Disclaimer: You know the drill… Not mine, yadda, yadda, yadda…
3. Unease
Aaron Hotchner had a feeling.
It wasn't a good feeling.
And after many years of being in bad situations, he knew not to ignore this feeling.
Part of him wondered if it was a left over feeling from the fallout over Prentiss. It hadn't been easy on the team. Hell, it hadn't been easy on him either. He hadn't been prepared for things going down the way they had. And now he was left with this horrible secret. A horrible, yet wonderful secret… because it meant that Emily was still alive, even at the expense of lying to a group of people he trusted more than anyone else in his life.
But even knowing that those regrets were slinking in the shadows, following him and haunting him – and knowing that dark days lay ahead for the BAU - he still couldn't ignore that damned feeling. It was like a cold hand at the back of his neck, keeping him alert and uncomfortable.
He was driving down the dark street towards his place and he couldn't help but canvass the neighborhood with well-practiced eyes. Even though nothing stood out to him, his instincts told him that it was a good thing Jack had requested to stay at his Aunt Jessica's for the night.
Hotch pulled the SUV into the driveway and turned off the ignition. He was hesitant to go inside, but he knew it needed to be done. And he preferred to do it without his gun drawn. He'd like to think he wasn't becoming paranoid of his own home. Reaching up unconsciously, as if a nervous tic, Hotch rubbed one of the ever-present physical scars that George Foyet had left on him. A constant reminder of what he could only wish he could conveniently forget…
When he realized what he was doing, Hotch let out a huff of a breath and pushed the SUV's door open. He was being ridiculous. Without another thought he opened the rear SUV door and grabbed the stuff that he promised himself he wouldn't look at tonight but knew he would anyway. A quick stop at the mailbox and he was opening his door, ready to put all thought of bad feelings and past fears out of his head.
A handwritten envelope caught his eye amid the usual suspects of bills and marketing ads. He frowned as set everything else down. He made quick work of opening it and his frown deepened as he pulled the single sheet of paper out, unfolding it.
His fingers tightened enough to crinkle the paper, his rage contained in that simple act. Yes, it was a good thing Jack wasn't home.
DEAD.
He stared at the word, hoping that it would just go away on its own. But it didn't. Blinking didn't help either. And before he could even start thinking about what it could all mean, the chirping of his cell phone pierced the heavy silence.
Frowning, he looked down at the caller ID. That feeling from before was back to the forefront tenfold as he answered a call from the last person he would ever have expected.
"Will? What is it?"
To be continued…