CHAPTER 28: Machismo (Season 1, episode 19)
Character(s): Greenaway, Hotch (and Haley, briefly)
A/N: Some references to the case and the unsub. Once again, thanks to everyone for your wonderful comments, and to any fellow U.S. readers, happy Thanksgiving!
"A strong man doesn't have to be dominant toward a woman. He doesn't match his strength against a woman weak with love for him. He matches it against the world." - Marilyn Monroe, My Story
Elle Greenaway observed the small group of women, clustered together around the one in the center who held the bloody knife.
"He pretended to be a woman. Now he doesn't have to pretend," Milagros Villanueva had said, no trace of remorse in her face as she stared down at the man she'd attacked. He lay there, decked out in women's clothing, his lower half stained a deep shade of red, his skin growing more and more pale.
Elle had heard many women she'd worked with over the years express the wish to do this to the men who attacked them (and some of them had been so shattered, they seemed to want to castrate ANY man, be they good or bad). This was the first time she'd ever seen a woman actually go through with such a graphic plan, though.
There was a strange mix of fear and pride in the eyes of all the women. They'd finally fought back against a brutal rapist and murderer. Finally had their voices heard, after years of feeling like nobody would take their accusations seriously.
But now that they'd fought him themselves, would they be in trouble? Would the same police force that had taken so long to do something to protect them from danger be the same one who wouldn't take so long to throw them in jail? Could all of them go to jail for the actions of one person?
Elle was more than ready to fight on their behalf if anyone even dared to suggest they be punished for defending themselves. After all, she'd seen many rapists get incredibly light sentences, if not walk altogether, because the cases against them fell apart despite it being so obvious they were guilty. If they could get a second chance at freedom, surely these women deserved the same treatment, right?
Elle had been intrigued, upon stepping back into the police station, to see the reactions of the male officers when they found out what happened to Pablo Vargas. Some of them seemed to support the women's actions, though the mere thought of such a violent attack on that part of the body did make them wince a little. Others seemed surprised at the idea that a woman could be that aggressive and violent. And still a few others, Elle could tell, seemed to continue to be dismissive of the women's accusations of rape.
Ultimately, vigilante justice was generally not the way to handle these situations. Elle understood that. However, she'd worked in sex crimes. She'd seen many women cower at the thought of having to report these crimes, being poked at and examined by doctors, being asked deeply uncomfortable and personal questions.
She'd seen them freak out at the idea of reliving the trauma over again in a therapy session, at a police station, or in a courtroom. She'd heard judges and defense attorneys actually state that if a woman hadn't been drunk at this party, or if she hadn't worn that revealing outfit, didn't have a history of sleeping around, she wouldn't have found herself "in that situation". As though this were something people just stumbled into accidentally.
So when she saw Milagros standing over Pablo with the knife, Elle found it very difficult to hide the smirk threatening to appear on her face.
Later, on the plane, she sat alone in the corner. She wanted a few moments to herself, to "come down" from the case, as it were. As she relaxed in her seat, Elle looked over at her male colleagues.
Hotch was looking at his phone, no doubt debating whether or not to call his wife – he'd been anxious to do that during the case. He may have had a (rightly earned) reputation as a "workaholic", but the warmth in his eyes whenever he'd talk to or about Haley was unmistakable.
Gideon and Reid were sat across from each other, engaged in a game of chess. Gideon may have been a bit on the reclusive side, may not have formed relationships easily. But she'd seen how determined he was to help the women in this case, as well as all the other cases of this nature he'd worked on. He seemed to enjoy taking down abusive men as much as she did.
And Reid? Such a sweet, gentle person. He could rattle off statistics about rape, but the word always sounded strange coming out of his mouth, and he always seemed to look slightly uncomfortable even discussing the subject. The idea of hurting a woman was positively foreign to him – he could read about such a thing happening, but it was a hard thing for his genius brain to really understand and comprehend.
Morgan was leaning back in his seat, eyes closed, headphones on, as usual. He probably had another date lined up for when the team got back. She understood him dating around, though. This job didn't really lend itself to long-term relationships. Quite frankly, she didn't know how Hotch managed as he did. Plus, she was still relatively young and dating around – if she could do it, why couldn't he?
Besides, yeah, Morgan was a shameless flirt – Elle had been the recipient of some of his teasing lines from time to time – but he was still a complete and total gentleman. He could make any woman he was around feel like they were the most important, beautiful lady in the world. One would certainly never hear the phrase "How did I do?" come out of his mouth in regards to his interaction with a woman. Elle had never met his family, didn't know a lot about them, but it was obvious he was raised right, that his parents had to be respectful people themselves.
Elle herself had been lucky as well – she'd had a wonderful, loving father. A man who supported and loved her, allowed her to be independent and strong, and yet would still protect her from harm. She didn't have to hope he would've been proud of her on this case – she knew he would be.
Yes. There were still good men in this world. Elle hoped Milagros, and the other women back in that town in Mexico, would hold on to that fact as well.
"Go."
One word. Two letters. How could something so simple make Aaron Hotchner feel so guilty?
It was partially his own fault, though. He really needed to stop promising Haley that he'd "only be gone for a few hours", that it was "just a briefing" he needed to attend. He knew by now, as did she, that his job was never that easy and quick.
He wanted to call her, he really did. Hotch relished the moments during a case when he could sneak away and place a phone call back home. Not only did it reassure her that he'd made it to his destination safe and sound, but it also calmed him down as well – her voice always had a soothing effect on him. He would be able to fall asleep in a dingy hotel room, picturing her lying next to him. All the hustle and bustle behind him at whatever police station he was in would suddenly disappear.
He could be on the plane, and the case he'd either been briefed on or solved would fade to the back of his mind for a few moments (and, he had to admit, he also got a kick out of the smiles and murmured "Awww"s from his team if they overheard his conversations). Plus, there was his son to worry about as well now. He knew Jack was in excellent hands back home, of course, but Hotch had promised himself a long time ago he wasn't going to be one of those fathers, the kind who weren't involved in their children's lives.
This time, though, Gideon had told him to wait and call her later. Hotch knew Gideon was trying to let him know that time was of the essence with this latest case, knew that he could wait until later – she'd still be there at the end of the day.
That was just it, though. He'd have to wake her up at some odd hour, thanks to the time change, if he wanted to talk. And what if he couldn't get service? This was a more rural part of Mexico they were traveling to, after all.
Hotch respected and admired Gideon, he really, truly did. He'd been incredible in helping Hotch get to where he currently was in his life. But sometimes Gideon seemed to forget that not everyone lived like he did, alone and preferring it that way, free of any obligations to loved ones. The case had ended a number of hours ago, yet the mental mini-rant Hotch had started towards his colleague at the briefing was still going.
At least, it was…until he saw the front door of his home. Hotch hurried up the walk, all the while trying to move his brain out of "work mode". You have some free time now. Enjoy it.
Now if only he weren't so nervous about opening his front door… Hopefully Haley's in a good mood.
Hotch saw there were only a couple small lamps turned on as he entered his house. He began tiptoeing about, taking silent inventory of the place. He could hear the soft rumbling of the dishwasher as he slipped into the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, he found a glass bowl with tinfoil covering it. A note was taped to the front of the bowl, his name scrawled upon it. Hotch lifted the foil and smiled – his favorite dish, ready to heat up. Something to look forward to eating tomorrow.
Passing back through the living room, Hotch found the occasional baby toys strewn about; otherwise, everything looked impeccably neat and tidy. There was a basket of clean clothes near the couch, folded and waiting to be put away.
And on the couch itself lay Haley. She was on her back, an arm stretched over her head. Her breathing was slow and steady as she slept, her face the picture of exhaustion. Hotch stopped to gaze at her for a moment, reaching a hand out to gently stroke her hair.
Suddenly, Haley began to stir, and Hotch immediately snapped his hand back. She opened her eyes slowly, looking up only to see him staring down at her. "Hey…" Haley yawned then, shifting to make herself look more awake. "You're back." She stretched, trying to grab his arm.
"Yeah. Sorry I woke you," he replied, kneeling against the arm of the couch. "You just looked so peaceful…"
"Oh, it's okay, don't worry about it." Haley rubbed her eyes as she turned on her side, propping herself up on her elbow.
"Is Jack asleep?"
"Yes. Finally." She made an exasperated noise, but smiled at Hotch regardless.
"Still a bit fussy, huh?"
"He seems to be a bit of a night owl." She glanced at her husband, smirking a bit. "Not hard to figure out where he gets that trait." Hotch chuckled.
"He's a good boy, though." Haley rubbed Hotch's arm, giving it a soft squeeze. He placed a hand over hers. "I think he just misses you."
"I can't imagine why – he doesn't stop crying when I'm holding him," Hotch joked, pleased when Haley let out a laugh. His face turned thoughtful again as he continued. "I missed him, too. And you," he said solemnly.
"I know. I missed you as well." Another rub of his arm.
"I'm really sorry. I honestly thought I wasn't going to be very long…"
"Aaron. It's okay. It happens." Haley looked at her husband reassuringly. "I'm not mad."
Hotch took his wife's hand in his. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For being so understanding, and doing what you do. For taking care of Jack, of this place."
Haley shrugged modestly. "I'm just doing my job…"
"And you're very good at it. You're a great mother, and you keep this place running when I'm gone. I just want you to know that I really appreciate all of it."
Haley blushed. "Thank you, sweetie." She leaned in, placing a hand on Hotch's cheek, kissing him softly. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, letting the kiss last a little longer. Afterward, they still stayed in their embrace, their foreheads touching, "I love you"s whispered between them.
"I think I'm going to go to bed," Haley said, placing a hand on Hotch's chest. "Care to join me?"
Hotch nodded. "Just let me check in on Jack first? I'll try not to wake him."
"Of course." Another kiss, and they headed upstairs, hands resting gently on each other's backs.
"A man falls in love through his eyes, a woman through her ears." - Woodrow Wyatt
My goodness, it's tough to find quotes about men and women that aren't snide/joking or stereotypical! Anyway, as usual, reviews/critiques/etc. are welcome!
