AN/ So, this is a fun surprise. It's another collaberation between SSBAILEY and I. She's really great, and to all of you waiting patiently for me to finish my other stories--don't worry, we're on track for that. This is set about a year after the events in 100.
Disclaimer: We don't own Criminal Minds.
Chapter 1 -
Hotch groaned as the blackness swam before his eyes, the sickening pain in his head throbbing against the soft whirring of the ceiling fan.
What happened?
His mind struggled to form coherent thoughts, even as he creaked one eye open to survey his surroundings only to clamp his eyes closed tightly to dissuade the lights from assaulting his senses.
A room. For some reason, that didn't feel right-he remembered a ladder, and lights, and snow.
Where's the snow?
As the pain the back of his head subsided, he was hit with the ridiculousness of his previous thoughts. Opening his eyes, he winced as the pain returned, less forcefully this time. Pursing his lips into a tight line, he gingerly patted the offending injury, surprised to find an icepack already resting lightly on what he suspected would be a large goose-egg.
How did I get here? The last thing I can remember is hitting the ground after the ladder fell...
Opening his eyes wider this time, he found himself in what appeared to be a very large bedroom painted a rich coffee color that seemed to match the cream colored furniture--all but the very large wooden bed he was resting on. There were pictures on the walls and tables of different people, most he recognized.
"Sssh daddy's still sleepin'. Momma said no waken him up Jack-Jack." A soft, child-like voice whispered just loud enough for him to hear. Who is this little girl and why is she calling me daddy?
"Morgan ssh! I just gotta get my gameboy" Jack quieted, "I left it in here earlier."
"What're you guys doing? Mom will kill you if she finds out you woke up Dad." Another voice chimed in as Hotch heard a form of loud tiptoeing towards the small seating area in the room. "She's in one of her 'moods', or whatever dad calls them."
"Henry James!" A familiar voice shouted, one that could only belong to Jennifer Jareau. "I told you not to...Jack, Morgan! Everybody down stairs now! I said don't wake up your father, he hit his head pretty hard and needs to rest a while."
The soft groanings of the children on the other side of the door suggested that JJ had managed to keep them at bay.
As Hotch drifted back into unconsciousness, he was plagued by one more question.
Their father?