The penultimate chapter, folks! Thanks to the reviewers as usual, and to Kim and Careey for their reviews. Also, thank you to Chiroho!

On with the show!

Humanity

"We must develop and maintain the capacity to forgive. He who is devoid of the power to forgive is devoid of the power to love. There is some good in the worst of us and some evil in the best of us. When we discover this, we are less prone to hate our enemies."

- Martin Luther King, Jr

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Reid had managed to get himself dressed, much to the nurse's discontent. They didn't want to discharge him for another day, but after much reassurance that he'd take it easy and rest at the hotel and on the plane, as well as get checked out by his own doctor when he got home, he'd been given a weak smile and a nod of agreement. He wasn't going to remain in the hospital when everyone else would be making their way back home. Besides, he wanted to find out what had happened at Ashley's home, and the aftermath of the investigation. Even though Ashley was dead, there were still things they could learn to assist them with future cases.

He began to squash his few belongings into the holdall JJ had brought over that morning. She'd come with a change of clothes and some non-hospital coffee, both of which he would be eternally grateful for. He'd noticed how tired she'd looked, utter exhaustion hanging around her like a shroud.

Her visit had been brief. She was needed by the police to draw up statements for the media, a large press conference being given at noon. He'd caught bits of it on the television, and saw that she'd masked her tiredness with heavier make-up than usual. Hopefully, when they returned home there would be a few days with no cases; not that he'd be doing anything bar sitting behind his desk for a couple of weeks, if not longer.

"You need some help doing that?" a familiar voice said as Reid tried to push his shirt into the holdall without bending too much.

He sat back up automatically, not going to refuse assistance from the person who was now standing at his door. "How's it going?" he said, looking over towards them.

Morgan nodded, his face full of shame and other emotions that weren't usually visible. "About as well as you'd think. They said you're okay to go?"

Reid shrugged, an action that didn't feel that comfortable. "Pretty much."

"That's a no then?" Morgan entered fully, closing the door behind him. "You know, kid, if they say you should still be here, you need to listen to them. They do know what they're talking about."

Reid nodded, giving a wry smile. "I get the feeling the nurse who's been looking after me would like to keep me here indefinitely," he said. He'd noticed her peering in while he had been getting changed. "Besides, it's rest I need, and I can have that anywhere; including at the hotel then on the plane."

Morgan gave a slight nod, and sat down in the chair facing Reid who was sitting on the bed. Reid knew what was coming next. He'd not spoken to Morgan since the incident, trying not to feel hurt that he'd not come by to visit. He knew, of course, what had happened; what had gone on with Chloe, and then with her boyfriend. He'd been informed when they had brought him the laptop yesterday. For some reason, Reid wasn't surprised. Morgan wore a front, a genuine one, which acted as a protective shield for what went on deep inside. At some point, that shield had dropped. It just seemed that it had happened in style. "Reid – I'm..."

"Do we really need to go there, Derek?" Reid said, cutting him off. He wasn't angry and he didn't want any apologies. They would only rub salt into his wound, and it certainly wouldn't clean it.

Morgan shrugged, looking away from him. "I fucked up, Spence. I didn't check. It was a kid's mistake."

"I take offense to that, seeing as you always call me kid," Reid said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. "It's one of those things. And it was never life or death, you know. I even got a couple of days to rest, which is more than everyone else has had."

Morgan laughed sardonically. "Yeah, I kind of gave myself those days off too."

Reid nodded. "What's going to happen?" he said, still feeling awkward. He remembered the moments with JJ after Henkle had gotten to him; and his own feelings in the compound when Emily had been beaten. He knew what Morgan was feeling to a certain extent, and could guess at the rest.

"There'll be an inquiry, so I guess you'll be interviewed. Hotch will have to give a character reference, and they'll probably ask Rossi for one as well," Morgan bit his lips together, and Reid saw a flicker of the emotion he was trying to keep tied within. "I've been lucky though. Did you hear about the incident with Karl – the girl's boyfriend?"

"You know news travels fast whenever Rossi's concerned. Not that he was gossiping – just keeping me informed," Reid said. Rossi had been worried, perturbed by Morgan's emotional involvement. But he'd also been defensive over what Morgan had done. At some point they all became over involved with the victims of cases, went beyond their duty of care and what their job description actually said. Had Morgan been wrong to fight back, to give Karl as taste of what he had done to someone who has smaller and weaker than him in so many ways? Reid wasn't sure yet what his opinion was.

"Yeah, Rossi. The surveillance camera caught him attacking me. The local officers are saying that I was defending myself from further attacks. Luckily, when I did hit him, we had moved out of sight of the cameras. The locals are just happy to finally be able to hold him on a charge that will stick," Morgan said, finally looking at Reid. "Chloe should be okay."

"Are you going to see her again?" Reid said, wondering if he was pushing it too far with this question.

Morgan shrugged. "I don't know. She's still here. I guess I should."

"Only if you want to," Reid said. "But I guess you feel obligated."

Morgan was silent for a moment. "You know, Reid. I could have killed him. I was stronger than him, and I could think about what I was doing. When I had him pinned up against the wall I could feel the life going seeping out of him, like he was becoming some rag doll. And it made me feel powerful and in control."

"And that bothers you because you understand why he got off on treating his girlfriend the way he did," Reid said. "You've taken a walk into that area where light becomes dark. Shades of grey. We all go there, Derek. We need to in order to do our job."

The nod that came was weak, as if Morgan was struggling to come to terms with what that meant for him. He saw himself in terms of black and white. He was highly moral, with a clear personal code of conduct, and he had now breached that code. "I get that, Reid," he said. "I was a young offender. I know how easy it is to cross into the dark side; I just didn't think I'd see that place again."

Reid watched Morgan's expression, unsure of what to say; what there was to say.

Morgan stood up, looking bereft still. "Anyway, pretty boy. I'm here as your ride back to the hotel. Under orders to get you into the restaurant for some lunch and then get everything packed. Wheels up is at seven tonight."

Reid nodded, feeling uncomfortable. He knew they would return to their old familiar states; he just wasn't sure how long it would take, and supposed it was down to Morgan. You couldn't let anyone in close, until you were sure of yourself and what they would find. At the moment, Morgan was unsure of who he was – Reid remembered being in that position; finding things out about himself that he didn't like, things that he didn't know he was capable of. But they all had it, he supposed. They all had that darker aspect to their personalities, it was just that most people chose to hide it.

"Morgan," he said, wincing as he stood. "I need you to know that I don't blame you for what happened. It could have been any of us."

Morgan gave him an uncertain look as he bent down to pick up Reid's bag. "Thanks," he said. "But I guess I've got to find a way to forgive myself."


Hotch was right; Rachel Jacobs' car was outside Mrs Ashley's house once again, the curtains pulled back to exactly the same point as they had been two days ago. Emily got out of the car feeling every muscle in her body ache, and longed for the opportunity of a hot bath and her bed for at least three days straight. Unfortunately that wasn't a certainty, at least not for another day. She followed Hotch to the front door with a heavier heart than the last time she had been there.

There had been no happy endings. Sometimes there weren't, and she accepted that; but this case had left her with a sense of frustration and dissatisfaction that she wasn't used to. It was as if there should still be another chapter to it, another paragraph of the story where it turned out that Lee Ashley hadn't committed suicide and he was now in police custody, waiting to be questioned.

But that hadn't happened, and now they were there to tell his mother that her son had died.

Emily doubted that she would be bitterly upset, that she would begin mourning the son she hadn't seen for years. But there would still be that natural sadness, the grief that would never truly fade.

Rachel saw them, and opened the door before they had chance to knock. Her face was drawn and she looked as tired as Emily felt. Emily wondered whether the care of her mother was now taking up twenty-four hours a day, and the thought that more anguish was about to be given made her heart ache.

"Ms Jacobs," Hotch said, showing his identification. "We were here the other day..."

"I remember," she said, cutting him off. "You were asking questions about Lee."

"We're here to give you some answers," he said, his voice muted with sympathy. "I think you might want to let us in."

Rachel bowed her head, grey hairs showing at the roots. "Mrs Ashley's health has taken a turn for the worse. I think she's aware of very little, but I'd rather she didn't hear this."

Emily saw tears filling her eyes. She already knew, already understood what had happened. "Of course," Emily said, crossing the threshold. "But I think you need to know, don't you?" It was a leading question, and one the woman understood the meaning of immediately.

She gave a watery smile. "How quickly did you work out who I was?" she said. "I was never the world's best criminal. Never good enough at lying."

"It doesn't matter now," Emily said, sitting down in the same seat she had before. "Can you confirm for us who you are in relation to Lee Ashley?"

Rachel nodded, looking down at the carpet. "I'm his mother," she said. "In name only. I didn't – couldn't – bring him up. Are you going to tell me what he's done?"

Emily gave Hotch a quick glance. They'd agreed that he would talk through this part.

"Lee Ashley was responsible for the attacks and murders of eight elderly people. We found him last night in Vernal, and instead of giving himself up, he took his own life. I'm sorry, Ms Jacobs," Hotch said. His words were quiet but they filled the whole room, taking over the whole space and using up all of the air.

Emily could feel Rachel's claustrophobia as she gasped, covering her face with her hands, as if trying to retreat into a place where the words that had just passed had never been said.

Emily placed a hand on her back, rubbing softly to provide some sort of human touch, some comfort. "We're sorry, Rachel," she said, using the first name to take away some anonymity. "I think you knew that Lee..."

"Wasn't normal," Rachel said. "Wasn't human. It's wrong for a mother to say that, isn't it? And I was never the best mother. I was an addict and a prostitute, so I guess he was doomed from the start. When my parents took him to live with them I knew it was for the best. I could never offer him any stability, or even any love; but even doing what I thought was right, I ended up being wrong." She looked at them with eyes like Lee's had been, tears flowing down cheeks devoid of make-up. "My father abused him. It was years ago when I found out, when my mother told me. She knew; she'd known all the time, but she knew if I found out, and Lee ended up coming back to me, then he'd probably be abused again. She defended her husband, my father, by saying that at least he loved him, and he would come to no real harm."

Rachel glanced at the door to the back room where Lee's grandmother lay dying. "I don't need absolution. I know I will go to hell, and that I'm beyond forgiveness for what I did to myself, others, and Lee; but why did he become what he did? Was it because of me? Or was he just meant to be that way?"

"We don't know, Rachel," Emily said, never having felt as powerless as she did then. "It's possibly something of both; he may have had it built into him to be that way from the time that he was born, and the events that followed stopped him from developing a normal conscience or empathy. But we don't have an answer. I'm sorry."

Rachel nodded, looking at Emily through eyes that seemed to be filled only with sadness. "Was he going to kill me?" she said. Her expression told Emily that she already knew the answer.

Emily nodded. "We think you were a possible target; as was your mother. Did you know he was behind the attacks?"

There was a weak shrug. "When I heard some of the names they sounded familiar. My days in Willow Springs and Tooele County were a long time ago, and my memory isn't good – my own fault, I guess. I did wonder if it was him, but I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want to go into that part of my life."

An odd noise came from the back room and Rachel stood quickly, looking concerned. "That's my mother. It's time for her pain meds." She walked to the door in between the two rooms. "If you need me to answer anything else then please – can it wait a few days? The doctor thinks she doesn't have long left – it might be a matter of days or hours. And I need to – to understand what's happened."

Emily stood almost in tandem with Hotch. "Officer Barry will be in touch," she said. "He understands the situation. As far as we know, the press have no idea of your identity, and he will try to keep it that way."

There was another weak smile and Rachel brushed away the tears as they formed in pools around the lines on her face. "Thank you," she said. "And I'm sorry for what he did, for what I did. I guess I'm doing my penance." She gestured to the room behind her, from which another sound came.

Emily looked at Hotch, unable to listen to the noise again. The woman in there was dying, the last breaths of life slipping away from her. Hotch gave her a short nod.

"Take care of yourself," he said. "We'll see ourselves out."

They waited until Rachel had left the room, her voice becoming calmer as she spoke to her mother, murmurs of love and peaceful whispers continuing the charade she had been living. Whether Mrs Ashley was aware that her nurse was in fact her estranged daughter, no one would ever know. And no one would ever know if it had mattered.

Emily checked the front door was secure before following Hotch to the car, the quiet between them filled with their own thoughts, none of which they wanted to share.

They were half way back to Salt Lake City when Hotch broke the silence. "Do you mind if we go and see my uncle?"

She shook her head. "No. I kind of thought we would," she said, glancing over at him as he drove. She understood how he had made this decision, why he had chosen to revisit his past - as painful as it was.

He changed direction and headed to the care home, the roads seeming familiar even under a thicker layer of snow than before. She tried to not think of the details that Hotch had told her of his time growing up, of his father, of Hotch taking on responsibility that wasn't really meant for him. Everybody had cracks in their psyche, everybody had flaws, and sometimes it was possible to identify from where they had come. But without those flaws, they would not be the same person they now were. Emily wondered if Hotch realised how he had been made by what had happened to him, and although it could never have been a good thing, it had given him the strength, and the understanding of himself, to do what he did now.

Peace Fields Nursing Home was quieter than when she had last been there. The atmosphere was sombre, mourning still taking place, but a few smiles were cast their way by the staff as they went past.

"Is it possible to see James Hotchner?" she heard Hotch say, the name seeming strange as it came out of his mouth. There was a nod from the receptionist as she offered to show him the way to the sitting room where James was.

Hotch glanced back at Emily. She gave him a smile. "I'll wait here," she said. "Take all the time you need."

She watched him walk away, down the corridor, and noticed a different tenseness in his shoulders. She hoped that when he returned, some of the ghosts he carried would have been allowed to leave; and that he'd had forgiven, among others, himself.


Hotch stood at the doorway for a few minutes, looking at the man he hadn't seen for nearly twenty five years. He was almost unrecognisable. His skin was ravaged by illness as well as time, his eyes whitened by cataracts, and his hair was thin and white. Hotch wondered whether this was what he would become, and prayed it wouldn't be.

"Aaron," the voice was weak and quiet, yet it was the same voice that had refused to help all those years before, and the same wave of anger rose in Hotch's chest as it had done back then. "You're all grown up."

Hotch stood in front of him, obscuring the view outside that James had been looking at. "You've grown old," he said, unsure of how to begin this conversation, of what it was all going to be about.

"Time does that to you," James said, looking closely at Hotch. "How old are you now?"

"Forty-three," Hotch said. "You know why I'm here?" He was unsure whether James knew anything about his life, and given what he knew of his uncle, he assumed not. He had never wanted to get involved.

James shrugged. "I don't think it's because you want to take me out for the day, which is a shame. I've been stuck in this place for three years without seeing any other scenery."

No pity rose inside Hotch. "I've been investigating the murders of elderly people in the state," he said. "Including the one that happened here."

"Oh," James said, looking back out of the window. "You're a cop, are you? I thought you wanted to be a lawyer. Your father would have been disappointed with that."

Hotch gave a slight laugh. "No, I'm not a cop," he said. "I did become a lawyer, and I was a prosecutor for the state. I now lead an FBI unit."

"And you've come here to tell me how successful you are? Well, thanks for that, Aaron, but I don't really care," the old man laughed, a harsh noise that Hotch had sometimes heard in his nightmares.

He sat down, wanting James to know that he wasn't going to be blown away that easily. "How did you get to be the way you are?" he said. "What made you like this?"

James moved awkwardly in his chair, readjusting his posture. Hotch felt the urge to help, to rearrange his pillows, but he allowed himself to be selfish and to let his uncle do it himself. "I wasn't smart, Aaron. I never claimed to be. I did what I could to have the best life possible, and that's why I didn't get involved with what your father was doing. You seemed to cope well enough with it yourself. Sean ended up alright too, I guess? I think you sheltered him from most of it."

Letting the words sink in, Hotch stared at the scene James saw on a daily basis and wondered if it was some kind of penitence. His uncle had no family to look after him or visit him, and he was filled with sympathy of sorts. "My life was hell," he said quietly, as much to himself as to James. "I lived in fear of what my father would do next, and as an adult I lived in fear of becoming my father. You were there and you could have helped, but you chose not to."

James turned slowly around, the tendons in his neck visible through thin, baggy skin. "Then I got what I deserved, didn't I? Cancer that is slow and painful, and no one to help me die. No, Aaron, you didn't deserve what your father did to you, and I felt guilty sometimes for not helping you out; but you survived and, as you tell me, you turned out just fine." James studied him, his eyes roaming across every centimetre of Hotch's face. "You don't look like him. You look like your mother."

Hotch stood, the words soothing a wound that had been too long open. He looked at his uncle, someone with whom he shared flesh and blood, but not compassion, and he found he could spare some forgiveness. It hadn't been him. He understood that now when his eighteen year old self had been unable able to. The world wasn't always about you. "I'll see that you're better taken care of," he said, beginning to walk away.

"Why?"

The word stung almost delightfully as he turned his back.

"Because I'm not my father, and I'm not you," Hotch said without turning round, finally believing the words for himself for the first time.


He didn't speak for while after they got in the car, and Emily didn't press to know what had happened. She was accustomed to Hotch's silences, so she tried to relax instead and enjoy the peace that came with not being on a case.

"I've arranged with the home that he's moved to one of the executive suites they have," he said as they came into the city.

She nodded, not sure if he'd noticed as he was concentrating on driving. "At your expense?" His answer would tell a lot.

"It's not that much. His health insurance and savings have afforded him a decent level of care. He's terminally ill, probably less than six months to live, and it will allow us both the chance to move on." His confession was more than she had been expecting.

"'The weak can never forgive; forgiveness is the attribute of the strong,'" she said softly as flakes of snow danced before them.

"'Always forgive your enemies – nothing annoys them so much,'" he said. "I can play at the quotes game too, you know. It's what comes of working with Reid for more hours than I care to calculate."

She laughed. He would tell her more about his visit when he was ready, and she was happy to wait, because now she was sure that the time would come. "And which quote is more apt for you right now?"

He shook his head. "I haven't worked that out yet," he said as the hotel loomed in front of them. "I still need time to decide."

He parked outside the main entrance, the snow falling heavily enough by now to cause concerns about their planned take off in a few hours. They walked into the hotel together, their paces matching and the distance between them closer than a stranger would expect to see between colleagues.

Packing wouldn't take very long, and Emily was now beginning to feel relief at the thought that they should soon be leaving this city, as beautiful as it was, leaving behind the dissatisfaction she felt at the outcome of the case and all the wrongs that had happened here.

But there was something else, something that was circling over her like a vulture. It was a strange feeling; and it just wouldn't let her be.


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Sarah x