Chapter 14

It was a rainy day in Virginia and traffic was at a standstill. Pedestrians huddled under umbrellas as they scurried along the sodden sidewalks. Irritable drivers were leaning on their horns. Stopped at yet another red light, Sean tapped the steering wheel impatiently and glanced over at his brother. Aaron was staring out the window, hands wrapped tightly around his briefcase.

"Want me to put on the siren, bro?"

Hotch shook his head. "No. We've still got plenty of time; Quantico isn't that far... take your second left and we should be able to dodge the worst of this mess."

"Okay. You're the boss."

Although the brothers had spent the last month repairing their relationship and were now closer than they had been since childhood, the younger Hotchner knew to keep conversation to a minimum when Aaron was nervous. Not that the man looked at all anxious. His face was expressionless and relaxed; his manner cool and controlled. The only thing that betrayed the butterflies in his stomach was the clenching of his hands.

'We're complete opposites.' thought Sean. 'I was flipping out before my opening night at the restaurant.'

They drove on in comfortable silence and as Hotch had predicted, arrived at the FBI Headquarters a good twenty minutes prior to his appointment. Sean pulled the SUV up next to the front door so that his brother's suit wouldn't get too wet.

"The whole thing takes a couple of hours? I'll be back to pick you up and we can go for dinner."

Getting ready to use his briefcase as protection against the rain, Hotch nodded and opened the door.

"Hey, Aaron? Go kick some ass."

Hotch looked at his brother and smiled slightly. "Thanks."

Aaron felt a little bit like an outsider as he walked the corridors to the office of Section Chief Erin Strauss. Despite receiving broad smiles and hand-shakes from everyone he passed, it had been a long time since he had made this trek. He deliberately avoided going anywhere near the BAU. Usually, he was not superstitious but at the same time, didn't want to jinx himself. 'Calm down, Aaron. You know you're ready, let's just get it over with.' He raised his hand and knocked on his supervisor's door.

***

The following day, Aaron sat in a coffee shop across from the hospital, reading the paper while waiting for his brother, who had taken the car to run some errands. Hotch had had a busy morning, fitting in final appointments with Dr. Travis, Meagan and Kyle as well as a session with Dr. MacDonald. From a physical standpoint, he was fitter now than before his being shot and had been told kindly not to come back by his surgeon. Ben was still chipping away at the agent's deeper psychological issues, but had signed Hotch's 'return to work' form after Aaron had promised to meet him on a monthly basis.

All that remained between Agent Hotchner and return to the BAU were the results from his recent evaluations. He knew he had scored well at the shooting range and fitness assessments but the doctor performing the psychological testing was difficult to read, even for a skilled profiler. The agent thought he had done enough to show his emotional competence for work, but until the official letter arrived, he would be on edge.

Hotch sighed and took a sip out of his coffee mug. 'Patience!' he told himself. 'At least you're getting to spend a lot of time with Jack.' It was the best part of not being allowed to work. Aaron had revelled in the joys of fatherhood. Father and son had spent hours playing in the park and at home. Haley knew that her ex-husband's schedule wouldn't be flexible for long, so she allowed him virtually full-time custody. Hotch was rewarded by being present for Jack's first successful solo ride on his bicycle. 'It was one of the best days of my life' he later told Rossi.

Aaron also spent a good deal of time with Sean. He had to admit that his brother had proven to be an excellent nurse-maid and uncle. Aaron knew that he would miss their banter when Sean returned to New York the following week. 'And his cooking... the man is incredibly talented! I'm not looking forward to going back to meals out of a box.'

He checked his watch and decided he had time for another coffee. Approaching the counter with his mug, Hotch's attention was caught by a man sitting alone in a corner of the cafe. There was nothing particularly noteworthy in his appearance; he was of medium height and build, dressed neatly in a business suit. But his mannerisms were in sharp contrast to the professional attire. The man's hands were shaking as he lifted his cup to his lips. His eyes darted nervously around the shop; they made contact with Hotch's for a split second before moving on.

'Oh for goodness sake, Aaron, quit profiling everyone you run into. The guy might be waiting for an interview... or news from test results as we're so close to a hospital.' All the same, Hotch kept glancing at the man as he collected his refill and returned to his own table. 'Something about him... he's too nervous... and it's getting worse.'

Hotch spread his already-read newspaper open and pretended to be engrossed in its contents. 'Ok, now you really are getting paranoid... and obsessed. Finish your coffee and call Sean!'

This was made easier when the man got up and left the cafe. Hotch saw him cross the street and make towards the entrance to the hospital. 'See?!! You were right, just getting some test results back.' And yet something wasn't right. Hotch couldn't put his finger on it, but his instinct told him to act. He folded up his paper and tucking it under his arm, followed in the direction the strange man had taken.

Agent Hotchner was metres from the hospital entrance when he heard gunfire from within. Ducking behind a parked ambulance, he pulled out his cell phone.

"Captain, my dear Captain, what can I do for you? Want me to come and babysit that sweetie son of yours?" came Garcia's chipper voice.

"Sometime soon, Garcia, but no. I need you to send me Morgan, Rossi and a sketch artist ASAP and call for back-up. Tell them no sirens! I'm outside the entrance to the General hospital's ER and just heard gunfire."

"Sir, you're not thinking of going in there..?! Need I remind you, respectfully, that you're not supposed to..."

"No time for formalities. Just get them here and have Reid and Prentiss on stand-by. Oh, and I'll need JJ to help with the press."

"Yes sir." There was a short pause. "And sir?"

"What is it Garcia?"

"Please be careful... we need you back."

"I'll be fine... but thanks." Hotch snapped the phone shut and considered his options. The doors to the ER were closed and hadn't opened since the sound of the shots. Aaron suspected that the unsub was the man from the coffee shop. That gave him a very slim advantage but hardly enough for a profile. He needed to know what was going on in there. Was it a hostage situation? Potential suicide? Targeted murder? Hotch wished he was armed. As he waited for the arrival of his team, he wracked his brains for the layout of the ER. 'I was unconscious each time I came through those doors!' he thought, shaking his head in frustration.

Keeping out of sight of the doors, Hotch manoeuvred around the ambulance and approached the entrance from the side. He kept his back flattened against the wall, crouched down, and slowly stuck his head around the corner. Mercifully, the automatic door opening mechanism failed and the doors remained closed. Hotch peered through the glass. He could see a fallen security guard lying on his back with a gunshot wound to the head. The patients seem to have been herded into the main waiting room, on the left side of the ER. There was silence. The reception desk was deserted. 'Where is all of the staff?' Hotch vaguely recalled the examination rooms being down another corridor, to the right of the main area. 'Who are you after? A doctor? A patient?'

Hotch retreated to relative safety behind the ambulance and saw an FBI SUV pull up, lights off, out of sight of the hospital entrance. Morgan and Rossi emerged, wearing their Kevlar vests and began to make their way towards the ambulance. Morgan carried an extra vest, which he handed to Hotch as soon as they arrived. Rossi bent down and unbuckled an ankle holster which held a Glock. "Thought this might come in handy" he remarked offering it to Aaron.

"Thanks." said Hotch, cinching his vest. He wrapped the holster around his ankle, enjoying the familiar weight and comfort.

"What have we got?" asked Morgan.

Hotch quickly recounted all he had seen in the ER and what he observed in the coffee shop.

"Look, I know it sounds a bit crazy and a lot coincidental, but there was just something about the man..."

Rossi looked at Morgan, then at Hotch. "Your gut instinct is good enough for me. How do you want to play this?"

"Let's set up a perimeter..."

"Already done. We left JJ to hold back the media."

"Good! Is the sketch artist in the van?"

Morgan nodded. "I'll go get her."

Hotch turned to Rossi. "I'll give a description and maybe the team can find something useful. But we need to get in there and make contact. I don't remember the layout of the ER... I figured you could help me with that..."

"You're assuming that it's a hostage situation?"

"Seems reasonable... I only heard two gunshots. One must have been the security guard. If the guy were committing suicide, we'd have people running out those doors by now. He can't be far away, maybe just out of sight. Do you remember where the exam rooms are? Can we get in from behind him?"

"Mmm, won't be easy. We'll need a diversion."

"I can give him that, I just need the megaphone."

Agent Morgan returned with the sketch artist. He held a piece of paper. "Garcia made contact with Dr. MacDonald who managed to dig up a map of the hospital. He's also alerted hospital security, so there shouldn't be anyone getting in or out of the building. We've just got to worry about the docs already in surgery."

Hotch nodded approvingly. "Good. We may be able to use Ben again."

The agents poured over the map.

"Okay, so we think our unsub may be about here." Rossi stabbed the paper with a finger. Morgan, do you think that you can get to this area? You'll have some cover but not a great view of the waiting area."

"Consider it done." replied Morgan, attaching his communication earpiece. His colleagues followed suit. "I'll let you know when I'm close." With that, he headed off towards the west side of the building and was soon out of sight.

Rossi established contact with the rest of the team and retrieved the megaphone while Hotch worked with the sketch artist. Within minutes a rough drawing was scanned and sent to Reid, Prentiss and Garcia, as well as to Morgan.

"I don't expect this man to have a record." Hotch told Prentiss. "I think he's snapped but anything you can find to identify the trigger will be helpful... And Prentiss? Remember that it may not be him..."

"Understood, Sir. We're on it."

"Thanks." Hotch said and put away his cell. He could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins but he wasn't nervous. It felt 'right'.

Rossi watched his partner in full-on 'Unit Chief' mode and smiled to himself. 'Welcome back Aaron.'

The two agents heard a brief crackle of static through their earpieces before Morgan's voice. "I'm in and have the unsub in sight. You were right, Hotch, it's your pal from the coffee shop. The good news is that I've gotten into the three operating rooms so they're all clear. The bad news is that the guy's escalating. His whole body's shaking and he's yelling a bunch of garbage I can't make out."

"Foreign language?" suggested Rossi.

"Nope, just a bunch of incoherent half sentences. But that isn't the worst of it..."

There was a pause and more static.

"Morgan? You still there???" demanded Hotch.

"Uh yeah. The unsub has a hostage and is holding a gun to his head.

"Do you have a shot?"

"No. He's turning in circles and is using the doc as a shield... almost like he's expecting company. But Hotch..."

"Spit it out, Morgan, we don't have time!" exclaimed Hotch irritably.

"Hotch, I think that the hostage is your surgeon... Doc Travis..."

Hotch went cold. He closed his eyes. Keith Travis had not only saved his life but had become a friend. Quickly, he collected himself. "Reid, Prentiss! Anything yet?"

"Not much." Reid replied. "We've got a name, a Mr. Justin Clarke. Thirty-one years old, a high-school teacher. As you suspected Hotch, no priors. He's married, no children and seems to be doing alright financially."

"Any hint of marital issues?" Rossi asked.

"Prentiss has gone to the house to interview the wife, but so far there is nothing to suggest an extramarital affair."

"Something had to have happened to set this man off. Find it Reid." Hotch said, looking grimly at Rossi. "Ready Dave?"

"Show time." answered Rossi drawing his weapon.

Agent Hotchner picked up the megaphone and switched it on. "Mr. Clarke?" he said loudly. "My name is Aaron Hotchner and I'm with the FBI. Justin, I just want to talk. Would you open the doors, please?"

There was no response from inside the hospital.

"Justin? How about letting those people in the waiting room go? You have my word that no one will hurt you if you open the doors."

Still no reply.

"Reid?" hissed Rossi. "We need something for Hotch to go on!"

"I'll get hold of Prentiss immediately!"

"Hurry, Reid! We don't have much time. The way this guy's acting, he's going to start shooting again soon."

Meanwhile, Hotch had inched closer to the ER entrance. He could now see the gunman who was continuing to move about erratically.

"Dave, I've got to get in there and see if I can talk him down."

Rossi nodded in agreement. "I'll cover you. Just don't let him close the doors."

"Mr. Clarke?" Hotch said into the megaphone. "How about a trade? In exchange for everyone in the waiting room, you can have me. I'm an FBI Agent so more valuable."

Through the glass, Aaron could see Clarke hesitate.

"Do we have a deal, Justin?"

Dragging his captive with him, Clarke moved over to the Admissions desk.

"Damn!" whispered Morgan. "I've lost visual!"

Suddenly, the doors to the hospital slid open. Justin had a firm grip on the gun and had it jammed against Dr. Travis' left temple. Hotch saw that his friend was scared, but in control. 'Good.' thought Aaron. 'I can trust him to be able to act if necessary.'

The two men made eye contact for an instant but neither gave any sign of recognition.

Hotch moved forward, weapon aimed at the gunman. "Okay Justin, let the patients go and I'll come in." He kept his voice low and controlled.

Again, Clarke hesitated. He was still moving restlessly, but remained behind the desk and out of sight of Agent Morgan.

"Why... Why... Why should I trust you??!" he screamed manically.

"I can't give you a good reason Justin. But I can give you my promise that I won't shoot if you free all of the hostages." Replied Hotch calmly.

Clarke chewed his bottom lip as he considered this.

"Hotch!" Rossi's voice came through the earpiece. "I've just heard from Reid. Prentiss couldn't talk to the wife, but found the mother at home. Justin Clarke has suffered from bi-polar depression since his early 20's. He came off his meds two days ago. His mother has been worried sick because he went out last night and didn't come home..."

'Wonderful.' Thought Hotch. 'I've got a loose cannon in front of me.'

"And get this..." Dave continued. "Two days ago his wife underwent an emergency c-section. The baby died..."

"Got it." Murmured Hotch. The death of the child had been the trigger. It also explained Clarke's choice of captive. He wondered if the wife had survived.

"Justin? Please release these people. You didn't come here to hurt the innocent. You came because you're angry and upset with the hospital."

The gunman looked surprised but the grip on his gun tightened.

"Come on Mr. Clarke, you know I'm right." Hotch said gently. "Let these others go."

More chewing on the bottom lip. Then it stopped abruptly. Clarke's face relaxed slightly but his voice hardened. "Alright Agent, you have your deal... But I'm keeping this one!"

Agent Rossi moved forward and began ushering the patients out of the hospital; Hotch kept his gun pointed at Clarke as cover. Once Aaron was sure of the safety of the hostages, he slowly bent down and re-holstered his weapon.

"Hotch, I hope you know what you're doing..." muttered Rossi through the earpiece.

Hotch nodded slightly and straightened himself. Clarke pushed a button from behind the desk and the ER doors slid shut once more.

"Dammit, Hotch!" Rossi was exasperated. "Morgan? Hotch has put his gun away and is standing about four feet from the front of the reception desk. Clarke and the doc are still behind it."

"Can Garcia get eyes on us all?" whispered Morgan.

"Probably, but that's not going to help us in this case. I can see what's going on, I just don't have the shot through Hotch and this reinforced glass.

"Hotch, I know you can hear me. Just give me a sign man; I'll be shooting in two seconds."

Hotch regarded the gunman. Clarke seems slightly less jumpy now that there were less people and the FBI Agent had put his gun away.

"May I sit?" Hotch inquired. "I've only just recovered from an injury."

Clarke shrugged indifferently.

The agent slowly lowered himself to the ground, positioning himself so his back rested against a low wall dividing the waiting room from the area in front of the Admissions desk. He pulled his legs up and placed his hands non-threateningly on his knees.

"Atta boy, Aaron!" thought Rossi. "Morgan? Hotch is sitting on the ground in the front entranceway, still about four feet from the desk. He's got access to his gun in a matter of seconds. Clarke seems to have calmed down a little but the barrel of the gun is still against Travis' head. If he wants to see Hotch, he's going to have to come out from behind the desk. You might have a line on him then so be ready."

"Copy that."

"So Justin." Hotch started conversationally. "Where do we go from here? Your mother is very worried about you, you know."

Clarke's eyes became suddenly alert and narrowed suspiciously. "What do you know about it?"

Hotch's tone was compassionate as he said, "I know you recently lost your baby."

The gun dipped slightly for a moment but then Clarke recovered and began pacing behind the desk, maintaining his head-lock on Travis. For his part, Keith seemed to be keeping hold of the panic that must be eating away at him.

"You're just trying to trick me!" shouted Clarke.

"No I'm not, Justin. My agents have spoken to your mother. She told us the whole story. I'm very sorry for your loss. I almost lost my own child recently..."

"You're just saying that to stall for time." spat Clarke.

"No, I'm telling the truth. I have a four-year old son. He was missing and the only clue we could find led me to think he was dead. It was the worst time in my life..."

"LIAR!" screamed Clarke.

"Hotch, hurry up, he's escalating again. Get him out from the desk, into the open!" Rossi spoke urgently into his communicator.

"If you don't believe me, take a look at this." And reaching into a pocket, Hotch pulled out a picture of Jack. He slid it along the floor; it came to a stop in the middle of the entry area.

Clarke, breathing heavily, tightened his grip on his captive and shoved the gun into Keith's forehead. Keith groaned, his eyes filled with fear. The pair began to shuffle awkwardly out from behind the desk.

Hotch watched them carefully as they neared the photograph. Clarke was chewing his bottom lip again, and spinning as though still expecting to be ambushed by yet unseen assailants.

"I can see him, but can't get a clear shot while he's movin' around so damn much!" Morgan said softly through clenched teeth.

Never once taking his eyes off of Clarke's face, Hotch inched his hands towards his ankles. It was a painstakingly slow process. Clarke came to a stop only for a brief second. Still chewing his lip he glanced at the photo on the floor then started his manic dance again.

"So what?!!" he yelled. "You still have a kid. Thanks to this asshole, I don't!"

Hotch didn't reply but kept his eyes fixed on Clarke's bottom lip. He could feel the cold steel of his Glock as his fingers closed around its handle. Justin Clarke's spinning became slower, his chewing faster.

"Well you know what agent? What goes around comes around. This surgeon took my baby's life. Now I'm going to take his!"

Abruptly, the chewing stopped. Clarke's face relaxed. His finger began to squeeze the trigger...

BANG!

Morgan dashed out from his position in a side corridor. "Jesus!" Rounding the corner, he took in the scene. Justin Clarke lay on his back, a slow trickle of blood from a single gunshot wound to the temple running down one side of his forehead. Agent Hotchner was sitting on the ground, cradling Dr. Travis's head in his lap and trying to comfort the trembling doctor. He looked up at the younger agent's approach.

"Morgan, let Rossi in and find us some medics, please." he said softly.

"You got it, boss."

***

A short time later Hotch knocked on the door to small, private room in the hospital. Keith Travis was propped up in bed, arguing with a nurse. Hotch smiled in amusement. His surgeon was still very pale, but if he had the strength to be issuing orders, then he must be feeling better.

"Aaron! Come in!" Keith shooed the glaring nurse away with a wave of his hand. She sniffed in loud disapproval but left, closing the door softly behind her.

Hotch pulled up a chair and looked at his friend. "This seems odd... and backwards." He smiled.

The doctor-come-patient grinned weakly. "Yeah, I think I preferred it the other way around." He held out his hands, which still had a slight tremor. "Mmm, not quite fit for surgery."

Hotch gently took hold of Keith's hands and lay them back on the blanket. "Give yourself some time; you've been through quite an ordeal."

"Wow, I think that's one of my direct quotes to you!" Keith shook his head in mock disgust. He then grew serious. "Aaron... I... Thank you for saving my life. I know that isn't enough, but it's all I can offer."

Hotch shook his head. "Keith, after all you have done for me over the past months this was the very least that I could do. I'm just thankful that we had a happy ending."

There was a knock at the door and Ben MacDonald burst into the room.

"Keith! Are you alright?!!"

"I'm a bit shaky, but I'll be fine. Might need to make use of some of your services though..."

"Of course, any time." Ben put his hand on Hotch's shoulder. "Aaron, you and your team... we owe you a big thank you."

Hotch looked up at his psychologist. "As I was just telling Dr. Travis, it was our pleasure. No thanks necessary."

Ben sat down on the edge of the bed. "I just can't believe that something like this happened at our hospital... talk about classic denial!" He looked at Hotch. "Aaron, I know this may not be the time or place, but I just wanted to say that I hope you have absolutely no doubts as to your readiness for duty? I don't give a damn what those evaluations say, after today there should be no question! You just send your supervisor to me if those bureaucratic idiots try to tell you otherwise."

Hotch smiled at the passion in Ben's voice. He hadn't really had any doubts about his ability to resume his post as Unit Chief, but the day's events had helped to solidify his determination to continue his job and cemented his new-found confidence. "Thanks... Ben."

Their eyes met briefly. Dr. MacDonald recognized the symbolism of Aaron having addressed him by his Christian name for the very first time: more than respect, it was a sign of extreme trust. From Agent Hotchner, there was no greater complement.

***