Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own the characters, they belong to the CBS.
Dedicated to my patient beta Jenny, I can't do it without you. Thank you.
Note: This is my first Criminal Minds story, so all the opinions are really welcome.
Rating: All
Title: Only Aaron Hotchner.
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"I dreamed of you last night
in a field of blood and stone"
Devils and Dust
Bruce Springsteen.
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On nights when the only thing that I can hear it is the constant quiet of the plane engine, and the rest of my team is sleeping awkwardly in their seats dreaming of the monsters we hunt, I look out the window and think of our bed and the rest I know it will bring.
I remember our first apartment: the way the sun filtered through the green blinds of the kitchen every evening, the way your voice was seemed to echo on our baren walls, and how you made the cold of that apartment melt away.
We were in college, long before I ever considered the F.B.I.. Before the nightmares took hold, before the monsters.
It seems like a lifetime has passed.
Like completely different people left that apartment and others behind before we bought our house.
I remember fondly the way you looked when we first saw the house, can it be eight years ago?
You were beautiful, walking through the empty rooms filling them with your excitement and happiness.
I suppose you knew already it was going to be our home.
Our home;
The words still sounds foreign and enchanting, part of a secret spell that only we know.
Our home, the only place without monsters, the only place I feel no pain.
At home there is only you, giving me the normalcy I crave.
No longer answering to S.S.A.. Hotchner, or 'Hotch', with you, I am just Aaron.
Even home, does not quiet the nightmares.
You calm them, and yet you haunt them.
A deep familiar voice from some dark recess of my brain continues without compassion, echoing painfully:
"You will never get it Aaron. You will hurt her, you will hurt them both."
I know many ways to hurt somebody, and fear them all.
Every time that i return home filled with a new demon, the painful voice takes stronger hold;
"You can't escape what you have seen, what you have done."
My inner voice scares me and I fear myself, losing a battle with the voices of evil.
I wonder about people who snap and wonder if I should run before it happens to me. I know I am not immune to the worst in humanity.
Immune to the evil.
If anything, I am closer to it.
Other people don't see dead or tortured children, don't witness people crossing the line everyday.
Normal people don't know how precious sanity is, or how easily you can lose your equilibrium walking life's tightrope.
The voice tortures me every midnight:
"Look what normal people do each other Aaron… what could you do to them?"
As I drive towards you again, I remember that the day I left for this last case, it was raining. It feels like an eternity since I was here, but the neighbourhood streets are still wet, and cars parked on the street show the last of the rain drops clinging to life as they slide downward.
I introduce the key quietly on the keyhole and release the breath I have been subconsciously holding as the door opens.
I am immediately intoxicated by your familiar vanilla scent; and smile as it chases away the doubts and fears.
The silence in my head makes the concern seem like distant dreams.
The small lamp on the coffee table is on, and I see the weak blue shine of the TV illuminating our living-room.
I take in the sight of you; you are sleeping on the couch, nestled underneath the green wool blanket, your hair falling from a ponytail into your face, and the baby-moniter on in the table.
Your eyelids move slowly at the beginning, until finally you open your eyes heavily, and you smile when you see me standing next to the coach.
-Hi.
When did you get home?
-Just a moment ago.
-Did you get them?
I laugh weakly, I love that you care about my work. Suddenly, I realize how tired I am, my aching muscles reminding me of the tension of being away.
-Of course, the team was great.
Now you are the one who smiles, slowly as you rise up to embrace me.
I feel as though I have entered a different universe, no more monsters and no more pain, only your arms and your warmth.
Your body is hot against mine and you shiver when my cold hand touches your skin, familiar and pale, trough the white fabric of your shirt.
I kiss you slowly, then kiss your forehead, allowing my nose to appreciate the sweet scent of your hair.
-I have missed you.
My voice sounds like a whisper against your skin. You are so quiet I am not sure I have spoken out loud.
-We missed you too.
-I know, and I'm sorry.
-It's not your fault Aaron…. Why are you sorry?
-I don't want to hurt you.
You deny and your hands fidget lazily with my hair.
This look makes me feel like a teenager again. I feel as nervous to touch you as I was at that drive-in seeing "Star-Wars" at 17, and I can't help, but smile at the memory.
-We miss you, but we know you'll come home, back to us.
And I kiss you again, hoping to forget all the sad times I've had without you. All the sleepless nights on the plane, all the crime scenes, the nightmares, and the self-doubt vanish as if only you exist. You, your warmth and familiar smell, and your arms around me.
Your mouth is wet and hot, and it makes me to remember our first apartment and the green blinds again. I remember the first time i saw you in the school theatre, and know that from that moment you have always been able to read my mind. You are the only one i allow to read me, the only one who knows everything.
I'm grateful for the way you make me feel normal, the way you make me feel… peace.
You separate yourself from my kiss, leaving me without words, without breath.
Your voice sounds soft and sweet when you speak and you look at me with that golden assurance that tells me you are completely sure of what you are saying.
-Everything is fine Aaron; everything is going to be fine.
I hug you, the darkness around us muted by the soft glow of the lamp and TV. You surprise me again with how you have read me, displaying how deep you are inside my brain.
-Let's go to bed Aaron.
You turn-off the TV and stretch slowly of my hand to the stairs, and I catch it again as I follow you upstairs.
-I have two time zones hanging over me, and three sleepless nights.
I need a shower.
You smile brightly slipping under the covers.
-Go, I'll wait for you.
I go into the bathroom and close the door turning on the full heat of the shower.
The bathroom fills with warm steam as I slip out of my clothes and into the water.
I wipe the mirror with the hand, and am struck by how tired I look.
I have not taken the time to shave in days, and the dark circles under my eyes reveal the true weight of the last case.
When I come out of the bathroom, I see that you are asleep, and watch your small body rise and fall peacefully under the blankets.
I walk barefoot on the wood floor, trying not to wake you, to the end of the hall.
The door is half-open and I can see the shade of white cradle in the middle of the room.
I slowly approach, taken by how small and fragile she is.
Too beautiful to be real, breathing under her thin cover, just like her mother.
Her little hands are over the pillow, near to her head and when i caress her slowly, I appreciate the scent of baby soap, and suddenly I ask myself if I would be able to differentiate her from other babies based solely on her smell, the way I can find you in the house by following your perfume.
I know that I could, because I know you both better than I know myself.
You are a prolongation of my own body, a part of me without nightmares or monsters in the closet, without painful and angry memories, you are the part of me coated with familiar and warm light, you are lazy Sunday's mornings in bed, and warm whispers exchanged underneath the blankets.
When I am home with you, I am only Aaron Hotchner.