A/N: Word or warning: there's a flashback to child abuse in this chapter

Anyway, here's chapter twelve! Enjoy!


He's on the floor. Cold, wooden floor. And he hurts. He hurts a lot and he can't help but wonder why Father does this. Because he tries, tries so very hard to be everything Father and Mom wants him to be and never argues anymore and he does his homework and he pretends he doesn't hear it when Mom cries in the middle of the night.

He's a good boy. He really is. Everyone says so; even Father does sometimes, when he doesn't yell or hit. He doesn't even cry anymore, because Father doesn't like crying.

Sometimes he knows why Father hits him. Sometimes he Fails, makes Mistakes, but this time he isn't sure. He's been good all day. He didn't flinch when Father leant over to ruffle his hair, because Father doesn't like it when he flinches. He can't think of anything he did wrong. But there must be something, he supposed, because Father is hurting him and pain only comes when he's been bad.

Father stops, but he lies still on the floor. Father doesn't want to look at him when he's been bad, so he always waits until he can hear Father opening the fridge or turning on the TV before he slowly gets up from the floor. But this time he can't hear Father going away, and sometimes that means that Father wants to talk to him, so he slowly rolls over to peek at Father to judge his mood but Father isn't there.

George Foyet is, and he wants to whimper but Father doesn't like it when he makes sounds, so he just closes his eyes and leans back and hoped that Father won't let Foyet kill him. Because even if he's been bad Father won't want him to die, right?

But Father doesn't do anything to stop Foyet as he slowly and deliberately moves closer, every step echoing and his breathing heavy. Aaron doesn't make a sound when Foyet leans down over him, straddling his body and leaning in so close their noses are touching. He doesn't scream when the knife goes through his flesh with a searing, burning pain and he doesn't whimper as he realizes that he's bitten a hole in his lip.

But there' so much pain, so much pain and he's afraid and he doesn't want to be here because he's so very frightened and it hurts so very much…

He had no idea where he was at first and for a moment he struggled against the warm hands on his shoulders, desperately trying to get away. But soon enough the Rossi's voice registered. Rossi's calm, soothing and infinitely reassuring voice, and he managed to draw a breath, forcing his body to stop shaking.

After a few moments he managed to meet Rossi's eyes and as the older man noticed he was pulled into a tight embrace, his forehead placed on Rossi's shoulder and a hand softly stroking his hair.

Slowly, his thoughts began to regain some semblance of order and his fear began dying away. It made him feel slightly pathetic, but the familiarity of Rossi's arms around him was enough to take his panic away more quickly than cold showers or push-ups ever had.

He drew a few more deep breaths before pulling away, pushing back the covers and sitting up.

"Foyet?" Rossi asked. Hotch considered just nodding, because it was a lot easier to talk about Foyet than about his father, but then the genuine concern in Rossi's eyes registered and he shrugged.

"Partly," he admitted quietly.

"Your father?" Rossi continued, and Hotch wasn't certain whether he should be glad that Rossi knew him so well he didn't have to explain or annoyed that he had basically no chance of hiding anything from his mentor.

He nodded, reaching up a hand to massage his temples, and felt Rossi take a seat next to him.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Hotch sighed again. "Not really," he mumbled but the continued more loudly, because he knew perfectly well that it wasn't really a question, "My father was… well, you know and then Foyet showed up and… you know."

He didn't need to say more and this time he was definitely grateful, even more so when Rossi placed a warm hand on his shoulder and kneaded it gently, not commenting when Hotch leant in to the touch like an affection-starved puppy. He closed his eyes and just concentrated on breathing calmly and deeply, trying to wash away the images. He was distracted, however, by Rossi mumbling in Italian under his breath.

"Dave?"

The older man looked up abruptly and for a moment he looked as if he'd been caught doing something wrong, but then a wry smile crept onto his face first.

"What?" he said innocently, and Hotch suppressed the wish to roll his eyes, "I was just… talking."

Hotch nodded slowly. "Talking?" he drawled, a smile tugging at his lips, "So no-one would mind if I repeated that in church?"

Rossi snorted and shook his head, which Hotch took as confirmation that he had been saying something decidedly inappropriate for civilized company.

"Don't repeat it in church and not to my mother," he said, smiling, and after a moment added, "Or to anyone who speaks Italian, really."

Possibly even more grateful than before, that Rossi was prepared to let him pretend he hadn't just been gasping in panic, Hotch smiled.

"Should I be offended?" he asked. Rossi shrugged and gave him a long, completely serious look and Hotch grimaced internally. Apparently he had managed to unwittingly move the conversation from teasing to seriousness.

"Only in your capacity as an officer of the law," he said quietly and to his embarrassment Hotch felt a flush creep up his face.

He knew perfectly well what Rossi what talking about and he didn't like it. It had been uncomfortable the first time Rossi said he would've kill Hotch's father if he'd been alive, but he had assumed that it just had been something he said. But when the subject had been broached again, Rossi had been so cold and pragmatic that Hotch had realized that he was serious Hotch had been more than uncomfortable.

Rossi, probably realizing that threats of dismembering his father made Hotch uncomfortable, changed the topic. "You know, I was talking to Reid earlier."

"Mm-hmm?"

"He seems to think you guys don't love him."

There was just a hint of accusation in Rossi's tone and Hotch couldn't help the feeling of defensiveness that came over him as he frowned.

"He knows," he assured Rossi, not quite liking how aggressive his voice came out. Rossi's gaze remained stern and Hotch felt himself squirming under the silent recrimination, "He does."

Rossi raised his eyebrows, still stern. "Yeah? And how exactly does he know? Have you actually told him, Aaron?"

Hotch felt about two feet tall and in an attempt to escape the hard look he lowered his gaze to the covers, awkwardly fiddling with them. He hadn't told Reid, at least not properly, and Rossi was making him very much aware of it.

"No," he admitted quietly, "Not properly. Sorry."

For a while, although it seemed like ages to Hotch, Rossi kept his unwavering, steely glare on him and Hotch was beginning to wish the bed would just swallow him up or something.

"Well," Rossi finally announced, "You're about to tell him. Before we got back home, got it?"

"Yes, sir," Hotch replied, nodding. He agreed with Rossi, he really did. It just seemed like a completely daunting task to actually tell one of his teammates he loved them. He knew, intellectually, that it wouldn't be taken as a sign of weakness and he also knew that Reid needed to hear it, when he was fully conscious and not half-asleep or drugged up on painkillers, but knowing all of that wouldn't make it any easier.

There was a moment's silent, then Hotch threw a shy look at Rossi.

"Did you… set him straight?" he asked.

Rossi mouth curled into a small smile at the question, but he nodded. "Yep. Told him that if it was you you'd be getting a proper spanking instead of a few swats."

Hotch blushed. He frowned and glared at Rossi, though he didn't quite manage to look the man fully in the eyes.

"Dave, I would like him to retain some respect for me when this trip is over," he complained.

"Hotch, I could spank you in front of him and he'd still worship the ground you walk on."

Despite the blush on his face deepening, Hotch couldn't help but smile slightly. It was true that Reid sometimes displayed an inclination to admire him in-proportionally.

"I really hope we'll never find that out."

Rossi chuckled and moved his hand to ruffle Hotch's hair, which Hotch unsuccessfully tried to dodge. This whole "treat-Hotch-like-a-kid-again"-thing was getting old, he decided.

"I'm going to get some tea," he said, getting up, "Apparently, it increases dopamine levels. Do you want some?"

"Nah, I'm gonna go back to bed. We're going to the lake tomorrow, remember?"

Hotch nodded, suppressing a soft sigh. He could imagine better ways to spend a Saturday, but then he could imagine an even larger number of worse ways.

When he entered the kitchen, he, to his surprise, saw Reid there. To his surprise and annoyance, because the young man was without his crutches, leaning against the counter and watching the water boiler. Which, luckily, gave Hotch an excellent opportunity to land a few swats to the kid's backside.

Reid jumped, grimacing in pain as he moved his leg too abruptly and yelping at the swats, and spun around to give Hotch a deer-in-headlights look.

"H-hotch," he squeaked and Hotch leveled a stern look at him, crossing his arms.

"Reid," he said, slowly and making his voice the softly pedagogical with a dangerous undertone that never failed to make Reid squirm and bite his lip, "What do we use to move around when our knee is injured?"

The kid blushed and shifted uncomfortably. "Crutches, sir."

Hotch raised his eyebrows. "Are you using crutches, Spencer?"

"No, sir."

"Exactly," Hotch said, "Is deliberately jeopardizing your health allowed?"

Reid's level of discomfort was obviously rising rapidly and Hotch silently congratulated himself. Not that he really enjoyed making the kid uncomfortable; he just knew, from experience, that being made to feel like a disobedient child could have a very deterring effect. Besides, Reid was running around without his crutches and quite possibly deserved more than a few swats.

"No, sir," he whispered and with that Hotch decided to take pity on the boy.

"Good. Don't let it happen again," he said, then made a slightly pause, taking in the cup and the can on the corner, "Making tea, are you?

Apparently completely forgetting being in trouble in the first place, Reid nodded eagerly.

"Yes. Did you know that theanine, a substance found in tea and especially green tea, increases the dopamine level and has been scientifically shown to shorten the time it takes to fall asleep and decrease the number of awakenings?"

Hotch couldn't help but smile slightly. "Yes, I did, actually. Can't sleep?"

Pursing his lips, Reid nodded and tucked some hair behind his ears.

"Do you need some painkillers?"

To Hotch's surprise, Reid blushed again and shook his head, all the while intently studying the floor.

"Reid?" he prompted, letting a hint of sternness enter his voice again. "Is there something wrong?"

Biting hid lip again, Reid shrugged, and Hotch decided that there was indeed something wrong.

"Is Morgan giving you a hard time?"

Morgan was very protective of the man he considered his little brother, but he could sometimes forget that what many would dismiss as harmless ribbing really bothered Reid, despite threats of more drastic consequences than hard looks.

"No!" Reid exclaimed, just a bit too defensively, and at Hotch's glare he continued, "I just… I didn't want to bother him."

Hotch cocked his head and gave the young man a gentle smile. "Nightmares?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Reid," Hotch warned. Reid knew better than to apologize for having nightmares.

"Sorry," he mumbled and this time Hotch didn't correct him.

The water was now boiling and Hotch moved to get a cup for himself, taking over the tea-strainer when Reid was done.

"You can come into our room for a while," Hotch offered, suppressing his small wish to go back to sleep. Reid was more important than his sleep, and it was comforting to have the young man close when he was vulnerable. Besides, the bright smile on Reid's face when he made the offer was worth a lot more than some lost sleep. He just hoped Rossi felt the same way.

Once they had their tea they both went up the stairs and quietly knocked on the door to the bedroom before entering.

Rossi was already in bed and at their entrance he raised himself on his elbows, raising his eyebrows in question when he noticed Reid trailing awkwardly after Hotch.

"Reid?" he said, "What's up, kid?"

"We thought we'd drink tea for a while," Hotch replied in his stead and Rossi nodded, not quite hiding his confusion. Hotch closed the door behind them and gave him a meaningful look, hoping to convey that he wanted Rossi to be nice and comforting.

"Nightmares, huh?" the older man said knowingly, and Hotch was, not for the first time, happy that the man could de-dramatize practically anything simply by his seemingly un-fazeable calm.

"Yeah. Sorry to bother you."

Rossi merely raised his eyebrows and for a moment Hotch admired his ability to look so completely incredulously skeptical that Reid realized that he'd messed up without sternness.

"Sorry," the kid mumbled again and this time Rossi just rolled his eyes and sighed, gesturing for Reid to come over and take a seat on the bed. The kid looked a little wary and Hotch hid a smile.

"You're not in trouble," Rossi said exasperatedly and gestured for Reid to hurry up, "Even if you're a silly little boy."

Reid smiled embarrassedly and obediently took a seat on the edge of Rossi's bed as Hotch took a seat on his own bed.

"Morgan giving you a hard time?" Rossi asked. Reid's smile widened and he pulled a hand through his hair.

"You too? You guys don't put a lot of trust in him, do you?"

"Reid, Morgan is a great guy but he's not always as considerate as he should be. It's got nothing to do with trust," Rossi explained evenly, hiding the exasperation that Hotch was fairly certain he felt, "Do you want me to kick his ass?"

Reid pursed his lips, smiling slightly, and shook his head.

"That's okay."

Hotch had a feeling that Rossi would do some verbal ass-kicking anyways, but he supposed that was fine. Morgan sometimes spoke before thinking and around Reid that could be dangerous, and even though Hotch was perfectly capable of getting obedience in many things from Morgan, explaining feelings had never been his strong suit. And unless he had an explanation Morgan sometimes challenged him, and he would never forgive himself if Morgan hurt Reid because of him. Rossi, on the other hand, Morgan most likely didn't have the guts to cross.

"Are we still going to the lake tomorrow?" Reid asked, sounding almost as eager as Jack did at the prospect of candy.

"If you're well enough," Rossi replied. Reid was silent for a moment, taking a couple of sips of the tea, before his inability to be quiet took over.

"Did you know that there are more than two-thousand lakes in Maine that take up thirteen point five percent of the state's area?"

Rossi staved off any further facts or statistics with a hand wave. "Fascinating, kid. But I'd really like to get some sleep, okay?"

"Oh…" Reid said, his face immediately falling. "Okay."

However, he made no move to leave and after a moment Rossi sighed.

"He is giving you a hard time, isn't he?"

"No…" Reid whined, "He's not. I just… I can't sleep and… and I'm kind of scared."

Reid's voice was almost heartbreakingly small as he made the confession and Hotch had a sudden impulse to hug the kid. Rossi looked thoughtful for a moment, then shrugged.

"All right," he said, "You wanna sleep in here?"

Reid's brow furrowed and he cocked his head, looking very much confused and Hotch had to admit he didn't blame him. Rossi, whereas occasionally prone to physical displays of affection, did not invite people to sleep in his room. Unless they were beautiful women, of course. Or, come to think of it, Hotch when Rossi thought he shouldn't be alone.

"On the floor?" Reid asked hesitantly. Rossi gave him an exasperated look.

"No, on the freakin' roof. In bed, of course."

The young man frowned again, looking curiously at Rossi. "Whose bed?"

"My bed, kiddo," Rossi replied slowly, sounding as if he was speaking to pre-school child. Which Rossi supposed was warranted, since Reid should know that there was no way Rossi was going to let a sick man sleep on the floor with Jo anywhere in a ten mile radius from him.

"You want me to sleep with you?"

Rossi spluttered for a moment, looking completely scandalized and Hotch couldn't help but grin. Trust Reid to render Rossi speechless.

"No!" Rossi exclaimed.

"But I thought you said…"

"You are not going to sleep with me!" Rossi said sharply, seemingly completely ignoring the crestfallen look that brought to the kid's face, "You are going to sleep in the same bed as me. You are not going to sleep with me!"

The young man only looked more confused and apparently Rossi decided that it was a lost cause to explain to the young man why he was bothered by sexually suggestive phrases being used by Reid in relation to him.

"Okay, kid, enough!" the Italian man said, waving his hand and pushing the other through his hair, "Drink your tea, go to bed, shut the hell up and go to sleep!"

Hotch chuckled, but immediately stifled it at Rossi's hard glare.

"That goes for you too, Aaron, and you're not protected from sleeping on the floor!"

This time not even Rossi's low growl dampened Hotch's chuckle and as he fell asleep, the process occasionally interrupted by a loud whisper of some strange fact by Reid, he was still smiling.


A/N2: I'm not sure when I'll have the next chapter up, but hopefully pretty soon.

Please review! :)