five times...
Title: Five times Hotch told Jack he was proud of him, and one time he didn't (because Jack already knew).
Author: b_o_w_a
Rating: G
Warnings/Spoilers: minor character death
Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds.
Summary: Five times Hotch told Jack he was proud of him, and one time he didn't (because Jack already knew).
Word Count:1,639
A/N: Written for a crimeland challenge. Happy Valentine's day annievh !
i.
Jack’s seven years old, and he’s in the school play.
The auditorium is packed full with smiling parents and grinning grandparents, and when Jack walks onto the stage he can see his father smiling brightly at him, waving his hand like he’s crazy; Jack can’t help but giggle a little.
Mrs. Jetch glares at him, but Jack ignores her.
Jack smiles happily for the rest of the play.
---
His dad takes him out for ice cream after the play, just the two of them, and Jack can’t stop bouncing on the balls of his feet while they wait in line.
Dairy Queen is busy, and Jack can see other kids from his school standing in line, talking excitably to their own parents. He grins at his father.
“Can we go to the park tomorrow? And play catch?”
His dad laughs again, settling his heavy hand onto Jack’s shoulder, squeezing it softly. “Sure, sport, anything you want.”
Jack grins, turning to look at the menu.
---
It’s late, and Jack’s dad is leaning over him to kiss his forehead, tucking him into the bed.
He likes it when his dad tucks him in.
“I’m proud of you kido, for going up there and doing a great job.”
Jack smiles, yawning. “Will you read me a book?”
He hasn’t asked that question in a long time, but his dad smiles back at him, settling onto the bed. “Sure bud, what one?”
ii.
Jack’s eighteen years old, and he’s graduating in the top five percent of his class.
He’s not valedictorian and for that he’s thankful; he’s not his dad, he’s not good at making speeches.
Jack searches for his dad in the crowd of people, filled with parents and grandparents and friends and even more family, and he smiles softly when he sees him, sitting next to Aunt Jessica, and he’s got a smile on his face and pride in his eyes.
Jack made him proud.
His fingers clench around the dark fabric of his gown, happiness settling into his chest.
His father’s words ring in his ears.
His father had pulled him aside earlier, hugged him tightly and whispered into his ear. “I’m proud of you, son…and your mother would be too.”
Jack glances up as his name is called.
The trip across the stage takes forever it seems; he can feel everyone’s eyes on him. He whispers ‘thank you’ as he takes the diploma from the principal, and he thinks the feeling of success that suddenly explodes inside of him is one of the greatest feelings ever.
He grins at his dad and aunt as he settles back into the chair.
iii.
Jack’s nineteen, and he’s a freshman at Stanford, half a world away from his dad.
Jack’s a well liked guy, and he’s best friends with his roommate, but today they watched The AristoCats in the commons and Jack couldn’t do it.
Memories of his mother, laughing and singing along to the songs assaulted his mind, and he couldn’t do it.
He calls his dad because he doesn’t know what else to do, who else to call, because the feeling in the pit of his stomach is making him sick, and he just really needs to talk to his dad.
He picks up on the fourth ring, and Jack almost starts cry.
He tries to explain, he does, but he can’t, just makes choking and gasping sounds and he can tell his dad is getting worried, but he doesn’t know what else to do.
After a while his dad gives up trying to understand what he’s saying and starts talking to Jack, making calming sounds as he talks and Jack can almost feel his dad’s hand rubbing circles on his back, just like he did after.
When Jack can finally talk his dad doesn’t ask what happened. Just says, “Jack, never ever forget that your mother would be so proud of you. You’re everything she could have wished for, everything I could have wished for.”
His father’s breathing is ragged over the phone, as if he’s trying to stop from crying now.
“It’s okay to miss her, you always will, and it’s okay to cry…just…always know…she’d be so, so proud of you son.”
Jack doesn’t know what else to say, so he just whispers “Thank you dad,” into the phone.
iv.
Jack’s twenty-five, and he’s getting married.
He met Aimee his senior year of college, and Jack thinks she’s his kind of perfect.
They’re getting married in a field over-looking the ocean, but they could be getting married in an alley for as much as Jack cares, he just wants to marry her.
He feels like he’s back at school again, up on the stage, looking out over the sea of people, and just like always his eyes search for his father, and just like always his father smiles at him, pride and joy written plainly on his face.
Jack shifts his weight, trying to release the nervous ball of energy that settled into his stomach the moment he got here.
He sees his father laugh but the sound is lost in the crowd.
The pastor says something, and soon the mobs of people part, settling into their spots; the piano starts to play.
Jack smiles.
---
Aimee’s hand is warm in his, her skin soft and tan and Jack really wants to kiss her now, but there’s a line of people waiting for them, and Jack knows that he can do that later.
He’s lost track of how many people he’s said ‘hi’ and ‘thank you’ too, but a grin spreads on his face as he sees his father, the last person in line.
His hand claps Jack on the shoulder and he grins widely. “I’m proud of you, Jack,” he glances at Aimee, settling his other hand onto her shoulder, “And I’m proud of you too Aimee.”
Aimee blushes and smiles, and ducks out from under his father’s hand to hug him tightly.
His father hugs her back and Jack smiles. This is his family now, his father and Aimee.
He likes it.
v.
Jack’s twenty-seven years old, and he’s wearing a hole into the hospital floor.
He can picture Aimee’s worried eyes in his mind; can remember the feel of the doctor’s hands on his arms, pushing him out of the room, his own eyes wide.
He can remember the way his heart stopped as the doctor said ‘there’s a complication.”
His dad is sitting calming in the waiting room, sitting next to Aimee’s mom and dad, and Jack doesn’t know what to do; he’s not his father, he can’t raise his son like his dad raised him, he doesn’t know how to do it without Aimee by his side.
The doors swing up, and Jack’s heart stops beating, because the doctor’s got blood on him and his eyes are worried.
“You’ve got a healthy baby boy, sir.”
Jack tenses, taking a step back, because he knows what’s coming even as Aimee’s dad asks, “And Aimee?”
“I...I’m sorry sir…she wasn’t strong enough, she lost too much blood…she didn’t make it.”
The doctor turns, leaving them as Aimee’s mother collapses and her father turns on Jack, his finger pointed.
Jack stumbles back against the wall, sliding down onto the cold hospital floor.
Aimee can’t be gone.
---
Jack holds the small boy tightly against him, protecting the only thing he has left of Aimee.
Aimee’s parents are gone, in shock, and he can’t remember much after the doctor told them the news, but he can remember that Aimee’s father blames this on him.
“You’re going to be okay, Jack.”
Jack shakes his head, rocking the small baby slowly. “No,” his voice breaks, “I can’t do this without her dad.”
“Yes you can…I thought the same thing when your mother died, I thought I would be a horrible father and that you would be better off with your aunt.” His father sighs softly, and Jack can’t do anything but stare.
His dad was the greatest dad he could wish for.
“You can’t...you can’t believe that, dad. You were great...”
His dad smiles sadly. “I wouldn’t say great, but I was good with you, but the point is, if I can help you turn into the man you are today, a man who I’m proud to call my son, then you can do the same. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, but I’ll always be here for you, and for my grandson, whatever you need. You’ve always made me proud, and I’m not expecting that to change now.”
Jack nods, glancing at the sleeping baby in his arms.
He can do this.
i.
Jack’s thirty-two years old and today is his son’s fifth birthday.
Shane’s happy and smiling, talking to his grandpa about something that happened last week at the park, and Jack can’t help but feel as if his dad was right about everything.
Things were tough at first, and Jack can’t remember how many times he called his dad or his aunt, asking for help in the middle of the night, but neither one of them complained.
And now, it’s been five years, and sometimes it still feels like it was yesterday that his son was born and his wife died, but he realizes that Aimee would have liked this, the way their son was turning out.
Jack watches his father, laughing as Shane tries to explain one of his new games to his grandpa, and Jack realizes for the hundredth time that this is his family now. His dad and Shane.
His dad’s face is filled with happiness and joy and Jack doesn’t need his dad to tell him that he’s proud of him because he can see it written plainly on his father’s face.
And Jack’s proud of his family.
Author: b_o_w_a
Rating: G
Warnings/Spoilers: minor character death
Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds.
Summary: Five times Hotch told Jack he was proud of him, and one time he didn't (because Jack already knew).
Word Count:1,639
A/N: Written for a crimeland challenge. Happy Valentine's day annievh !
i.
Jack’s seven years old, and he’s in the school play.
The auditorium is packed full with smiling parents and grinning grandparents, and when Jack walks onto the stage he can see his father smiling brightly at him, waving his hand like he’s crazy; Jack can’t help but giggle a little.
Mrs. Jetch glares at him, but Jack ignores her.
Jack smiles happily for the rest of the play.
---
His dad takes him out for ice cream after the play, just the two of them, and Jack can’t stop bouncing on the balls of his feet while they wait in line.
Dairy Queen is busy, and Jack can see other kids from his school standing in line, talking excitably to their own parents. He grins at his father.
“Can we go to the park tomorrow? And play catch?”
His dad laughs again, settling his heavy hand onto Jack’s shoulder, squeezing it softly. “Sure, sport, anything you want.”
Jack grins, turning to look at the menu.
---
It’s late, and Jack’s dad is leaning over him to kiss his forehead, tucking him into the bed.
He likes it when his dad tucks him in.
“I’m proud of you kido, for going up there and doing a great job.”
Jack smiles, yawning. “Will you read me a book?”
He hasn’t asked that question in a long time, but his dad smiles back at him, settling onto the bed. “Sure bud, what one?”
ii.
Jack’s eighteen years old, and he’s graduating in the top five percent of his class.
He’s not valedictorian and for that he’s thankful; he’s not his dad, he’s not good at making speeches.
Jack searches for his dad in the crowd of people, filled with parents and grandparents and friends and even more family, and he smiles softly when he sees him, sitting next to Aunt Jessica, and he’s got a smile on his face and pride in his eyes.
Jack made him proud.
His fingers clench around the dark fabric of his gown, happiness settling into his chest.
His father’s words ring in his ears.
His father had pulled him aside earlier, hugged him tightly and whispered into his ear. “I’m proud of you, son…and your mother would be too.”
Jack glances up as his name is called.
The trip across the stage takes forever it seems; he can feel everyone’s eyes on him. He whispers ‘thank you’ as he takes the diploma from the principal, and he thinks the feeling of success that suddenly explodes inside of him is one of the greatest feelings ever.
He grins at his dad and aunt as he settles back into the chair.
iii.
Jack’s nineteen, and he’s a freshman at Stanford, half a world away from his dad.
Jack’s a well liked guy, and he’s best friends with his roommate, but today they watched The AristoCats in the commons and Jack couldn’t do it.
Memories of his mother, laughing and singing along to the songs assaulted his mind, and he couldn’t do it.
He calls his dad because he doesn’t know what else to do, who else to call, because the feeling in the pit of his stomach is making him sick, and he just really needs to talk to his dad.
He picks up on the fourth ring, and Jack almost starts cry.
He tries to explain, he does, but he can’t, just makes choking and gasping sounds and he can tell his dad is getting worried, but he doesn’t know what else to do.
After a while his dad gives up trying to understand what he’s saying and starts talking to Jack, making calming sounds as he talks and Jack can almost feel his dad’s hand rubbing circles on his back, just like he did after.
When Jack can finally talk his dad doesn’t ask what happened. Just says, “Jack, never ever forget that your mother would be so proud of you. You’re everything she could have wished for, everything I could have wished for.”
His father’s breathing is ragged over the phone, as if he’s trying to stop from crying now.
“It’s okay to miss her, you always will, and it’s okay to cry…just…always know…she’d be so, so proud of you son.”
Jack doesn’t know what else to say, so he just whispers “Thank you dad,” into the phone.
iv.
Jack’s twenty-five, and he’s getting married.
He met Aimee his senior year of college, and Jack thinks she’s his kind of perfect.
They’re getting married in a field over-looking the ocean, but they could be getting married in an alley for as much as Jack cares, he just wants to marry her.
He feels like he’s back at school again, up on the stage, looking out over the sea of people, and just like always his eyes search for his father, and just like always his father smiles at him, pride and joy written plainly on his face.
Jack shifts his weight, trying to release the nervous ball of energy that settled into his stomach the moment he got here.
He sees his father laugh but the sound is lost in the crowd.
The pastor says something, and soon the mobs of people part, settling into their spots; the piano starts to play.
Jack smiles.
---
Aimee’s hand is warm in his, her skin soft and tan and Jack really wants to kiss her now, but there’s a line of people waiting for them, and Jack knows that he can do that later.
He’s lost track of how many people he’s said ‘hi’ and ‘thank you’ too, but a grin spreads on his face as he sees his father, the last person in line.
His hand claps Jack on the shoulder and he grins widely. “I’m proud of you, Jack,” he glances at Aimee, settling his other hand onto her shoulder, “And I’m proud of you too Aimee.”
Aimee blushes and smiles, and ducks out from under his father’s hand to hug him tightly.
His father hugs her back and Jack smiles. This is his family now, his father and Aimee.
He likes it.
v.
Jack’s twenty-seven years old, and he’s wearing a hole into the hospital floor.
He can picture Aimee’s worried eyes in his mind; can remember the feel of the doctor’s hands on his arms, pushing him out of the room, his own eyes wide.
He can remember the way his heart stopped as the doctor said ‘there’s a complication.”
His dad is sitting calming in the waiting room, sitting next to Aimee’s mom and dad, and Jack doesn’t know what to do; he’s not his father, he can’t raise his son like his dad raised him, he doesn’t know how to do it without Aimee by his side.
The doors swing up, and Jack’s heart stops beating, because the doctor’s got blood on him and his eyes are worried.
“You’ve got a healthy baby boy, sir.”
Jack tenses, taking a step back, because he knows what’s coming even as Aimee’s dad asks, “And Aimee?”
“I...I’m sorry sir…she wasn’t strong enough, she lost too much blood…she didn’t make it.”
The doctor turns, leaving them as Aimee’s mother collapses and her father turns on Jack, his finger pointed.
Jack stumbles back against the wall, sliding down onto the cold hospital floor.
Aimee can’t be gone.
---
Jack holds the small boy tightly against him, protecting the only thing he has left of Aimee.
Aimee’s parents are gone, in shock, and he can’t remember much after the doctor told them the news, but he can remember that Aimee’s father blames this on him.
“You’re going to be okay, Jack.”
Jack shakes his head, rocking the small baby slowly. “No,” his voice breaks, “I can’t do this without her dad.”
“Yes you can…I thought the same thing when your mother died, I thought I would be a horrible father and that you would be better off with your aunt.” His father sighs softly, and Jack can’t do anything but stare.
His dad was the greatest dad he could wish for.
“You can’t...you can’t believe that, dad. You were great...”
His dad smiles sadly. “I wouldn’t say great, but I was good with you, but the point is, if I can help you turn into the man you are today, a man who I’m proud to call my son, then you can do the same. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, but I’ll always be here for you, and for my grandson, whatever you need. You’ve always made me proud, and I’m not expecting that to change now.”
Jack nods, glancing at the sleeping baby in his arms.
He can do this.
i.
Jack’s thirty-two years old and today is his son’s fifth birthday.
Shane’s happy and smiling, talking to his grandpa about something that happened last week at the park, and Jack can’t help but feel as if his dad was right about everything.
Things were tough at first, and Jack can’t remember how many times he called his dad or his aunt, asking for help in the middle of the night, but neither one of them complained.
And now, it’s been five years, and sometimes it still feels like it was yesterday that his son was born and his wife died, but he realizes that Aimee would have liked this, the way their son was turning out.
Jack watches his father, laughing as Shane tries to explain one of his new games to his grandpa, and Jack realizes for the hundredth time that this is his family now. His dad and Shane.
His dad’s face is filled with happiness and joy and Jack doesn’t need his dad to tell him that he’s proud of him because he can see it written plainly on his father’s face.
And Jack’s proud of his family.