Hi Friends!

Um, wow...I cannot thank you enough for the response to the last chapter. I am so flattered and humbled by your kind words. I'm really glad you all like the story so far...and I say so far because like usual, I'm going to have to push this story another chapter. My muse decided that David Rossi needed to make an appearance and he just kinda took over the whole chapter...sorry!

Thanks again for all the comments, follows and favorites! You all really made my day(s).

Please forgive any mistakes.

Enjoy!


Aaron woke up suddenly to the sound of metal gate grating against its track and a harsh voice calling out, "Agent Hotcher. Agent Hotchner, your ride is here. Time to go."

The unit chief cracked open his bloodshot eyes and turned his head against the hardwood bench that he was resting on top of, "What?"

A police officer wearing a blue uniform with a tag that said "Blevins" stepped into the holding cell and towered over the prone agent. "Your ride finally got here. You are free to go."

Hotch started sit up but immediately dropped back down when his stomach churned in protest while razor sharp knives stabbed into his skull. "Uhhhh," he moaned, "Where am I? What happened?"

The officer smirked and crossed his hands in front of his chest. "You don't know? I guess you really were three sheets to the wind last night."

The hungover agent swallowed down the bile that was threatening to rise and forced himself to get up off the bench. He placed his shaky legs down on the ground and used the wall to help himself stand. Once he was steady he rubbed his temples with his right hand and said sluggishly, "No, I really don't remember."

With a chuckle, Officer Blevins stepped back and waved Hotch out of the cell. "You were picked up last night by some of my men at outside of The Oak Tavern. Apparently you were sitting on one of the benches on the sidewalk, harassing the people that were walking by you. At one point you grabbed some blonde woman and yelled at her. You told her she needed to go into hiding – that someone was trying to kill her. Then you apparently flashed your gun at the girl and told her that you would protect her. Needless to say, you scared the shit out of her and her friends. They called the police…and, well, you know the rest."

Hotch shook his head, an action he immediately regretted. "Not really. I don't remember drinking that much. I don't remember accosting anyone. And I certainly don't remember being arrested. I-I remember…nothing," he stated in shame. The austere agent had never gotten blackout drunk before and it scared him to think of how out of control he might have been last night.

"Well, you were pretty shitfaced when they picked you up. Thankfully, you didn't try to resist, especially since you were packing two guns. That could have gotten way out of hand…," the man trailed off as he directed the FBI agent around the corner.

Blevins then led him over to his office, ushered him inside but left the door open. The officer strolled around his desk and took a seat, motioning for Hotch to join him. After awkwardly scoping out the room the unit chief slowly walked over to one of the spare leather chairs and lowered his aching frame into it. He then glanced at the desk and saw that the cop's nameplate read "Captain Blevins." Wrinkles developed on Aaron's brow as he wracked his brain trying to reel in the memory that was swimming just below the surface of his mind.

Unable to catch the slippery fish of a recollection, Hotch cleared his throat and started to ask, "Ah…Captain, have we – "

"Met before?" the man cut him off. He then chuckled and said, "I was wondering if you were going to remember me. I was just a Sergeant the last time you were in this place. So yeah, we've met before. Shit, I think it was a good three years back that you and your team stormed through our doors intent on helping us apprehend that psycho that was killing off all those abortion clinic workers."

"So you know who I am?" Hotch asked though the answer was obvious.

The captain laughed again, "Sure as shit. You were such a hard ass. There was one point during that case that I was pretty sure you were going to tear me a new one because one of my charges had accidentally misplaced some evidence." The man's face turned into a glower at the memory.

Uncomfortable with the road that the officer was headed down, Hotch tried to change the subject. "What am I being charged with?"

Raising his brow, Captain Blevins looked at the agent and said, "Nothing."

"Nothing? I don't understand," Hotch stated in confusion.

"Look, I'll say this, you can be quite a cocksucker to work under," he paused, sneering at the unit chief, "but you get the job done. If it hadn't been for you and your team I don't know if we would have ever caught the…uh, what is the word you guys use again?"

"Unsub."

"Yeah, I don't know if we would have ever caught that bastard without you guys."

"We were just doing our job," Hotch stated sternly; he wasn't really up for a walk down memory lane.

"Right…well, when I saw that it was you last night, I decided to give you the benefit of the doubt. I mean, I figured that you must have gone through some rough shit in order to drink yourself that much into oblivion. So, I rifled through the case notes and managed to find some of your team's contact numbers," Captain Blevins explained pragmatically. "When I finally got ahold of your teammate he told me about your wife's – uh, he told me about all the shit that you've been going through lately, and that solidified my decision to let you slide. Just this once, mind you."

The officer's revelation caused Aaron's stomach to drop like a lead balloon, causing him to uncharacteristically stutter, "W-Who did you c-call?"

The man leaned back in his chair and tented his fingers. "Well, seeing as how I'm a huge fan of his books and I didn't get a chance to talk to him the first time you guys were here, I called David Rossi."

Hotch let out a huge breath of air, relieved that the man didn't call any of the other agents – though, he was internally cringing at the thought of Rossi bailing him out of one of the most embarrassing moments of his life. "You said he was here."

"What?"

"Earlier when you woke me up, you said that my ride had arrived," Hotch stated.

"I did."

"Well, where is he?" Hotch asked impatiently.

"Anxious to see me, Aaron?" came Rossi's smooth voice from the doorway behind him. Hotch twisted his frame around in the chair and saw the grizzled Italian holding a Styrofoam mug of coffee snugly in his hand. He was dressed impeccably for seven in the morning, wearing all of his favorite designer clothes along with his trademark smirk. "Because I couldn't wait to come and see you."

The only sign that Hotch gave off that he was annoyed by Dave's smug statement was a twitching of his eyebrows. "I'm just ready to go home."

"I'm sure you are," he said before taking a leisurely sip of coffee. "Are we all set here, Captain Blevins?"

The officer stood up from his seat and gave Rossi a forced smile. "Yes, Agent Rossi. I just got finished explaining to Agent Hotchner that I never want to see him in here again – unless it's case related, of course."

"Excellent," Dave declared, walking forward and clapping Hotch on the back. "Now, I'm going to whisk this young scamp away from your precinct before he gets into any more trouble. Thank you for all your help. And please, feel free to call me anytime you want to discuss a few cases over a cup of coffee."

"Will do," Blevins said, reaching out to shake the famous profiler's free hand. He then turned toward Hotch and extended his arm.

The unit chief amicably shook hands with the captain. "Thank you. I assure you that this won't ever happen again."

Captain Blevins gave Hotch a strained smile. "Just take care of yourself and your – uh – your son. That will be thanks enough."

With a silent nod, Aaron turned around and walked out the door. Behind him he could hear Rossi saying something else to the officer, but he didn't stop to hear what it was. Instead, he made a beeline for the doors and walked out into the cool Virginia morning.

He stood on the steps in front of the building for a few minutes, breathing in the fresh air in an effort to try to clear his throbbing head. He was in the middle of vigorously rubbing his head when he heard the station doors whisk open.

"I'd ask how your night was, but according to Captain Blevins you don't remember a lick of it," Rossi said wryly as he walked up next to his friend.

"Dave…don't start," Aaron ordered firmly.

"You don't scare me, Aaron," Dave stated. "Besides, I think I've earned the right to harass you a little…seeing as I was called in the middle of the night to come and pick your drunk ass up from the police station."

An aggravated growl escaped Hotch's lips. Suddenly, a heavy plastic bag was thrown into his hands.

"Here. You were in such a hurry to get out of there that you left all of your stuff behind. I don't think the F.B.I. would look too kindly on your reason for needing a new badge. Now get your hungover ass in my car," the Italian commanded in a no-nonsense tone.

Aaron opened the passenger door of Dave's Maserati sedan and slid his body fluidly into the black leather seat. He automatically secured his seatbelt before leaning his head back into cushioned headrest. His eyes closed the second his head hit the fabric and he let out an exasperated sigh.

"Don't get too comfortable. You've got a lot of explaining to do," Dave barked as he started the engine and put the car in reverse.

"Can't you just mind your own business, Dave?"

"Sure…the thing is, this became my business the second I got that phone call to come and get you," he replied.

Hotch let out a rumble from deep in his throat. "Fine. There isn't much to tell anyways. I had a few drinks last night and woke up in the cell this morning."

Rossi took a minute to process Aaron's concise tale as he took the car down a side street. At the traffic light he glanced over at his passenger and observed his pinched face and pained grimace. "You really don't remember anything?"

"Nothing," Hotch said shortly.

"Have you even tried to remember?"

"No. And honestly, I'd rather forget that this happened anyways."

Rossi accelerated through the intersection once the light turned green and allowed the conversation to lapse for a few minutes. Unfortunately for Hotch, though, the older man couldn't get rid of the questions niggling at his brain.

"What I don't understand is why you were at The Oak Tavern. I mean, it's clear on the other side of town from your apartment. There are plenty of bars near your place. Did you go out with Reid? He lives right down the street from that place," Rossi pondered out loud.

Reid.

The younger profiler's name sent ice cold shivers down the unit chief's spine.

With a quick look to his right, Rossi saw Hotch's perplexed face. "What is it, Aaron?"

"…I…I don't know…"

"Well, is it Reid? Did you two share a few drinks last night? Do I need to call him to see if he got home safe?"

Home.

Reid's home.

And just like that, Hotch's memory of the prior night was pieced back together with startling clarity.

Every scathing word he said, every insult, and every action all played out in his mind, reminding him of what a bastard he had been to the younger agent.

"Oh God...," he moaned, clutching his stomach. "Dave, pull over."

"What?"

"Pull over now!"

Realizing that his friend was about to be sick, the older man veered the car off onto the gravel shoulder of the road. Hotch swiftly unfastened his seat belt and threw the car door open the second the vehicle came to a stop. He leaned over the frame and heaved up whatever had been left inside his stomach.

After a few minutes of coughing and spitting, the stern man sat back up and wiped his mouth using his shirt sleeve.

"Feel better?" Rossi asked dryly. "None of that got in my car, did it?"

Hotch ignored Rossi's insensitive question. Instead he brought his hands up and cradled his head in them. "What have I done?" he whispered to himself louder than he thought.

"Aaron…what's wrong?" Dave inquired, concerned by Hotch's atypical statement of remorse.

Aaron's broad fingers trailed down his cheeks before his hands landed in his lap. He focused his gaze on them, bringing them up one at a time to inspect them like the weapons they were.

"I remember."

"You remember last night?"

"Yes."

"And that made you sick?"

Aaron closed his eyes in shame.

Rossi pondered his response. "...Aaron, what did you do?"

The unit chief turned his head and stared out the window. He knew that he had to tell Rossi what happened last night, but he was loath to state his reprehensible behavior out loud. "I...I went to see Reid."

"And?"

"I…"

"You…?"

"I destroyed our friendship."


Dave sat and listened in utter silence to Hotch's recitation of the debacle that occurred last night. At some point in the story he ended up curling his fingers around the steering wheel in anger; for he didn't trust himself not to haul off and strike his remorseful friend.

"...after that I went back to the bar to have another drink…"

Rossi clenched his hands around the supple leather, causing a squeaking noise to fill the car.

"Dave...say something," Aaron pleaded when the silence in the car stretched on too long after he had finished.

"Say something? Say something!?" Rossi roared, his anger ignited by Hotch's pitiful plea. "Aaron, I'm doing my best not to reach over there and smack the shit out of you right now and you want me to say something?"

"Well...yes…"

"Alright! If you're so desperate to hear what I think, here we go. For starters, are you that desperate to follow in your father's footsteps that you're willing to turn to liquor in order to hide from your problems?"

Hotch immediately started to argue but Rossi pushed on heedless of the man's protests. "I mean I was going to talk to you about this anyways, but I was at least going to wait until you sobered up...but now you don't get that luxury."

"I am not going to become my father," Aaron growled, insulted by his friend's insinuation. "I would never hurt Jack!"

"No? Because from where I'm sitting you aren't that far off from it."

"Now just a second, Dave -"

"No, Aaron. You showed up at Spencer's home last night as drunk as a dry-docked sailor and proceeded to verbally and physically assault him. And you actually blamed him for getting your wife killed," he state bluntly, refusing to sugarcoat what happened the previous night. "If you are capable of doing that to a friend and co-worker than you are capable of doing it to your son."

"I would never - " he started to protest again.

"Hurt Reid? Blame him for Haley's death? Tell him he's a self-centered little kid? Fucking twist his leg so hard he won't be able to walk?" Rossi asked. "Because you did!"

The chastised man hung his head in defeat. "...I did.."

"You did…"

The unit chief blinked his burning eyes, "So what do I do now?"

"Now? Now I'm going to take you home so you can clean yourself up. You might want to take a shower and get some food in your stomach. Then I would suggest getting online and finding some support groups or making an appointment with a therapist. A ton of shit has happened to you lately, Aaron, and you're not dealing with it. I think last night was your wake-up call...as horrible as it was...it's time for you to start learning healthy ways to cope with Haley's death and your involvement in it."

"What do you suggest I do about Reid?"

"...that I don't know," Rossi said sadly. "The kid struggles with being close to anyone and after all these years you were one of the few people to earn his trust. Last night you just blew it all away. If it was anyone else I'd tell you to grovel at their feet and beg for forgiveness but we both know that won't work with Reid. Fuck, Aaron, any of us will be lucky if he still trusts us after this. What you did last night was so vile...so dreadful...hell, I'm having a hard time even sitting in the same car as you. I don't know if there is anything you can do to make this better. And I would fully support Reid if he decides to never forgive you...because even though I know what has happened to you and what you're going through I don't think I can forgive you either. Can I still be your friend and help you through this dark time in your life? Yes. But I can't ignore your actions against a man I admire and respect like Reid. A man that would have done anything, including laying down his life, for you."

The angered Italian didn't wait for his co-worker's response before throwing the car into gear and pulling back out onto the road. The remainder of the ride was noiseless as the man tried to stifle his fury at his friend.

The car pulled to a stop in front of the doors to Hotch's apartment complex. Aaron reached for the door handle and opened it. He slowly extracted himself from the car while Rossi sat staring out the windshield, ignoring his passenger's departure. Neither man made a move to say goodbye, knowing that the verbal pleasantry was inappropriate in light of their current situation.

The guilt-ridden profiler was about to shut the door when he thought better of it. Instead he leaned down and peeked into the vehicle, "Could you do me a favor?"

Rossi scoffed but answered, "I'm listening."

"Could you please go check up on Reid and let me know how he's doing?" Aaron asked. "I-I know that he wouldn't take to kindly to me showing up at his door again but I need to know if he's okay."

Dave mumbled something under his breath that Hotch couldn't quite make out but turned and said, "I already planned on going to see the kid the moment your sorry ass got out of my car. And as for letting you know how he's doing…well, that's up to Reid whether he wants me to relay that information or not. The only thing I'll do is let you know if he's alive, and I honestly don't even think you deserve to know that."

Hotch went to close the door but Rossi called out again. "Oh, and Aaron…when you go up there make sure that the first thing you do is dump your friends down the drain. We both know that there is probably no way that you'll ever be able to make things right between you and Reid, but if you hope to have any chance at moving forward you need to get rid of that shit as soon as possible. And if you can't do it for Spencer, then do it for Jack. He doesn't deserve a daddy that's more focused on the bottle than he is on his son."

The grim agent briefly nodded and slammed the door, barely standing erect before the foreign car zoomed off down the street on its important mission.


The Maserati screeched to a halt in a vacant handicap spot in front of Reid's residence. The older man rushed out of his car and knocked on the leasing office's door. When the proprietor of the building answered, Rossi flashed his badge and muscled his way over to the stairs. He took them two at a time all the way up to Reid's floor. Once he reached his younger co-worker's door he hammered on it with his fist. "Reid! Reid! Are you in there?! Are you alright?"

He paused his frantic pounding, listening for any type of response. He then pulled out his phone and tried calling the boy. He put his ear to the door and strained to hear the chirp of Reid's cellphone going off but the only thing he could make out was silence. When the call went to voicemail, he started beating on the door again, calling out to his friend while simultaneously praying that the boy was okay.

After about three long minutes of trying to rouse the apartment's occupant he ran back down stairs and ordered the man to open up Spencer's flat for him. At first the man resisted, saying that he couldn't legally do it without seeing a warrant, but Rossi's smooth talking convinced the manager that one of his favorite tenants could be in trouble.

Together, the two men went back upstairs and the man unlocked the genius's door. The second the barrier swung open Rossi rushed in and ran from room to room calling out for his friend. After a quick search of the dwelling he found it empty, a fact that worried the old man when he looked around and saw the evidence of Hotch's late night visit.

Not knowing what else to do, Dave grabbed his phone and called Morgan.

"Morgan," the agent stated when he answered the call.

"Derek, I need your help," Dave demanded.

The older man could sense Morgan's hesitance. "Uh…Rossi, this isn't a good time."

"Well make it a good time. I need your help finding Reid – he's missing," he explained as he left the boy's apartment and went back out to his car.

"What?"

"Look, I can't go into all the details but something bad happened to Reid last night and I need your help finding him," Dave said, sliding into his leather seats and starting the vehicle.

He was about to put the car in reverse when Morgan said viciously, "How do you know about that?"

"Wait," Rossi said, his brow furrowing in confusion, "what do you mean, how do I know about that?"

"How do you know that something bad happened to Reid last night?" Morgan repeated, his voice thick with suspicion.

"I…was told about it," he stated elusively.

"By who?"

"Morgan…do you know what happened to Reid? Do you know where he is?" Dave said, trying to garner more information.

"Yes."

"So you know about…his…late night visitor?"

"Yes," Morgan repeated. "Now, I want to know how you know."

"Aaron told me."

"When?"

"About a half hour ago, when I dropped him off at his apartment," Rossi told him.

Dave heard his fellow profiler growl down the line. "I take it he's okay then," Derek snarled.

"Depends on your definition of okay," Rossi countered. "Look, I need to see Reid. I want to make sure he's alright. Can you tell me where to find him?"

"That depends…," Morgan said.

"On what?"

"Are you going to run back to Hotch and report your findings?"

Finally understanding why Morgan was being so selfish with his information, Rossi barked, "Hell no! I'm just as mad at him as you are. There's no way that I'm telling that man any details about Reid's condition. I told him as much before I sped off and left him standing on the curb outside of his flat."

Seemingly convinced that the older man was telling the truth, Morgan sighed and said, "Hold on."

Rossi heard the other agent muffle the phone with his hand before he murmured a few words to someone else. There was a brief pause, during which the other person must have been answering, before Derek's husky voice came back and said, "Alright…Reid's here with me at my house. I'll leave the door unlocked. We're in the living room."

"Thanks, I'll be there soon. And don't worry Derek, I won't press the kid into talking about what happened," Dave said, finally pulling out of his spot. "Hotch told me everything anyways…"

"Sure he did," Morgan said tersely.

Rossi could tell that the other man wanted to say more but the protective profiler just hung up instead. Dave flung his phone down after that and concentrated on the road, allowing the tires to eat up the asphalt as they led him to his fellow agents.


So, like before I named this chapter "The Owl" because David Rossi embodied many of the characteristics that the bird symbolizes according to the website www dot spiritanimialinfo dot com. Word for word from the site:

Symbolic meanings for the owl are:

Intuition, ability to see what others do not see

The presence of the owl announces change

Capacity to see beyond deceit and masks

Wisdom

The traditional meaning of the owl spirit animal is the announcer of death, most likely symbolic like a life transition, change

Up next, I promise, is the moment you've all been waiting for - Hotch and Reid finally meet again.