"Spence!" J.J.'s expression commingled horror, disbelief and a desperate desire to acquire the ability to turn back time.

"What?" Clueless, amber eyes broadcast Reid's complete lack of realization that he'd just said the worst possible thing he could in Hotch's presence.

Even though the liaison's intentions were to stop her teammate from inserting his foot deeper into his mouth, her reaction only served to cement Hotch's suspicions. Everyone's seen me naked. Everyone knows I was put on display. She must have done something with the picture she took. He wanted to cover his face with his hands and cringe. He wanted to disappear and take all memory of his existence with him.

But this was Hotch.

This was a man who grew from a boy who had learned the art of compartmentalization to the tune of Daddy's fists and kicks. What the others used to block off horrors seen in the line of duty, Hotch had honed during formative years filled with pain and anguish. His colleagues' minds contained doors they could close. His was riddled with vaults of iron, snapping shut with a reverberating clang and rusting solid with the passage of time.

Hotch raised his chin and looked from Reid to J.J. As his stomach did more than turn…it thrashed with hidden turmoil…he felt the numbness that was such an old and dreaded friend wrap around his emotions. Features schooled to blank stoicism, he sensed another vault echo with mortifying pain as it closed.

"What? Something wrong?" Hotch's thready voice asked as he withstood the scrutiny of both his co-workers.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Having settled upon a strategy, Hotch stuck to it.

J.J. hustled Reid back out to the hallway, intent on explaining the difference between commiserating with someone versus tearing away their fragile protective devices. Morgan and Prentiss perked up, wondering what the tension was that they sensed after such a short visit with Bossman.

"Guys? Everything okay?"

"No. I don't know. Maybe…No…No, it's not." J.J. wasn't sure what was going on with Hotch's internal mechanism. But she wasn't buying the bland incomprehension she'd just seen. Especially not after Rossi had filled them in on their leader's reaction to Megan's little lipstick-gift.

She turned eyes limpid with empathy on her teammates. "Spence brought up the issue of being seen naked by everyone and Hotch…" She shook her head in puzzled concern. "Hotch just kind of shut down. He went blank. It looked like someone threw a switch and turned the lights off inside him."

Reid's swallow was audible. "I…I did that?" The eyes of a kicked puppy moved from face to face. "I was talking about something that happened to me…not Hotch!"

Morgan's head dropped as he sighed, grasping the bigger picture and understanding that Reid, the little bird he kept under his own bigger, stronger wing, had nothing but good intentions and a kind heart. "Awww, Reid." He draped a comforting arm across skinny shoulders tight with apprehension.

Sometimes Morgan felt like a repairman, shoring up and patching the damage in hopes it wouldn't go deeper. In hopes a crack didn't widen to a crevasse; a fault line become a continent-tearing fracture. He gave Reid a companionable jostle while glancing at their liaison, the expert in communications. "J.J.'ll explain. And we can talk later. But right now I think Hotch is the one needs a little sumthin'" He released the youngest agent to J.J.'s care and instruction, and glanced at Prentiss. "Our turn."

Emily shook her head. "I know it's embarrassing, but…for God's sake!...It's not like his body is horribly deformed or something. I've seen tons of naked men. Some guys put it out there on purpose! He's gonna hafta get over it…"

Morgan stopped cold, causing his partner to slam into him. "Prentiss. The unsub exposed his body. I exposed his past. Neither are things Hotch needs to be ashamed of, but they're both private things. And he's the most intensely private man I've ever met. I'm sure he'd strip down in front of a crowd if he thought it would save someone's life. But this was done expressly to humiliate him. It was cruel. He will get over it in time, but right now he's weak and whatever strategy he's using to help him get past it…we're not gonna argue. Got it?"

"Got it." But Prentiss's grudging tone told Derek she still didn't quite agree.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Hey, man." Morgan strode to Hotch's bedside, pulled up a chair and sat as though he'd been visiting every day for years. No sense of an awkward encounter. It dovetailed with Hotch's defensive tactics.

"Hey, Hotch." Emily's greeting was softer with a note of sympathy. In spite of Morgan's pep talk, her impulse was to comfort her boss; to reach out to him. So she did…extending a hand and giving one shoulder a light caress.

The Unit Chief kept eye contact brief and launched into questions about the case. But his voice was shaky and fading. "So anything new happen with the unsub? Any new leads?"

"Another victim last night." Morgan took the lead. "She's getting careless, Hotch. Devolving. Taking risks. We'll get her. It's just a matter of time."

"Good…good…" Their leader was running out of steam, but both agents had the feeling silence would be distressing for him at the moment. It would offer up too many gaps through which things like acknowledgement of humiliation might seep; too many blank spaces where shadows of his degradation could accumulate.

But the experience of being held hostage sat among them like a fourth person in the room.

Prentiss took a deep breath. "Hotch…" She saw Morgan stiffen out of the corner of her eye, expecting her to say something impolitic. She surprised him.

"Hotch, we know you need rest, but we just wanted to say 'thanks.'" Her smile grew as Aaron finally made eye contact that lingered. "You saved us. You were amazing. Never gave up." A warm smile filled with genuine gratitude and admiration accompanied her words.

It was like balm to Hotch's troubled soul.

For the first time since he'd come out of his drug-induced stupor, the ghost of a shy smile touched his stern features.

It was a start.