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Jack wasn't a child. He hadn't been one in a long time. To some, that meant that he stopped being one when he became a teenager, to others, those who knew him better, meant he stopped being one when his mother was murdered.
Aaron believed it to be a good thing Haley died when Jack was just 5. As far as he knew, the now 16 year old didn't remember much of that day.
He knew the teen had some vague memories. He's sure of it, because almost 12 years later Jack still jumps when he hears a loud bang he didn't expect would happen.
And he knew that some days were harder than others, but Jack was doing well, all things considered. He didn't look sad the rare times they'd talk about her.
And it's not like Jack forgot about her, or didn't care. Every year, on Haley's birthday, Jack went to visit her grave. He'd bring flowers, and a small cake he ate on his own while he talked to a silent headstone.
Jack cared about her, but he had been able to deal with the pain, and the trauma.
At least, these were the conclusions Aaron reached based off his observations.
And Jack would mostly agree with him. The truth is, he didn't really feel sad. Most days, he didn't really think about her.
He didn't say it out loud, because he thought that it made him an awful person, but he found it hard to mourn a person he barely knew.
He had seen the pictures, watched the homemade videos, always listened attentively and with fondness when his father started talking about her.
But, at the end of the day, he didn't know her. He looked in a mirror, and past the hair, which wasn't exactly blonde, but still lighter than his father's, he didn't see her.
There was nothing of her, in him.
He kept some pictures of the two of them in his room. But the toddler looking at him was nothing like the teenager observing the picture.
So no, 'sadness' wasn't the term he'd use. Maybe 'nostalgia', the one you feel for things that could have been.
And he was fine with it, honestly. He felt an immense amount of gratitude and admiration for her, staring in the face of death to give him a chance. But no sadness.
Aaron and Jack lived in this odd limbo. A child who was able to deal with a loss he wasn't supposed to live, and an adult who would never really be able to get past his mourning.
Although, 'child' wasn't the appropriate term.
Aaron knew the loss had a huge impact on Jack because the teen was probably a bit too observant for his age. He had been a bit too observant ever since Haley's death.
Jack had never been a particularly boisterous child, yet he had become somewhat quieter, more reserved, yet had never lost his kindness. He didn't surround himself with people, rather kept the same two friends since childhood close.
And when he'd try to talk to him about it, Jack's answer was the same: "I miss her, but I'm okay. I don't want you to be sad".
Jack had a very keen eye for people's emotions, in a way no 5 year old was supposed to have. He worried about upsetting his father more than he worried about getting to know his mother.
The resolve for that had been easy: Aaron chose to talk about her regardless. He'd tell Jack how they first met, funny stories about her, anything he could think of. Show the child that talking about her didn't necessarily make him sad, and if it did, it was fine to talk about it.
After a while, Jack seemed to be convinced by his father's words.
But over time, talks about her became less and less frequent. Jack was growing up, and couldn't be chained down by the loss forever.
He was better now, happier. He was doing well.
And now that he was a teenager, Aaron didn't feel too horribly leaving him home alone when he was away for a case. He knew Jack would have his friends over, and he had plenty of ways to pass the time.
What date it was didn't even cross his mind. Aaron was used to being away, and Jack was used to not seeing the man for days at a time. Things had changed, and time made things hurt less.
Supposedly.
It started as a normal July week. Jack woke up, late as usual. He had inherited his father's preference for being awake at night and asleep during the day, it seemed.
He had gone downstairs, made himself breakfast, scrolled social media while he ate. He didn't really notice it, then, but something was happening to him, under the surface.
His friends were on vacation, and it was frankly too hot for him to wish to go out. His resolve, as usual, was to go in the basement and boot up his PS5, play something. When he started feeling famished, he went back upstairs, made himself lunch, ate alone with a show to keep him company. Then went back downstairs, played some more, texted his father his progress, then ate dinner, then sat on the couch to watch TV.
The next day, he did the same. Although, for a split second, while he was playing in the afternoon, his stomach had felt weird. He almost didn't notice it, and when he called his father later that night he had already forgotten about it.
His evening routine had been the same as the previous day.
The third day was supposed to go the same way. And it did, until Jack put his cup in the dishwasher, and he suddenly froze. He looked around the house. It wasn't a sound that stopped him dead in his tracks, rather the lack of it.
He was home alone. Completely alone. He stared at the living room; clean, tidy.
Of course, you could see people lived here. The blanket on the couch wasn't folded, because he nor his father ever cared to do so. The dining table in the living room had a faint burn on it, courtesy of his father placing a hot pan on it forgetting to put something under.
In the bedrooms upstairs, Jack's bed was still undone, and a book was left on the nightstand, while his father's bedroom was perfect. The man always fixed his bed before breakfast, but this level of tidiness was testament to his father being away. The basement had an empty pack of chips on the coffee table, the cushions were moved so Jack could lay comfortably.
Yet, despite proof of people living here, Jack felt the house to be sterile. The only sound he could hear inside was his own breathing, and his father would not be back for a few more days.
He was the ruler of when to eat and what, no one to call him, tell him lunch was ready. No one to tell him to turn off his console for a little while and to take a walk instead.
No mother than would nag him about summer homework while his father was away, or to ask him if he wanted to do something fun that afternoon, just the two of them.
No mother. Jack didn't have a mother, of course she couldn't do any of that. Or, well, he did, he used to have one, but she was dead.
With his father away, he was alone. And he was too old for Jessica to come over every time his father left. Not that she could, she was working abroad. His grandfather had passed away shortly before Jack started high school, which meant Jessica could take a higher paying job somewhere else.
And that left Jack alone.
He never cared about not having a mother, not really. Despite her absence, he had always been with someone, whether that was his father, Jessica, or the whole team with his acquired siblings. Then his friends started coming over more often, and when they couldn't, Hank was small enough for Jack to babysit while Derek and Savannah needed to get groceries, or wanted to go on a date.
But the kids were older now. Hank and Savannah had flown to Chicago, and Derek would meet them later. Michael was at a summer camp, while Henry was busy with his own friends.
All the puzzles pieces had aligned perfectly for this moment, and Jack was stuck in the same spot in the kitchen.
He never missed his mother, because he had always found a way to never be alone too long. He had looked for company in the people he knew since he was a small child. He ignored how Savannah and JJ interacting with their kids made him feel, because he didn't want to think about that.
He was fine, he never knew his mother, and you can't miss a ghost you've barely met. He had been repeating this mantra without even realizing for years, and it had worked.
It had worked, because Jack had never allowed himself to think about it.
But now he might have to deal with the fact he had been lying to himself all along. Because, right now, he felt alone. And small.
He took tentative steps into the living room, and it all felt wrong. For the first time since they moved here, Jack damned his father for buying such a big house rather than stay in the apartment they were living in. A house so big needed at least a third person.
And that person was staring at him through a picture frame. She had blonde hair, blue eyes, and the biggest, brightest, kindest smile you had ever seen. Jack thought it was mocking him.
Why was she smiling? She wasn't here, she had no reason to smile. She had left him, she had no right to smile. Jack didn't have a mother, yet and image of her was smiling as if everything was okay. And nothing was.
And it never would be, because she wasn't here. She was dead, had been dead so long the coffin now only had bones and dust. Some critters, if they were lucky enough. But no mother.
And Jack didn't want to be angry, he knew he shouldn't. He knew his mom didn't leave him out of her own volition, but she still left him. When the pieces aligned, and Jack was forced to take notion of his surroundings, he found himself alone.
He didn't know what to do with it. Was he supposed to scream? Cry? Was he supposed to ignore it? Could he even ignore it?
Was it even fair for him to be angry at her?
But it wasn't anger, it was sorrow. It was sadness. It was anemoia. Jack couldn't even imagine his life if his mother was still around. Would his parents have gotten back together? Would he have had to move between houses, get to know new partners?
Maybe his parents would have stayed divorced, but they would still have evening where they could do things as a family. Maybe they would have spent Christmas together, maybe they would have all gotten together to bake each other's favorite cakes on their respective birthdays.
And there it was, the origin. The date. Tomorrow would be his mother's birthday. The reason why he had felt more hollow than usual.
Every 23rd of July Jack would visit his mother's grave, bring a piece of the cake his mom liked so much, spend time telling her about the year's events. But he had always done so almost absentmindedly, something he had to do.
He never talked about missing her, loving her, because opening that part of himself would have meant hurting. He acted almost as if he didn't care, while still pretending like he did, all so that he didn't have to hurt.
Yet, somehow, this year was different. Nothing major had happened, he had just hit the realization one hot afternoon.
And he couldn't help but wonder: what would his mom be like? He knew her favorite song, her favorite color, her favorite season. But he didn't know why she loved all those things. They were facts, cold and clinical, with no emotion behind them.
He had never been religious, could never find it in himself, and he figured that if he had been he might have been able to find a way to talk to her, or pretend like he was.
Instead, there was nothing. A void in his chest, strong enough to hollow his insides. He had no way of pretending that she was still here, because Heaven didn't exist.
He found himself crying, staring at that bright smile. He wished he could find a way to feel her close to him, if only for a second.
Aaron had thought about being quiet when it came time to cross the front door, but the lights inside had him abandon that resolve. He took off his shoes, certain his child was watching something, but the lack of sound confused him.
He looked at the couch, Jack sitting on it, his back to his father.
He made his way towards him, brows furrowing when he saw Jack staring at a picture. It was a picture of… The universe? Not exactly the universe, but definitely something related to it.
What worried him is that Jack was staring at it with red, blotchy eyes. He had clearly just stopped crying.
"Liebchen?" he asked gently, carefully sitting next to him. He left a couple of inches between them, unsure if his child wanted to be touched.
"Did you know matter cannot be destroyed?" Jack asked in a whisper, Aaron barely catching it.
"What?" he voiced his confusion, not understanding the correlation between the picture and Jack's current state. Somehow, his brain was yet to realize what day it was.
"Matter cannot be destroyed. When something ends, it doesn't disappear, it simply gets distributed somewhere else" the teen explained.
"What's going on?" Aaron asked, worry seeping through his voice.
"That was taken on the 25th of November, 2009" Jack stated, pointing at the picture. Aaron's heart dropped. The day Haley was murdered, the day a piece of his heart was chipped away completely. Then he remembered, what day it was today.
Jack had never seemed to be particularly bothered. He had never looked particularly sad by his mother's absence. Maybe Aaron should have paid better attention. Especially whenever JJ hugged him, or kissed his head the way she would her own boys.
"I tried not to let it get to me" Jack interrupted his thinking. "I tried not to be sad, not to hurt. I guess it couldn't go on forever" he shrugged, looking away from the picture, down at his lap.
Aaron didn't know what to say.
"I figured that if I pretended everything was fine, then I would have been fine. It worked for a while, but the spell broke" he continued, not seeming to care whether his father took part in the conversation. "I was alone at home, and I felt alone. No one was here, and I thought about what it would be like to have mom with me. Then I realized that I didn't know anything about her, and that I was hurting more than I ever wanted to admit. I just wanted her close to me" his voice broke near the end, a fresh tear making its way down his cheek.
"The picture…" Aaron found his voice, still unsure on what to say.
"It's from the day she died. I discovered the site a few months back, forgot about it. It's a picture of the Milky Way" Jack explained. "I wanted her to be close, to be with me. I wanted to know if there was any chance she was still here" he sniffled. "I guess she is, uh? If matter cannot be destroyed, and this was taken when she died-" Jack didn't seem able to finish his sentence.
"It means that every time you look at the night sky she'll be there to say hello" Aaron finished quietly, Jack nodding.
"I'm sorry, it just came suddenly" Jack wiped his tears quickly, broken from whatever trance he had fallen into. He started to move to walk away, but Aaron gently stopped him. Jack turned to him, jaw tighter than usual.
"You never need to apologize for this, you hear me?" Aaron began. "I should have seen through the mask you put on, and I didn't. And if I had, perhaps you wouldn't be feeling like this whole thing is eating you up entirely" he continued.
"You were hurting too. She was your wife" Jack weakly protested.
"And she was your mom. Doesn't matter that she passed away when you were young, she was still your mom" Aaron insisted.
"I should be okay. It's been too long, I shouldn't miss her as much as I do, it's stupid-" Jack shook his head, covering his face as new tears began pouring. Aaron hugged him close to his chest, let Jack cry on him.
"Locking everything down never helps. It just feeds and feeds until it bursts. It's not your fault, you were just trying to be okay, you were scared to hurt the ones around you- But you've never given yourself time to really heal" he explained, kissing the top of his head. He started cradling his hand through Jack's long hair, glad it was working in calming down his son.
"I wish I could talk to her, I wish she could be proud of me" Jack's voice came muffled from Aaron's chest.
"I can promise you, she is. You're the thing she loved the most in this world, she could never not be proud of you" Aaron reassured him.
Jack decided to break the hug after a while. He wasn't crying anymore, but he'd still sniffle every now and then. He didn't seem to want to meet his father's eyes, but Aaron wasn't bothered by it.
"She's beautiful" he chose to whisper instead, looking at the picture. "As beautiful as the first time I saw her" he added.
"When you made a fool of yourself and ran away as soon as she talked to you?" Jack tried to joke. Aaron huffed a laughter.
"That time, yeah" Aaron nodded with a small smile.
"Can I sleep in your bed tonight?" Jack asked in a small voice, breaking the silence.
"Yeah. Of course you can, Süße" Aaron smiled at him again, kissing his head. Jack would need to talk to someone, Aaron knew that. But not tonight; tonight, his son needed his dad, and his dad only.
The picture was hung in the middle of all the other photos they had displayed in the living room. When people asked, they always gave the same answer:
"She's beautiful"