Profiler, Profiled
Summary: You don't have to work for the FBI to be able to read people.
Notes: Answer to the "The Original Character Challenge" on "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" Forum. I chose Aaron Hotchner and got Topher Waxon assigned. No case. AU set after "100".
Disclaimer: "Criminal Minds", the characters and everything else you might recognize in there does not belong to me. (*sniff*). But I'm working on that.
It was a sunny Wednesday afternoon when Topher Waxon pulled up to the four-story apartment building right outside of Quantico, Virginia. He got out and walked to the back of his pearly white van, decorated on both sides with the logo of "Waxon Electronics", his family's company. Topher and his two brothers were following in the footsteps of their father and his brothers, driving to various assignments in the whole D.C. area, including the Federal buildings in Quantico and Langley. When Topher got the assignment to check all the electronic lines and to repair the TV set in the household of Aaron Hotchner, he didn't know that he was going to be the first human with no links to the FBI to enter said apartment. He also didn't know that its owner was wallowed up in grief, caused by the tragic death of his ex-wife Haley at the hands of George Foyet.
Toolbox in his hand, Topher walked up to the main entrance, ready to face his new assignment. He had to ring the bell twice before someone took pity on him and opened the door. It was a beautiful young woman with long blonde hair and striking blue eyes. As soon as she caught sight of him, she greeted Topher with a smile so sunny that he thought it would cause the sun to vanish for good.
"Hi, you must be the technician. Aaron told me that you would come over today. I'm Jennifer Jareau."
"Ma'am, nice to meet you."
"Please, this way."
She led him up the stairs to apartment 7C, which was on the East side of the building, looking over the suburbs of Washington D.C. And as soon as she opened the door, Topher was met with the exact opposite of her character. Aaron Hotchner was, hands down, not in the best mood to have any kind of visitors. As far as Topher could see from his spot right inside the door, the whole apartment had a kind of dark atmosphere, grief and guilt lingering in the corners and other hidden places, with no intention to leave any time soon. Topher knew in that instant that he was most likely treading in uncharted waters. Well, scratch that, not so uncharted waters. Topher himself knew what kind of grief Mr. Hotchner was dealing with. About three years ago, his own wife Becky died while giving birth to their second child, a little daughter named Rose. And the atmosphere filling the spacious apartment here was pretty much the same as back at his home all those years ago.
"Aaron, the handyman you ordered the other day is here."
Topher practically tried to vanish into the floor when the dark eyes of said man locked onto him. It was as if this man tried to read him and his soul. But it also went the other way around. Standing up to the piercing gaze, Topher could read the depths of the man as well. Grief, guilt, desperation and anger – feelings Topher knew too well for his own liking. Feelings he remembered cursing through him back then, in the aftermath of Becky's death.
"Aaron Hotchner. Thanks for coming. You know the assignment?"
While speaking his first words to him, Aaron shook Topher's hand – short, in a crushing manner. Topher instantly knew that this man was a man of violence, if only when necessary. He also recognized Aaron as a leader, a man who kept a straight face, even when the walls behind were crumbling and his whole life was in ashes and dust.
"Yes sir, I know. If it's okay with you, I would like to start with the lines and then working on the TV set."
"Sure, whatever is better to you."
And with that, Aaron dismissed Topher, leaving the younger man to feel like a kid being sent out of the principal's office at school. While Aaron turned back to his desk, working on various papers, Jennifer once again took pity on Topher.
"Mister…"
"Waxon, but please call me Topher."
"Alright, Topher, this way please."
They were barely out of Aaron's earshot when Jennifer turned around to face Topher.
"I apologize for Aaron and his behavior. Believe me, he is a complete different man on any other day."
"He lost someone dear to him, am I right?"
"Yes. How did you know?"
"I recognized the atmosphere lingering here in this apartment. It's like I took a time travel back to three years ago, when my wife died in childbirth."
"I'm sorry for your loss."
For the next three and a half hours, both men in the apartment were knee-deep into their respective field of work. Aaron, still sitting at his desk, going over reports from various offices around the BAU, Topher checking every inch of the electronic lines in the apartment, all the time under the watchful eye of Jennifer Jareau. Topher couldn't shake the feeling that there was more, much more to the blonde beauty than meets the eye. She resembled a character on a TV show he saw a couple of weeks ago. While working on the lines in the bath- and bedroom, Topher racked his brain for the name of this character. Watchtower! That was it. Yes, Jennifer Jareau was in the flesh a Watchtower, a rock in a stormy sea for Aaron Hotchner, as well as a mediator if the need should arise. But Topher kept asking himself if Jennifer was even more than that to Aaron.
"So, how it's going?"
The soft voice coming from behind startled him, if only for a second.
"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."
"Well, Miss, it takes a lot more than a soft spoken question to scare me, but the apology is accepted. About your question, I'm almost done with the lines. I'll take just a five minute break and then I will tend to the TV set."
"Can I get you something to drink?"
"Just a glass of water, please."
Topher lowered himself to the floor, stretching his lightly hurting knee and back a couple of times. He wasn't in much pain, but sometimes old scars came back to the surface. Like several times on this afternoon before, his mind drifted to the other man in the apartment. While working on the lines, he saw a child's bedroom, along with the almost all-white bathroom the lightest room in the apartment. Topher wondered where this kid, a boy judging on the various toy cars that were scattered on the floor, was today. Having a field day of joy with his grandparents, like his own two kids had every time the grief threatened to overwhelm him?
"Here, your glass of water."
Aaron's voice did not only startle Topher for the second time that day, it also brought him out of his reverie in a matter of milliseconds. He didn't expect Aaron to check on him.
"You okay?"
"Yes, I'm doing fine, don't worry. I just needed to rest my back of a few seconds."
"Take your time."
While saying that, Aaron took a seat on the opposite side of the wall, facing Topher. And the handyman couldn't help but wonder if this was the same man he met just a couple of hours before. The hard lines on his face were almost gone, but Topher could see that Aaron was struggling with keeping up this type of a mask.
"Jennifer told me that you know a thing or two about grief."
"Yes, sir, I do. I lost my wife almost three years ago. She died in childbirth, leaving me with two little kids to bring up on my own."
"How did you learn to move on?"
If Topher was surprised by this soft-spoken question, he didn't let it show. He spotted a couple of certificates in the living room, all from the FBI. So he assumed that Aaron had to work for the Federal police.
"At first, I did not better than you. I jumped head-first into an endless sea of grief, guilt and anger, mixed it up with some heavy layers of depression. According to my brothers, I even lashed out at clients at the time. But then, I got myself some help."
He dug into the breast pocket of his working suit, fishing out a business card he always had with him and handed it over to the other man.
"Believe me, these people know how to help you dealing."
A couple of weeks later found Topher standing in the office of his business when the chimes at the door signaled the arrival of a potential client. He walked out to the shop – and stopped in mid-step. At first, he couldn't believe his eyes, but after taking more than one look he was sure that he knew the man standing in front him. It was Aaron Hotchner, but only the exterior resembled the man he met all those weeks back. Now, Topher was greeted with a more smiling man, uttering a calmer attitude.
"Mr. Hotchner, what can I do for you?"
"Try the other way around. I just dropped by to say thank you. I went to this self-help group you gave me the card, but I happened to find a better way to deal with my grief while being there."
"Which is? Sorry, this is none of my business."
"Don't bother. Remember the blonde woman from my apartment?"
"Yeah, I do. Her name was Jennifer, right?"
"Yes. And she's incredible, in every manner of speaking. She went with me to the first meeting, and when we drove home, she told me that I wouldn't need the group. All I would have to do is to rely on her and she would be there all the way."
"Just a little advice from one man to the other: Don't let her go – ever!"
"I don't plan on doing that."
And with that and a firm hand shake, Aaron Hotchner was out of the shop, leaving a smiling Topher Waxon behind.
FIN