BANG
It all started with a bang. Hotch watched as the bullet seemed to erupt from the gun in slow motion, gliding gracefully through the air on a path headed straight for his chest. The bullet pierced his skin effortlessly and penetrated deep inside his left lung, embedding itself at the heart of his torso. He let out a slight cry as a burning pain seared through his body, seeming to drain the life out of him within seconds. He dropped his glass and watched is succumb to the force of gravity as it impacted with the ground, shattering into minute pieces and showering his floor with tiny crystals. His legs gave way, as a mass amount of blood seeped rapidly from his wound, and his weakening body slumped to the ground. He tried to think of his son, of his young innocent face, whilst the darkness tried to swallow him. But it was a futile attempt to stay conscious because the more he fought it, the stronger and harder it fought back until finally, after what felt like a lifetime, the image in his head started to fade and he knew he was fighting a losing battle. Just before Hotch lost consciousness he looked up and could just make out the shooters silhouette against the harsh light radiating from his kitchen. He stood over the defenceless, dying man with only one emotion evident in his dark eyes, contentment. He had final gotten what he had been yearning for in the past few months, revenge.
Then, just as Hotch began to wonder if the killer would leave him to bleed out or shoot him again the darkness engulfed him…
3 hours earlier…
It was 1am and the BAU (behavioural analysis unit of the FBI) had just returned from yet another horrific case. The team groggily exited their private jet and headed straight for home except for Hotch who, against the best wishes of his teammates, went to the office claiming he had paperwork on last weeks case that needed completing so he could make a start on this weeks case tomorrow morning. However, he fooled no one as the team knew the real reason behind him practically living in his office lately, there was nothing for him to go home to. He had always been a workaholic but ever since his divorce a while back he'd been literally throwing himself into his work, which worried his team slightly but whenever they'd bring it up he'd just brush it off saying that if he felt he couldn't cope much longer he would maybe think about taking a few days break – which they all knew would never happen, not where Hotch was concerned. He entered the FBI headquarters to find it all but deserted, except for a couple of drowsy looking agents hovering over the broken coffee machine looking as though they were trying to will it to work. Hotch brushed past them and climbed the stairs to his office where he straight away got stuck into his work…
30 minutes earlier…
Hotch sighed with relief as he finished the last of his paperwork and neatly piled it on his desk, ready to hand in tomorrow. Up until that point he hadn't realised just how tired he was and he had to grip his desk for support as he tried to balance himself probably. Once he'd managed to steady himself he took one last look around his impeccably neat office to check everything was in order, then went down the stairs and headed for the lift. As he waited for the lift to arrived he realised he'd forgotten to call the New York Police Department and see if they had drawn up any leads on Foyet.
George Foyet (aka 'the reaper') was a serial killer and his case was one of the very first Hotch worked with the BAU – a good few years back. However, just as they were closing in on the perpetrator he stopped killing and the officer in charge of the local law enforcement sent the BAU away. Hotch never understood why until a few months ago when the officer phoned him and send they needed to talk. Despite the fact Hotch's gut told him that whatever the officer had to say it would not be good, curiosity got the better. But it turned out his gut was right. The officer admitted to striking a deal with the killer, if he stops hunting the killer then the killer will stop hunting them – 'them' referring to his victims. But there was one other catch too, the deal was only valid till either one of them passed away and unfortunately the officer was extremely ill and passed away the night he revealed his secret to a mortified Hotch. Naturally Hotch was very worried and his worries were confirmed when the BAU was called in on a case were the killers signature was identical to that of 'the reapers'. Not only did 'the reaper' phone Hotch and offer him the deal which he turned down leading to the killings of an entire buses passengers, but the BAU discovered the killer was a man named George Foyet who had stabbed himself several times in order to pose as the last victim from 'the reapers' previous massacre a few years back. And as if that weren't enough Foyet escaped from the prison he was being held in by drinking his own blood via a self-inflicted wound only to spit it back out and fake a convulsion so the guards took him to the prison hospital were he later escaped.
The elevator pinged as it reached its destination startling Hotch out of his thoughts and back to the real world. He had decided against phoning the police until morning as he was barely managing to keep his eyes open and he didn't want to miss anything important they had for him due to lack of sleep. He stepped into the elevator and pressed the button leading to the car park. He played with the idea of walking home as he was really starting to feel the effects of 4 sleepless nights but his apartment was a good few miles away and he didn't really have the energy tonight, so when the doors opened to the car park he stepped in and sluggishly made his way to his black SUV.
Hotch opened the door to his 'bachelor pad' and with complete accuracy threw his keys onto the side table and his briefcase onto the floor besides the couch. Then he removed his gun from its holster and placed it on the dining table. Hotch turned and flicked on the light suspended above his mini bar deciding to have a quick drink before heading to bed. He poured himself a scotch, brought the glass up to his lips and was just about to take a mouthful when he heard a noise that made his blood run cold and his body freeze up. It was the sound of the safety being removed on what Hotch identified as a hand gun. Tentatively he forced his body to turn and face the man wielding the gun as he instantly recognized him despite the mask he was, and always use to, hide behind till Hotch and the team exposed him for who he really is, a man, a sinister murderous man but a man none the less.
Foyet thought he saw a flicker of fear dance across Hotch's eyes as he aimed his weapon and a without a second thought pulled the trigger. BANG…
Hotch could her noises or were they voices he couldn't be sure they were so far in the distance. He tried to turn his attention to something else but there was nothing. He could see nothing, feel nothing, he was alone, abandoned by everything but the voices that ever so slowly began to get louder and louder, seeping gradually into his mind like a loose tap dripping into a shower. He was soon able to make out partial words, then full words and sentences but it didn't stop there the voices just kept getting louder and louder screaming inside his skull. He wanted to rip at them, pull them away but he couldn't, he couldn't move. He tried to shout back, scream over them and tell them to shut up but he couldn't even get out a whisper. The pain was unbearable as the screaming match continued on and on inside his head, a relentless stream of words pouring into his brain and drowning everything else out. He couldn't even understand them anymore it was all just noise. Just when he thought he couldn't take anymore the voices stopped and a new sound entered his brain. This one was quieter, calmer, it was just a beeping noise, a nice gentle beeping noise. Now that he could finally hear himself think, he tried to remember what had happened to him and where he was, but he couldn't he was drawing a blank so he just lay there and counted the beeps…one…two…three…
Seven-thousand-ninety-two…and that's when it hit him, that's when he made the connection. On the seventh thousand and ninety two beep he had a realisation that changed everything. The beeping was his beeping, it was a beeping they use in hospitals to make sure the patient is doing ok, the beeping was a heart monitor. After that everything came back, it was as though somebody and opened a flood gate and now all his memories were flooding back to him. The case they'd recently worked on, the coffee machine, Foyet and the bullet, that tiny bit of metal that caused so much fear and pain. Just as he was trying to take all this in the voices returned but they were different this time, not loud and harsh they were kind and caring and they were calling out his name. He concentrated trying to recognize the voices and after a few minutes he did. It was his team, all six of them calling out his name trying to reach him through the darkness. Hotch tried to open his eyes but they were really heavy, he tried and tried again and every time he felt them lift ever so slightly only to close again a split-second later. 'One last try' he thought to himself, my team needs me and I'm not letting them down. So with all the energy he had he pulled as hard as he could and felt his eyelids gently flutter open. The light hurt for a few seconds but he didn't close his eyes in fear that he didn't have the strength to re-open them. He simply stared and waited for them to adjust and when they did he saw just what he had been fighting for. Sitting three on each side of his bed where his team staring down at him with tired looking eyes. 'Hey welcome back boss man, you gave us quite a scare there.' Said Morgan sounding more tired than Hotch felt. The next few hours were a bit of a blur for Hotch. Once he was awake a doctor came in to check on him and then the team filled him in on what had happened. A neighbour had heard the gunshot and immediately phoned the police who arrived to find Foyet standing over a seemingly lifeless Hotch watching him bleed out. He was shot dead at the scene when he tried to fire at one of the officers. The paramedics arrived shortly after and found Hotch still breathing but only barely. He was taken to surgery immediately were he had an operation to remove the bullet and repair his punctured lung. One of his ribs had be broken too as the bullet entered the lung and at first, due to the amount of blood loss, the doctors thought Hotch wasn't going to make it. He went into cardiac arrest several times during the procedure however, he proved just how strong and determined he was by miraculously pulling through every time and now the doctors are hopeful that he's going make a full recovery – a slow and sometimes painful recovery but he will get there eventually. Hotch was very pleased with this news because although he had been feeling a little down and depressed lately (because of his divorce) he still had a beautiful son who he loved and he vowed that as soon as he was better he was going to try and see him much more than he had in the past. Once the team had filled him in on everything (including that he'd been unconscious for 48 hours) they left him alone as the doctor said he needed to rest – plus the fact that Hotch had ordered them all home to get some rest too as they were no use to him when they all looked worse than he did, and nobody had enough energy to argue with him. Once he was alone again he remembered something that had been bugging him for a while now, who were the persons behind the screaming voices before?
