"And Agent Gideon in many ways is damned by his profound knowledge of others which is why he shares so little of himself, yet he pours his heart into every case we handle."
.
.
They walked alone into the empty Champion's Hall. Empty now, and had been for the last fifteen years.
No Champion had walked these halls since Foyet had murdered Jason Gideon.
The current Champion board was covered in a thick layer of dust, the picture obscured. Dave hissed angrily at the disrepair, rearing and beating his wings to send a squall of wind that blasted the glass and the surrounds clean. Black marble gleamed, dirt flurried, and Gideon looked out at them from the static moment the camera had snapped shut on his picture, almost thirty years before.
His team surrounded him. A Pikachu, a Venusaur, a Blastoise, the reptilian snout of his Charizard, the shy smile of a Lapras. Dave by his side, chest thrust out proudly and beak open in a screech that the other Pokemon were wincing at. For once, Dave was quiet, withdrawn, his dark eyes locked on the frozen faces of his team.
Spencer hovered next to them, eyes wide.
I'm sorry about your team, he said suddenly, reaching a paw to brush Dave's wing. And your trainer… I know it was a long time ago and… well, I just can't imagine how it would feel to lose… this.
Dave made a low noise, slipping away to where the door stood. They were done. It was done. They could go home, to whatever awaited them there.
Hotch swallowed. Foyet was dead. Dave had no reason to stay with him… not anymore.
Jack. He could go home to Jack. He loved his job, loved it dearly, but he loved his family more.
And it had been too long.
"What did he say?" he asked Spencer softly, as the Pidgeot slipped from the room without looking back.
Spencer's chest heaved as he sucked in a breath, his tail low and fluffed with worry.
'Everything ends eventually, kid.' This isn't the end is it, Hotch? Of us? Hotch?
Hotch didn't answer.
He just didn't know.
.
.
Silence pervaded the room.
"You chose the BAU," Strauss said suddenly. "All those years ago. Do you regret that choice, Agent Hotchner? Knowing that it lost you fifteen years with your family?"
Hotch didn't let his gaze slip or waver. "I did what I had to do to keep them safe, ma'am. I spent those fifteen years building my team and my abilities until I knew I could walk Victory Road and come out the other side, alive. Not just alive, but with my team unharmed. You were wrong, to call them untrained, under levelled… my team are exactly where they need to be to get the job done. And they'll continue doing the job, no matter who leads them, because they love this work. No matter what punishment you see fit to lay on me for my actions, don't punish my team. They were following my orders. And they were fantastic."
Strauss was quiet, eying the people surrounding her. "We will need to discuss your case, Agent," she said, finally. "But I need to ask. If this is the end of your career within the Bureau, what will you do?"
And now, Hotch smiled. Because he knew this answer. He was tired. Old, older than he had been, and bone-tired.
"I'm going home," he said simply. "To my family."
Finally.