A/N: Surprise! I bet you didn't expect me to come back. These past few months have been hard, but now they're over and I have so much time to write! I'm gonna have a few months which I can completely dedicate to writing, hopefully they'll be enough to finish this story. It means so much to me.

Here's the new chapter :)

Aaron crashed down on a chair outside of Dave's hospital room. He could feel whatever energy he still had in him fade away and leave. Thanks to Reid, he knew that energy can neither be created nor destroyed. It comforted him a bit to think that maybe he was drained so that someone else could get their strength back. It wasn't quite the scientific meaning of that fact, but it didn't matter at the moment. Nothing seemed to matter.

Only everything still did. As bad as he was feeling, the rest of the team would feel worse. They still needed him. He needs to be strong and collected when they can't be. Just a little bit longer, Hotch, he thought to himself. You gotta keep it together.

He took out his phone and went through his contacts absentmindedly. He could search the name to save the time, but instead he slowly went through all the different names, one at a time. He surprised himself by remembering all of them. Officers from all over the country. Surviving victims and their families who wished to stay in touch. Haley's family. Acquaintances from the bureau. An image of Jason Gideon sitting alone in his office and reading the first page of his journal over and over again popped in his mind, and he wondered if he was doing the same. He paused for a moment when he reached Dave's name, just one letter before the one he was looking for.

When he finally reached the name he was looking for, he hesitated for a moment. It was both the call he wanted to make last and the call he wanted to make first, so it was best to get it over with. He made the call, and immediately regretted it.

"Agent Hotchner, where the hell have you been?" Strauss' familiar voice asked angrily. He almost wanted to interrupt her and shout the truth in her face, but he waited. She deserved one more minute of not knowing. "It's been three days since you left for London, and yet you didn't think it would be appropriate to update me on the developments?"

He knew she was right. And if it were any other case, he would've felt guilty – to a certain degree – for not staying in contact like he knew he was supposed to. "I'm sorry, ma'am, we just have a lot on our minds right now."

"That's no excuse," Strauss replied.

"No, but it's the truth. The complete truth is that I would've gone on without contacting you if things didn't happen the way they did."

He could hear the hesitation in Strauss' silence. By this point she must have realized something bad had happened, and she didn't dare to ask what it was. "What do you mean?"

Aaron took a deep breath. He hadn't said it yet, not out loud. It felt almost impossible to. "David Rossi passed away fifteen minutes ago. I can't say much, but you should know that he died to save someone else's life."

He could hear Strauss fall down heavily to her chair, just as he felt his heart sinking. It sounded like a lie, and for a second he wondered if Strauss really believed him.

"How did it happen?" she asked after a moment of silence.

"I'm afraid I can't say. It's been made clear to us that everyone else who gets involved in this will be in danger. I wouldn't have told you at all, but he asked me to. Before it happened."

Strauss drew a sharp shaky breath, and Hotch wondering if she was crying. He couldn't blame her if she was.

"Did he say anything else?" she asked.

"He knew what was happening before we did. He said goodbye to all of us, and it was important to him that I say goodbye to you on his behalf. I don't know what happened between the two of you, but you should know it meant a lot to him."

She was quiet for another moment. Aaron was waiting for her to say that what happened between them was none of his business, or maybe be angry at him for what had happened, or just keep trying to get information. Instead, she asked: "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Trust us to do our best to handle this and keep everyone off our backs. There's no telling how long we'll have to stay here, so someone would have to provide excuses for all those who might get curious."

"I'll take care of it. Good luck, agent Hotchner."

"Thank you. And I'm sorry."

The call ended, surprising him for the better. He did not expect it to be that easy. Instead of feeling relieved, he just felt more miserable when he knew what had to be done next.

At this point, Aaron was certain Mycroft had had enough time to find out about what had happened. He knew it was cowardly of him to let Mycroft find out on his own instead of calling to tell him, but there was a limit to the amount of hearts he could break in one day. However, he still needed to say something. He had gotten Mycroft's number from John earlier that day, but couldn't bring himself to call him. So instead, he sent a text.

I'm sorry.

He wasn't expecting a reply, but it eased his conscience slightly to know that he offered some sort of comfort. He was quite surprised to receive a reply just a few seconds later.

Thank you.

The corner of Aaron's mouth twitched. If Mycroft, the coldest man he'd ever met who wasn't an Unsub, let himself seem vulnerable just for a moment, then maybe he could, too. But not yet. There was one last call he had to make.

Come on, Hotch, just do it, he told himself. You've told so many families about the death of their loved ones, this time isn't different. That didn't comfort him in any way, given how hard it always was to tell families of victims the bad news.

He suddenly noticed that refers to himself as Hotch whenever he talks to himself. It was nothing new, and yet he never really paid much attention to it until now. It was quite a strange thing to do. Then again, there were only two people who called him by his first name on a regular basis other than his family – Haley and Dave. They were both gone now. Haley's death was his fault. Was Dave's, too?

No, it wasn't, he firmly reminded himself. It was Daiva's fault. And Mycroft's too, in a way, but it was best not to think about that. If the man truly has a heart, he must be blaming himself enough for all of us.

He called Emily before he could change his mind. She answered immediately.

"Hold on a second," she said. He wasn't sure whether she said that to him or to whomever she was with, but he waited nonetheless. The more he could wait, the better. That was why he saved this call for last – not knowing is horrible, but you still have hope. Once you know, there's no going back. "Okay, go on," she said after a few seconds. "What did the doctors say?"

She didn't even considered the option the worst had happened. Of course she didn't – why would she? After all, she had survived her own near-death experience. Who would ever imagine that this would be how David Rossi loses his life?

Aaron hesitated for a moment. He thought he knew what to say, but suddenly all words escaped him. Was there a way to make it sound better? A way to soften the blow?

Emily noticed his hesitation. "No," she said, and Aaron could hear the despair in his voice. "Please tell me you're not saying anything because Rossi told you to prank us."

He sighed, suddenly realizing how tired he really was. "The doctors did everything they could, but it was too late."

He could almost see her – looking down to the floor and closing her eyes, making an effort not to cry before she told the others. Because she knew he was going to ask her to tell them. That was what profilers are like – they know each other far too well.

"I'll do it. Take your time."

"Thank you," he answered, ready to end the call.

"You were there for him, Hotch," Emily said with a clenched jaw. "In his final moments, you were there for him, and he knew that. There was nothing more you could do."

Aaron nodded, even though he knew she couldn't see him, and hated how much his throat suddenly burned. He trying clearing it, but it didn't help. "I'll talk to you later," he mumbled, trying to keep his voice from breaking, and ended the call before she could say anything else.

He got up from his seat. He had asked the nurses not to take Dave away just yet. He needed to say one last goodbye. He entered the room and closed the door behind him. It was exceptionally cold in there. He assumed the nurses turned the AC all the way down to postpone decomposition as much as possible. Or maybe it wasn't really cold at all. He sat down on a chair beside Dave, keeping quiet for absolutely no reason. He was quite relieved that Dave's eyes were closed – he couldn't imagine looking at them and getting back an empty gaze. But even like this, he couldn't convince himself that he was just sleeping. Even when Dave was asleep, his expression was never completely blank. He looked amused, at times. Sometimes he looked worried. But there was always something. Whether he was asleep or awake, he was always up to something. Never stopping to rest. Only now he had.

Without completely realizing what he was doing, Aaron reached out and held Dave's hand, which was significantly colder than normal. He wanted to say something. Goodbye, Dave. Thank you for everything. In the end, you were right. If you see Haley, send her my love. I hope you find your son and get your second chance. We will all miss you. You were my best friend, you still are. He could think of so many things to say, and yet couldn't let any of them out of his mouth. He opened it, just to try, but then he completely forgot everything he wanted to say. Instead, he thought of everything Dave had said to him. He was always better with words. The memories of David Rossi smiling, shouting, whispering, living, got mixed up with the very still image before his eyes.

And before he could stop it, a loud sob came through his open mouth, followed by many more.

Emily has never been in a more silent building. She had dragged JJ into the team's room after she had slapped Mycroft and they have been sitting there since, with the door open in case there would be any news. All the local officers were still at work, some of which even planning Donovan's funeral, and yet they were all incredibly quiet. Emily thought it was a very British thing to do – to stay as quiet as possible to let others have the privacy they deserve. She appreciated it greatly, but couldn't bring herself to tell them. At some point one of them came to ask the team if they wanted coffee or anything. She turned him down, but hoped the gratitude in her eyes spoke loudly enough. Occasionally, the rest of the team would come to ask her if there were any news. It was almost as if they were taking turns – Garcia, then Morgan, then Reid and Seaver at the end. Seaver and Reid were each sitting some distance away from everyone else. Garcia and Morgan were the closest to the room, and his hand around Garcia was what allowed Emily to sit alone with JJ. Because unlike the rest of them, they were both feeling very guilty. Emily could only assume that that was what everyone was like when they were waiting for news on her. The look in JJ's eyes confirmed it. JJ got to get some steam out when slapped Mycroft, but Emily didn't have such an outlet. She couldn't afford to lash out. With Rossi and Hotch at the hospital, she somehow became the natural leader. She'd always assumed it would be Morgan. Nevertheless, it was her, and she had a responsibility. She had to keep the team safe. She had to make it up to them. And in order to do that, she had to stay strong. She was there with Rossi and Morgan when they found Hotch hitting Foyet's dead body – if the worst happened, she couldn't count on Hotch's stability. She had only one person to count on, like she always had. Herself.

After what seemed like forever, her phone rang. Everyone's eyes shot to her instantly, not daring to look hopeful. She answered the phone immediately. "Hang on a second," she said, sending JJ an apologetic look. She left the room and walked quickly to the restroom, making sure it was empty before telling Hotch: "Okay, go on. What did the doctors say?"

A second passed, and then another one, each of them making her heart heavier and heavier. After six seconds, she knew exactly why Hotch was quiet. "No," she said, desperately hoping to be wrong. "Please tell me you're not saying anything because Rossi told you to prank us."

They both knew Rossi would never do that. But it would make more sense than him being…

"The doctors did everything they could, but it was too late."

She looked down to the floor, doing her best to hold back tears. She can't let it out now. Not before she tells the team. Maybe not even then. Because she was going to be the one to tell them. Hotch didn't even need to ask.

"I'll do it. Take your time."

"Thank you," he answered quietly, eager to end the call. But there was something else she needed to say to him before he does. Something she hoped Hotch had said to the team after her "death".

"You were there for him, Hotch," she said, clenching her jaw to keep her voice steady. "In his final moments, you were there for him, and he knew that. There was nothing more you could do."

There was silence for a moment. "I'll talk to you later," he mumbled and ended the call.

She closed her eyes and took three deep breaths to calm down. She turned to go to the team, but accidentally met her eyes in the mirror. She immediately wished she hadn't. This was the face of the woman who was about to break her family's hearts. She had to look in their eyes and see them lose all traces of hope. She might as well see her own too.

She walked quickly back to the team, eager to get it over with. The moment she was close enough she said: "Can you all come inside for a moment? I have some news."

Everyone hurried into the room, in a mixture of urgency and reluctance. They all sat down in a half circle, with Emily standing in front of them. She shut the door behind her – they deserved some privacy.

"Was that Hotch? What did he say?" Seaver asked impatiently.

Emily took another deep breath, gathering strength for what she was about to say. But how to say it? She opened her mouth to speak, but Garcia interrupted.

"Don't say it," she begged, crying already. "Saying it makes it real."

Emily bit her lip in a very poor attempt to say strong. Best to say it before she breaks down.

"I'm sorry, it was too late. He passed away."

She could suddenly feel all the anxiety that had filled her vanish, making room for suffocating sorrow. She knew it was the truth, she even said it herself, and yet she couldn't believe it. David Rossi was dead.

It seemed that the rest of the team shared her feeling. Garcia's crying turned into sobs. Morgan hugged her tightly and put his head on hers, subconsciously trying to hide his face as he cries. JJ and Seaver both kept to themselves, unsuccessfully trying to hold back tears. Reid looked like he was still processing it.

"I'm sorry."

Only then did Emily realize that John was still there. He hadn't said a single word the whole time, so she just forgot he was there. By the way everyone else reacted, it seemed like she wasn't the only one. For a little over an hour, he was a part of the family. She had no words to tell him how much she appreciated his support and respected him for it, but when their eyes met he nodded in such a way that said it all.

"I don't believe you."

Emily looked away from John to find the source of the words, and was somewhat surprised to find they came from Reid.

"I'm sorry?"

"I don't believe you. He faked it, just like you did," he insisted, his eyes almost manic.

"Spence…" JJ said, reaching out to put her hand on his shoulder. He stood up sharply before she could.

"No, don't try to comfort me. Last time you did that it turned out to be one big lie, so why shouldn't it be this time?"

"Reid, I am so sorry, but this time it's real," Emily said, wishing she was lying.

"Why should I believe that?" he asked, his whole body shaking with anger and pain. "It makes perfect sense – Hotch isn't back yet because he's helping Rossi go undercover, so Daiva would think we're a man down. Why shouldn't it be true? Why can't he be alive?"

Emily couldn't stay strong anymore. Grief about a lost friend was one thing. She could handle it. But she wasn't sure she could handle her guilt. She wasn't to say something to make it better, but all words escaped her.

"I know what it's like to lose a friend," John said, in a very low voice, looking at the floor. "And I know what it's like to wish and hope that it wasn't true, that he's still alive."

"And he was," said Reid.

John looked up to meet his eyes. "But he could have stayed dead. He could've died while pretending to be dead. In the end, it doesn't matter. I mourned my friend nonetheless. At this point you can go one of two ways. You can cling to false hope and watch everyone in your life slip away, or you can face your grief in a way that would make him proud."

The tear that rolled down Reid's cheek somehow managed to break Emily's heart more than everything he had said so far. That was, until he spoke again. "I still can't trust them."

John nodded. "That's okay. It takes time. But don't push them away, unless you're willing to risk losing them."

Despite knowing he was speaking to Reid, Emily took his words to heart. Her instincts told her to keep to herself, to show no weakness. But she knew he was right, and everything that happened with Doyle only proved it – pushing the team away didn't keep them safe, it just put them in more danger. Maybe it was time she went against her nature.

"John is right. I betrayed your trust," she said, looking at all of her friends, "And you have every right to feel hurt and angry. But we can't go through this alone, so here's a new rule – no more secrets. No more lies. If someone feels sad or frustrated or alone, they don't keep it to themselves. We're all profilers, which probably makes us the best listeners in the world. Don't keep anything inside." She stopped and looked at her friends, meeting their eyes one by one. And then, she did what every good leader does. She set an example. "I, for once, feel guilty. I am guilty for lying to you about my death, and I will never stop wishing I hadn't hurt you like that. But what happened to Rossi wasn't my fault, and yet I still feel guilty."

"What if there was something I could've done?" Seaver asked in a quiet voice.

"There wasn't," Morgan replied softly. "There was nothing any of us could have done. He made his own choice. It's not gonna make us feel any less responsible, but it's still important to remember that." His eyes briefly met Emily's when he mentioned the responsibility, which only weighed on her conscience even more.

The room was quiet for a moment. Reid was still standing, but he didn't have the same air of defiance as before. He seemed to be pondering whether he should cooperate or walk out angrily.

John broke the silence. "Er, I think I'll give you some privacy. I wouldn't want a stranger in the same room with me while I share my feelings," he said with a small humourless smile.

"You're not a stranger, John. Not at this point," Morgan said, surprising his friends as well as John. John had no way to know, but those words meant even more when coming from him.

His smile changed into a more grateful one. They had always thought of Sherlock as the lonely of the two, when in reality John's social circle wasn't much bigger.

"I appreciate that, but I better leave anyway. It won't be long until Mary decides that she's bored and there's no telling what she'll do then."

That got small smiles on everyone's faces. They didn't last long, but it was something. A fragment of distraction.

"Send her our love," JJ said warmly.

John offered her half a smile. "I will." He opened the door and took a step out, but then Reid suddenly acted.

"Actually, I think I'll leave too. I need some fresh air," he mumbled and rushed out of the open door. John gave Emily a 'let-me-handle-this' look and hurried after him.

"Agent Reid," he called out. Reid turned around, rather reluctantly. "Where are you going? I can give you a ride."

"I'm going to visit Sherlock at the hospital, to see if he's okay."

"You can't go to the hospital, you might attract attention and get him in trouble."

Reid seemed to have lost some of his determination. "Fine, then I'll go check up on Mycroft. Someone should."

"And I will, but not right now. He probably needs some time alone. Go to him right now and he might have you executed."

A smirk flickered across Reid's face, but he instantly looked away and removed it.

"Where do you plan to go, then? Wander the streets alone? What good would that do?" He paused to let Reid reply, but the latter appeared speechless. "I've been where you are. You want to hate them, and you do, to a certain degree. But in the end, they're your family, and you'd give your life for them."

"They could be lying to me right now," Reid said, eyes on the floor.

"Yes, they could. But what's the alternative? Never trusting them again?" he sighed tiredly. It felt weird to give advice about something so personal, but liberating at the same time. "It's going to take time, but they will eventually regain your trust. Only they won't, unless you let it happen."

Reid sighed, knowing John was right. Not that he liked it. He started walking towards the room, but John suddenly remembered something.

"Agent?"

Reid stopped and turned back. John figured he could probably call him by his first or last name, but felt like it was more appropriate to keep it semi-formal.

"I'm sorry to bring it up now, but do you still have that note we found in Donovan's pocket? I can start working on it for now, so you'll be able to truly take some time off without feeling guilty about not making progress."

Reid reached a hand into his pocket and pulled out the said note with a murmured 'thanks'. He handed it to John without meeting his eyes and left to join his team.

John turned around and made his way out of the building. Sure, he was going to spend some time with Mary, but if he could get some more information for the case in the process that wouldn't hurt, right?

Yes, he was definitely spending too much time with Sherlock.

"Okay, so what's the plan?" Tessa asked. She had removed Sherlock's IV – carefully, unlike how he usually does – and disconnected him from all monitors in a way that won't set off an alarm.

"What plan? You're the one that suggested escaping."

"You're the detective, not me. You're better at this by default."

She was right, of course. He closed his eyes to think of a plan, expecting it to quickly appear in his mind, as plans always do. Only nothing came. The feeling wasn't unfamiliar to him. That was the cost of relapsing. He got slow.

"Body bags. Easy enough. Put me in one and roll me out of the hospital. I'll make my own way out of the morgue."

She shook her head. "Just a few weeks ago a couple of nurses got caught stealing drugs out of the hospital using that method. One would get in the bag carrying as many drugs as possible and the other would get her out. Easy, like you said. Ever since all bodies transferred to and from the hospital are checked and monitored."

Sherlock cursed internally. Of course that wouldn't work. He knew about all that – some of his stash was even bought from one of the nurses. It was a vicious circle, always had been: he couldn't cope so he turned to drugs, the drugs damaged him, he couldn't cope with that and used again. There was no beginning and no end, just occasional breaks.

Tessa gave him a somewhat concerned look, which only increased his exasperation. "Are you sure you're ready for this? Maybe we should wait so you could rest more."

"I'm fine," he spat back instantly, as an instinct. "By the room number I understand that we're on a floor too high for me to jump off of, so we'd have to use a disguise. Could you get me scrubs without attracting attention? Either a doctor's or a nurse's, both would work."

"I could, but it won't work. We haven't had anyone new on the staff for some time now and everyone knows each other fairly well. You'll stand out. And before you ask – no, you can't just keep on the mask. No one does that outside the O.R., so you'll still get noticed."

"Go to the nurses' dressing room and write down everything you can find that could be stolen."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Fine, borrowed. And get me back my clothes."

She nodded and left. Almost as good as John, he mused to himself.

John. Was he okay? Was he worried about him? Was he still disappointed? Did they tell him what he did for Reid? Was he proud of him? He must still be with the Americans. Helping them, but not enough to let them solve it without him. It wasn't John's fault, of course. He didn't know the truth, so how could he tell them why it was all happening?

He needed another fix. Being sedated helped, but it was no replacement. He wasn't as exhausted anymore, so maybe he could go on another day without it, but withdrawal wouldn't wait much longer. The last time he tried getting clean was one of his worst. The pain was unbearable, he couldn't breathe or think. When it was over he found himself lying in his own vomit with no recollection of throwing up. That time lasted three days.

But maybe now was the time to try again. Now it mattered. There was a real case and real danger. All of that wouldn't have mattered enough, but John was involved. Sherlock had failed him enough. He owed it to him. It was time to show him cared about him, that it wasn't all for nothing.

Tessa hurried back into the room, somewhat breathless, holding two bags containing Sherlock's clothes. One of them seemed to be holding. This operation clearly made her nervous, although she seemed to enjoy it at the same time. Was that what his life looked like to outsiders? An exciting adventure? He hoped not.

"Most of the staff lock their lockers nowadays, so there wasn't much I could find," she said, scanning a list she had written down in her pad. "All I have to offer is a pair of shorts, several tee shirts and a rather large dress. Everything else would be too small for you."

He considered it for a moment.

"How large exactly is that dress?"

A/N: So that's it! I don't know what about you, but it was really hard for me to say goodbye to Rossi. But as they say, it's a process. The team is gonna go through it as well...

You can expect the next chapter pretty soon, I believe. Unless all technology will riot against me, which is not unlikely. In the meantime, feel free to share your thoughts and theories in the reviews! They mean the world to me 3