The Lion's Son

Author's Note: I know, I know, the cliché baby-sitter plot. Just had to get it out of my system I suppose. Hope you enjoy anyways!

In hindsight, watching "The Lion King" before bedtime was probably not the best idea. But Jack had insisted, and she'd always been a sucker for a pair of big brown eyes.

"Miss Emily?"

She's just settled in with a book, an old favorite, when that scared little voice has her instantly on alert.

"Jack? Bad dream, kiddo?"

His sandy-brown head nods, eyes shiny with tears. He's trying so hard to be brave, like someone else she knows, but her concern quickly cracks that fragile façade. He hasn't had the years of practice his father's had.

"I want my Dad," he sniffles, rubbing at his eyes, trying to stop the tears from falling.

"C'mere," she beckons, and not seconds after she says the words he's on the couch and in her arms. His tears stain her t-shirt and she only holds on tighter.

"When's he coming home?"

It was an unscheduled meeting with a lot of people a lot higher up on the food chain that had brought her here on one of their few nights off. A call that had happened right after Hotch had picked Jack up from Jessica's, and being the gentleman he was he couldn't possibly ask his sister-in-law to watch him for the rest of the night after being gone for days on a case. She wasn't exactly sure why he'd called her out of everyone, though she suspected he knew she didn't have much of a social life, so baby-sitting Jack was a far better option than over-dosing on ice cream and watching sappy movies until she fell asleep. She also knew Hotch's place, knew his security system, and knew how great a charge looking after the younger Hotchner really was. Beyond the BAU Jack was Hotch's world, and she would gladly protect Jack with her life if necessary. Jack was even excited to see her, something she was grateful for since she wasn't sure how well he'd remember her after being "away."

But, she had to sadly admit; she couldn't protect him from his own nightmares.

"I dunno, sweetheart, he couldn't tell me exactly when because the meeting wasn't planned. He'll be here in the morning when you wake up though, I'm sure of it."

Jack only nods, burying his head further into her shirt, each sniffle a sharp tug on her heartstrings. Her hand automatically starts to rub his back soothingly, and after he takes a deep ragged breath she finally feels him relax.

"We can always call him if you want to talk with him," she offers after a moment of silence, but Jack only shakes his head.

"He's fighting bad guys, right? I don't wanna bug him."

It's just as well, she isn't sure if Hotch will answer his phone if he's dealing with political bigwigs, but she can't let Jack think that he'd be "bugging" his father.

"He'll always have time for you, Jack. And he'd want to know if you had a nightmare."

"I'm fine."

And who could he have possibly inherited that stubborn streak from? She smiles inwardly.

"Okay, Jack. But remember in the movie how Mufasa said he's only brave when he has to be? It's okay to not be brave all the time. It's okay to admit when you're scared."

"But Dad's never scared."

And Hotch was Jack's hero, so Jack had to be like his Dad. She wonders how much she should say, if she should say anything at all. She would hate to shatter the image that Jack maintains of his father, she has to tread lightly.

"He was scared once, scared of losing you to the bad guy. But he was still able to be brave despite being scared."

"Like in the movie?"

"Yeah, like in the movie."

Jack moves away from her and frowns, deep in concentration, and the resemblance is uncanny. Jack is his father's son.

"But Mufasa died."

His bottom lip quivers at the word "died," and she thinks she's finally catching on.

"Did your Dad die in your dream?"

The fresh tears that well up in his eyes answer for her.

"Oh, Jack."

He's in her arms once more, his smaller arms tight around her, refusing to let go. It occurs to her that outside of his Aunt Jack has been extremely lacking in a maternal figure, but any worries of imprinting were easily forgotten as after some time she felt him fall asleep against her. If she could provide this small comfort she would, and she would most definitely not focus on her own instinctual want to be a mother to this sweet child. That way lay the path of things that couldn't be, as much as she might want them.

She manages to maneuver Jack so she can continue reading her book, she wants to be there in case he has another nightmare, and they stay that way until the click of an opening deadbolt alerts her to Hotch's arrival home.

It's really late or super early, depending on how you looked at it, and the haggard look on Hotch's face tells her the impromptu meeting was as frustrating as it was long as he inputs his security codes into the machine by the door.

All of that melts away, however, when he turns and spies the boy snuggled up against her. He really is a great dad; she has to smile, witnessing that look of unreserved love before he sends a confused look her way.

"Bad dream," she mouths, and his eyes and frown speak of his concern, but she continues with a, "He's fine."

She's setting her book down as she notices him making his way towards the couch, indicating that he would take Jack off her hands, but she only shakes her head. His head tilts, puzzled, and she smiles again before picking Jack up in her own arms and heading for his room. She worries about waking him, but apparently once he's asleep he sleeps like the dead, and she's able to tuck him in easily, smoothing his hair tenderly before finally leaving.

Hotch watches all of this from the doorway, an unidentifiable look on his face. Unidentifiable because she just can't believe it is what she thinks it is. He shows her to the door, even helps her with her coat, and if his hands linger on her shoulders as she puts it on, she tries not to notice.

"Thank you for watching him, Prentiss."

"You're welcome, Hotch. Jack's a great kid. Good night."

She's about to reach for the door, but his hand on her arm stops her, and she has to look up, startled by his touch. She's even more shocked when he presses a lingering kiss to her cheek. Though to say she was shocked is probably the understatement of the century.

"What-?"

"Really, Emily. Thank you."

She nods, managing to smile and exit without making a complete fool of herself. Though how she made it to her car on the limp noodles she now had for legs is beyond her.