CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT: A KITCHEN DEBATE (HALE)

I tried to sleep. I did everything I could possible think of, including counting sheep. But nothing worked. I stared at the ceiling for two hours, lost in time and space.

I gave up eventually, sitting up in my bed and grunting at the pain it wrought. Every little piece of my body still hurt. Every single millimeter of it. The doctors had told me what all had happened to me: multiple agitated lacerations, first-degree cigarette burns, and bruises, a significant third-degree burn on my shoulder where he had branded me, three broken ribs from where he had started beating me on the last day, a broken ankle and wrist that I hadn't even noticed, severe malnutrition, a slight infection in my shoulder which had led to a raging fever but was now gone, and then, of course, what the doctor so delicately labeled rape trauma.

Those last two words hit me in the gut harder than any of Renwick's blows had. I had promised myself after Jared Harris that I would never, ever let that happen to me again. Ever. Yet here I was, dealing with it again. Like my promise to myself was nothing. And what was eating me inside was that I had been given the opportunity to save myself.

I mean, really I hadn't. It had been either allow Renwick to know Jack's whereabouts or let him have his way with me. But it hurt knowing I had an out, something I could at least have tried to work around. But nothing. I was still scarred.

I grabbed my crutches, which had been leaning against my bed, and fumbled to an upright position when one crutch got stuck between two boxes sitting on my floor and I went sprawling. I yelled out a word that, in hindsight, was not the most ladylike thing to say. Immediately the door flew open, and Derek stood above me.

He was silent for a moment. "Need some help?" he finally asked.

I looked up at him. "A hand would be nice," I admitted.

He helped me to my feet and gave me a wistful grin. "Maybe crutches weren't the best things to give the girl with two left feet."

"You know, I can be graceful when I want," I defended.

"Yeah. Just like Reid could start being dumb if he wanted."

I gave him a look, and he laughed. "What?"

"Nothing. It's just, that look is something you would have given me…before…." I could see him struggling to find words.

I nodded. "I'm still the same person," I said. "I just…need some time to get fully back to that version of me."

Before he could reply, my phone started ringing. "Hold on," I said, adjusting my crutches so that I could reach into my sweatshirt pocket to pull out my phone. Derek took the opportunity to walk to the kitchen and raid my poorly stocked fridge. I glanced at the phone and saw it was Daniel. I had wondered when my brother would call. I sighed. "It's Daniel," I told Derek. "Do you mind if I step outside?"

"Let me," Derek said, taking a Coke with him. "It'll be easier."

As soon as my front door shut, I crutched to the kitchen and answered the phone. "Hey, Dan," I said. "I've really been wanting to talk to you. Are you in town yet?"

"Oh yes. I'm in town. I'm planning on sticking around as well."

At the sound of that voice, I almost grew sick. As it was, I let my crutches fall to the ground and had to steady myself on the kitchen counter.

"I can tell by your silence that you're shocked. And rightly so. And I bet you're wondering why I have your brother's phone. And the answer would be—I have your brother."

I was shaking. I knew I was. But that voice…the last time I heard it was when he had been….

"You're shocked still, but I know you wouldn't hang up. So here's the deal, lovely Natalie. If I don't get your father, or you, I will kill your brother. And then I will kill your niece, and then your nephew. And then I'll go for your team, and their families. I will take everyone from you." There was another pause. "You grew on me during our time together, Natalie," he said. "I'd like to spend more time with you. Our last encounter was especially…enlightening." He laughed, and I listened, my ability to speak gone. "I'm not done with you, sweetheart. I just wanted to let you know that. So you want to save your brother? When the time comes that I come for you, I hope you don't put up too much of a fight. Because if you fight, or if I die…you'll never find him."

The line went dead.

My stomach was churning and my body was shaking and his voice was echoing over and over again in my ears. I was frozen, fear paralyzing me like a disease. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't form words. Memories flooded back, painful ones, ones that still haunted my dreams and waking moments but had never come to me in such an intense form.

Derek poked his head in the door. "Hey, Tiger, Hotch is here for his shift, I'm heading out."

I turned my head. I could see him from my spot in the kitchen. "Derek," I managed to breathe. I saw the look on his face when he realized something was wrong.

"Tiger, are you okay?" he asked.

I shook my head, and then I tried to take a deep breath. It turned out as a shaky, rattling breath. Derek looked alarmed and then he turned his head. "Hotch! Get in here! Something's happened!"

Derek ran into the apartment and stood in front of me. "God, Tiger, you're shaking so much…what happened…."

"He…he called me…," I moaned, and I realized how unstable I felt. Derek looked at my hand, which was clamped onto the corner of the counter so tightly my knuckles had turned white.

Hotch entered the apartment. "What's going on?"

"He called me," I said, more clearly, but still shaking.

"What do you mean?" Hotch asked, entering my kitchen, a look of concern upon his face.

"He called me!" I yelled, and Hotch and Derek looked shocked at my outburst. "And he said he has Daniel!" I was shaking so hard that Derek moved to put his hands on my shoulders. I don't know why, but my brain when into hyperdrive. I quickly blocked his hands and elbowed him in the gut, backing away and running into the fridge. Derek doubled over, surprised. I leaned against my refrigerator, crippled with the pain of my outburst, breathing deeply.

"Oh my God," I whispered, horrified at what I'd just done. "I am so sorry, Derek, I didn't mean…I didn't know…I wasn't trying to…."

"Hey, Aubie, it's okay," Derek said, his voice a little wheezy. "I'm not hurt."

"Who has Daniel, Hale?" Hotch asked.

"Renwick," I said. "He called me from Daniel's phone." I looked at Hotch, locking eyes with him. "What if he hurts Daniel like he hurt me?"

Hotch and Derek said nothing, and I turned away as tears formed in my eyes. "He said he'd kill Dan," I stuttered. "And then Emma, and then Dylan. He said he wants my dad and…and that he wants me back, too. Guess I made quite the impression." I paused, noting Hotch and Derek's silence behind me. "He'll probably succeed."

"The hell he will, Nat," Derek said. "You know we can give you protection."

"What's protection worth if he has my brother?" I asked calmly, turning back around. My tears froze in my eyes, and suddenly I just felt tired. "If he dies…I don't think I could live anymore. That would be my mother, dead. Rachel, dead. Jason, dead. If Daniel or one of the kids was killed…because of me…. Rachel was already my fault, and Jason, and to some extent my mother…."

And that's when it hit me that every single one of those people would still be alive if not for the fact that I hadn't yet died in their place.

I could tell Hotch knew I had come to that realization. Sternly, he said, "Morgan, can you go fill the team in? Try to get Garcia tapped into Hale's phone in case Renwick calls back."

Derek nodded, catching the drift. He went outside, pulling out his phone. Hotch looked at me. "Here," he said finally, "let me get your crutches."

He picked them up off the floor where I had dropped them. I took them back silently. He stared at me. "I know what you're feeling," he finally said.

"I know," I said. I could tell my answer surprised him. He had been expecting me to deny it, to announce that no one could know how I was feeling. But it wasn't true. Hotch and I had pasts that were similar.

"You do?"

"Yeah," I said quietly. "George Foyet killed your ex-wife simply because you got under his skin. If you hadn't been so insistent on catching him, Haley wouldn't be dead right now and Jack would have a mother."

I saw a look of shock and pain cross his face. My words were like a blade. Maybe they were too cruel. But I wasn't finished.

"But he came after her because you were aiming for justice. You were trying to do what was right. You were doingwhat was right, and she knew that. Maybe in your mind it's your fault, and I could never assign blame to you, but it's damn near impossible to relieve someone of their own burden. Me, though…I did nothing for those I love to be killed. Jared killed Rachel because he still held a twisted fantasy for me. She was just a pawn. And the same was for Jason and my mother. Dead simply because…I'm still alive." I stared Hotch straight in the eye. "I wish I had died instead of them. I wish that at this moment I was no longer breathing, and that Rachel was here to sing to her children and that Jason was here to make amends and heal and that my mother was here to—"

At that, my voice cracked, and I stopped talking. My throat was constricted and I feared the tears that were forming again. But I was done showing that kind of vulnerability, especially to my team. I took a shaky breath.

Hotch took a cautious step towards me, and I couldn't blame him. The way I had exploded on Derek would be enough to make anyone hesitate. When I didn't react, he gently placed a hand on my shoulder, intentionally passing over the one that had the horrible burn. I couldn't help but flinch in the slightest, but it was purely reactionary. Besides that, I remained still.

"When you said that back at Renwick's warehouse, I wanted to say this, but you passed out before I could."

"I said that?" I replied, surprised. "I don't remember."

"Well, you did. But Hale…just like you said, nothing I say right now can convince you that it's not your fault that those people that you loved are dead. That pain is something I can never erase, and I'm sorry. But what I can tell you is that maybe you're still alive because it's not time for you to die yet. There's a reason you survived, Hale. You just don't know it yet."

I stared at him, trying to wrap my mind around what he was saying. "Have you found your reason yet?" I asked.

"Mine was so obvious, if it was a snake it would've bitten me. It just took me a while to see." He paused, waiting for my reaction. "Jack," he finally said, when I didn't reply.

"I don't know how you've done it," I admitted. "You're raising him so well when you've gone through so much." Hotch gave me an incredulous look. "What?" I said defensively.

"Hearing you tell me I've gone through so much…it just isn't right. Someone made your life hell and you're standing here commending me on dealing with my own issues."

"Well it's not like yours are any less serious than mine," I said.

"I'm not the one who's recovering from torture."

I would've said something in reply, but Derek poked his head in. "Hotch?"

"Yeah, Morgan."

"Strauss just called. She wants to speak with you ASAP."

"Did she say what it was about," Hotch replied, walking away from me and towards Derek.

"Something about NCIS. I have a feeling we're not going to be keeping this case to ourselves."

"Damn it," Hotch said. He looked over me. "Speaking of NCIS, what the hell were you thinking letting them in today? They could've been anyone."

"But they weren't," I said sternly. "They want to help."

Derek looked at me questioningly. "Aubie, you're not seriously considering letting them intrude on this case, are you?"

I sighed. "All I know is I won't be any help. And two sets of resources are better than one. I want Renwick taken down, and I don't particularly care how or by whom. If NCIS can help…then why not."

Derek wanted to argue, I could tell. But his phone buzzed, and he looked at it. "It's Prentiss," he said, looking at Hotch. "Strauss wants us back at Quantico ASAP."

"We're not leaving her right now," Hotch said sternly.

"She said it's nonnegotiable," Derek said.

"I'll be fine," I said. "I just took a nap, I'll be up for a while."

"No, being conscious isn't enough to fend off an attacker."

I narrowed me eyes, and then something occurred to me. "NCIS. I can offer to give them some information in exchange for protection. It's a win-win."

Hotch considered. There really was no other option except for pissing off Strauss, which would not have been an intelligent thing. "Fine. Notify NCIS and I'll stay here until someone can arrive. Then I'll go, but only if you check in periodically."

"Of course," I said.

"I just have one question," Hotch added. "Why are you so intent on letting NCIS collaborate with us? You know we could do this on our own."

I wondered if I should tell him. It was a little personal, but after all they'd been put through they deserved to know my feelings. "Jason was a marine," I said. "And he was a damn good one. He wasn't perfect, and I know he was about to be discharged, but…he died as a marine. And to me, he always would have been one anyway. That agency not only deserves the chance to find his killer, but he deserves to be treated like the marine he was."

Hotch's eyes were dark and analytical. "You really loved him."

"For a time," I admitted. "I pictured a wedding, children, growing old with him. It changed when he went off the deep end, but I still loved him. Just…differently."

Hotch nodded. "I never had the chance to tell you…but I'm sorry for your loss."

Surprised, but not outwardly, I nodded. "Thanks."

"Well, you contact NCIS and I'll go speak with Morgan about a few things," he said. He quickly left the kitchen and I watched him go. After a moment's pause, I grabbed Agent Gibbs' card out of my pocket and opened my cell phone.

A dialed the number, nervous for some reason. Ring…ring…ring….