The Art of Butterflies

"Bitterness is like cancer. It eats upon the host. But anger is like fire. It burns it all clean."

-Maya Angelou

The silver doors of the elevator closed inches in front of Prentiss' nose, clicking shut with William LaMontagne inside. The machine began to whir, stretching it's ascent to what she was sure was Aaron Hotchner's hospital room.

"Oh, this is not my ay." She muttered, hissing out a breath. "So not my day." She took off down the hallway once again, reaching the stairs and stopping short. The profiler kicked off two inch heels – not useful when one is about to be running up two flights of stairs. Prentiss grabbed them in one hand and the railing in another and took the stairs two at a time. She didn't have a chance to reach for her phone, warn Rossi – no, her best bet was purely to run. Breath pounded out of her- not too many things winded her, but these stairs nearly did the trick. Her vision threatened to tunnel, but she pushed on, reaching the right floor just as she caught the sight of Will disappearing into a room she didn't doubt was Hotch's.

"You've got to be kidding me." She stopped the involuntary action of her hand moving to her gun holster. Prentiss suddenly wished that Morgan wasn't back at headquarters going over the victimology from the case everyone thought was just about completed. Reid was there as well, going over the geological profile, and Garcia was in her office with Henry. The weight of being the only one able to stop the raging Will fell onto her shoulders and gnawed at her as she dashed forward.

From inside the room on the other side of the hallway, she heard a cautionary warning – Rossi's voice, loud and trying to stop whatever situation was about to take place. Please don't let Will have a gun. He hadn't had one – everyone had to go through checks when going into the police office, and again at the hospital doors – but it didn't stop the thought from entering her head.

"Calm down, Will, wait a minute – it doesn't have to go this way. Let's talk for a moment." Rossi's words filled the air, and she had no doubt that Will's eyes were the same as she'd seen them last – suddenly filled with a violent, impatient rage that sent chills down her spine.

She burst into the room just as the action hit its peak.

"I'm done with talking and waiting – waiting's what got her into this in the beginning, isn't it?" Will said, New Orleans accent thick in his anger. "You," he pointed a shaking finger at Hotch, who was seated on the edge of the bed. Prentiss could see him try to rise and face the situation, but unable to do so quickly enough. Rossi caught the site of her standing there, his hands out in a surrendering sort of motion towards the angered man. "You let her go!" He continued. "You let him take her You could have done something. This is your fault." He spat. She'd never, ever seen her friend's fiancé this way.

"Will-" She began, but he didn't even turn around.

"Will, there was nothing I could do – I did everything I could when she was shot. I couldn't stop him from taking her. He knocked me unconscious." Hotch's voice was calm and reasonable, but Will was having none of it. The anger was hot in his blood.

"You should have known he'd do that!"

The fist flew so quickly that none of them possibly could have stopped it – she doubted that Will could have, either. It was an almost involuntary action. The punch connected with the bridge of Hotch's nose, blood spurted from it immediately. Almost just as quickly, Rossi was restraining the angered man, but the heat was gone from him – he didn't fight when he was pulled back; he let it happen. The words he'd meant to speak fell from his lips never the less, and they carried so much in them that Prentiss was sure her heart would break.

"That was for Jennifer, you son of a bitch."

Security guards had finally caught up with them – the screaming from inside the room must have done it. While Rossi was taking care of talking to the security guards and restraining Will, she took on Hotch, sitting gently next to him on the bed. One hand covered his nose; he appeared to be out of it, and she knew that the concussion had to be adding something to that complex. She took three fingers and turned his face towards her, grabbing tissues from the bedside table. Prentiss gently tugged his hand down, watching as his pained, shamed eyes met hers. She was certain in that instant that the pain so apparent there was not physical. It was Will's words that had harmed him most. The kindergarten rhyme had never been so far from the truth.

"Let me," she told him, carefully apologizing when she pressed the makeshift gauze to his nose. "Do you think it's broken?"

"It doesn't matter, Prentiss." He answered, voice garbled, though from the way he'd winced then, she was sure there must be at least a hairline fracture.

"I'm sorry, Hotch, I tried to stop him – he took off when he heard your room number." She handed him another tissue for his blood covered hand.

"He had all the right." Hotch answered, closing his eyes for a brief moment so that he didn't have to see her. The world tilted on its axis, dizzied vision racing across his eyes.

"He didn't, Hotch – you know that. Tell me you're not going to sit here blaming yourself."

"He needed that as much as I did, Prentiss. He let his anger out, that's good. As long as he's not impeding the case by putting that anger elsewhere." His voice was certain, entirely absolute.

"Hotch-"

"Don't argue. He got the anger out of his system – it'll let him focus on telling us all he knows about JJ. If he's mad, if he's bitter and resentful, he can't concentrate. What he just did got that out of his system."

Prentiss didn't answer, only barred Hotch's hand from rising to take her place. "I've got it. You might be thinking you're fooling everyone with this 'perfectly fine' business, Hotch, but I'm not taking any chances."

He sent her a look that would send demons running; she pretended not to notice. "I wasn't born yesterday." She commented finally, disposing of the old tissue and replacing it with a new one, barely able to look at Will. The former detective stood across the room with two security guards and Rossi, who explained the current situation with as much ease as he could muster.

"We'll find her, Hotch." She added, after a moment of staring at the proceedings. Hotch had decided not to press formal charges, but Prentiss knew that new restrictions were going to apply when Will was around any crime scene. Most likely, he wouldn't be given special privileges to join them on the scene – if he had another outburst like he'd just had, then he could seriously harm their chances of obtaining her alive once they found her. Not only could he injure others around him during such a stressful moment like that, but he'd stand a good chance of injuring himself – and even JJ – at that.

"I don't need or want false hope, Prentiss." He answered, eyes focused on Rossi.

She shook her head, blinking back tears that she didn't want to fall.

"It's only false until you prove it so."

TBC

Author's Note:

I'm loving writing this story. Please review! It shows me that someone out there is reading what I'm writing.

Also, a special note to falc, who knows how it "really" ends. If it were possible for you to come in and strangle Bennett, it would happen. At this very moment, JJ is considering using her hulk strength. She thinks of you and totally goes hulk.