Title: Phoenix

Rating: T

Genre: Tragedy/Family

Characters: Team and Co.

A/N: I got this idea last night after watching 100, in the final scene with all the BAU members with Jack. If anything seems confusing in this, please let me know!

Phoenix

Many cultures and religions, like Buddhism or Hinduism believe that life is cyclical. We are born, we live, we die, and we are born again. Others like Judaism or Christianity believe life is linear; we are born, we live, and we die.

I think both are right. We are born, and our life is a series of deaths and rebirths. When someone we love dies, part of us dies with them, immolated in a raging inferno of pain. But out of the ashes of agony, hope and joy grow wings and fly again.

We haven't lived together in over a year. I have grown used to coming home to an empty house, just like a slave will eventually get used to the sting of the whip. No matter how harsh the pain of reality, the mind forms calluses.

So it seems strange now, staying home all day and taking care of Jack. I'm taking some time off, trying to get my head back in the space it needs to be for me to do my job, to catch monsters. It will be a while before the wound forms a scar; right now every case file I read rips open the scab anew.

Jack is too young to understand why I lock myself in my room for hours while someone else watches him. I am grateful for this. I am glad that he doesn't feel my agony. It helps that for the past month I've been away, my team has stepped up to look after him.

Monday. I get antsy in my room. Though I'm not ready for much human contact, I wander on the outskirts of socialization and watch.

I go to the kitchen, digging milk out of the fridge. Haley was always on my case about checking the date. Missing her sears through me. I look outside for a distraction, desperate to stop the flood of tears. I smile when I see my son.

Morgan is holding out a football, showing little hands where to put little fingers. He carefully lets go and points, and watches the football travel a whole meter before hitting the grass. He assures Jack that he did a great job and picks it up. He demonstrates how to throw, the football crashing into the fence. He looks guiltily toward the house; I smile wanly. I can hear my son laughing; fences can be fixed.

Tuesday. I decide that what little of the food in the fridge that we have doesn't look appealing. Haley would have noticed two days ago and gone to the market. I move quickly toward the hall closet to grab my tight coat; it will help me feel like I won't fall apart. I pause halfway, peering into the living room.

Rossi is standing dramatically in front of the TV. He holds a plastic gun like it was the real thing, carefully aiming for the screen and BANG! The game acknowledges his hit. The cheesy cartoon duck falls into the grass. Jack squeals in delight, running to the game system for the other gun. They go multiplayer, duelling for the Duck Hunt trophy (a can of pop). Jack's victory dance when he wins does more to ease the ache in my chest then the arm pressed to my chest.

Wednesday. I've made it to the grocery store and back. The freezer upstairs is too full; after a bag of peas almost takes an eye out, I loads up my arms and make the trek to the basement. Haley would always ask me to rearrange the freezer, and like the perfect husband I always agreed, though I hated the cold. Now I'd let my hands freeze off if I could just have her back.

I pass Emily and Jack sprawled out on the floor. Jack is putting together a huge puzzle, the picture a map of the globe. A little pink tongue sticks out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. Emily has a thick encyclopaedia on her lap, and she is reading aloud the facts of different countries. I put everything away, the cold not bothering me anymore.

When I step out, they are making badges and passports so they can play diplomat. As I'm going up the stairs, Jack announces that he is going to be the American ambassador, and stop the war between Germany and Australia. Apparently the talks would be best with them, because they have the best 'neat voices'. His innocence is sweet, and I fiercely want to protect it.

Thursday. I decided that cleaning up the freezer felt good; well not good, but it would give me something to do. I gather up all the cleaning supplies, remembering when Haley would make me clean the whole house when I was home for the weekend. I gave it everything I had, and it still wasn't enough. I couldn't split my everything in half. Even when my everything was given to both of them, when doing my job meant saving her, it wasn't enough. I tried not to let the feelings of failure overwhelm me.

I decided to start in the office, as there were a lot of books in there that could be weeded out. The door was open, with the sounds of cheering and electronic sound effects pouring out. I glanced in to see Jack rocking out on what looked to be the Sims, with Garcia doing what I could only assume was air guitar. Obviously his performance won him money, because when the song was done he went and bought a Mohawk haircut for his character. Garcia solemnly told him that he was the coolest little dude she'd ever met.

I figured that perhaps my room would be a better place to start. Dust was better disturbed than happiness.

Friday. The clean went well. I felt bad for asking, but I knew that Jack should clean his room too. There were a lot of toys strewn everywhere when I last checked. I felt guilty, but I knew that I had to be a good parent and teach my son responsibility. I owed it to Haley and Jack.

I nudged the door open, surprised to see that the room was now overrun by books instead of armies of Lego and Transformers. Jack was entranced by Reid's voice, reading aloud White Fang. I noted books on every subject, some at Jack's level, and some beyond. I had no doubt that he could master them all. I wondered with a flicker of amusement if Jack might have to skip a grade thanks to Spencer's tutelage. I knew that it would be hard, but he had his mother's strength; he would do well.

Saturday. I got Jack to clean his room, with my help. We spent hours together stacking and sorting, and I learned that he now and a voracious appetite for reading. He is swift to abandon the books later though, when his new playmate comes.

J.J and Will set up shop at the kitchen table, Will and I watching the kids, J.J whipping up a batch of play dough. The smell awakens nostalgia in me, and I'm taken back to a time when things were better between Haley and I. Jack would blissfully knead the colourful dough, while she and I whispered love to each other. I come back to reality with a painful snap. She is gone, but he is not, and play dough can always be renewed.

J.J sets the warm dough on the table. The kids dive in gleefully, while the adults watch indulgently. Soon, the three of us are in the midst of it too, cutting out shapes and convincing the two boys that it's not actually food.

The dough is warm, and I imagine that warmth seeping up my fingers and arms and into my chest. It almost reaches.

Sunday. I've invited everyone for dinner. We don't fit in the kitchen, so we eat outside in the cool evening. The kids run around, and we sit and watch them. It hurts to look at J.J or Garcia, who look so happy with their partners. I try not to be jealous. They try not to look too much in love, trying to spare my feelings. I urge them to love wholly and completely; you never know when the other person might not be there.

I light a fire in the firepit. We toss in various things to keep it going. I hold up a newspaper over the flames. Somewhere within its depths, it holds the story about Haley's death. It's hard for me to do, but I toss it into the flames; it doesn't last long.

I feel a light tug on my pant leg. Jack passes me a carrot stick, telling me that I should eat more healthy like mommy says. He adds that I have been quiet the past few weeks. I apologize, promising that I'll be okay. I don't believe it, but I know that it must be true.

Saturday. The first day of the rest of my life. It has been months since Haley died. I haven't burned a fire in the pit since that dinner. I walked outside this morning, and looked inside the charred stone circle. Grey ashes cover the bottom of the pit, but around the edges I see almost shy blades of grass poking through.

I laugh, a strange sound after years of disuse. I have gone back to work, my team supporting me. I have grown much closer to my son, and we are moving on with our lives. I say to myself that I am going to be okay. And for the first time in what seems to have been an eternity, I believe it. Because no matter how much fire ravages us, the phoenix always rises from the ashes. It might be ugly and ragged, but it soon grows a lustrous coat and flies ever on.

~Fin.