A/N: I do not own the characters of Criminal Minds. They are the property of the Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios, and CBS Paramount Network Television.

I am exceedingly pleased that Stolen Hours won Best Overall Fic & Runner Up for Best Team/Case Fic.

Stolen Hours

'Friends show their love in times of trouble, not in happiness.' - Euripides

Chapter 1

Aaron 'Hotch' Hotchner slammed his pen down on his desk, closed his eyes, and rubbed them with the fingers of one hand. Bone tired, he had spent the entire day in the office reviewing and signing off on reports. He hated paperwork and preferred to be out in the field searching for Unsubs, kicking down occasional doors, and rescuing the innocent. But today wasn't one of those days. In fact, the last few days hadn't been. The team had spent two weeks in Milwaukee, Wisconsin searching for an killer called 'The Rohypnol Rapist' by the local media. He had been blamed for the rapes and murders of four men with dark hair and in their forties. The team generated a profile after twenty-four hours and delivered it to the locals. As they did so, somebody raised the point that Hotch fit the description of the other men who had been killed. The agent quickly pointed out that his resemblance to the earlier victims wasn't important. It was catching and stopping a killer.

Autopsies showed the victims had Rohypnol and alcohol in their systems before the sexual assault. Semen had been found, as well as proof the men had been sodomized with a foreign object. Unfortunately, the semen resulted in no hits. The cause-of-death was manual strangulation. The team searched for days for their killer without success, and after a week-and-a-half there had been no new victims. The team now suspected their Unsub had left the area to points unknown. After one week, Hotchner and his team were ordered home by their boss, Erin Strauss. They reluctantly returned to Quantico, but left their profile with the local police department promising to return if anything new developed.

When everybody returned to Quantico, each of them found a stack of case files awaiting their reviews and signatures. And Hotch found himself buried in paperwork at seven p.m. in his office. Everybody else had packed up and gone home, leaving him alone in the BAU. Even Dave Rossi had gone. And Rossi usually didn't leave until Aaron did. But as long as he remained busy, Hotch didn't have time to think about the Rohypnol Rapist. Nor where he might strike next seeing as the man had literally fallen off the grid so to speak. Also, his five-year-old son, Jack, was staying with his aunt, Jessica Brooks, for the weekend, and he would not pick the boy up until Monday after work. So he was in no hurry to go home to an empty house.

The ringing of his desk phone brought Hotch out of his reverie. He grabbed the receiver with a sigh. "Hotchner."

"Hey, AM. How you doing, man?" asked the cheery male voice on the other end.

A slow grin appeared on Hotch's face as he recognized the voice. Only one person other than Rossi knew Hotch's full name was Aaron Michael Hotchner, after his father. And only one person had ever called him AM. His best friend and roommate while at Georgetown University, Darryl Wheaton.

"Darryl? It's great hearing from you. How have you been? Better yet, where have you been? I haven't heard or seen you since you moved away after graduation."

"I realize that, and I apologize." Wheaton paused for several seconds. "I'm in trouble, AM. Bad trouble."

"What's going on?" Hotch asked, dark eyes narrowing. He sensed his gut trying to tell him something.

"Not on the phone. Listen, I'm in town and really need to see you. Tonight if possible."

Despite being exhausted, Hotch sensed a need of urgency in the voice on the other end. "Just tell me where and when."

"In an hour. I'll be waiting in a bar called the Serendipity. Do you need the address?"

"I know the address. Let me call my sister-in-law first, and say goodnight to my son before he goes to bed. This way I won't wake him when he's asleep."

"Son? You have a son?" Darryl chuckled. "So ole AM got himself hitched. Never thought any woman would land you."

Hotch bit his lower lip as thoughts of his late wife Haley flooded his mind. There had been no way his friend could have known Haley had been murdered. The case had been confidential and never disclosed to the media. He sighed. "Someone did. His name's Jack. And he's five."

"Looks like we both have things to talk about, AM."

"Yeah, we do." Hotch looked at his watch. "After I call my sister-in-law, I'll head to the Serendipity. I should be there in about forty-five minutes, Darryl. Bye." Hotch disconnected the call and dialed the number for Jessica Brooks. His sister-in-law answered on the third ring. "Jess? Aaron. Listen, something's come up and I might not be able to speak with Jack before he goes to bed. Can you have him come to the phone so I can say goodnight? No. No. It's nothing serious." He frowned when told his son was taking a bath at the moment. "No. No. It's okay. Please tell him I called and I'll try and call him before he goes to sleep. Thanks Jess. Goodnight." After hanging up the receiver, Hotch quickly stuffed several files in his briefcase including the one on the Rohypnol Rapist. He grabbed his suit jacket, put it on, and left his office. He quickly made his way to the parking area, tossed his briefcase on the front passenger seat of his car, before getting behind the wheel and heading toward his destination.

When Hotch walked through the front doors of the crowded Serendipity bar, the first thing which greeted him was the loud music playing over the P.A. system. At least it's not deafening, Hotch told himself with a smirk. Once his eyes grew accustom to the dim lighting, he looked around hoping to spot his friend. It didn't take long before he found Darryl standing at the bar apparently nursing a beer and periodically glancing at his watch. A slow grin crossed Hotch's face. Darryl Wheaton hadn't changed one bit since Hotch had last seen him on graduation day at Georgetown University Law school. Hotch recalled that both he and Wheaton had been roommates while there. It had been during their freshman year they also became fast friends. They met when both were studying criminal law. After graduation, they intended to open their own law firm, but the day after graduating, Wheaton suddenly took off with no warning or word to Aaron. So instead, Hotch became a federal prosecutor. But he never stopped hoping he'd hear from his friend. He wanted to know why Wheaton suddenly took off without telling him. And though he thought about him often, after awhile, he was too busy with court cases, followed by the job with SWAT, with the FBI, and finally the BAU. He soon pushed all thoughts of Darryl Wheaton to the back of his mind. He wondered what had now brought him back to Virginia.

It was then that Wheaton's phone call came back to Hotch. His friend was in trouble and needed his help. Concerned, Hotch pushed his way through the crowd of people until he reached the bar. With his friend's back turned to him, Hotch touched his shoulder causing Wheaton to jump and turn around at the contact. The momentary look of fear on his face was quickly replaced by a wide smile at seeing Aaron Hotchner.

"AM!" he cried wrapping his arms around Hotch and giving him a tight hug as did Hotch. When the two men released and stepped back from each other, Wheaton smiled at Hotch and gripped his shoulder. "Damn but you look good. Really good." He ran a hand along the lapels of Hotch's suit jacket. "Nice threads, man. Expensive I bet."

"Not really," Hotch replied. "But I didn't come here to discuss the price of my suits. I came because you said you were in trouble and needed to speak with me. I'm here now. So what's wrong?"

Wheaton looked in the direction of the bartender and then his friend. "What do you want to drink, AM?"

"Scotch on the rocks," Hotch said. With a nod, Wheaton turned toward the bartender and ordered a Scotch on the rocks for Hotch. He waited until the tumbler had been placed in front of his friend.

Hotch sipped his drink and studied his friend closely. Despite the man not changing much since he last saw him, there was something different about him. Hotch's profiling ability told him the man was nervous about something; nervous and frightened. "So, you said something on the phone about being in trouble? What trouble are you in, Darryl, and how can I help?"

First tell me about your son," said Wheaton. "What's he like, AM? Who was the lucky lady who finally captured your heart? And do I know her?"

Hotch took another sip. "Jack's a great kid. He's five years old and smarter than the average five year old. Of course I'm prejudiced because I'm his father. But he's had to endure much more than a child his age should." Hotch sat his tumbler down on the bar, and removed his wallet. He pulled out his favorite photo of Haley with Jack and handed it to Darryl. The man studied the photo and smiled. "He's a real cute kid, AM. Looks kinda like you." He raised his eyes and looked at Hotch. "Pretty lady. But I don't recognize her. She's Jack's mother?"

"Yes," Hotch said sadly taking the photo and putting it back in his wallet. He sighed and tucked the wallet inside his inner jacket pocket. "Her name was Haley Brooks. We met in high school and became sweethearts. We married a year after we both graduated from college. She was a theater major."

"I'd like to meet her one day," Darryl said. "Any woman who can lasso Aaron Hotchner much be a real special lady."

"She was," Hotch replied sadly. His lower lip quivered. "She's dead."

"I'm sorry," Darryl replied and took a drink of his beer. "What happened?"

"She was murdered by a serial killer who wanted to torture me. He also wanted to kill Jack, but fortunately I got there before he could. But I didn't get there in time to save Haley." The pain in Hotch's eyes did not escape Wheaton.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories. Is there another lady in your life?"

"It's too soon for that," Hotch explained. He picked up his tumbler and took another drink. "I didn't come here to discuss me. You asked for my help. Talk to me, Darryl."

Wheaton let out a deep breath. "I…I'm in serious trouble, AM. Considering what you do for a living, I knew you were the one who can help me."

Hotch's eyebrows knitted together. "Help you with what?"

But before Wheaton answered, Hotch's cell rang. He sat his tumbler on the bar, pulled out his cell phone, and checked the caller I.D. A smile appeared. He glanced at Darryl. "I have to take this," he said. "It's my son, Jack. He never likes to go to bed without saying goodnight to me when I'm not with him. I'll be right back." Hotch started to walk toward the main doors, but stopped and looked back at his friend. "Don't drink my Scotch," he said with a grin.

"I'll guard it with my life," Darryl promised. "Just hurry back, man. I really need to talk to you."

"Will do." Hotch smiled before he disappeared out the door to talk to his son.

The bartender watched Hotch walk out the door, then turned his attention to Darryl Wheaton who nursed his beer. He approached Wheaton and reached for the tumbler of Scotch. But Wheaton stopped him.

"Leave the Scotch. My friend's gonna be right back. He went outside to take a call from his son." Wheaton's voice sounded almost like he was begging.

The bartender shrugged his shoulders and walked away. People can be so weird.

Less than five minutes later, Hotch walked back inside with an amused grin and returned to the bar. He grabbed his drink.

"It never left my sight," Wheaton swore with a faint smile.

"I believe you," Hotch replied and took a drink. "And I trust you, Darryl. I do. If I didn't, I would've ordered a fresh drink."

"How's your son?" Darryl asking taking a drink of beer.

Hotch felt Darryl was procrastinating, although exactly why he had no idea. But from experience, he could not rush his friend. Like Hotch, Wheaton would talk when ready. "He's okay. I hope you'll be in town long enough to meet him." Hotch finished his Scotch and ordered another. He waited until the bartender placed a fresh drink in front of him. He took a sip. "Since I've been here, all we've talked about is me, my suits, and Jack. No more stalling, Darryl. Now what's going on with you? Either you tell me right now or I'm leaving. I've had a long day."

Darryl licked his lips. "I…I don't know where to begin."

"How about at the beginning?"

"I…I'm sorry, AM. I'm really sorry about this." He took a deep breath. "God, this is so much harder than I thought it would be."

Hotch, puzzled and frustrated, drained his glass, and sat the empty tumbler on the bar. "Sorry about what?" he asked staring at Wheaton with narrowed eyes.

Before Darryl answered, Hotch closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was suddenly dizzy and disoriented. He hadn't had enough to drink for his body to react this way. Also, he was drunk which he didn't think he should be. Not from two drinks. He was confused. He massaged his forehead.

"Wha…wha's happenin?" he slurred.

"Is something wrong?" asked Darryl, reaching out a hand and putting it on Hotch's arm.

Hotch tried to move and staggered a bit. The dizziness became worse. "I don…don…wrong…I can't…" The room spun and his vision became blurred.

"Hey, buddy, you okay?" asked the bartender, concerned, as he approached Hotch.

Hotch gripped the bar to keep his balance as the dizziness persisted. Before he could figure out what happened, he fell against his friend who barely caught him in his arms. A look of panic came over Darryl's face not knowing what was suddenly wrong with his old college friend.

The bartender and Darryl exchanged looks. "Do I need to call somebody?" the bartender asked, worried. "Is he okay? He don't look so good."

Darryl kept a tight grip of Hotch. "He'll be okay," he said glancing at his friend. "I just need to get him outside for a little air. He'll be fine." He started to lead Hotch through the crowd.

He awoke on the ground in an alleyway, but had no idea what it was that woke him first. Was it being cold, or being wet. He was so confused right now it didn't really matter to him. His eyes opened a slit and tried to take in his surroundings. But being unable to lift his head, he couldn't notice anything. All he understood was he was laying on something hard, and apparently in a fetal position to accommodate the agony in his body. It was then he heard the sound of rain hitting him and the pavement, and suspected the rain was why he was so cold and wet.

He tried to move his body, and as he did, a groan escaped his lips. He also had a very weird taste in his mouth which he couldn't distinguish, and his jaw ached. All he knew was that it was unpleasant. His stomach was also nauseous. He tried to raise a hand to his head and winced at the motion as his fingers touched his head. Pulling his hand away, he saw blood on his fingertips. Why am I bleeding? I don't remember being in an accident. God how his head, face, and entire body hurt like hell. But he could not remember how he had been hurt. All he understood was that he couldn't stay where he was. He had to get out of the rain and somewhere where it was dry.

Slowly, he struggled to get at least to his knees, but stopped when his entire body cried out in pain. He opened his eyes again, and saw his clothing was disarranged, torn, and bloody in places. He winced at the soreness in his anus. In fact, the pain radiated in his genital area as well. What the hell happened to me? He tried to lift his head and was at once overcome with dizziness and confusion, and gave up the struggle. Besides the confusion and dizziness, he had no memory of what happened and how he ended up where he was. As the dizziness became more intense, he lay his head back on the wet ground and closed his eyes. All he understood right now was that the cold wet ground seemed to take his mind off his painful body. He allowed the darkness to sweep in and overtake him again, swallowing him and taking him away completely.