A/N: Like I've mentioned, the slight AU my stories are set in includes Gideon returning to the team and this fic is about that return. It takes place somewhere between 3x16 "Elephant's Memory" and 3x20 "Lo-Fi".

WARNINGS: Spanking of adults, some language.

Put a candle in the window, 'cause I feel I've got to move

Though I'm going (going) I'll be coming home soon

Long as I can see the light

- John C. Fogerty, from the song "Long As I Can See the Light" with Credence Clearwater Revival.

Check it out! It's a great song.

"Jason."

Rossi's voice was flat and icy, perfectly matching the stare he had leveled on Gideon.

"Dave."

For several seconds Rossi kept staring at Gideon in silence, considering. Then he shrugged. "I suppose you'd better come in."

Gideon nodded and followed the other man into the house silently. He wasn't surprised by the chilly welcome. A little over ten months ago, he had left his team, leaving nothing but a note; abandoning them at a time when they were already vulnerable. Reid still not entirely recovered from his addiction, Hotch on the verge of a divorce and all of them still affected by Elle's actions.

And he had left nothing to help them but a note to Reid.

"So," Rossi said curtly when they had reached the living room, spinning around to face Gideon, "You're back."

"Yes."

"Am I the first to know?"

Silently, Gideon nodded. It might be cowardly of him; to come first to the one who was least likely to shout at him or punch him. Rossi would be angry at him, of course, but it would be a second-hand anger for hurting Hotch, and perhaps for hurting the rest of the team as well. Gideon wasn't sure how close the Italian had grown to them, but Reid, at least, had a knack for eliciting protective instincts.

"Are you going to let the others know?"

"Are you going to let me?" Gideon countered. Rossi's eyes narrowed.

"You hurt those kids a hell of a lot," he said, his voice quiet and cold. Gideon had expected it, even if shouting would have been better. When the two of them argued – which wasn't entirely rare – Rossi was usually the one who was the more passionate, while Gideon didn't raise his voice or snap. But those arguments weren't really serious; Rossi would be annoyed, but not angry. Because when he was properly angry, he spoke with calm iciness and very little emotion.

"I know."

"Why, Jason? I know you care for them. Reid's practically your kid, for God's sake. And you just abandon them?"

Gideon spread his hands, to a certain degree sharing Rossi's obvious disbelief at his own behavior. "It became too much. I stopped believing in what we do."

"So you just left?" There was a heavy accusation in Rossi's voice. It would have made Gideon feel guilty, if he didn't already carry as much guilt as he could about doing what he'd done.

"I was wrong," he admitted. Rossi scoffed.

"You were more than wrong, Jason," he said, "Look, I'm not really pissed that you gave me a reason to come back. I was beginning to miss the job, actually. But do you realize what kind of position you left Aaron in? Did you ever stop to wonder about that? Or were you too selfish to think about anyone but yourself?"

Since the insult was probably justified, Gideon didn't protest it; just remained silent, waiting for Rossi to say what he wanted to.

"And why couldn't you leave like I did? Actually resign, let people know you were leaving? Why the hell couldn't you do that? Did you have to leave without a word?" He paused, taking a deep breath and pushing a hand through his hair. "Damnit, Jason."

"I agree," Gideon said quietly. Rossi just glared harder at him for that.

"There are other ways to avoid suicide than spontaneous road trips, you know," he said acidly. Gideon grimaced. He should have known that Rossi would realize the main motivation for him leaving; fear that if he didn't he'd end up doing something more permanent.

"Do you want excuses?"

Rossi spread his hands, scoffing. "Do you have any?"

"None that are good enough."

"You know, Jason," Rossi crossed his arms, "if it was one of the kids who took off like this, they wouldn't sit for a week. I'm half-tempted to do the same to you."

Gideon shrugged. "I'd let you."

Running a hand through his hair, Rossi let out a deep breath. "I know you would. Which is why I'm not as pissed as I probably should be."

The stood in silence for a while, Rossi studying some far-off point and Gideon studying him. The Italian was obviously considering the situation, evaluating options and calculating consequences.

"You'll need to let Aaron know," he said finally, "Personally, I think it's good you're back, but he might disagree. And that's his choice."

Gideon nodded. "Of course."

"And as for Reid…" Rossi trailed off, grimacing slightly. Again, Gideon shared his sentiments.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he said with considerably more calm than he really felt.

"Yeah. I'll call Hotch."

"Aaron. Are you at home?" Rossi spoke curtly, no preamble to the terse inquiry.

Confused, Hotch raised his eyebrows, despite that Rossi couldn't see him over the phone. "Yeees..?" he said slowly, letting his puzzlement show in his voice.

"Sit down," Rossi ordered firmly in the kind of tone that meant he expected to be obeyed unquestionably. Despite his trepidation, Hotch did. He heard Rossi draw a deep breath before the man spoke. "Jason is at my house, Aaron."

For several seconds, Hotch was struck quiet. He was glad that Rossi had taken the precaution of making him sit down. "What?" he said flatly.

"Jason is back," Rossi repeated. Hotch took a long breath.

"I'm coming over," he announced curtly, getting to his feet.

"Aaron!" Rossi said, "Don't. You're not in any state to drive right now."

Hotch ignored him, just kept walking briskly toward the door.

"Aaron Hotchner!" Rossi snapped again, "Sit down!"

Hotch hung up.

Hotch's knuckles were whitened from his tight grip on the steering wheel, his breath coming in short, abrupt gasps as he tried to stop his body from shaking. Distantly, he could recognize it as shock, and he noted absently that maybe Rossi had been right in saying he wasn't fit to drive, especially when he had to brake suddenly and forcefully to avoid running a red light.

But he was too upset to care; the old anger at Gideon for leaving flaring up once more. And now, as he was beginning to actually process what he had been told, some concern, because he realized he hadn't asked Rossi about why Gideon was back. Perhaps the former profiler was dying, and wanted to say good bye. Or maybe he was injured, or on the run from something.

It might have been a good idea to let Rossi finish explaining.

Less than ten minutes later, Hotch pulled over outside Rossi's house, the tires screeching at the perhaps excessively violent parking. The driveway was lit and when Hotch got out he realized that wasn't the only sign he was expected: Rossi was standing on the porch waiting for him with crossed arms.

"What part of 'don't' do you have problems understanding?" he snapped. Hotch glared at him.

"I don't want to do this right now, Dave," he said, pushing his way past Rossi into the house, "Where's Jason?"

Rossi stopped him with a grip on his arm. "Aaron, calm down," he ordered, giving Hotch a small shake before he forcibly spun him around to face him, "Jason is fine. There's nothing wrong with him. You'll see him soon, but you need to calm down first."

"Why!?" Hotch snarled, half-heartedly trying to shake off Rossi's grip. The older man just pulled Hotch closer.

"Because you're shaking," he said quietly, "I don't care how much you shout at Jason later, but you're verging on shock right now." He grimaced, studying Hotch with his head tilted. "I shouldn't have told you over the phone."

"I want to see Gideon," Hotch said, very calmly.

"Well, you can't always get what you want," Rossi retorted, "Come and sit down for a while."

He began to lead Hotch toward the kitchen, but after only a few steps Hotch pulled away. "Dave, I want to see Gideon!"

Rossi gave him a mild look. "But you're going to come with me to the kitchen and calm down. Or the corner is always an option. That usually calms you down, doesn't it?"

Narrowing his eyes, Hotch determined that there was a chance Rossi was serious, so with a fierce glare he stalked past him into the kitchen. Rossi followed at a more sedate pace, with a deep sigh. "Aaron," he said, "I'm not asking you not to be pissed at Jason. I'm asking you to calm down enough to be able to think clearly. Turn around."

Deciding that there was enough steel in Rossi's voice that even more disobedience would be a bad idea, Hotch did as he was told and didn't pull away when Rossi took his face in both hands, calmly meeting Hotch's eyes.

"Take a few deep breaths," he instructed, "Good. Keep breathing. Relax. You're not about to go in a boxing match. Unclench your fists. Atta boy."

Hotch didn't really like how good was Rossi was at this; he would have preferred to cling on to his uncomplicated anger at Gideon and avoid having to actually think. But Rossi's soothing voice soon had his breathing even out and the irrationality of anger fade away.

"Are you still angry?" Rossi asked when most of the tension had left Hotch's body, tilting his head in question. Hotch nodded, which was a bit difficult when Rossi still had his face in his hands.

"Yes, I'm still angry! Shouldn't I be?"

"Yes, you should," Rossi agreed, letting go of Hotch's face but kept his eyes firmly focused on Hotch, "You gonna be able to talk to Jason now without breaking any of my furniture?"

Hotch nodded again.

"All right. I'll take Mudgie for a walk then. Jason's upstairs. And Aaron?" When Rossi had Hotch's attention, he quickly snaked out a hand to deliver a firm smack to his backside, "That's for not staying put."

Giving Rossi a half-hearted glare, Hotch headed up the stairs.

Like he'd told Rossi, he was still angry, but it was no longer the kind of anger that clouded his mind and made it impossible to think rationally. It was the focused anger that he could separate from his thoughts and let be simply a motivating force in the background.

He thought he'd been prepared for seeing Gideon again. And there wasn't really anything that was surprising about his appearance: he wore his customary shirt and jeans and his face had its usual serene expression. But suddenly seeing the man after almost a year – and seeing him looking so very similar; as if nothing had changed – disturbed him.

"Gideon," Hotch greeted, meeting his eyes straight on and trying not to let any of the emotional turmoil inside of him shine through.

"Hotch," Gideon replied calmly. For a long time they stood staring at each other in silence. Gideon made no move to apologize or explain himself; just stood there, submitting himself to Hotch's intense scrutiny.

"Why?" Hotch said finally.

"Why did I leave or why did I come back?" Gideon's voice was as unshakably calm as always. Hotch wasn't sure how he felt about that. Obviously, he hadn't expected Gideon to break down in tears and stammer our apologies – the man didn't let the most of violent of serial killers faze him, after all – but he would still have liked it if Gideon gave some sign that he was affected by this as well.

"Both," he said.

"I left because I stopped believing in what we do. I stopped believing in happy endings."

"And why have you come back?"

Gideon gave a small, lopsided smile. "I finally realized that if I ever were to start believing again it wouldn't be away from everyone I care about."

Hotch breathed deeply for several seconds, turning around and walking over to Rossi's expansive window to look at out at the backyard. "I'm angry at you," he said quietly, crossing his arms.

"I didn't expect anything else."

"You left! You abandoned the team! You abandoned Reid! You abandoned…" he broke off, taking several deep uneven breaths, and ran a hand through his hair.

"You," Gideon filled in, "I abandoned you."

"Yes," Hotch said shortly. He wasn't sure how he felt about the fact that a large part of the anger he felt at Gideon was for leaving him, and not for leaving Reid or the others. Gideon had never really been his mentor or anything like that and Hotch really shouldn't feel as abandoned as he did, but once Rossi had retired Gideon had been the one he could rely on, could unload some of his responsibility to. "Are you here to stay?"

"If you and the team will let me."

Hotch sighed and closed his eyes. It was at times like these he hated being Unit Chief: when he had to make decisions that affected the whole team and he had no way of being certain what the right thing to do was. He was proud of what he had achieved, but sometimes he couldn't help but wish that it was the way it was ten years ago, and trust Rossi to take care of things.

"Dave's the only one who knows so far?" he asked, turning around to face Gideon again. The older man nodded. Hotch bit his lip for a moment before he spoke again. "Reid's still shaken by you leaving. You recruited him, you trained him, you… you were his father, Jason. And then you abandoned him. If… if you come back, it has to be for good."

Gideon spread his hands. "Believe me, Hotch, I know. Leaving Reid was never what I wanted."

"Well, it's what you did," Hotch snapped, his anger rising up to the surface.

"I know," Gideon said, still with the same unfazed calm, "And it's one of the biggest mistakes of my life. Just like abandoning you and the rest of the team."

Hotch let out a deep breath. "Do you promise not to leave again?"

"Yes." Gideon met Hotch's eyes straight on, his body language completely open. He was obviously sincere, and once Hotch had determined that there really wasn't any question of what choice he'd make. If he'd thought that Gideon would run off again – hurting Reid even further – he could feel justified in taking away the choice from the younger man. But Gideon seemed truly committed to making amends, and then Hotch really had to leave it up to Reid whether he wanted to let the older man back in or not.

"I'll call Reid," he said, "but if he says no, I expect you to leave and not come back. You hurt him the most. It's his decision."

"I understand."

Hotch nodded once, before he turned around to leave Gideon – not wanting to speak to the man any more than he had to. Then he changed his mind and took two long steps over to the former profiler.

And punched him squarely on the jaw.

Gideon held the pack of frozen peas to his jaw, looking at Hotch with a touch of wry admiration. The man knew how to hit, at least. "It's fine, Hotch," he said soothingly, following the man agitatedly pacing the kitchen floor with his eyes, "You've probably wanted to do that for a while."

"Since the first time Reid told me he thought he was a disappointment to you," Hotch admitted, rubbing at his neck, "But I shouldn't have done it. And I don't think Dave will appreciate it."

"I could tell him I walked into a door," Gideon offered. Hotch scoffed, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Yeah, he's never heard that before…"

"You should put some ice on your knuckles." Gideon nodded to the already bluish area, making Hotch hold it up, looking a bit surprised that it was bruised.

"Oh. Yeah, probably." He walked over to the freezer and ruffled through it for something to use, ending up with a pack of raspberries, "Should we call Dave to let him know we're… done?"

Before Gideon had time to answer, they heard the front door open and the happy panting of a large dog. Rossi was home.

Hotch looked toward the hallway, swallowing and moistening his lips with the tip of his tongue, probably trying to decide whether he wanted to greet his mentor sooner or later. To be honest, Gideon didn't think he had anything to worry about; Rossi would almost certainly be, if anything, approving of the punch.

"You guys managed not to break anything?" Rossi called out from the hallway, but neither Hotch nor Gideon answered before he appeared in the doorway. He paused, raising his eyebrows. His eyes darted between the two of them. "Oh," he said. Then he looked to Hotch, nodding toward Gideon. "You knock him out?"

"No…" Hotch replied hesitantly, raising his eyebrows, "I didn't…"

"Oh, well… Let me see your knuckles." He held out his hand demandingly, and Hotch obediently walked over and let Rossi survey his bruised hand. "You're gonna be pretty sore tomorrow. Keep the ice on."

"You're not angry?"

"Nah, not really," Rossi replied with a shrug. He turned to Gideon, gesturing for him to lower the frozen peas. He studied the already darkening bruise with head tilted for a second or two. Then he turned to Hotch again. "Aim a bit higher next time."

Hotch snorted, shaking his head incredulously. He'd probably expected lecturing from the older man, rather than advice on how to do more damage next time.

"So, you guys decide anything?"

"Yes," Hotch said, "We're going to call Reid. And the rest of the team, I suppose."

"Good. Maybe you'll get a matching eye," Rossi said, smirking at Gideon, "You calling him right now?"

"That's probably for the best," Hotch said, "But… I'll go over there and talk to him, rather than tell him over the phone."

Rossi crossed his arms and gave the younger man a pointed look. "That might be a good idea, if he's as bad at following orders as certain others."

Hotch gave Rossi a chagrined smile. "Sorry about that. I… was upset."

"Which is why you're not over my knee right now," Rossi replied, "You don't hang up on me."

"Yes sir," Hotch said, not entirely jokingly. Then he stood. "I'll go to Reid's place right away. I should be back in forty minutes or so."

Gideon nodded. "We'll be here."

The buzz of the house phone interrupted Reid in the middle of a new dissertation on quantum physics. With a puzzled frown – he couldn't think of anyone who would visit at this time of night – Reid got up and pressed the button. "Yeah?"

"It's me: Hotch. Can you let me up?" The man's even voice had an undertone of tenseness that immediately put Reid on the alert.

"Hotch, is there something wrong?"

"No. No, nothing's wrong," Hotch replied quickly, not sounding entirely convincing, "Just… let me up, okay?"

Still puzzled, Reid did as he was asked. Hotch rarely came to his apartment, and every time he had done it so far it had been either because Reid was ill or, once, to spank Reid. And since it this time wasn't the first, Reid was a bit alarmed. He couldn't think of anything he had done wrong, but it was always possible that Hotch disagreed.

Before he had time to worry long about it, the doorbell rang. After reflexively checking the peephole, Reid unlocked and opened the door. "Hi, Hotch."

"Hi," the man replied, following Reid into the apartment.

Reid stopped in the middle of the room, turning to look at Hotch with his arms around himself. "So… what are you doing here?"

Hotch hesitated for a split second. "Would you sit down please? You're not in trouble," he added, probably interpreting Reid's nervousness for what it was. Then he raised an eyebrow. "Unless there's something you want to tell me?"

"No, sir." Reid sat down, anxiously picking at the hem of his shirt as he looked up at Hotch. The Unit Chief was silent for a moment, before he spoke.

"Gideon is back, Reid."

Reid blinked.

"He came tonight," Hotch continued, "and… he wants to see you."

"He wants to see me?" Reid echoed, frowning deeply. Hotch nodded.

"You don't have to see him. It's completely up to you. I… I know he hurt you."

Drawing a deep, slightly shaky breath, Reid closed his eyes. Gideon. Gideon was back. And he wanted to see Reid. Thoughts spinning – completely chaotic – Reid didn't notice Hotch taking a seat next to him until the man put hand on his shoulder.

"Reid?" he said quietly, "Are you okay?"

"I…" Reid took another shuddering breath and bit his lip, "I don't know."

He supposed he was probably in some shock – the slight numbness of his lips and his racing thoughts pointed to it – and the emotions whirling through him were too many and too chaotic for him to make much sense of.

There was happiness, because Reid had missed Gideon and the possibility of having him back was… tempting. There was anger, because he hadn't forgiven the older man for leaving. And then there was hesitation, which teetered between hope and trepidation; part of Reid wanting to think that Gideon coming back meant something and part of him dreading that it didn't and he was going to be let down again.

"You should take some time to think about it," Hotch said, giving Reid's shoulder a light squeeze, "There's no reason you should decide right away."

Reid bit his lip.

"No!" he said after a moment, rushing to get the words out, "No, I want to see him. Now."

He wasn't actually at all sure that he did; he just knew that if he didn't come to a decision now, he might never manage to. And he that if he refused to see Gideon, he would never stop questioning what could have happen. There was of course the risk that he would meet Gideon and afterward never stop questioning why he'd been stupid enough not to take the hint the first time.

"Are you sure?" Hotch asked, a small frown on his face as he studied Reid.

"Yes. I'm sure." With a jerky nod, Reid got to his feet and headed toward the door. "I'm very sure. Let's go see Gideon. Nothing to be afraid of. Nothing…"

Hotch caught him by the arm, stopping both his ramble and his exit. "All right, we'll go. But calm down some first."

"I am calm!" Reid insisted, fruitlessly trying to pull out of Hotch's grip, "Let's go!"

"Reid," Hotch warned, and Reid immediately stilled at the patented Hotch-tone that somehow managed to include several different warnings and threats. It wasn't fair how good his boss was at that. Once he had stopped struggling, Reid's eyes fell on Hotch's hand.

"Hotch?" he said, eyebrows drawn together in question, "Your knuckles."

With a small embarrassed smile, Hotch let go of Reid's arms and studied his hand, which was a deep shade of blue. "I didn't calm down enough before I saw Gideon," he said simply. After a moment's thought, Reid's eyes widened in comprehension.

"You punched Gideon?" he asked in a wonder-filled voice. With a grimace, Hotch nodded.

"Yes," he said shortly. Reid stared at him for a moment longer.

"Was he angry?"

"Not really," Hotch said with a small shrug, "I don't think it was entirely unexpected."

Reid pursed his lip. "I guess not…" he said and then frowned, looking down at his feet, "Hotch? Why is he back?"

His voice sounded a lot smaller than he would have liked, making obvious the hopeful nervousness churning through him. Hotch was silent for a moment, studying Reid.

"I think you should hear that from him," he said finally, "But it's nothing bad."

Worrying at his lower lip with his teeth, Reid studied Hotch's expression. The older man looked sincere, so after a moment's thought Reid nodded. "Okay. I'm calm now. Can we go?"

Hotch frowned, looking Reid up and down. Then he gave a short nod. "All right. Let's go."

"Reid," Gideon said softly. The older man looked just the same as he had before he left, standing in the middle of Rossi's living room with a calm expression.

"Gideon," Reid answered, weighing on his feet. He swallowed. "You're… you're back."

"Yes, I am."

Reid drew a deep breath, looking away from Gideon and wrapping his arms around himself. He wasn't sure he could do this. It had seemed like a good idea, but now that he stood in front of the man that was quickly beginning to change.

"You left," he said quietly, making it a statement of fact and not the accusation he wanted to make it. Because he didn't really have any right to be angry with Gideon; it wasn't as if the man had any kind of obligation to him. There was nothing to say that Gideon couldn't leave the BAU if he wanted to, or that he had to let Reid know about his plans.

It wasn't as if he had promised that he would stay forever.

"Yes, I did." Gideon's reply was noncommittal, his even gaze remaining as a heavy weight on Reid. He said nothing else, and with a pang of irritation Reid realized he was he would be forced to continue without Gideon's input.

"Uhm… so… are you back to join the team again?"

The older man's thick eyebrows drew together. "Is that why you think I'm back?"

"Well, you're a natural profiler," Reid said, he too frowning, thoughtfully in his case. He wasn't sure why Gideon sounded so skeptical. "Like Rossi. And he came back."

"You think he came back just because of the job?"

Hesitating, Reid was silent for a moment. "There was a case, too. That was unsolved and… bothered him. We helped him with that."

"The Galen case," Gideon agreed, "Always did haunt him. But why d'you think he came back just after I left?"

"We-ell… there was a spot open on the team."

"There would have been a spot for Dave whenever he asked for it," Gideon said. He suddenly sounded impatient and frowned at Reid sternly as he continued, "You're a profiler, Reid. You know why he came back."

He stopped after that, obviously waiting for Reid to supply the reason. But since Gideon had forced him to lay out his thoughts without support, Reid just looked down at his shoes without saying anything, although he supposed that he did know Rossi's main reason for returning. It had been fairly obvious, after all. Gideon left, leaving Hotch without support and the team one profiler short, and a couple of months later Hotch's old mentor returned, showing obvious concern for Hotch and quickly assuming some of Hotch's responsibilities.

"He came back because he loves Hotch and wants to help him," Gideon said when it became apparent that Reid wasn't going to answer. Reid shrugged.

"Hotch doesn't need any help from you," he said brusquely, "So you can leave again."

From under his fringe, Reid could see Gideon's frown deepening. "You think I'm back for Hotch's sake?"

Reid shrugged again, hugging himself. "You've known him for a long time."

"I've known a lot of people for a long time. But I've only recruited one."

His eyes darting up to look at Gideon, Reid almost took a step back as he swallowed. Did Gideon really mean what it sounded like? Because he couldn't. He had no obligation to Reid; it made no sense for him to return for his sake. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not back for Hotch," Gideon said shortly. He studied Reid silently for several seconds, maybe waiting for an answer, and when he got none he spread his hands. "I'm back for you, Spencer."

Reid shook his head, his hair falling into his face. "You left!" he protested. And that was what it all came back to, really. Whatever obligations Gideon had felt toward Reid obviously hadn't been enough to hold the profiler from leaving and there was no reason to think they'd be enough to bring him back, no matter what Gideon said.

"And I'm sorry about that. It hurt you."

"It doesn't matter," Reid replied, shrugging. Gideon frowned again.

"It doesn't matter that it hurt you?"

"It's not like you had to stay."

After a beat, Gideon took a step toward Reid who in response backed away. He wanted some distance between himself and the older man. Mostly because it let him pretend that there was some distance between his emotions and this whole situation.

Gideon exhaled audibly. "Yes. I did have to." He was silent for what seemed like a very long time and when he spoke again his voice was very soft. "Parents don't get to leave their children, Spencer."

Reid took another step back, ending up with his back pressed against the wall, as he shook his head fervently. "I'm not a child. I don't need you."

"Doesn't matter. Other animals push away their young once they can fend for themselves. Humans don't."

"I'm not yours," Reid replied, raising his chin. To his surprise, Gideon smiled at that.

"Yes, you are," he said calmly. Reid frowned.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are," Gideon repeated, completely ignoring Reid beginning to contradict him again as he continued, "Whether you like it or not."

"You can't decide that!"

"That I care for you?" Gideon scoffed, "Reid, whether you forgive me or not is your choice. Whether I love you or not isn't."

Reid shook his head. "No."

Gideon raised his eyebrows. "No what?"

Pressing himself against the wall, Reid shook his head again, more emphatically. "No… No! You left! Happy endings, remember?" His voice was small and lost on the last words, and Gideon's expression was soft as he replied, hands spread in front of him.

"I realized that the only happy ending I needed I'd already found," he said, "On the front seat listening to my lecture about profiling."

Not at all sure what he felt about what Gideon was saying, Reid frowned and raised his arms to cross them over his chest. "I'm not a happy ending."

A wry smile curved Gideon's mouth as he replied. "To me, you are. I found a son without even looking and he ended up being one I could be more than proud of."

His mouth dropping open, Reid stared at Gideon. It wasn't complete news to him, of course; Gideon had told him before he was proud of Reid and he had hinted – more than hinted, really – that he considered Reid a son. But he had assumed that the man leaving should be seen as a retraction of those things; that Gideon had given up on him. It shouldn't really have come as a surprise, either. Reid knew he hadn't been a very good son, or agent for that matter.

"You can't be proud of me," he said. Gideon raised his eyebrows, looking mildly curious.

"I can't?"

"No!"

"Why not?"

"Because…" Reid hesitated, pressing his lips together. "Because!"

It admittedly wasn't the most eloquent of answers and Gideon didn't look particularly impressed when Reid moved away from the wall and headed for the stairs.

"I need to go," he said.

"Reid..." Gideon began, taking a step toward the stairs as if to intercept Reid's flight.

"I really need to go," Reid repeated, sidestepping Gideon and sprinting down the stairs.

He needed to think, to be alone for a while. It wasn't fair how much Gideon's words were unsettling him, how very much they shook him.

Once he was down the stairs he headed for the door, but he was stopped by Rossi and Hotch coming out of the kitchen, probably having heard him stomp down the stairs.

"Reid?" Hotch said, "What…"

"I need to go!" Reid interrupted him, continuing toward the door, but when the Unit Chief's eyebrows drew together in a warning frown he stopped and took a few calming breaths, "We talked, but I…. I need some time to think. Alone."

The frown stayed on Hotch's face but after a moment he slowly inclined his head. "All right. Do you want a ride home?"

"No. Thanks. I want to walk." Reid bit his lip, darting a quick look up the stairs. "Tell Gideon… tell him I'll see him tomorrow. If he's still here."

He couldn't help a hint of bitterness to leak into the last words and Hotch's face softened, probably in sympathy. "He will be. Call me tonight, let me know how you are."

Reid nodded before he hurried over to the door, snatching his coat on the way, and got out. He needed to think.

"Is that Aaron?" It was Jo's voice, coming from a distance.

"Yes," Leroy replied, sounding a bit farther from the receiver.

"Let me talk to him," Jo demanded.

"Darling…" Leroy began, sounding conciliatory, but before he had time to finish his voice faded as Jo apparently took the phone from him.

"Aaron David Hotchner," she snapped, sounding about as stern as Hotch had ever heard her, "is it true that you punched Jason?"

"Uh, yes," Hotch replied after a split-second's hesitation, hearing Leroy trying to soothe his wife in the background.

"And what on Earth possessed you do something like that, young man?"

Hotch grimaced. 'Young man' was bad, especially said in that tone of voice. It was impressive how thoroughly disapproving Jo could sound.

Before Hotch could begin to defend himself, Jo continued. "I know Dave somehow got into his head that what you did was somehow acceptable, but violence is not how we deal with family issues!"

"No ma'am," Hotch replied immediately, almost reflexively.

"I don't care about your reasons. Punching family members is never okay. Do you understand me?"

"Yes ma'am. But…"

"No buts, Aaron. Just explain yourself."

Hotch frowned, because Jo surely knew the reason for his anger with Gideon. "He left us."

"And that's an excuse?"

"Well…" Hotch faltered slightly, unused to being spoken to like this by Jo. Not that the woman was incapable of sternness or of showing disapproval, but… she usually didn't. And very rarely with as much force as right now. "No. It's not, I suppose."

"You suppose?"

"It's not," Hotch conceded, "I know it's not, Jo. But…"

"I thought I said no buts?" Jo broke him off, "Have you apologized to Jason yet?"

"No, I haven't."

"Are you going to?"

"Jo…" Hotch began hesitantly. Because he hadn't really intended to apologize to Gideon. Both Rossi and the Leroys were generally insistent on apologies for wrong-doings, but never simply for the sake of saying sorry; they expected him to actually be sorry when he apologized. And Hotch wasn't particularly sorry about punching Gideon. "I'm not sure I'd mean it."

For a long time, there was silence at the other end of the line before Jo spoke tersely. "Then maybe you should do some thinking about why you should mean it."

"Jo, I…"

"Or maybe you want me to come down and you can I can have a talk about it?" Jo's voice was stern, leaving no doubt what kind of 'talk' it would be and Hotch didn't hesitate before he replied.

"No ma'am. I'll… think about it. You don't need to come down."

"That's what I thought," Jo replied curtly, "I'll expect a call within a week, or I will come down and discuss this with you."

With that Jo disappeared from the line and after a moment Hotch heard Leroy again. "Hello again."

"Yeah…" Hotch paused. "She wouldn't really come down here, would she?"

Leroy was silent for a beat. "I'm sorry, you have met my wife?"

Seeing the older man's point, Hotch sighed deeply. "Do you think I should apologize?"

"Well…" Leroy began, "I'm afraid I do. I don't really care about Jason getting a bit bruised, but violence doesn't solve things. If it did, we'd have reached world peace a long time ago."

"I'm not sure you can equate personal quarrels with geopolitical conflicts."

"Not my point," Leroy said, "And don't argue with me. What I mean is that you punching Jason won't make anyone feel any better. And besides, it's the principle of the thing."

"I know," Hotch replied, sighing again, "And I am sorry, really. Just not to Jason."

"You can be sorry and angry at the same time, Aaron. Sorry for how you dealt with being angry, but not sorry for being angry."

Hotch nodded, even though Leroy couldn't see him, before he spoke again, this time hesitantly and quietly. "I know I was wrong, really. I just… I don't want to be the kind of man who uses violence on his family."

Somewhat surprising to Hotch, Leroy scoffed at that. "There's a difference between using violence on your family and punching a man who betrayed you and hurt those you care for. Aaron mon cher, you were in the wrong, but you haven't somehow changed fundamentally. You lost your temper because someone you depended on and who had an obligation to you abandoned you and your family. It's not surprising."

"And what if I lose my temper with someone else?" Like Jack or Reid, he added silently to himself.

"Then I'll come down and spank you. But you won't."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Because I know you, and you're not the kind of man who would ever hit someone who depends on him."

Apparently Leroy was perceptive enough to catch that it was that Hotch was afraid of, which wasn't really a surprise, and with a small smile Hotch exhaled. "Tell Jo I'll talk to Gideon. And that I really am sorry. I didn't mean to disappoint her."

Instead of answering Hotch, Leroy held the phone away from his mouth and called out to his wife. "Would you come say good bye to Aaron, my love?"

"What is it?" he heard Jo ask after a moment – she couldn't have been very far away – but he didn't hear whatever reply Leroy mumbled to his wife, probably holding a hand over the receiver. Jo came on the line again. "Aaron, I'm not disappointed. I'm upset because neither you nor Dave seem to understand that no matter how good a reason you have to be angry, violence isn't the answer."

Hotch sighed. "I do understand that."

"I know you do, honey," Jo replied, considerably more gently than before, "Even if you forget it sometimes, you're a sensible man. I know you're still angry with Jason, and I don't expect you to forgive him straight away. But I do expect you to apologize to him. Do we understand each other now?"

"Yeah. We do."

"Good."

"Mm," he said and waited a beat before he added, deciding that Jo was placated enough for him to bring up his next point. "And, uhh… my middle name isn't 'David', you know."

Jo scoffed and Hotch thought he could hear a chuckle from Leroy. "Well, I needed something to call you and I refuse to use Stephen," she said, managing to put an impressive amount of derision into the name Hotch had inherited from his father, "Would you prefer Alexander? Or Ezekiel?"

"You could use all of them," Leroy suggested, "'Aaron David Ezekiel Alexander Hotchner' has a certain ring to it, no?"

Before Hotch had time to protest that he really didn't think that it did – although it did please him slightly that Jo suggested, even jokingly, that he should be named after her husband or after Ezekiel Stark – Jo spoke, not at all hiding her amusement. "What a lovely idea, my darling. We'll need to call Dave and let him know."

"I'd really rather you didn't," Hotch said, not entirely certain that the couple were joking. From the way his words were met with laughter, he guessed they were, though.

"Oh, sweetie," Jo said affectionately, "Speak to Jason. And to Dave as well, or someone else. You need to sort through your feelings about this.

"My beloved wife is right," Leroy added, "Talking through it will help you make sense of it. You know both of us are always available."

Hotch smiled. "I know. And I will. Thank you."

"We're just happy to help, mon cher. Call soon. Ciao."

"Within a week, remember," Jo finished the call, "Take care."

TBC. Soon.