So, I sense some of you were a wee bit upset with me regarding the last chapter. I understand. But thank you for sticking with me. We're on the home stretch now (just six more chapters after this one).
HOTCH
"What's going on?" Gerald Rinks sat up a little straighter in his bed, wincing as he did so.
Hotch took a step forward and adopted his best poker face. Deep down, he'd been hoping Morgan had somehow survived. He knew the odds were against him, but his mind was still trying to process everything that had happened in the last 48 hours. But now he was faced with an entirely different dilemma, and he had to figure out how best to approach it.
"Sir, my name is Aaron Hotchner. I'm an agent with the FBI, we're here aiding in the investigation into the plane crash. What can you remember?"
"Not much," Rinks answered. "At first it was just images and voices that made no sense. I remember leaning against the window looking out, then the entire plane just sort of dropped."
"Dropped?"
"Yeah, like we hit some turbulence. It was dark outside because of the storm, but the captain had already warned us about a rough ride. I've been in a few planes, so I'm used to turbulence. That was different." He pressed a button that raised his bed to a sitting position as Hotch took the chair next to his bed.
"Do you remember anything just before the crash? A pilot announcement maybe?"
"No," Rinks shook his head softly. "We just tipped forward suddenly. The top of the cabin came off, then...nothing."
"I probably don't have to tell you how lucky you are. Your doctors tell me you still don't remember anything about your life." His voice lilted upward to indicate a question, and Rinks shrugged.
"Flashes mostly," he admitted. "Faces, events...nothing that makes sense."
"Someone is on her way here as we speak," Hotch told him. "She's going to be very happy to see you."
"I wish I could say the same," Rinks frowned. "Did...did I know her well?" Hotch nodded. "Oh God, is she my wife?" He checked his hands for any sign of a ring.
"Fiancee," Hotch corrected. "But don't push yourself. Your doctors say your memory may still come back."
"Or it might not come back at all," Rinks snapped back, then immediately grimaced. "I'm sorry."
"No need," Hotch stood. "I'm going to let you rest, but I'd like to keep in contact with you, if that's alright. I may have more questions."
"Of course," Rinks nodded. "You know where to find me."
"Take care." Hotch turned to walk out the door, but Rinks' voice stopped him.
"Wait!" Hotch complied, angling his body back in question. "You know that I have a fiancee, you obviously recognize me. What's my name?"
"It's Gerald," he said. "Gerald Rinks."
"Gerald Rinks," he tested out the name, saying it again for good measure. "Thank you."
"You're welcome, Mr. Rinks." And he left. Prentiss and Garcia were huddled on the floor next to the door and Hotch felt his own emotions rising at the sight. "Time to go," he said softly. Prentiss rocked back onto her heels as she slid her arm out from behind Garcia, then lifted to her feet. The tech sniffed softly and looked up at her boss with tear-filled eyes. Hotch reached down to help her up, and when she was standing he squeezed Garcia's hands tightly before releasing them.
"How is he?" she asked softly. He gave her a warm look, astounded once more at the depth of this woman's heart.
"Confused, maybe a little scared," he said, "but he'll be alright." He nodded back toward the empty corridor. "We need to get back to the team." They fell into step beside him, and by the time they reached the front desk she had regained control of her emotions. Prentiss stepped away to check in with the others and tell them the news. When she slid into the passenger seat of the SUV, she glanced once back at Garcia before telling Hotch what she'd learned.
"They found the bodies of the pilot and co-pilot. JJ fought with the FAA and United to get jurisdiction, but they're doing a full autopsy on both of them. We should have some preliminary results in the morning."
"Good," Hotch started the car and eased out of the parking lot. "It's starting to get late," he said. "Our best course of action might be to get some rest and hit this thing fresh in the morning."
"No," Garcia sat forward suddenly in her seat. "Sir, there were survivors. And if Gerald Rinks walked away then maybe others did, too. Maybe -" her breath hitched and she swallowed a few times. "We should at least call all the hospitals in the area and check."
Hotch frowned and opened his mouth to tell her it was unlikely and probably a waste of time, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Prentiss shake her head and he changed his mind mid-breath. "Alright," he agreed. "When we get back to the station, you can call around. But we're all going back to the hotel at ten, no exceptions. We need to be well-rested."
"Thank you," Garcia breathed. "Thank you."
He wasn't sure how much good would come of it, but if it was something she felt she needed to do he wasn't going to stop her. Accepting the truth was hard enough without shreds of hope to cling to; if this helped her to finally move on he would consider it time well spent.