Rossi gritted his teeth as Hotch began to speak in a low, tattered voice about his encounter with Darrin Call.

"I screwed up everything on that case." The Unit Chief closed his eyes, savoring the pain of a time when he recalled being particularly ashamed of himself.

"Explain, please?" Fletcher's tone played counterpoint to Aaron's: steady, sure, emotionless, polite.

"I mean really screwed up. Didn't realize how badly until…until you explained about moral injury."

Rossi's frown was puzzled, but, mindful of the psychiatrist's request, he kept still. Hotch took a deep breath, finding ragged comfort in being able to deliver his words to a wall rather than looking into the eyes of two men and seeing condemnation grow as they understood what sort of man the BAU Unit Chief really was. He couldn't imagine anyone, even Dave, who was loyal to a fault, excusing his behavior.

The doctor's soft, professional voice coaxed Aaron forward. "How does your moral injury enter the picture?"

"Not mine. Darrin's. He had it. He had to after being a lure and a witness to the kidnappings and deaths of so many boys. Lucky that he didn't remember, but…but once he did…" Hotch's body seemed to cringe in on itself. "…but there was someone else who did remember all along…all of his life…and I beat him over the head with it. God, I was a bully; a cold-hearted, cruel bully. His name was…was Tommy Anderson."

Rossi's eyes flew wide. He couldn't completely repress himself; a small, disbelieving noise escaped him. Then, lips pressed tight, he bent over and began scribbling furiously in his pad.

Fletcher felt the frenetic, angry activity of the older agent sitting beside him. He used it as a barometer. It told him Aaron's recall merited a lot of criticism. He glanced at the reports in his hands, wondering just how far off course his patient was going. He had to keep in mind that there was a chance the official reports had been skewed. His research into Hotch had told him the man did cover up on occasion when it benefitted a teammate, or a victim. He maintained his even tone. "Tell me about Tommy Anderson, Aaron."

Once he'd made the commitment to bare his soul, Hotch soldiered forward.

"Tommy was one of the boys who'd been abducted; the only one to escape. And I beat him up about it. All the signs of moral injury were right in front of me: the guy lived alone…there was every sign of his being an alcoholic, of trying to numb himself. And I…I shouted at him, berated him…" Aaron's voice broke. "…blamed him! Asked him if he'd abandoned Darrin because…because he cried too much, or…or was too small to keep up…or…" Hotch's throat closed, his chest tightening with emotion too powerful to let speech continue.

The only sound was Rossi's pen scratching at speed as it scrolled out his own thoughts on the case. Fletcher let a few beats go by out of respect for his patient's pain. He used the time to refresh his own recall of the various reports he held. When Aaron's muscles relaxed enough to let him draw a ragged breath, the doctor gave him a gentle, verbal nudge.

"So you aggravated this Tommy Anderson's moral injury?"

"And I didn't have to." …A low growl from Rossi that everyone chose to ignore… "I could have explained to him that Darrin Call was alive and needed help. It would have given him a chance to make up some of the debt he probably felt for abandoning him as a child. Instead, I chose to torture Tommy. God only knows how that's affected him since…"

"Why do you think you handled things that way?"

The quiet was absolute. Even Dave had stopped writing, pen wavering as he waited to hear what warped logic had been planted in the Unit Chief's mind.

A full minute passed during which Hotch struggled against his instinct to hide and bury things, the more loathsome, the deeper.

"I don't know."

Fletcher didn't need to say anything. By now his patient knew better than to offer that response.

"Maybe I saw myself in Tommy. Maybe I was angry, because I wanted to believe that someone who's been through hell can come back. And he didn't."

"So you identified with Tommy?"

"I guess."

"How?"

Aaron shifted his weight, trying to ease a discomfort that wasn't physical, but demanded expression nonetheless. "No wife. No significant other. He drinks; I guess my drug of choice is my job. Alcoholic…Workaholic. The impulse behind both is the same; cover up what you've done instead of making it right. And he had a chance to make it right…" Hotch's voice had a brief quaver. "…and I took it away from him."

Rossi resumed taking notes, brows drawing ever more inward.

Fletcher had been double-checking his hard copy. "How did that case end, Aaron?"

A breath so deeply anguished, the doctor knew he'd need to intervene soon, then... "I helped Darrin Call kill his father."

The sound of Dave slamming his pen against his pad was sharp punctuation; a nonverbal exclamation point the older agent was using to express his opinion of Hotch's memories. The psychiatrist decided it was time to defuse both agents.

"Okay, gentlemen. Let's take a break." Fletcher watched his patient cross one forearm over his eyes. The posture dripped with anxiety, guilt and shame. "Aaron, we agreed before we began going through things on a case by case basis, that there's a possibility your recollections have been tampered with, correct?"

The Unit Chief emitted a muffled groan. Rossi grumbled, "Tampered with? More like nuked."

"Be that as it may, I'd like to move ahead." I need a couple more dots before I venture my best guess about all this.. "Aaron, is there a case you'd like to talk about?"

The question was unexpected. It felt more like reflex than thought that made Hotch murmur, "Shelley Chamberlain…" He brought his arm away from his eyes, looking perplexed.

Fletcher glanced at Dave, who shrugged. He had no idea why Hotch was bringing up the name of a woman who'd celebrated the birth- and death-day of her young son by going on a shooting rampage that ended in the deceased boy's favorite restaurant. He did recall, however, his leader's role in the final outcome. He'd been proud of how Aaron had talked the woman down. The Unit Chief's open mic had let those waiting safely outside hear every word.

The psychiatrist leaned forward once more.

"Okay, Aaron…tell me about Shelley Chamberlain."

Eyes closed, Hotch began to give up another piece of his soul.

At least, that's how it felt.

He didn't hear Rossi's furious whisper… "That's not what happened!"