Hotch smiled, leaning down to kiss her gently once she'd asked if she'd fainted. He nodded a little before turning back to look at the young man who was saying he was Jack.
Jack was chewing on a fingernail, nervously shifting from foot to foot. It broke and melted Hotch's heart at the same time; the gesture had been one he'd seen frequently in Haley when he'd said he'd have to leave for a case. If that hadn't been enough, he looked so much like her it ached. But when he spoke, he sounded like Isabela. He had her grace, her posture. It made Hotch's heart beat a little bit faster to think about.
"I'm yours too, Mum," Jack murmured. "What, no 'Andraste's dimpled ass'? I thought that was your favorite."
Hotch couldn't help it, but his eyes glazed with tears. It really was his son, but older. "Excuse me, I'm going to go check on Garcia and the ... little Jack."