Ok, guys, this one-shot is terrible, fluffy, without substance, and without a doubt, it makes me happy. So I just wanted to say that I appreciate you all bearing with me as I try not to go out of my mind during this quarantine. I am choosing sanity at this point. And if my sanity has to hold to Hotchner like an obsessed maniac, then so be it. Also, this could be slight Prentiss/ Rossi if you squint.
-Oracle
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Elowyn shoved Rossi out of the bullets' path without a second's hesitation.
They had been so close to catching this unsub.
An anonymous tip came into the station less than an hour previously, informing the team of two different locations that fit Reid's geographical profile. Hotch split the team, taking Morgan and Prentiss while Rossi took JJ, Reid, and Elle. The local LEOs provided extra support for both factions on the ground.
Rossi had thrown Elle a vest, ordering her to stay close. The entire team stayed connected through earpieces. The members deployed at the same time with SWAT moving first. Hotch chose the townhouses in a poor residential while Elle watched the door leading to the abandoned mechanic's garage with growing trepidation.
Without warning, the garage door flew up, the unsub- an emaciated, balding man in his thirties- stood with a knife pressed against his own neck. Elle glimpsed a pair of bare feet dangling behind the garage door. Hope burst her chest. Lucy could still be alive.
Rossi's hand flexed on his weapon, and she knew he saw it too.
A pair of rookie cops stood behind Rossi's right. One of them placed their finger on the trigger, his eyes darting back and forth between the unsub and the FBI agents surrounding him. Rossi tried reasoning with the unsub first.
"Jeremy," Rossi's voice was eerily calm. "I'm going to need you to put the knife down. This isn't how anyone wants this to end." Rossi took a tentative step forward. "I also know this isn't how your mother would want this to end,"
Rossi lured him closer with his promises before…
CRASH!
A metal wheel rim inside the shop dropped, rolling outside the door. To Elle, everything slowed.
Reid raised his revolver while Rossi lifted his hands, signaling for the surrounding officers not to shoot. But it was too late. When Rossi moved, he inadvertently stepped into the rookie's line of fire. Elle lunged as the officer pulled the trigger twice.
They were so close to catching this unsub…
Rossi staggered, catching himself against a patrol car. Elle kept falling. She heard the SWAT advance before her head cracked against the pavement. She blinked, and suddenly she was on her back with Rossi hovering over her, moving his mouth with such force she knew he had to be shouting. Her head lolled again.
She didn't remember it being so cloudy earlier.
-O-
Elowyn woke up next to an Italian screaming match. She recognized one as Police Chief Bertinelli and the other as an irate Dave Rossi.
"I stand by my officer's actions, Agent Rossi,"
"Really? You stand by the fact that your officer went against tactical orders and opened fire on me, hitting one of my agents,"
Her eyes opened heavily. She heard her vitals beeping on a monitor next to her. Her finger twitched against the heart monitor attached to her index digit.
"He is lucky I don't take his damn badge. And to be honest, I still might!"
She heard Morgan's voice next to her ear. "Hey, there, sleeping beauty,"
Chairs scraped against the floor. JJ, Morgan, and Prentiss stood over her while Reid took a place at the foot of the emergency stretcher.
Morgan's toothy smile underlined the faint worry in his eyes. "You were out for a little bit,"
Prentiss asked, "How're you feeling?"
Her head throbbed, and her ribs felt like she picked a fight with Conor McGregor and came out the loser. She shifted, sitting up. She felt a hand wrap around her arm, helping her. The police chief left the room with a mumbled sympathy toward Elle. Rossi took Morgan's place, easing her into a sitting position.
"I'm good," at Prentiss' disbelief, she assured, "Really, Emily. I'll be fine." her eyes roved from person to person searching for some clue but ultimately not finding what she wanted. "What about Lucy?"
JJ answered, "She's in rough shape, but she'll be fine. She is actually across the hall," she pointed in the direction of the victim. "Hotch is with her, finishing up her statement,"
The knot in Elle's chest slowly eased.
Rossi tapped against her shoulder, almost to reassure himself. His face became haggard, the lines showing more prominently. "Close one today, kid," he said. "Next time, let me play the melodramatic hero, and take two to the vest,"
She offered a smile, "As if, old man,"
Prentiss huffed a laugh, looking to JJ, who shrugged.
She tried to swing her legs over the side of the stretcher; at least, four pairs of hands reached out to stop her.
"No, no, no," Prentiss, Morgan, and JJ said.
"I don't think that's a good idea-" Reid interjected.
Rossi's warning was a bit more direct. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
She hissed sharply through her teeth. She finally saw Hotch standing just outside the curtain dividing them from the rest of the emergency room. He caught her eyes; the look on his face wasn't quite a glare but not quite relief either. Something heavier she didn't know how to describe. He looked away quickly, motioning for someone outside the curtain.
An older woman in scrubs entered at Hotchner's request. "Miss O'Connor," the doctor said, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. "You are very, very lucky,"
Her legs made it over the bed when the doctor reached her. Rossi still kept a hand on her shoulder.
"Is that what we call it these days?" Elle tried not to drag a deep breath with the efforts she exerted.
"The vest took the brunt of it. From what we can tell, three of your ribs are cracked. You needed eleven stitches to close up the gash on your temple. Like I said, lucky,"
Her headache suddenly made sense.
"Concussion?" Elle asked. The numbing from the stitches must still have been in effect when she gently probed her head.
"Very mild," the doctor replied. Her manner was easy, gentle. Elle appreciated that.
"When can I sign myself out?" she asked while also pretending not to hear Rossi's sharp intake of breath.
The doctor's mouth drew into a frown. "I'm not sure if that would be wise, especially since you would need to be checked every hour and a half for the concussion,"
"I'm an RN. I would be able to check myself. I'll set an alarm," she steeled herself, trying to straighten and appear better than she felt. Reid quirked a brow at that. He had not known that particular detail about her.
"Yes, I have no doubt about your abilities, but what if you don't wake up to the alarm is what I'm worried about," The doctor pursed her lips, looking around the room to the other members. She relented after long deliberation. "I'll need someone else to sign off on your care,"
Silence, then Hotch spoke up for the first time since she woke up. "I'll sign,"
The abruptness of his deep voice startled her.
The doctor didn't notice when Elle pulled the heart monitor off before reaching for the IV. The doctor requested Hotch follow her for the appropriate paperwork at the nurses' desk.
"Can't you let someone else do that?" Rossi's face contorted into a grimace.
Elle pulled the tape off while Reid excused himself when she reached for the needle next, pulling it out. JJ's eyes went skyward.
"Hand me the gauze that's behind you, Morgan," Elle requested. The man did as she asked, watching as she pressed the gauze into the pinprick, bending her elbow, keeping it in between her upper and lower arm. Morgan's smile turned teasing, explicitly flirtatious.
"So, nurse, huh?" he wondered aloud with much glee. Elle nodded, giving an exasperated eye roll. "So now would be a bad time to bring up some new fantasies featuring nurse outfits?"
Prentiss groaned. "Seriously?"
"Aww, don't worry, princess. There's still room for you too," Morgan grinned, crossing his arms.
Elle slid to her feet as Hotch and the doctor re-entered the room. The doctor pushed a wheelchair.
Elle bared her teeth as she turned around. "That's really not necessary, doc,"
The doctor gave a look that screamed unimpressed. "No wheelchair, no discharge," she retorted.
Elle scowled.
Rossi chuckled, "I knew I liked you," as he led Elle, lowering her with the help she didn't need.
Rossi took charge of steering as he wheeled her out of the ER. She sunk down in her chair.
"Wanna race?" she joked weakly, seeing another young boy in a wheelchair being taken into x-ray.
Rossi shook his head. "You're not funny, smartass,"
A smile quirked her lips as they reached the black Suburban. "I'm a little funny,"
-O-
Elle knew everyone was still on edge when Prentiss let her take the front passenger seat. Hotch slid into the driver's seat, never risking a glance toward her, even though he adjusted the temperature and windows in the ways she preferred.
She listened to Rossi on the way back to the hotel as he told her she would be taking his room on the first floor so she wouldn't have to climb the stairs since the elevator was still broken. She nodded, placating, answering questions when he asked.
Prentiss and Reid had fallen asleep by the time they reached the interstate. JJ sat lopsided in her seat, probably texting Will and Henry. Morgan spoke on the phone with an incredibly displeased Garcia as he threw in a well-timed, "I know, baby girl," when the situation prompted it.
Hotch kept the paperwork from the hospital tucked underneath his arm on the console, his signature displayed boldly under her own in distinctive black ink.
Her head turned to the side as she watched in a moment where Rossi was distracted by Morgan handing him the phone with Garcia on the other line's end.
His hand flexed on the steering wheel while he changed lanes, maneuvering around a slow driver. The sun had set nearly an hour previously. With each passing street lamp, she filed away a new observation. Scruff shadowed against his sharp jaw while a light splatter of coffee lined the cuff on his pressed white button-up. Dark circles lined his eyes. He looked like he needed to sleep for days.
She wondered if he had called Jack today.
Elle continued watching as he drove. She knew he knew she was watching. She didn't care. Well, the headache fogging over the rest of her rational brain function didn't care.
She wanted to get back to her hotel room and take the world's longest shower. She would figure out how to raise her arms over her head when she reached that particular bridge.
Elle realized how fast Hotch must have been driving when they pulled into the hotel parking lot in less than thirty minutes. Hotch punched the brake when a hotel worker stepped into the drive for her smoke.
The sudden tap of the brakes woke Prentiss and Reid while the sudden tap of the brake left Elle gasping.
"I'm so sorry," Hotch said, penitent. He winced in sympathy. He almost reached out to her.
Elle shook her head. "Don't worry about it,"
The worker seemed displeased at being interrupted when she flipped them off.
JJ chuckled, "What a charmer,"
-O-
The trip to Rossi's room passed quickly and efficiently. Reid, Morgan, and JJ said goodnight before trudging toward the stairs. Hotch carried his briefcase, slipping the hospital forms into an outside pocket. Rossi led her past the front desk with Prentiss and Hotch trailing behind them.
A right turn then left, and they arrived in front of room 111. Rossi fished for his room key. Elle wondered why Hotch had followed them. Her questions died in her throat when he inserted his own room key into the adjoining room door labeled 113. He had been staying in the room next to Rossi. Rossi had forgotten to mention that.
"Yell if you need anything," he told Rossi before ducking into his room.
Elle stepped into the room, noticing the room was bigger in size and also contained a king-sized bed, which was neatly arranged with the pillows pristinely white.
"How come you always get a nice room?" Prentiss asked.
"One would assume it was because the boss likes me better," Rossi tutted.
"Very professional, Rossi." Prentiss tucked her hands into her pockets, a small smirk quirking her lips. "Everyone knows you're not supposed to flaunt romantic inter-office relationships,"
Rossi gave a wry smile, throwing in a wink for good measure, without saying a word.
Elle quirked a brow, taking a step forward. "Ok, lady and gentleman, if you'll excuse me, I am going to go take the world's longest shower,"
Red still tinged Prentiss' cheeks when she asked, concern taking the place of embarrassment. "You sure that's a good idea? The doctor said to be careful because of the concussion,"
"I'll be fine. Honestly, my ribs are worse than my head,"
Rossi gathered all his items gathered around the room, piling them into his go-bag. "I'm going to go get your bag," he said. "Call me if you think I'll miss anything,"
After he left, Prentiss helped her out of her top, dress skirt, and oxford heels. Elle managed the wriggle out of the rest after Prentiss shut the door, saying she would leave pajamas on the sink outside the bathroom door. She heard Hotchner's water shut off halfway through her own shower.
She left her hair up, careful not to get it wet as she washed, reveling in the hot water against her aching muscles. She stayed as long as her ribs allowed. She rinsed off the hotel soap before turning the water off.
Elle fumbled outside the shower curtain, drying herself before wrapping herself in a fluffy towel. Steam billowed outside when she flung the door open.
She misjudged two things: her ability to balance and the fact the floor was wet. She hit the tile with a sickening crack. Her ribs screamed, and Elle resisted the urge to join them.
She rolled onto her back with a tempered groan. Tears stung the corners of her eyes. She refused to let them fall. Elle looked around the room.
Empty, she realized.
Though the adjoining room door was cracked, she didn't recall leaving it like that. Emily must have flipped on the TV before she left because she heard the theme for the X-Files begin. She heard the faint drone of a newscaster coming from Hotch's room. She knew he wouldn't have heard her fall.
She tried bringing herself to sitting but only succeeding in sending a wracking, sharp pain down her side.
Damn…
She glanced at the cracked door, contemplating just staying on the floor until Prentiss found her in the morning. She rearranged the towel against her chest before she called out,
"Hotch?"
Nothing. Not a stir on the other side of the door. She could already feel embarrassment heating her chest and neck. Her cell phone was across the room in her bag. She sighed, shutting her eyes in mortification.
She said more firmly and loudly, "Hotch!"
Silence.
Goosebumps flooded over her skin when the cold from the tiles seeped into her body, the heat from the shower dissipating. Meekness was getting her absolutely nowhere. She wanted to say it was because she didn't want to startle him. Although, she imagined finding his subordinate in nothing but a towel on the floor would be enough to shock anyone.
She dragged in as deep a breath as she could into her lungs before yelling, "HOTCHNER!"
There was no silence this time, only the staggering of limbs and impact of feet hitting the floor as he jumped up from the bed. She thought she heard papers scatter across the floor.
The adjoining door slammed open, banging back against the wall, as he called back worriedly, "O'Connor!"
She brought her head up; she wished she hadn't. She knew it was ridiculous to think he slept in his suit. She was abruptly reminded of this fact when he burst into her room in a pair of blue boxers and no shirt. His hair still damp from his own shower, his head whipped from side to side, searching for an invisible attacker. She saw his weapon in his hands.
"Don't shoot, Tex," she joked weakly. "Just me,"
He spotted her on the floor, lowering his weapon, flipping the safety back on. He blinked once. Twice. "O'Connor, what-"
She gently let her head tip back onto the tile as the words left her in a rush. "I fell and can't…"
She heard him set the Glock on the dresser before crossing the room in long, urgent strides. He knelt down next to her. His questions came quickly, efficiently. Elle tried keeping her gaze from slipping down his broad shoulders to his lean, defined chest.
"What happened? Did you get dizzy? Do you feel confused?"
That single-minded determinedness in his dark eyes proved even more intense when focused entirely on her. He checked her eyes as she replied lamely,
"No. The floor was wet, and I wasn't paying attention. I'm sorry I had to yell at you,"
He looked like he wanted to say something else by the way his lips pursed. Instead, he murmured, "Ok, let's get you off the floor,"
She expected him to simply help her to her feet before he would place a respectable distance between them. She extended her arms, reaching for him.
-O-
Hotch knelt further, his nose brushing against her honey-brown hair. The smell of the hotel soap still lingered against her skin with the underlying heady scent of her. He breathed deeply as he slid his arm underneath her shoulders, gently lifting her into a sitting position. A light groan escaped from behind her clenched teeth. He opened his mouth to apologize, but she shook her head as she offered a tight smile.
"It's ok,"
On his knees with his head lowered, she was able to wrap an arm around his neck. He slipped his other arm behind the bend of her knees.
She desperately trying not to look at him while his fingers twitched against the bare skin of her back just above the border of the towel. Elle was light in his arms as he stood to his feet. He rarely considered how small she was; her mannerisms and words often made her larger than life to him. She became tangible in his arms as he felt the heat from her body scorch against his skin. As her closeness overwhelmed him, he could feel all the 'what-ifs' and 'almosts' drowning him.
Hotch took small measured steps toward the bed. He caught a glimpse of them in the mirror adjacent to the TV, startling him by how intimate their position looked. She curled herself into him.
Somewhere in the far reaches of his mind, Hotch had considered how this could have happened if things had been different.
As he set her down in a sitting position on the bed, he said, "I'm sorry,"
He glanced away when she adjusted her towel. They both knew he wasn't apologizing for jostling her when carrying her. He turned back to her when she said,
"Hotch." she pushed her glasses back up, and his eyes followed the motion helplessly. "This isn't your fault. You know that, right? At worst, it was bad luck and bad timing,"
He found himself repeating Rossi's earlier words but his tone was quieter. "Close one today."
He was suddenly glad the TV was on. He hadn't meant those words to resound. But they did. Her index finger caught his thumb. His eyes darted to her face while she kept her gaze trained on their hands. The sudden flush on her neck was endearing.
"We got him though. And Lucy…" her brow furrowed. "Lucy is safe and back with her family. I'd call that a win,"
With his free hand, he scraped his palm against his face. "A rookie almost- It's not acceptable on any level. I should've let Rossi return the favor." his attempt at humor failed to reach his eyes. She didn't need to know he had been on the phone with the police commissioner when she yelled for him.
She squeezed his finger tightly. He knew he surprised her when he interlaced their fingers together.
She chuckled nervously. "Take the win, Agent Hotchner," she said with a faux glare.
The fan across the room started again; he saw a wave of goosebumps raise against her flesh. He looked away, stepping back. She cleared her throat.
"Um, where's your bag?"
Her neck craned as her eyes scanned the room. "I think I see it under the sink,"
He retrieved the small pile of clothes Prentiss had left out as well as the red duffel bag. She hummed happily.
"Thanks,"
He watched her inspect the clothes Prentiss had picked out. A tight grey tank top and leggings. He knew what she was thinking. She would have to raise her arms to get the shirt on.
She unzipped the bag, flipping through her clothes, looking for something else.
"Apparently, I wasn't packing for fractured ribs," her hand moved deeper into the bag, giving him an excellent view of the black underwear in the back corner.
He crossed his arms over his chest. "Would something of mine be better?"
Her eyes snapped to his. She stumbled for a response. "No, I can't ask you to-" she glanced back to her sleeping choices. "Well, if you don't mind,"
She played with the hem of the towel.
"I wouldn't have offered if I did," he reassured, feeling the slight curl of his lips.
-O-
She watched his languid, retreating form with longing and a bit of gratitude for the reprieve. She knew what Garcia would say. Elle wondered if the heat on her face could permanently stain her skin. She gently prodded her burning cheeks with her fingertips before reaching into her bag and pulling out a pair of black panties. She pulled them up her legs as Hotch reached the adjoining door.
"Is a t-shirt-"
She heard him whirl back around on his heels while his words choked out in his throat. He managed, "I'm so sorry,"
She couldn't turn. She sufficed with a huffed laugh, imagining what his face might look like at that moment. "That is becoming a repetitive phrase with you, isn't it? It's ok. I'm decent,"
He was in her sightline in seconds, holding a grey t-shirt out for her inspection. She sadly noticed he had decided to take pity on her and put on a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt.
"Ok?" he asked, still expecting an answer.
"Perfect. Yeah, it's fine,"
He unfolded the shirt before bunching it around his hands. The familiar determinedness lined his face again, and she realized he was going to help her slide the shirt over her head.
"Is over the towel good?"
She didn't trust herself to speak and nodded.
Hotch put the shirt over her head, stretching the collar overtop her hair. The backs of his fingers brushed against the soft skin of her neck. He didn't stop when he reached her arms, only pulling her hands through the armholes, his thumbs lingering against her wrist. He tugged the fabric down her waist. He aided her in standing, waiting when her breath caught as she turned wrong.
Her mouth crumbled in a grimace. She stayed in that haunched position for a moment before she managed to straighten herself. Elle reached underneath the shirt, tugging at the towel until it fell at their feet. Hotch kicked it away before he pulled the covers down the bed. He let her hold onto his forearm as she lowered herself onto the mattress.
She chanced a glance at him. "I'm sorry," she said.
"I thought it was agreed that was my phrase," he chided.
She positioned herself against the pillows, smiling a bit. She took her glasses off, cleaning them with the hem of his shirt… she paused… his shirt. He was still looking at her when she ducked her head, sliding the frames back onto her face.
"I know… still felt like I should say it for putting you through an HR department's sexual-harassment-filled-paperwork nightmare," her words came faster as she spoke. She knew she was rambling. The lines in his face didn't crease like she'd expected them to. His face retained his neutral calm as he responded flatly,
"I'll be sure to mention it to Lynda in HR when we get back,"
She held her sides when she chuckled, "Ugh, don't make me laugh,"
She watched him catch himself as he went to say 'sorry'. Instead, he asked, "Will you be comfortable with your hair like that?"
He pointed to the once intricately styled mass of light brown curls. She shifted against the pillows, frowning when a hairpin poked her scalp.
She said, "I can make it work,"
He said nothing, only lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed facing her. His hands reached out so slowly she knew he was giving her time to stop him or protest. He reached around her, prodding her to turn her head slightly. His fingers fished for the first pins, tugging them away causing the first tendrils of her hair to fall against her face. His hands combed through each section he unraveled. He had never seen her with her hair down. He tried to keep himself from reacting at the sight.
He knew what it was like to be with a woman…
His fingers caught another pin.
He had been married…
He untangled a braid.
He had a son with his wife…
He pulled away another curl, removing a small decorative comb.
But this… this felt more intimate than anything he had ever done with a woman…
He carefully laid each pin on the nightstand. He let his fingers soothe her scalp wherever he thought she had pinned too tightly.
Her hair must have extended past her waist. Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks. He would have believed she was asleep if not for the way her right hand fisted into the white duvet.
His voice rumbled from his chest. "Does that feel like all of them?"
When she looked back at him, he noticed the light green eyes had become darker than usual. She nodded. "Yes, thank you,"
Her eyes searched his face.
He had a sudden urge to put distance between them, to return to professionalism. He hadn't meant for it to look like he was jumping away from her. Disappointment creased her brow before she covered it up.
She opened her mouth to probably crack a joke when a knock resounded on the door. She turned too quickly, and sharp growl emanated from her.
"Wha- shit! Ow," her hair fell over her eyes like a curtain.
He heard Prentiss' voice next.
"Elle, it's me. Rossi gave me his extra key. Can I come in?"
They met each other's eyes. She smiled sadly before he nodded, retreating into his own room. He left the door slightly cracked. He heard her invite Prentiss into the room. Hotch pretended not to enjoy the way Elle stumbled over herself when Prentiss slyly asked what the hell she was wearing.
Elle pretended not to hear Hotch's shower turn on again.