"Scared… scared… scared…" After his guttural scream, Hotch uttered the words in a low moan, huddled in on himself, sounding ashamed as much as terrified.
It was tearing him apart to say it, but it was as close as he could get to explaining what was wrong. The small animal caged at the back of his brain threw itself forward again and again, unable to win through, but willing to die in the effort.
"I know, I know… I'm scared, too!" Reid hoped hearing that he wasn't alone in his terror would ease enough of the constraints Lewis had imposed on Hotch, to allow the man to break free once and for all.
It wasn't just a ploy, though. Spencer was being honest. Underneath the scintillating intellect, he was surprisingly gullible. Part and parcel of that open vulnerability was his susceptibility to the workings of his own vivid imagination. His eidetic memory provided ample material for frightening creations. Nightmares were his companions on an almost nightly basis.
Now he hoped to use the disturbances in his own mind to form a safe place for Hotch to fall.
"I'm scared, too, Hotch. A lot! And I have bad dreams about stuff. You're not the only one!" He shot Rossi an imploring look.
The older agent understood. Leaning close, voice urgent and sincere, he added his own confession. "I get scared every time a case comes in, Aaron. Hell, there'd be something wrong with you if you didn't."
Hotch knotted his fists in his hair, rocking forward and back in his frustration at not being able to explain. "You don't understand. It's different…it's worse."
They were up against a mental barrier. Rossi thought it might be a good time to dive back into a blow by blow accounting of what the Unit Chief had experienced at the home of the ill-fated Dr. Regan. Hotch's words were coming more smoothly, despite his obvious upset. "Aaron, after your encounter with Regan, what happened? What do you remember next?"
Hotch kept rocking as though trying to comfort himself. "He…he came for me. And I fought, Dave!" He turned tragic eyes on Rossi. "I told you. I fought as hard as I could and…and…it didn't matter. He…he made me see things!" The words came in a quiet wail. A sound of hopeless despair that made Reid's breath catch and Rossi's heart stutter.
"Slow down, Aaron. He came for you. You fought. He won. What happened when Lewis won? Can you tell us?"
Hotch stopped rocking. Bent low over his knees, his fists were no longer tugging his hair. They were pressed against his ears, trying to stop an insistent, insidious voice he could still hear. "He talked to me. Wouldn't stop. On and on." There was no way to describe the torture of it to his teammates. No way to make them feel the way each word would drop into his ears like hot lead, searing and sizzling, carving a route deep into his brain.
Hotch paused. He uncoiled a little from his defensive posture. "And then you came. My team." He fixed Reid with a mournful stare. "You were the first to die. I knew you'd be the first. And you were."
Reid struggled to look past the immeasurable sadness in his leader's expression. "But I didn't die, Hotch. It was a lie. He found out about Texas and used it against you, but it wasn't real. You know that."
Aaron's eyes had gone glassy. He was seeing it all again. Speaking in a soft, horrified whisper. "I knew you were dead…would go first. And then Dave. And then Morgan." He raised one hand to the side of his neck, seeing phantom blood of phantom teammates spurt. "Shot all three of you….Dead…all dead…"
Rossi's calm voice overrode Hotch's. "But we're not dead. Peter Lewis took your worst fear and made you see it. Losing your team was just…"
"Wait." Reid interrupted. It looked as though Aaron was lost in his own imaginings; possibly not even listening anymore. "Rossi, it's not losing us that got to him."
Dave gave his young colleague a quizzical look. "Wha'd'you mean?"
"I mean sure that's something he worries about and dreads, but…don't you see? The first to go down were the males…the ones Hotch most closely identifies with." Reid's voice dropped, becoming low and confiding. "Rossi, I think Hotch is afraid for himself most of all. And I think he hates that about himself. That's what he can't climb over. That's what he can't tell us."
Rossi and Reid stared at their leader. Hotch's eyes had closed. He was trying to hide within himself again. I can't see you, so you can't see me…I'm not here…You can't see me…I'm not here…
His friends wouldn't let him.
"Is that it, Aaron?" Dave's voice held no judgment. "You're afraid of dying?"
The cogs of Reid's brain were spinning at warp speed. "Wait…Hotch, it's getting shot in the neck, isn't it!...That's what got to you. It's getting shot the way I did!"
Reluctance, guilt and shame colored every move the Unit Chief made. Feeling as though Lewis's hand was pulling him in the opposite direction, Hotch forced himself to look into his youngest agent's anxious eyes.
He nodded. Once.
And the barriers came crashing down.