Chapter Text
On the run.
It was not as romantic as they made it sound in the movies, Hotch thought to himself. He always knew it of course, he wasn't a fool, but experiencing it was entirely different from understanding protocol and seeing it all on paper.
For starters, he was looking over his shoulder everywhere he went, afraid to let Jack out of his sight, paralyzed by a fear that was so foreign to him that it shocked him. And they were only in the first few days. It's barely even real yet.
What is he so afraid of? Logically, he knew he could kill Peter Lewis. The fight wouldn't even be fair. He could shoot him from 50 feet away without even trying.
But there was something inside of him that spoke to him, some little voice that said no. You can't and you won't. He didn't recognize the voice and the voice scared him. He wasn't afraid of Peter Lewis, he was afraid of whatever it was inside of him that felt broken all of a sudden.
The voice kept reminding him how much he had to lose. How much Jack had to lose. That was worth listening to.
"Dad…" Jack whined from the living room. It was nearly ten in the morning and Hotch hadn't managed to get out of bed yet. He'd been sick for three days and he made the decision last night that he wouldn't lay around today no matter what. He wouldn't allow himself to be sick any longer.
"Coming," he lied. He remained in bed. His body wasn't cooperating with the decision he made. His joints ached and the fever he'd been trying to sleep off was still making him sluggish. He was trying to get up, trying to roll over and force his heavy limbs out of bed. If he could just get into the shower, if he could just wash his hair and shave his face he'd feel a hundred times better and be able to function for a few hours. That was what he was telling himself anyway.
"Liar!" Jack shouted. His bedroom door slammed to punctuate the anger. Hotch sighed and closed his eyes, halfway out of bed, halfway to upright, and all the way miserable. Now he had to get up, he had to get himself moving. If he didn't, it'd be another day in the long long list of days where Jack reminded him that he'd completely ruined his life.
Jack wasn't wrong. He was just…young. Everything seemed like a big deal. But Hotch, in spite of it all, had faith in the BAU. He believed they'd catch Peter Lewis and he and Jack could go back home and resume their lives. They just had to bide their time accordingly.
Maybe he was just as misguided as Jack in that department. Maybe they both needed to be a little misguided for the time being.
"What if we pick a new city?" Hotch asked as he towel dried his unruly hair. The fever made the shower almost unbearably hot and his skin was bright red and sore to the touch, but he did feel a little better. Still sluggish, still like death warmed over, but he was upright and he intended to stay that way for a couple of hours for his son's sake. Once the Tylenol kicked in, he knew he could make it work. It was just a flu, just some virus that attacked when he was stressed and had time to indulge it. Nothing more. "The Marshalls said we could go anywhere we wanted. It doesn't have to be Texas."
Where they were currently was temporary and they hadn't settled yet on a permanent spot. They'd just been planted here, in some little town Jack angrily referred to as NowhereVille Ohio. Hotch had tried to correct him more than once, but to no avail and to avoid the argument that would erupt afterward he had stopped. It didn't matter anyway. It was a temporary stop, they just had to wait things out. Paperwork, protocol, making sure they weren't leaving a trail. They would be here a week, maybe two, and then vanish without a trace.
It was a chance to adjust to the idea of hiding since there had been no forethought, no plan. Peter Lewis was at Jack's school and then they were gone without saying goodbye. He had panicked. They would figure it out later, he told himself. Just keep Jack safe.
It didn't feel like him, that spur of the moment decision. He'd never chosen to hide in his life. But then, he didn't feel like himself when he made the decision and still he stuck by it fiercely. He'd spent hours with Peter Lewis though and some part of him just couldn't shake the danger of how little he knew. How damaged he was by it in ways he had yet to uncover.
The biggest problem was: what if there was nothing? What if Peter Lewis hadn't cracked him at all but he'd convinced them all he had? Hotch had no way to know for sure, and it left a deeply unsettling sense of self-doubt that followed him everywhere he went. The team doubted him too. That was what Rossi said when the subject of running came up - what if there was something there? Rossi had been suspicious since the ambulance, since the moment Hotch concocted the best lie he could about what happened because he couldn't think about the reality without tears in his eyes. They couldn't see that. The team needed him to be okay, they always needed that, and he had to give it to them.
But he couldn't, not now. Not without Derek on the team. He liked to pretend he felt as safe as ever with the team he had but it was a lie. Without Derek in his office, without Derek at his side, he felt dangerously exposed. They were all competent, more than competent in fact, but it wasn't that. It was just that you get used to a person being there two decades later and when they suddenly weren't…it left a hole. And you can't just move on, as much as you pretend you can. It caught up with him.
He couldn't tell them that, though, so he ran away. He tucked his tail between his legs and he convinced them all that running was his best option. It was the only way to keep Jack safe.
Jack's second time in witness protection. What a joke. He'd failed as a father in more ways than his own had. Maybe he never laid a hand on Jack, hell maybe he never even raised his voice at the kid, but did that really matter? Two stints in witness protection and being arrested by SWAT in their own apartment had done its own kind of damage. Only time would tell what that would look like.
But time was of the essence, so they landed here in Ohio without a real plan. Figuring things out was easier in a temporary place. They had three more planned stops to make over the next month before they officially settled in somewhere. Moving around, trying to bait Lewis out of hiding before they sank in deep. That was something neither of them wanted to do and they both quietly hoped Lewis would show somewhere, let the BAU at him. They wanted their home back.
"Texas is fine."
Jack was pouring himself a bowl of cereal even though Hotch told him they would go out to breakfast. Sure, it was almost lunch time now but he still planned to take the kid out. They hadn't been out of the apartment in too long. He didn't feel like leaving, and it made him a little short with the kid. If he could rally, so could Jack.
"What about Florida? We could live near Disney World." His words were clipped as he watched Jack eat his cereal in defiance of Hotch's obvious plans to go out.
"I'm not a little kid anymore, dad."
"What about the ocean? Or Daytona for all the cars? You love Nascar."
"I said Texas is fine. Whatever."
"There's always Alaska, too. Or Wyoming. We could live on a ranch, or in the mountains…we can go anywhere."
"I don't care dad. Just stop."
Hotch hung his towel up on the back of the bathroom door and padded barefoot back into his bedroom to finish getting dressed. He wasn't going to let Jack win this one with his pre-teen indifference. Jack could only hold out so long, he was a kid and he did actually care even when he said he didn't. Hotch knew for a fact he could go longer, he could hold out for days or weeks without cracking. He had a lot of experience with persistence, it was what made him such a damn good trial lawyer. He could stretch a deposition out for days, really dig in and make a person regret waking up in the morning. His name had been cursed in courtrooms for years. There was a long list of people who celebrated when he stopped practicing law and started working with the FBI.
That same list of people would be very upset to find out that he was looking at getting a new license to practice law, and while the Marshalls were going to fudge some of it for the sake of privacy, he still wanted it to be legitimate. He wanted to feel like he was living as much of a real life as possible. No more US Attorney's office, no more Federal prosecution, and certainly no Wall Street jobs. No corporate law, no trials, just small town court.
Washington and Oregon didn't require him to pass the bar exam to practice, they were the first choice when the Marshalls were going down the list but Washington was too predictable and Oregon…well he hadn't ruled it out yet. Maybe he'd feel Jack out on that one. They could craft a resume full of experience that would be hard to ignore and he'd get an easy license.
Of course with a little studying, he could pass the bar with relative ease, but that would create a new paper trail and a whole lot of complication he didn't need. A quick resume would be easier, especially if they played their hand skillfully and fabricated the right lies.
They eventually ended up at their favorite taco truck, a little red van parked just two blocks down from the apartment they were currently living in. Hardly more than a halfway house, really, but it was home and the food was close by. Hotch was glad that was what Jack chose, the cool breeze felt good against his fevered skin as they walked. The menu was small, just a few items with grainy old photos and handwritten price tags stuck over the top of them. Hotch ordered a bowl of spicy chicken soup with a little bag of tortilla chips while Jack opted for a quesadilla and a few tacos. He gave the chips to Jack.
"How much longer?" Jack asked with a huff. Hotch hated this part. It was a daily conversation that led to arguments with no end.
"I don't know, Jack. I hope they find him soon but the truth is…they might never find him."
"I can't believe that wiener actually has you scared."
Hotch couldn't help it, he had to fight a smile over the choice of words his son used. It wasn't funny, it was insulting and it was mean and Jack was trying to hurt his feelings…and it did hurt his feelings…but the urge to laugh was still there. Still in his chest.
Jack wasn't wrong. He'd stared Foyet down while being stabbed repeatedly and Jack knew it. It was in the newspaper, his friends knew about it, they all made sure he wasn't in the dark. He'd seen the scars, he'd heard his father's version, he knew everything he could and it just made this whole thing with Peter Lewis seem so unbelievable.
Hotch chose to ignore it, rather than take the bait.
"Oregon looks nice."
"Oregon looks lame. Everywhere looks lame. I can't even make any friends. I just have to sit in my room and rot."
"This is temporary," Hotch argued while he stirred his soup. It was suddenly unappetizing. Jack scoffed.
"You just said it might not be. You're always lying! Just tell me the truth for once, dad! Geeze."
"I meant this moving around and hiding part, Jack. Once we choose a place to live, we can get you into a school and I'll start working and we will try to make our lives as normal as possible. We can put down some roots. No more moving."
"What are you gonna do, go work at McDonald's?" Jack seemed earnest, not sarcastic for once, and Hotch shrugged. He was worried about what their life looked like, and that was Hotch's opening. He could steer them into safer waters from here.
"I could."
"Yeah, I can just see you scooping fries…"
"I'll do whatever the Marshalls tell me I should do. I'm not above making hamburgers, Jack, if it keeps you safe. But we have been discussing my going back into law, or perhaps teaching."
"I'll die if you teach at my school, dad. Nothing is less cool than being a kid related to a teacher."
"I'm not sure I'm qualified to teach anything to your age group at this point. I was thinking a university or community college. I would prefer to start my own practice."
"Won't he know you used to be a lawyer? Won't he look for you?"
"Maybe. Maybe not."
The soup was hitting his stomach like a freight train and it made him tired and a little dizzy. He needed to lay back down. Jack could see it on his face and it made him feel a little guilty for being so harsh. His dad was sick and he needed to rest. If it was Jack that was sick, he would be making him soup and caring for him and here Jack was yelling at him. He sighed and finished his last taco.
"Oregon sounds fine. So does Florida. Or Texas. They all sound fine, dad. You should just pick the one you want."
"They don't sound lame?"
"Not lame. I just want to go home…I miss my friends and I miss our family and I miss our apartment…"
"I know buddy. Me too."
They decided on Oregon after one more short discussion over dinner that night. The discussion was quiet and almost friendly for the first time since the decision had been made to go into hiding. Jack made dinner while Hotch rested on the couch, and then got him a mug of chamomile tea and some cold medicine before insisting that he go to bed early. His tune had completely changed over the course of a few short hours.
"Would you like to watch a movie?" Hotch asked. Jack shook his head.
"You're sick. You need to sleep." He paused, smiling a little warily. He looked older than he was in that moment. "I'm sorry, dad," he said as Hotch swallowed the pills and hoped they would kick in quickly. He was more than ready to sleep for hours. "Goodnight."
"I love you," Hotch called after him. Jack disappeared down the small hallway without saying it back, but for the first time since they went into hiding he felt almost hopeful. Maybe he hadn't completely destroyed their relationship.