A/N: Okay peeps, it's showtime! I know I've said this story gets darker and darker as we go along. I think this chapter takes the cake. Considering everything Aaron Hotchner has been through during the course of the show, I can only imagine how terrifying his nightmares must get. Especially after such a horrific case. At this point in the story, the case is over and the team are on the jet headed home. So if you have a security blanket, or a pink fuzzy bunny, or something cute and fluffy nearby, you may want to hold onto it while you read this...


NIGHTMARE SCENARIO

HOTCHNER

Down (Down!), Feel the fire (Fire!), Feel the hate (Hate!)
Your pain is what we desire

Lost (Lost!), Hit the wall (Wall!), Watch you crawl (Crawl!)
Such a replaceable liar

And I know you hear their voices (Calling from above)
And I know they may seem real (These signals of love)
But our life's made up of choices (Some without appeal)
They took for granted your soul, And it's ours now to steal

As your nightmare comes to life


"Hello Aaron."

No. That's not possible. That voice cannot be him. He's dead.

"Aren't you going to turn around and say hi?"

That voice turns your blood ice cold and causes the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up. It causes your breathing to halt, then quicken as you feel something you haven't felt in quite a while.

Fear.

"I've missed you."

Unequivocal fear. You turn slowly, hoping beyond hope that the voice is not real. You find out quickly that it is.

"There we go. Now, was that so hard?"

He smiles that same sick, twisted, sadistic smile you remember. It still makes your stomach turn. You try not to show fear, but your eyes and your voice betray you.

"You're not real. You're dead."

"Oh, but I am real, Aaron." George Foyet walks closer, standing mere inches from you. "You see, Aaron, I'm in your head. I'll always be in your head. And as long as I'm there, I'll always be real."

"We're all in your head, Aaron."

You flinch as a new voice echoes in your left ear. It's another familiar, cold voice. You turn your head to see Vincent Perotta standing over you.

"It's great to see you squirm, Agent Hotchner!"

Yet another new voice chuckles sadistically, giddily, to your right. You don't have to look to confirm his identity. That phrase still haunts you in your sleep. Karl Arnold. The Fox.

"It's like a family reunion of sorts, wouldn't you agree, Aaron?" Foyet sounds almost cheerful. "The three men who have affected you the most in your career all together in one place with one common purpose."

"And what would that be?" you ask. You already know the answer. Foyet closes the gap between you so quickly you barely see him move. You can feel his breath on your neck as he hisses.

"To watch you crumble."

The others agree. Their sneers cause you to shiver. They stand so close you can feel their body heat. Ironically, it makes your blood run colder.

"Something's missing," he breaks the silence again. "You can't have a family reunion without family, right? Where's the little man?"

Every muscle in your body stiffens. Jack cannot be here. Jack has to be safe. He cannot be here. Your breathing becomes shaky as you give them exactly what they want. You show fear. Jack cannot be here. He cannot be here.

"Hi Daddy!"

But he is.

"No! Jack, go back!"

"George is gonna take me to see Mommy!" His enthusiasm is at an all time high. He smiles big and his beautiful eyes dance with excitement.

"That's right, Jackie-boy." Foyet ruffles his hair and smiles at you. You cringe and panic at the same time.

"Jack, he's lying! He can't take you to see Mommy. George is a bad man, remember?"

Jack looks confused. Foyet laughs a sinister laugh.

"No, Aaron," he speaks quietly as he approaches you again. "You are the bad man. You are a killer, Aaron. I surrendered to you, remember? But you decided to stoop to our level and kill me anyway. You are no better than us. You are a monster, Aaron. Just like me."

"I am nothing like you! Any of you!" You scream, but they only laugh harder.

"Come on, Jackie-boy. Let's go see Mommy."

"No!" You try to run to him. Hands grab your arms, restraining you. Their hands feel like fire on your skin. "NO, JACK! RUN!" You struggle but their grip is too strong. You watch helplessly as Jack reaches for Foyet's hand with a bounce in his step. Jack is all smiles as Foyet leads him farther away.

"JACK!"

You continue to struggle, even though you know they're stronger than you. You thrash around, trying to pull your arms out of their grasp. Their grip tightens and they continue to laugh at you. Taunt you. But you can't give in. You have to get to Jack.

"JACK!"

There's another set of hands on you, trying to hold you back. You don't see his face, but you know another man has joined them. In contrast to the fiery grip of Perotta and Arnold, this grip feels like ice, burning through you in a different way. You fight harder, now needing to pull away from three to get to your only son, your reason for living. You have to get to him. You promised to always keep him safe. You promised him. You promised Haley. You have to get to him.

"Aaron." You hear a familiar voice, but it doesn't register. Nothing registers except getting away and finding your son.

"JACK!" You continue to scream, hoping he'll hear you, hoping he'll realize what's happening, hoping he'll somehow get away and run. He has to be okay. He has to be.

"Aaron." The voice is more insistent, but you can't listen to it right now. You thrash harder, violently, as yet another set of hands grabs you. They've wrestled you to the ground and hold you down. You feel a hand on your face. You flinch away from it hard. But the hand doesn't move.

"Aaron!"

And then you hear it, the worst possible sound. That sound that drives a stake through your heart. The gunshot.

"NO!" You scream and your eyes shoot open. "No, no, no!" You can't breathe. "Jack! No!"

The hand on your face is still there, but it feels different now, like it's trying to calm or comfort you. And there's that voice again.

"Aaron! Stop! Aaron, look at me."

"No." You still can't breathe. "No." You feel like your chest is caving in. "No." You still try to get away, but your strength is gone. "Jack." You can feel the tears pooling in your eyes.

"Look at me, Aaron." The voice has changed. It's quieter. Soothing, but still insistent. "Open your eyes and look at me. Look at me."

You're shaking and hyperventilating, but your eyes finally look for the source of the voice. It takes a few seconds for things to come into focus. Your eyes dart around, searching for the only thing that will calm you. You don't find it, but you find a familiar face, the face of a friend. Your eyes finally focus as his face becomes clear. You struggle to find your voice.

"Da… Dave?" Your voice is cracked and full of emotion. "Dave." His hand is still on your face, the other on your chest over your heart. It's beating way too fast.

"You're okay, Aaron. You're okay."

Your eyes dart around desperately seeking your son. "Where is he?" you ask, panicked. "Where's Jack?"

"Jack's safe at home, Aaron. He's fine. I need you to calm down. Stop fighting and settle down. You're okay."

You try to take some deep breaths, but you can't. Your chest still feels like there are bricks on it. You look to the side and realize the other set of hands holding you down is Derek. He looks shaken, concerned. You scared him. Not an easy feat. You're still shaking, but you stop fighting against him. When he feels your muscles finally relax, he lets go and steps back. You shoot up into a sitting position faster that you ever have in your life. You're drenched with sweat. It drips off your face and from your hair, and rolls down your back. It doesn't faze you. You search frantically for the cell phone in the inside right-hand pocket of your jacket. Your hands are shaking so badly you can barely dial the number.

"It's 2:00 am in Virginia, Aaron," Dave says quietly as he sits in front of you, trying to be a comforting presence. "He's sleeping. You need to wait until you calm down. You're going to scare him like this."

But right now, the only thing that matters is hearing your son's voice. You finally manage to dial the number and wait, rather impatiently, for Jessica to answer the phone. After three rings, her still groggy voice answers.

"Hello?"

"Jess, it's me." Your voice still doesn't sound like your own. It's still shaky, panicky.

"Aaron?" She hasn't heard your voice sound like this since the day Haley died. She's fully awake now. And scared. "What's wrong? Did something happen? Are you okay?"

"No, I'm… I'm okay." You try to slow down your breathing, but it's no use. Not yet. "I… I need you to wake him up. Please. I just… I need to hear his voice. Please."

"Okay." She's never heard you beg before. It shakes her to her core. She's up in a flash and heading to Jack's room. "Are you sure you're okay, Aaron?"

"I'm okay." You swallow hard, trying to control the shake in your voice before Jack hears it. "I'll be okay."

You can hear her waking up Jack. You hear his sleepy voice in the background. That tiny voice gives you the ability to breathe again. He's alive. He's alive. And then he's talking to you.

"Daddy? Are you okay?"

"Hey, buddy." You take your first deep breath in what feels like an eternity. "Yeah, Daddy's okay. I just really needed to hear your voice."

"Did you had a bad dream?"

You chuckle and shake your head at the astuteness of your five-year-old. "Yeah. I had a bad dream. I feel better now, though."

"Did I made you feel better?" You hear the pride in his voice. You feel proud of him as well.

"You always make me feel better."

"You makes me better when I has bad dreams, too." He yawns mid-sentence. It makes you smile. "Are you coming home soon?"

"We're on the jet now. I'll be there before you wake up in the morning. Go back to sleep, buddy. I'm sorry I woke you up."

He yawns again. "It's okay. I likes it when you call me. I miss you."

"I miss you too, Jack. And I love you. I love you so much."

"I love you, Daddy. Night."

You hang up the phone and let it drop to the floor as you bury your face in your hands. He's safe. He's alive. It takes your brain several moments to allow the fear to dissipate. But finally you are able to take a deep breath without it being shaky or without feeling like your lungs are going to collapse. You finally lift your head to find Rossi still sitting in front of you.

"Are you alright?"

You close your eyes and begin to finally breathe semi-normally. You lean your head back against the window. "I'm okay." You repeat it over a few times, more to yourself than anyone else. It's become a mantra of sorts, to keep you sane until you get home.

"I'm okay. I'm okay."