Her Mother's Daughter - Hotchniss

chapter six: chop suey!

"I don't think you trust / In my self-righteous suicide"

-

JJ hugged Bridget when they saw each other for the first time in months. Hotch let Bridget sleep on the couch in his office, he knew she was probably tired from crying and shaking all morning. When she awoke from her midmorning nap, she cried to see it hadn't all been a nightmare, as she hoped during that brief moment of peace. Her legs were shaky as she tried to walk out. There was a sea of people getting the profile.

"Who's that?" asked someone Bridget did not recognize. She smoothed her hair.

"Bridget Prentiss; Emily Prentiss's daughter," Rossi told the man. Bridget saw a non-JJ blonde staring at her. Ashley Seaver had never met Bridget, but Bridget had heard a lot about her. Emily did not much care for that woman.

Legally, JJ was next-of-kin if Emily died; her will was dated three years ago, long before the idea of Hotch as a father was brought into the picture Emily painted of her daughter's grim possible future. JJ took this to heart, and Hotch found an issue with JJ's assumed mother-figure role.

"Hotch, why have you been so protective of her? I've seen the note, I know what Emily wrote, but don't you trust me? Emily trusted me enough to put me in a legal document deeming me her guardian. She's not dead, we have to assume that, and she's afraid of losing her mother. Not her father. She needs a woman, Hotch." JJ knows she's getting to him, but he won't budge.

"JJ, we should rely on—"

"You said to treat this like a case, Doyle's the unsub, Prentiss is the victim. Bridget's the victim's child. When a kid has ever dealt with a sudden maternal absence, who do you send in to talk to them? Not Reid, not Morgan, not Rossi. Me, and if it's not me it's Emily." Hotch sighed.

They saw Bridget standing outside the door with tears. "Bridget," Hotch said.

"Can you please stop fighting? Focus on my mom? This isn't about me!"

-

On the brief flight up to Boston, Bridget rested her head in JJ's lap. JJ played with the teenager's soft dark hair, attempting to give her some sort of comfort, a respite from this situation that threatened to rip her apart.

I remember how sad you were I missed your eighth birthday. You said Grandma was no fun on birthdays.

Bridget found it odd, how those were the words that stuck with her from that letter. Some strange piece of her childhood she hadn't thought about in years; it mattered much more to her mother than it ever had to her. While her mother was saving the world, Bridget's concern lied with the fun she'd had — or, rather, hadn't had — on her birthday. Bridget forgave her mother for that the instant she was hugged, but Emily had evidently never forgiven herself.

"How's Henry?" Bridget asked in a small voice. Her mind was in another world.

"He's...he's good," JJ replied. "Your mom loves you,"

"I love her, too." This hurt JJ's heart. Emily's funny, quick-witted daughter was reduced to a mess of tears, coffee, and pained love.

The response JJ was expecting was 'I know', followed by some rambles of her pain. Instead she just got a sad little confession.

Hotch couldn't see Bridget hurting. JJ had pushed him away, and Bridget was too tired and scared to do anything.

Bridget stayed by Penelope the whole time they were in Boston, since JJ was often out or questioning someone. Garcia would give her a smile every once in a while and squeeze her hand. Bridget had always felt safe with her.

-

She barely remembered the trip back to DC. It was both terribly slow and all too fast. Her mother was being transported back to DC and the team was following. JJ was with Emily, and Bridget sat next to Morgan. She'd always found his presence comforting.

Bridget always knew it was a possibility, because of her mom's work, and she had always been scared of this. Never had she imagined it would be so excruciating.

"She never made it off the table."

Bridget felt the team's crying eyes fall on her. She quaked, unable to make eye contact, staring at the hem of JJ's pants. Everyone was crying, staring at her as she didn't. Bridget just froze.

Bridget lifted her clammy hands off her lap, and they shook with terror and pain and shock. "Oh my god," she breathed. The sobs caught up with her. She buried her face in her hoodie sleeves.

"Sweetheart..." Garcia wept. She was the first to approach Bridget, who did nothing in response. "I know, honey," she cried as she pulled Bridget into a hug.

Bridget looked at Hotch, out in the hallway talking to JJ, who'd left the room. Bridget slowly wrapped her arms around Penelope. There were no thoughts in her head, just a bluish-gray cloud of ache and nothingness.

Slowly the team started to trickle out of the hospital, leaving JJ, Hotch, and Bridget. "Bridget, this might not be your main concern right now, but you're gonna stay with me tonight, okay? We'll figure things out soon enough." Again, Bridget had no thoughts, so she just nodded and let JJ lead her to the car, into the house, into the guest bedroom.

The eventual consensus was that Bridget would stay with JJ and Will; the couple knew of Hotch's paternity and Bridget was free to see him or stay at his house when the two of them desired.

Bridget was left exhausted, completely wiped out by the end of every day. The grief was immense and nobody, nobody could give her any sense of normalcy. Everyone walked on eggshells, or were themselves grieving Emily.