Hotch went with Jason, neither man speaking as they took the path Emily had suggested. Hotch had too much on his mind—both his relationship with Emily and finding these bastards and making them pay in a way he hadn't been able to make Cyrus. Nobody hurt Emily without answering to him. Even…him.
It hurt him, knowing how much he had hurt her by his thoughtless actions. It was a wonder she hadn't left him earlier.
But God, did he love her.
More than he'd loved Hayley in a long, long time.
"You're good together." Jason said when they paused to reevaluate their trail. "Funny, isn't it. How the two of you rubbed each other the wrong way when she first joined the team."
"Funny?" Hotch said, he'd given it a lot of thought since those days. "I'd call it basic self-preservation. I was married, remember?"
"Happily? I don't think so. Not long term, anyway. Prentiss, Emily's, good for you. I saw that back during the Addie case."
"Oh?" Hotch remembered the case well, it was one of the first where he and Emily had worked the field together. And that case had touched Hotch. He understood why the man had done what he'd done.
"Yes. You were obviously taking the case personally. No one else really wanted to get near you. Yet she was by your side. She does that."
"I know." He remembered just a few days ago, seeing her by Reid on the Leer. Comforting him, while her own face was bloodied and bruised. "She takes care of the people she loves. But she didn't love me then."
"When?"
"After you left, after Hayley left. I got the divorce papers at work. She stopped by my apartment to 'check that I wasn't burying myself in serial killers.' Brought a six-pack. Things just went from there."
"Do you regret it?" Jason asked.
"No. Never. Not for a moment. It's not ideal, for either of us, but I love her."
"Good. Let's get these idiots taken care of. I think you and Agent Prentiss have a lot to talk about. And probably some serious explaining to do to the team." Jason smirked. "Morgan doesn't look too happy."
"They're close. And he's protective. Even from me, apparently."
"He's envious. I watched him. You sure it was just friendship on his part?"
"Same as it is with Garcia. He doesn't like her boyfriend, either." Hotch took the last bend in the trail, his hand resting on his weapon. They were getting closer. "How do you want to do this? Split up or?"
"Take it by ear." Jason said. "I want to get this over with. And I don't like leaving the girls and Reid in the house."
The two men moved in stealthily.
Hotch saw the boy first. He couldn't have been nineteen, still had baby-fat in his cheeks. He was soft, bored, and a bit tired. And scared.
This probably wasn't his idea at all.
The kid handled the rifle inexpertly, keeping it pointed up at the sky. He seemed leery of touching it. He may have fired some of the shots, but Hotch seriously doubted it had been his bullets that struck him or the window.
This kid may stand a chance. Hotch hoped so, even while that hope mingled with the primitive rage of a man whose woman had been injured, targeted, frightened.
Hotch ruthlessly shoved those thoughts away. He had a job to do. "I'm going in there. Keep your weapon trained on him. Let him know I'm not alone. Let him hear you, but not see you."
"You think you're going to be able to reason with him?"
"No. But surprise and experience is on our side." Hotch pulled his weapon higher. "On my count…one…two…three."
He straightened, made his steps deliberate and loud.
The boy jerked around, his hands closing reflexively on the rifle. "Who's there? RJ? Jake? That you?"
"No. It's Agent Hotchner." Hotch said, keeping his voice calm and deliberate. "And a friend. Why don't you put that rifle down so we can talk?"
"No!" The boy visibly trembled. "I know all about you. My mom told me."
"Told you what? That I arrested your father when he raped six women, maybe more? It's the truth. Did she tell you that I am an expert marksmen, and if I want I could easily put a bullet in you before you can even raise that barrel? That's true, too. My friend probably could, too. Say hello, Gideon."
"Hello, Gideon." Jason said, a touch of humor and sarcasm beneath his words.
"He's a bit of a comedian in his old age." Hotch said, moving forward so the boy could see him. It was a risky plan, but he trusted Gideon. "Which brother are you? Charlie?"
"Yes. Where's RJ?"
"We have him. He's currently waiting with Agent Prentiss. We'll soon have Jacob, too. So why don't you put that down and we'll discuss your options."
"My options? My options include killing you and your girlfriend."
"No. You can put that gun down, give yourself up, and maybe we can talk this out. Nobody's been seriously hurt here, Charlie. It's not too late. And I don't think it was you who shot at me this morning. You were just following along with your brothers. You wouldn't really have hurt Agent Prentiss."
"Yes, I would. She'd deserve it! You deserve it! My dad died because of you."
"No. You're dad died because he hurt people. Made bad decisions that landed him in even worse positions. Don't repeat his mistakes."
They went round and round, until finally the boy gave in to Hotch's greater experience. He laid the weapon at his feet then stepped back.
Hotch kept his weapon trained on him, as he and Jason moved forward. In less than two minutes they had the young man secured and walking back up the path toward the house.
Derek, Dave, and the boy Jacob were already waiting in the basement, the Matthews brothers tied interrogation-style to two wooden kitchen chairs.
Derek's knuckles were swelling, and he sat with a satisfied grin on his face. The older brother just sat watching, a look of defeat and anger on his face.
The middle brother was almost pouting.
When they pushed him into the room, the youngest brother was almost crying.
"We have a phone signal." Dave said, as soon as his eyes met Hotch's. "Garcia was busy while we were out 'bear' hunting, as she called it. Local sheriff's on his way."
"It's almost finished." Emily said, her words soft and tired. Her eyes met Hotch's and his breath caught.
For the two of them—it was a new beginning.