JJ was wearing a knee length dress, that was the same color as Henry's tuxedo.

Jack smiled, when he saw the picture. "That's a very good picture of you two," he said. "You two look very happy."

"Thank you," said Henry. He then sighed and said, "This picture frame is the last thing I bought for mommy. I bought it for her, a couple of weeks ago. And now it's broken, all because I got mad and threw it at the door."

Jack took the picture frame from Henry and inspected it for a moment. "I bet we can fix it with some super glue," he said.

"Henry's eyes lit up. "You really think so," he asked. There was so much eagerness in his voice.

"Sure we can," said Jack. "How about you get ready for the funeral and I promise, after we get back, I'll try to help you fix it."

"Jack, can I tell you something," Henry quietly asked.

"You can tell me anything," Jack reassured his friend.

"I don't want to go to mommy's funeral because I'm afraid that's how I'll remember her," Henry admitted. "I'm afraid that if I look at her, inside that casket, then that's how I'll remember her. And I don't want to remember her, that way. I want to remember her, how she was before."

"You don't have to look at her, but I think your dad would really appreciate it, if you went," said Jack. "And you can choose to remember your mom, however you'd like."

Henry was silent for a moment, before speaking. "Okay, I'll go," he finally said. "but first, I need to tell my daddy something," he stood up and walked out of the bedroom. Jack followed behind him.

Aaron and Will were still standing in the hall, when Henry exited his bedroom. This time, Michael was with the two men, being held by Will. Henry walked up to his father and said, "I'm sorry for the way I behaved, earlier," he wiped away a few tears.

Will embraced his oldest son in a hug. "It's alright, buddy. I forgive you," he reassured Henry.

"Do you think we still have time to go to the funeral," asked Henry.

"Of course you do," said Aaron. "They won't start it without you."

"Daddy, I know I have a suit that I wear for funerals, but do you think, I could wear my blue tuxedo, instead," he asked. "You know, the one that I wore at the mother and son dance, a few months ago?"

Will smiled at his son. "I don't see why not," he said. "Want me to help you with it?"

"No thanks," said Henry. He walked back into his room, to get ready.

A few minutes later, after Henry was dressed, he, Michael and Will got into their vehicle and prepared to leave for the funeral. Aaron and Jack followed them, in their vehicle. There was absolute silence in both vehicles, on the way there. Not even Michael made a sound.

The end.

Thank you all for taking time to read this. I really hope you liked it. I'd appreciate it, if you left me some reviews. Good or bad, you know I'll accept both. Just don't be too cruel if you hated it. Oh and by the way, I'm thinking about doing a prequel one shot that goes with this fic.