Series 10 One-shots: Mr Scratch

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas

MGG definitely knows how to direct the most amazingly spooky episodes – his really are something else. I was really hoping to some follow up on this one and the effects on Hotch, but . . .

Anyway, this is one of two ideas I had for this ep and in the end I went with this as although I hate/struggle writing Hotch I love scenes with him and Rossi.

. . .

Prompt

Rossi: We have to talk about it.

Hotch: Not tonight.

Rossi: Yes tonight, while it's still fresh.

Hotch: It doesn't . . . Parts of it don't make sense to me.

Rossi: They don't have to. Tell me what it smelt like? Tell me how you felt? Start at the beginning, start at the end. I don't care but start. Now what do you remember? Aaron . . . Aaron . . . Hotch!

Hotch: This is what happened . . .

. . .

Dave leant forward placing a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder. "You know this might not be the best place for this. I tell you what I'll grab a set of keys off Morgan and take you back to mine for the night."

Looking up it was obvious Aaron was about to object, though from the expression on Dave's face he knew resistance was futile. So instead he just nodded. He watched as Dave walked off to where Morgan and JJ were stood. He saw Dave speak to them both and Morgan hand over the keys. Part of him wanted to argue with Dave and head home, but he also didn't want Jack to see him until he knew the effects of the drugs had fully worn off. Maybe a night a Dave's would not be such a bad thing.

As Dave headed back towards him Aaron pushed himself up to his feet, holding on to the door to steady himself. Dave was instantly by his side.

"Think you could try taking it easy, even Superman has Kryptonite." Dave reached out, supporting Aaron to the nearby FBI vehicle. Once he was happy that Aaron was safe inside Dave headed round to the driver's side and started the engine, driving the directly back to his.

. . .

Settled in the lounge Aaron had now showered and was on the couch in joggers and a tee. Apparently Dave had arranged for Morgan to take the other car back and get Aaron's go bag. He had stepped out of the en-suite bathroom to find it on the bed.

He could smell something amazing coming from the kitchen and was not surprised to have a bowl of pasta placed in front of him shortly after.

"I checked with the good Doctor Reid and although food is probably the last thing you want right now it would be a good idea. Once we have got some of that I have something that is more what I would call 'medicinal'."

Aaron cracked a half smile, appreciating his friend's efforts.

"Then we can begin." Dave looked directly at Aaron, "I do expect you to tell me what happened tonight. It's not going to go away."

Aaron nodded once more, gingerly spooning a small amount. It smelt great but instantly his stomach flipped. Returning the spoon he put the bowl down on the table and reached for the glass of water.

Dave picked it back up, "Oh no you don't. Eat!"

Aaron took the bowl and attempted another spoonful. Its taste was tainted but he managed to swallow.

"Really Dave I would like to just head to bed."

"And I'd like you to do as you are told for once. If that had been me or Reid what would you be doing right now?"

Aaron accepted the reprimand and attempted to eat some more of the pasta, under the watchful eye of Dave. Once he was satisfied that he had eaten enough to get Dave off his back he placed the bowl back on the coffee table and sipped more of the water.

"Good," Dave cleared the bowl away and returned with two crystal tumblers and a bottle of malt. "Now the talking begins." He poured a large shot for each of them and handed one to Aaron before returning to his own chair. "You talk . . . I listen."

Dave watched as Aaron's eyes focused on a point somewhere on the other side of the room. He allowed his friend the time he needed to be back there.

"As I said . . . it doesn't make sense. I knew what he was capable of, I knew what he did and it worked. He got inside my head. "

"Tell me what happened before we got there. What did you see when you arrived?"

"Dr Reagan, she knew I was coming. She said my name, just before she killed herself. She literally waited until I walked through the door. She looked me in the eye."

"Was he there?"

"No, just Reagan and me. Though she told me he wanted me to see this. He knew I was coming. How did he know it would be me?"

Dave shook his head, "What happened next?"

Aaron squeezed his eyes shut, grimacing, "He was there. The smell . . . just like they all said. I knew what he was doing . . . I tried to fight it . . . to fight him . . . but . . ."

"But you are human."

Aaron let out a huge sigh as he glanced at Dave, "The first thing I remember after that was my cell ringing. I can hear it, but I can't answer it. Everything is blurry. I can see it, but can't move. Then I'm aware of him." Aaron spat out the words as if they were poison. "He's sat in a chair looking down at me; I could hear him but not know what he was saying. I had to concentrate to hear his words. He spoke so softly. Telling me what had happened." He paused to take a sip of the malt, letting it burn down his throat. "I tried telling him it was you calling, that the team would come looking for me. I tried to fight back, telling him what we knew. I nearly managed it. I nearly did . . . I nearly got into his head. I threw him for a while. Got him agitated . . . he didn't like it."

"I'm sure you did," Dave looked concerned, worried that Aaron had to feel like he had to explain himself. "We know you would have done everything you can . . . don't be so hard on yourself Aaron. He didn't outwit you . . . he drugged you."

Aaron took another sip of the drink, looking towards the darkened window before letting his gaze settle once more. "I heard you arrive. All of you were there. I could hear him talking the whole time, but don't know what he said. I tried to warn you to let you know but he had the upper hand. I heard JJ call out, he had shot someone, it must have been Reid. Then I hear Morgan, he got you Dave, he shot you. Then Morgan finds me and he shoots Morgan, right there in front of me. The first shot doesn't kill him but the second shot . . ." Aaron gulped, even though he knew it was a hallucination it still hit him hard. "I know it wasn't real, but it gave him what he needed. He knew what I was afraid of. He knew I was afraid he would win and that I couldn't protect you, any of you."

"Aaron we are all ok, you do not need to worry. He didn't harm any of us. We are worried about you . . . and what he did to you." Dave leant forward in his seat, his hands clasped together as his elbows rested on his thighs. "Don't forget we know what he is capable of. We figured his scam and I was in on the original investigation of these methods. He was using intensive brain washing techniques while you were under the influence of drugs. He got into your head, damn it. Let me help you get him out."

Aaron shook his head sadly, rubbing his temples. His head was throbbing, pounding frantically. Images flashed constantly and he struggled to make sense of half of them, let alone order them or explain them. Eventually he whispered, "I don't know Dave. I don't know what he did or how he did it. I know the theory. I understand what he did but I can't process what happened to me." Tears threatened as his looked up, "He's still in there, messing with my thoughts and I can't unscramble it."

Dave's heart went out to his friend; he could see the battle he was fighting. "Aaron I want to help you."

"I know . . . I know. I'm just not sure this is the best way." Aaron sighed, "I'm tired, I'm going to try and get some sleep."

"Sure," Dave nodded, trying to hide his disappointment at failing to solve things for his friend. He watched as Aaron placed his glass on the table and got up to leave the room. "But Aaron, this conversation . . . it can start up again anytime you like, whatever hour of the night you feel is right."

Aaron nodded, knowing as Dave did that sleep would be a rare thing tonight but hopefully it would lead to the point when they could tackle what had happened to him together.

. . .

We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light.

Plato