Chapter 25

The hospital cafeteria grew busier as the lunch hour neared; Morgan took a sip of his coffee then set his cup down on the table and stared into it as if it would show him that things were going to be okay, or if he had truly messed up hours before when he had spoken to Hotch.

"He's going to be fine." said Prentiss, across from him.

Morgan eyes snapped up towards her.

"Fine?" he asked tiredly, with a hint of sarcasm. "He hasn't spoken since I told him! You didn't see the look on his face, he was devastated, Prentiss. He had that same look when he found Haley's body… and I did that to him!"

Prentiss reached out, her fingers lightly touching Morgan's arm. "Someone was going to have to tell him eventually."

Morgan slammed his fist down on the table, jostling their coffee cups and startling nearby patrons.

"But it shouldn't have been me!" My God, I couldn't even tell him about the photos...that we saw...I had to stop. I…I couldn't do that to him."

Prentiss sensed there was something more to Morgan's outburst, she had never seen him like this.

"What is it, Morgan? What aren't you saying?"

Morgan stared at her for a moment, then exhaled and looked away.

"It shouldn't have been me, he sees me as his friend…he doesn't even remember what I did."

"What did you do?" Prentiss gripped his arm now. "Say it!"

"I...I almost killed him. You were there, if Jack hadn't screamed…"

"You would have shot Hotch in the head." finished Prentiss, a chill running through her at that thought.

Morgan tensed in his chair. "Yes."

Prentiss sighed, "Aren't you being a little hypocritical?"

"Excuse me?"

"When Reid told us how he felt about what happened in the woods you told him that it wasn't our Hotch he was shooting at. Do you feel differently about that because you were the one doing the shooting?"

Morgan huffed, brows furrowing.

"I'm not discounting your feelings" stressed Prentiss, "I just want you to remember that the man in the bed upstairs is not the man who attacked Reid, hurt Jessica or scared little Jack. We got our Hotch back and anything he's said or done...or anything we've said or done in the between…well, we'll find a way to get through it…we have to."

Morgan blinked, the tension suddenly leaving his body in an exhaled breath; he patted Prentiss' hand on his arm.

"Okay…okay…you're right. Thanks."

Prentiss smiled and stood scooping up the two lukewarm coffees. "Let's get some fresh coffee and go see how the boss is doing."

"Thought I was the boss…" joked Morgan, standing with her.

"Your days behind that desk are numbered, my friend." Prentiss replied.

"Don't I know it." grinned Morgan. "And it's about time."

Rossi sat by the side of Hotch's bed, staring at the untouched tray of food nearby, a smile forming on his lips. He looked over at Hotch who was silently staring at the ceiling.

"You didn't eat your food…again." he smirked. "I'm experiencing some déjà vu here Hotch, please feel free to tell me to shut up."

Rossi leaned forward, hands clasped. "Aaron, we're worried. We can't help you if you don't talk to us. JJ called earlier; she and Strauss have been working on keeping your name cleared with help from the woman you helped escape from that motel room. She's been talking to the media, putting in a good word for you; her hero."

Hotch remained silent.

"Morgan told me he told you about her, she's alive because of you. As to everything else, Ezral hurt you Aaron, you were tortured, there were drugs found in the house, you…"

"Shut up, Dave."

Rossi's eyes brightened as Hotch looked at him.

"Nice to have you back, my friend."

"How are they?" Hotch's voice cracked.

After helping him drink some water, Rossi sat back in the chair. "They're okay. Jack is with Garcia, she's taking care of him. Jessica got through surgery just fine. She may need some physical therapy but she will be okay with time. She forgives you, Hotch. She knows that wasn't you, she knows what you went through."

Rossi frowned, Hotch's eyes were pricked with tears; he looked lost.

"Tell me what you remember." Rossi said.

Hotch winced. "What I remember? It's June and I'm running through the woods and then, then suddenly it's October and I'm stabbing my sister-in-law in front of my son. That's what I remember, Dave. Everything else, everything Morgan told me I did, everything...everything I..." Hotch slowly shook his head, a tear falling free. "What am I supposed to do with that?"

The restaurant was packed, the waiter had just delivered their food but the team barely looked down at their plates.

"How is he doing?" asked Prentiss.

Rossi looked around the table at the team, Hotch had been staying with him ever since leaving the hospital three weeks ago. The media frenzy had followed them, reporters camping out on Rossi's lawn hoping for an interview, a picture of the "Accomplice Agent or Hero?" However, Hotch never strayed outside Rossi's home, never once neared a window again after a wily photographer had gotten a candid shot of him and it made the front page of the papers.

After that, Strauss saw to it that some agents were assigned detail to Rossi's home to keep any stray media persons away, while she and JJ worked round the clock to clear up the mess.

Sean had returned to the States and had come by, the visit was a brief strange disaster. Hotch was barely cordial to his brother; Hotch said all the right words but they had come out stilted as if he was speaking to a stranger, a usurper who had no right to be smiling at him, no right to be telling him how happy he was that he was safe.

When Sean left looking confused, Rossi had asked him to give Hotch some more time, that he had to find his way back to them again.

In all sense and purposes, Rossi was still living alone. Hotch barely making his presence known in the large house, except on some nights when the anguished shouts of his nightmares would have Rossi racing to the guest room to wake his friend from the memories his mind wouldn't let him remember in the waking world.

In the day, he mostly kept to his room or the den and when their paths would cross, there were polite:

Yeses

...and thank-yous.

And recently, Hotch's silent piercing stares as he would look at Rossi, leaving the older man feeling like his brain was being picked at, scratched. Rossi could sense Hotch wanted to ask him something but was considering whether he should or not. The seasoned profiler decided he wouldn't push him to get the words out, not yet anyways; he would give his friend the time he needed.

The days passed and the media frenzy lessened, the reporters getting their stories from Lorelei Gaines who was giving interviews to everyone about Hotch, lifting him up in the media more as a victimized hero instead of criminal.

Hotch's quietness reached an even worrisome level a few days before when he had gone to Garcia's apartment wanting to see Jack. He hadn't told anyone he was going so he had ended up surprising Garcia who had opened the door not realizing Jack was nearby. One look at his father had sent the smile Jack was wearing scurrying away, leaving a look of fright on his young face. Gasping, Jack had turned and ran from his father.

Concerned over the look in Hotch's eyes when he left, Garcia had called Rossi who had left home earlier that morning to run some errands. When she told him what had happened, Rossi headed towards her home.

Prentiss had Hotch's car in storage and he hadn't asked for it back yet, so Rossi had asked Garcia to track his other car which had been parked in his driveway, keys in a bowl near the front door. She had kept him on the phone and moments later...

"Sir, it's parked outside my building, but it's been a few minutes already...do you want me to go down, to check if he's in it?"

"No, it's okay, I'm in the area, I'm about five minutes out; you stay with Jack."

Minutes later when Rossi had pulled up next to his car, he got out and made his way over to see Hotch sitting in the driver's seat, hands in his lap, eyes heavy with tears, lips tight, he was lost in a place in his head that left him unaware of Rossi's presence.

"Hotch?" Rossi opened the driver's side door and crouched down grasping him by the shoulder. Hotch didn't seem to notice.

"Aaron?"

Finally Hotch had twitched at Rossi's voice turning his face to him.

"He's scared of me, Dave. My son is scared of me." The tears in Hotch's eyes overflowed as he squeezed his eyes shut. Rossi had kept holding on to Hotch, fearful that if he let go, his friend would finally slip off the precipice he had been hovering close to for far too long.

Rossi sighed and pushed his plate away leaning back in his chair.

"I need to show him the photos."

His words stunned the team.

"He hasn't seen them?" Morgan was aghast. "I thought with the media..."

"He knows they exist. He found out about them." Rossi explained. "He's just never seen them nor asked to see them. Lately however...I can see him struggling with the question."

"Whether he wants to see them or not." said Reid.

"Whether he needs to see them." Rossi corrected. "He's struggling with indecision. I think he needs us to show them to him, but he doesn't know how to ask us to do that."

"But why?" asked Prentiss. "By now he knows we've seen the pictures and that we'd do anything to help him get past this."

"Yes, but even with everything that's happened, he's still our leader; he's trying to find his way back to himself, but doesn't want us to see him as weak. I don't think he can bring himself to see those photos on his own, to hold in his hand the proof of the darkness that Ezral stained him with."

Morgan leaned forward, a look of determination on his face. "So when do we do this?"

"Not we...me. I think it would be easier for him, less witnesses...if his reaction..." Rossi tilted his head slightly. "Is not a good one."

Rossi raised his hand up as the rest of the team bristled, disagreeing. "And...and then we will all be there to help him move forward."

-TBC-