A/N: Hello lovely CM fanfictioners. This is my first offering to the world of ffn and the first time I've ever written anything for Criminal Minds, so, I'm more than willing to accept any con-crit on this one, but please, be gentle.
I'm not sure how long this story will run for, nor how frequent updates will be, but it does have an pre-written end scene, so it at least has an intended direction.
Set around mid- season 5 meaing it takes place a good few months after 100, but definitely a long time before season 6 begins.
I'll also say now, that I'm giving this story a strong T rating. It will include harsh language (or curse words) periodically throughout, and it will also refer to themes which are possibly unsuitable for younger readers. But, if you are watching the show, then these things shouldn't come as a surprise as they've definitely come up there from time to time. You have been warned.
And of course, many thanks to my beta - starofoberon.
I hope you all enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not now, nor shall I ever, have ownership of the titles, characters, storylines etc. etc. that have inspired this story. They are the property of CBS, and I intend no disrespect to those who they do belong to for my borrowing them. I do so entirely for my own amusement.
It started out like any other drag-your-weary-ass-back-to-the-office-after-hours case.
The call had come in just shy of 1 am Eastern Time, drawing Supervisory Special Agent in charge Aaron Hotchner and his team of elite profilers from their homes and out to Turner Field airstrip at a quarter-to-two in the morning to take an extremely late (or early, depending on how you wanted to look at it) flight out to Minnesota; all six of them running on a combination of cheap coffee and sheer determination to catch the newest UnSub that had been brought to their attention.
This particular monster was currently terrorizing Cass County, where there had been three abductions in as many months.
Three brunettes, all taller than average, had gone missing in and around Walker, MN, all during the last week of the respective months they had been taken. It appeared the offender was keeping them for approximately three days in an unknown location; beating them repeatedly, and leaving their bodies to the elements in the Paul Bunyan State Forest. Thankfully, they had all been found before the elements could do too much damage, making identifying the remains a slightly less daunting task.
"We'll need to hit the ground running on this one." Hotch supplied needlessly at the end of their preliminary in-flight briefing, they had learned early on that it was most productive to brief priority cases like this one in the air en-route to their destination; and despite the early hour, he knew his team would go above and beyond to see this bastard brought to justice. Fidelity, Bravery, Integrity, the FBI motto, echoed somewhere in the recesses of his mind. They were good agents, good people, and Aaron Hotchner could confidently say that he had the utmost respect for all of them. So, softening his voice enough to ensure that everyone recognised the shift in the discussion to one of a more personal nature Hotch made sure to eye his team individually, holding each of their eyes for barely a second before adding, "I know all of us have only caught a few hours sleep at best, but if he sticks to his timeline, he'll take a new victim before the end of the week. Try to get some sleep. You'll need it."
He did not need to tell them they were dismissed, they were all intuitive, and after sharing a few pleasantries and wishes for 'sweet dreams,' which none of them suspected they would be having until this case was over, the agents soon disbanded to their various perches about the cabin.
Hotch watched his colleagues drift away and waited for the sounds of their heavy breathing and intermittent snores to fill the small space. Shifting his weight slightly to find a more comfortable position in the airplane's leather seat, he slowly flipped back to the opening page of the manila folder in his lap to go over its contents one more time. Unlike the rest of his team, whom he had ordered to do so, Aaron Hotchner would not be sleeping tonight. Instead his thoughts lingered with a certain brunette that most definitely was not in their case file, and of how he could make sure she stayed that way.
More and more recently Aaron had caught himself with his thoughts straying to places that were inappropriate given the Bureau's strict policy on fraternization. Thoughts, which when he analyzed the bigger picture, were even less appropriate thinking back over the months since Haley's death. Emily had been a great support to him throughout the situation with Foyet, doing more for him than anyone else on the team had probably even realized. More than that, she'd been a friend. Hotch would even go so far as to admit to himself that Emily was fast becoming his best friend, and he had no business ruining that relationship in the hope of anything more.
He tried once again to refocus his attention on the open case file resting against his thighs.
Skipping over the preliminary information which he had already internalized (albeit at a slightly slower rate than Reid with his eidetic memory), Hotch focused on the three victims' photographs. The first, Julie Mitchell, 38, had been an ER nurse at the nearby St. Joseph's hospital. She had disappeared after work the evening of the 29th April. The second, Abigail Carmichael, 31, was a stay at home mother and it was still uncertain how and when she had been taken. The only witness had been her seven month old son, Jacob, and the child could offer nothing more than distressed cries for his mother. The most recent, Rebecca Hamilton, was only 23. She had been working the late shift in a local bar to save up enough money for graduate school at the time of her abduction; she was going to study History. So far the locals had been able to discern no viable connection between victims besides their similar appearance. Thus, the six agents had identified it as being the most telling part of the preliminary profile.
The three faces smiled up at him from the manila envelope spread across his knees, the images those selected by the families when their loved ones were simply missing, and not deceased. Again Hotch's thoughts crept back to the brunette that he was most fond of. He wondered which photograph he would have chosen had he been in the families place.
"You should listen to your own advice, Aaron," David Rossi said from across the aisle; cutting into Hotch's wandering imagination.
Releasing a weary sigh, the Unit Chief turned to face his former mentor. If he had been more focused on his surroundings rather than his female agent, he would have noticed the absence of Rossi's snores much sooner. He had no idea how long the older man had been observing him, so decided the best course of action would be to play along, choosing to offer up vague truths if asked. "And what advice would that be, Dave?"
Not being one to dance around the subject, and knowing that Hotch would appreciate his frankness at this early hour, Rossi chose to ignore the question being directed to him and plowed on into the conversation he really wanted to have. "A few years ago, a smart man told me that the BAU had grown in a lot of different ways since its invention back in the eighties. That we profile as a team and bounce ideas off of each other to make sure we don't miss the one thing that lets us catch the bastards that keep us in the job."
Recognizing his own words being thrown back at him, except in David Rossi's rather more colourful vernacular, Hotch's eyebrows drew together in question, not sure he understood or appreciated where this conversation was headed. "Yes, we work together as a unit to build an accurate profile. This team has always functioned to its highest capability that way… that's what makes it a team, Dave."
"But it can't function without trust," Rossi stated bluntly.
"I have the highest level of trust in each and every one of my agents," Hotch replied, unable to stop an edge of defensiveness lacing his response. Hotch trusted these men and women with his life, how the hell could Rossi think otherwise? It was an insult to his character to assume he would think anything less of any of them.
"So you should trust that they be able to do their jobs."
What the? And then somewhere in Hotch's mind it clicked into place exactly what David Rossi was up to. He was purposefully trying to goad him into admitting why he was still religiously studying the case file even after requesting that they all get some rest. Well, he wouldn't be playing this game any longer, nor was he going to talk feelings with him at three in the morning. Hoping his face had not given him away; Hotch quickly schooled his features and offered back nothing more than a simple "I do…"
The plane was silent again as the two men watched each other intently for any indication that the other was going to openly address the true subject of this conversation. David Rossi's eyes crinkled at the obviously wary Unit Chief.
Aaron shook his head after a beat, and broke direct eye contact first. "Are you going somewhere in particular with this, Dave, or do you always spend your nights gossiping like you're at some merry widows' club?" he retorted dryly, both in order to break the silence which had quickly become uncomfortable and to convey his irritation.
A smirk pulled at the corner of the Italian's lips knowing that he was definitely starting to get under the skin of his former protégé, confirming for him that his suspicions over where the younger man's mind had drifted to minutes earlier were in fact correct. "You should get some sleep Aaron."
Seeing this as his best chance to end the conversation before it became any more aggravating – Lord knows Rossi could be relentless when he wanted to be – Hotch closed his copy of the case file, stored it in his briefcase, and turned his body away from his companion under the guise of attempting sleep. "Goodnight Dave," his Southern politeness forced him to murmur over his shoulder, but he honestly was no longer in the mood to share pleasantries with Rossi at this point.
His change in posture seemed to have done the trick as the air remained still for several more minutes and Hotch felt himself slowly easing into slumber.
"She'll be fine, Aaron."
"Goodnight, Dave."