Title: Letters to Those Who Matter Most (3/?)
Author: Lawson227
Rating: FRT
Characters: Aaron Hotchner/Hotch
Genre: Friendship
Spoilers: Ultimately, through "Our Darkest Hour" (5.23)
Summary: A series of letters in which Hotch reflects on various experiences in his past and how they relate to the people who matter most to him.
Everything characterwise contained herein belongs to CBS & the creative team behind Criminal Minds. No infringement is intended, etc., etc., I got nuthin'
Letter #3- Opposite Yet Equal
A great truth is a truth whose opposite is also a truth.
~Thomas Mann
I honestly thought this might be one of the hardest letters for me to undertake. Primarily because there's so much to say, most of it immensely difficult to say, and that's not even taking into account the near-impossibility of finding a way to convey it in a manner that makes sense to both of us. But then again, that's been the nature of our relationship since the beginning, hasn't it, Derek?
You've always thought I was too uptight—held rigid by a slavish adherence to protocol, reinforced by a massive stick shoved up my ass. I suppose the real surprise would be that I agree. After all, it's not as if I'm not completely blind to my own foibles, especially when I have colleagues who are more than willing to point them out to me. And in turn, I know you're more than aware my main criticism of you has been when you let your gut and your heart overrule what I see as reason and rational thought.
What I think you don't know, however, is how very often I've counted on that heart and that gut instinct. How many times it's served not just you, but me.
I consider that heart and instinct a ballast—the much-needed counter to my rigidity and sometimes distant approach. A measure I've often used as a base from which to make decisions. Some have been for the better, some… well, some have ended with less success. I couldn't let you be aware of that, however, because if anything ever happened, I needed to be the one to shoulder the responsibility. If something went wrong, it had to be my decisions that were called into question, had to be me taking the fall. Not because I didn't feel as if you weren't aware of potential consequences—I know you don't ever go into anything without weighing them (and nine times out of ten, deciding to forge ahead, regardless). But I didn't want you or any of the rest of the team to take responsibility for actions that could potentially derail your futures. Of all of us, I felt I had more options, or at the very least, was more secure. Was in a better position from which to bargain.
Or, I suppose I should just own up to the fact that I seem to have developed a spectacular martyr complex—willing to throw myself on the flaming sword, time and again, because I didn't feel as if anyone else should have to. Or probably more accurately, that I deserved to. Which is depressing as hell when you think about it, because when did I begin morphing into Jason Gideon?
I suppose, having confessed that, it stands to reason that if I can be accused of any one sin, it would have to be the sin of arrogance. I know that probably shocks you—thinking that you've got the market cornered there. (Actually, I think Dave might argue he trumps both of us.) But it was arrogance to think I had to protect all of you. That I had to be the one taking responsibility for each and every action the team took. Let's be honest here—at one time or another, each of you has acted on gut and instinct and in what you felt was the best interest of a victim or the team or even some greater whole. You all did what you thought was right, the only thing you could do in that moment, consequences be damned.
But my even more grievous sin of arrogance goes so beyond that, it's almost mind-boggling when I think of it. How could I have ever imagined that I'd never succumb to that level of emotion? Not just that I couldn't, but that I had the strength and discipline to not fall victim to the impulse. That I could rise above it. Because if I allowed gut instinct to supersede thought and reason and years of training and sacrifice, then I wouldn't be fit to lead this team.
What a laughable notion that is now, right? And how the tables were ultimately so thoroughly turned on both of us. Over the years, I've watched as that natural cynicism and caution that was always as much a part of your nature as your heart and gut instinct evolved into the skills of reason and questioning that make an exceptional leader. I also saw how hard it was for you when the rest of the team felt as if you were putting the job ahead of the person. Hard to experience, wasn't it? Knowing exactly what they're feeling and thinking—experiencing those fissure cracks of betrayal you worry you'll never be able to fully repair. Understanding that it's a risk that must be taken, time and again, even if it keeps you awake at night, concerned that this is the one you won't be able to fix. Praying it's worth it if, in the end, the case is solved.
I think you've figured it out. So much better than I did, really, because you weren't afraid of emotion—didn't feel as if you had to push it completely to the side—but rather, allowed it to have its place. And when time came for you to step in and be the leader they needed, you were more than ready. You did it without question or hesitation. And once again, you served as that all-important ballast, this time providing the steady reason and sound judgment while I allowed fury and emotion and ultimately heartbreak to rule my existence and drive my decisions, for better or worse. You were the rock and for that, I will always be profoundly grateful.
In the end, both of us came out of those experiences better able to understand each other and with a rare level of trust.
You know, Derek, for a long while now, I've not considered you in any way a subordinate, but very much an equal. You are the colleague I trust with… well, pretty much everything. I hope, too, that after all we've been through, all we've overcome, we've also come to a place where we can finally call each other… friend.
Yours,
Aaron
