'Make not your thoughts your prisons'
~ William Shakespeare (Antony and Cleopatra)

Lying in the hospital bed, he stared intently at the clock on the wall. The hand was ticking, moving as normal around the clock face, and yet he couldn't help but wonder if someone had slowed it down. It felt like he had been here for days, not mere hours. Shifting slightly, he winced as one of his stitches was pulled. Breathing deeply, he waited for the pain to pass, before once again continuing his staring contest.

The morphine had worn off not long ago, and yet he hadn't beeped the nurse to request more pain relief. He had barely noticed it until now. All his thoughts were consumed on catching Foyet. The hurt in Hailey's eyes when she had asked him what her and Jack were supposed to do was etched on his skull, his thoughts flicking back to it every few seconds as if to remind him of how badly he'd screwed up.

Forcing his eyes away from the clock, he glanced out the window. It was nearly night time, the dark blanket of the sky encasing the city, making him feel slightly claustrophobic. Tracing patterns on the cotton sheets, he wondered when they would let him out. His mind was itching for him to be able to leave, whilst his body betrayed him, hindering him. Every minute that passed meant another minute that Foyet got further away from him. Keeping his eyes away from the clock face, he tried to prevent his mind from going back there. But, he conceded, that that was like one man trying to stop an avalanche.

He remembered his breath ghosting on his face as he stabbed him, the stale scent of coffee lingering on his clothing from what he supposed was his breakfast. He could still feel the knife as it embedded into his flesh, his eyes remaining unblinking as he stared his assailant down. When Foyet had shown him his scars, he remembered the fear that coiled in his gut. Would Jack think he was a monster? He had to hold back the bitter laugh that threatened to escape him at this thought. Thanks to Foyet he wouldn't see his son till God knows when. The scars should have been the least of his worries.

"You okay?" the voice shattered the silence that had encased the room, mercifully distracting him from his traitorous mind.

"I'm fine, Dave" he replied, trying not to wince when he turned to see his mentor standing in the doorway.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Rossi made himself comfortable in the chair by his bedside, looking the perfect picture of ease despite the circumstances. That was one thing he had always liked about him. He seemed to have an aura of calmness about him, it was infectious, and Hotch felt himself relax slightly.

"Don't waste your money," said Hotch, scanning the older profiler. He seemed tired, his eyes slightly sunken. Either from lack of sleep or stress Hotch couldn't tell.

"Do you need anymore pain medication?" With hindsight he should have known better than to think the man who helped start the BAU would be unaware of his discomfort.

"No," he hoped his brief reply would make Rossi seek another avenue of conversation. However, the man was like a bloodhound. Once he had caught the scent of something amiss he wouldn't let it go without a fight.

"You shouldn't punish yourself. None of this is your fault," the soft, reassuring words took him back slightly, and he took a moment before constructing a reply.

"It's not that," whispered Hotch, wishing that Rossi would just leave it.

"Then what is it?" he jumped slightly when he felt a warm hand being placed on his shoulder and squeezing it gently. He felt like a child, utterly helpless and he hated it.

"The sooner I catch Foyet the better. How can I do that when I'm doped up to my eyeballs? What if Hailey and Jack need me and I can't be there because I'm too out of it to know their names?" the words came out as a rush. It was as if a flood had been released, and he couldn't have contained it if he tried.

"Hailey and Jack are safe, Aaron. You need to heal. As for Foyet how do you think you could apprehend him like this?" Rossi gestured to his hospital gown, "We are on the case, even without you the team is bloody good. To think otherwise is egotistical and moronic."

"I need to do something," said Hotch, steadily looking Rossi in the eye.

"You need to recover first," replied his friend firmly, taking his hand from his shoulder. Hotch found that he slightly missed the reassuring contact.

"Will you stay with me?" the question sounded child-like even to him, but Rossi never looked at him with pity in his eyes. Actually, from what he could tell he looked proud.

"Of course, Aaron," said Rossi gently, calling the nurse.

Dave looked over his friend, watching as he mumbled something in his drug induced sleep. He looked peaceful, in his dreams the monsters couldn't get to him. Dave couldn't tell if that was because he was there, or because of the drugs. Either way, however, he never really cared. Just as long as Aaron got a good nights rest for once.

Looking out the window, he saw the skyline dotted with orange lights, people still awake even at this late hour. He knew the team wouldn't be sleeping though. They would be worried, their thoughts dwelling on this hospital, on this room. Tossing and turning in their beds as they wondered how they could help their leader. This troubled him, but it also made him smile.

He wasn't lying when he said the team was good. Hell, they were better than good. In his years with the FBI, he had never worked with such a tight knit group of people. Their determination and drive helped rekindle his love of the job, making him want to be a member of the team rather than have to. They were a family it was that simple.

Looking at his friend and protégé, he knew they were in for a rough patch. They would have to watch over Aaron, make sure he wasn't consumed by this case like he was with the Galen's. He recalled the sleepless nights, and the constant feeling of missing something. That was not something he wanted Aaron to go through.

Sighing, he ran his fingers through his hair wearily. Trying to make himself more comfortable, he closed his eyes, content for the moment to just sleep. Tomorrow would come and they would face it, but now it was time to rest.

A/N: I remember at the end of Nameless Faceless being really angry with Hailey. All through her and Hotch's meeting she was just concerned about herself and Jack. Anyhoo this was just my musings over how this would have affected him, and well I just couldn't stop writing.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Criminal Minds... I wished I owned Hotch but when I asked the police they said it was against the law to kidnap people.

I apologise for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes contained within this story.

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