I do not own any of the CM characters; wish I did!

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Chapter 4

BAU, FBI HEADQUARTERS, QUANTICO, VA.

To the members of the behavioural analysis unit, this day started like any other, with no hint to the horror that lay ahead. JJ and Emily chatted in the make-shift kitchen while waiting for the first pot of morning coffee to brew. Morgan had disappeared, presumably to visit Garcia and sweet talk her into helping him to finish off some last research for one of his consult cases. Reid was already hard at it, nose buried in a thick volume of 'the Annual Proceedings of the Psychiatric Society'. Rossi was in his office, making sure all of the files of the team's last few days were in order to give to Hotch for final approval.

'The last thing Hotch is going to want to do is sift through this pile while he's battling jet lag.'

Finally finishing the paperwork, Dave glanced at his watch. The morning had passed quickly, it was almost noon. Rossi frowned. Aaron's plane should have landed hours ago. And as tired as the Unit Chief would no doubt be, it was very odd that he wouldn't have at least phoned to check in. Dave picked up his own phone and dialled Hotch's cell. It seemed switched off. Tapping his fingers on the desk, Rossi thought for a few moments. Something wasn't right, his instincts kept telling him. Yet he would feel foolish showing up on his friend's doorstep and waking him up because he didn't 'feel right'. The older agent sighed and tried to concentrate on work. He almost jumped out of his chair when Morgan re-entered the BAU; every time the door opened, Rossi expected Hotch to walk in.

Suddenly, the door opened again and JJ, eyes wide, flew into the room and pointed a remote control at a large television screen which overhung the room. The uneasy feeling in Rossi's stomach turned to panic as he ran from his office to watch. A reporter from CNN was speaking. In the background were the remnants of a small plane, flames and smoke still billowing from the debris.

"... It is believed that Flight83 was on route from Denver International Airport to Washington Dulles in DC when it went down. Investigators are refusing to comment on the probable cause until the black boxes can be retrieved. However, tornado alerts had been given for the Smoky Hills area of Kansas and north into Nebraska. All twenty-two passengers and six crew members are believed to have perished, but of course, this is conjecture until recovery operations are complete..."

There was stunned silence as the news, with its ramifications, slowly sunk in. They all knew what flight Hotch had been booked on. Morgan, tears forming in his eyes, hugged a stunned Prentiss. Reid sat staring blankly at some non-existent object on his desk. Numbly, JJ muted the TV and turned to Rossi. Dave remained on the balcony above the bullpen, hands gripping the railing so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. He was still gazing at the TV screen.

"Sir?" JJ managed to get out as she was starting to cry.

"No." said Rossi adamantly, clenching his jaw. "No! Aaron Hotchner does not die in a plane crash. They've got it wrong. He'll have found a way to survive!"

"Rossi!" said Morgan sharply. "Did you see the wreckage?! Man, nobody could have walked away from that!"

Dave turned to face the team. They had never seen such steely determination in his face before.

"No." he repeated, softly this time. "Aaron is like a brother to me. I'd feel it if he were gone. He needs us to find him..."

There were awkward glances between the younger agents. Each wanted to believe that Rossi was correct, that there was still hope. But having seen the footage, they trusted what their eyes told them; they had lost their Unit Chief.

Rossi saw the doubtful expressions and knew they thought he was in denial. Maybe he was, but he was going to make sure that he uncovered every last stone before admitting defeat. Aaron would do no differently for him.

"JJ, I need you to book me a flight to..."

The appearance of a grim-faced Section Chief Strauss left the rest of his sentence unfinished.

"David, please gather the team in the conference room."

Rossi nodded his head in the direction his superior had gone. The team, still trying to digest the last five minutes, followed mutely.

Once everyone was seated, including Garcia, who had also heard the news and was sniffling into a Kleenex, Strauss stood up and moved to address the group.

"I'm extremely sorry to hear about Agent Hotchner... I know how close you all were to him, so this will not be an easy time. But I also think you would agree that Aaron would not want things to stop; he dedicated his life to putting criminals behind bars. It would honour his memory to continue to do that..." she paused.

"I know that you're all in shock and will be grieving. But I need to make sure the BAU continues. So as hard as the next few months will be, I'm going to have to ask you to make it work. Agent Rossi, for the time being you are Unit Chief. We will re-evaluate in six weeks. As for the rest of you, if anyone needs to take the rest of the week off, then please do. However, I expect all of you in this very room next Monday morning ready to work." And with that, the Section Chief left the team to its sorrow.

"Does anyone want to go home?" asked Rossi, looking at the team... his team. He hated the sound of those very words. Not at the expense of his best friend.

Each agent shook their head.

"Rossi, we're family. We have to go through this together." Prentiss said.

There were murmurs of agreement.

"Okay, and we will get through this together. But before I can start to grieve, I have to know for sure..."

"Rossi..." Morgan ran his hand over his bald head, agitated. "Man, just let it go."

"The odds of someone surviving a plane crash resulting in fire are about 1000/1" cited Reid helpfully.

Rossi glared at him.

"I don't care what the statistics say. And I don't care what those images on the news imply either. My gut tells me Hotch is still alive and until I see a body, I will not give up!"

The rest of the team were silent except for Garcia, who continued to weep quietly.

Dave continued.

"Look, I'm not about to touch another case this week. Strauss has given us the option of time off... I intend to use it to find Hotch. Who will help me?"

More silence. Rossi knew it was a good deal to ask. These people had just learned that their boss, their mentor, their friend, was presumed dead. But he just couldn't face that possibility yet. He waited patiently.

It was Reid who surprised him. Not only was he first to break the silence, but the man of statistics lent his support.

"I'll help you Dave. Hotch didn't give up on me... not ever. I owe him the same."

"I'm in too!" sniffed Garcia. "Just let me know how..."

"You can count on me." Prentiss said. There was a hard tone to her voice in spite of her newly bloodshot eyes.

"I'll go and see what I can find out from the local press and police in Kansas." JJ rose and left the room.

Morgan sat stiffly, looking at his hands, his head lowered.

"This is a bad idea. We need to accept facts!"

"I will, Derek... as soon as we have some." Rossi said gently. "But right now, all we know for sure is that a plane on which Hotch was a passenger has crashed. Nothing more."

Morgan looked up and stared at Rossi. "I don't agree with this... But I won't let my family down. What do you need me to do?"

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