AN – Another chapter so soon? Can you believe it? I certainly can't, given my propensity for leaving stories for literal years without an update (oops). Anyway, let me not delay anymore, on with the story!
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It's in the time following Reid's admittance to the hospital that Hotch finally finds out what purgatory would feel like. Seconds turn to minutes, turn to hours with no news on Reid's condition, and Hotch finds little source of distraction in the quiet, drably decorated waiting room, besides the discomfort caused by prolonged use of the hard plastic chairs furnishing the room. His sits silently with his hands fisted into the material of his sweatpants, Rossi having brought his go bag from the office to allow him to change his blood-soaked suit for a clean and comfortable tracksuit. At Rossi's insistence, he'd also permitted a doctor to check over his head wound, agreeing to a row of stitches but refusing the doctor's recommendation to remain under observation, adamant instead on returning to the waiting room to wait for news on Reid.
As he sits there, not uttering a word, he would look to the casual observer as if he is merely lost in a daydream, or pondering some ordinary matter such as what he would have for dinner that day. His tears have long since dried up, his sobs ceased as if he had run out of the ability to cry. Yet internally, his emotions are in turmoil. Fear and guilt mingle with each other, battling for supremacy, and he feels his chest tighten as images of Reid's heart stopping flash relentlessly before his eyes. Without looking up at Rossi, sat next to him in the waiting room as the rest of the team continue to process the crime scene, he mumbles quietly, "I did this, Dave," the words seeming deafeningly loud in contrast to the silent that had reigned for so long.
Rossi is almost startled by the sudden admission, not expecting to get any sort of conversation out of Hotch in the state he's been in. "What do you mean, Aaron," he probes gently, careful not to push too far and upset the man even further.
"The knives, the wounds… That wasn't the UnSubs, that was me." Voicing the truth makes Hotch feel nauseous, but he knows he has to say this now or he never will.
"I don't understand. You stabbed him?"
Hotch nods bleakly. "They put a gun to my head, said they'd kill me if I didn't hurt him. I said no but he… Spencer did the first one himself. And then I knew I had to play along so I could keep him alive. What have I done, Dave? If he doesn't make it…"
"He'll make it," Rossi interjects quickly. "Trust the doctors, Aaron. They're going to be able to save him."
"And what if they can't? We've both seen it before. If he dies, then I'll be the one who killed him." Hotch's statement comes out matter-of-fact, but the true meaning of the words weighs heavy on his heart, and his head spins with the emotional toll being taken on him.
"Look at me. Hey, Aaron, look at me." Rossi's hand on Hotch's shoulder is unexpected, and it causes Hotch to look up at Rossi for the first time in over an hour. "You did everything you could for him. Hell, you were willing to die to save him. There's nothing more you could have done. Reid chose his own fate, and if it wasn't for you, he'd already be dead in that basement. Beating yourself up about it is not going to help, and it's not what he would want you to do."
Hotch lets out a deep sigh. "I told him I loved him," he adds after a pause. "He wasn't conscious to hear me."
Rossi responds with a simple, "oh." Being the first and only team member to know about the pair's relationship, he had long since adjusted to the idea of the two being together, having even deduced that they were going out before being told by Hotch. And while he knew they had strong feelings for each other, this is the first time the word 'love' has come up, much less in an unreciprocated context, and Rossi knows how important all of this would be to Hotch. "I'm sorry, Aaron," he tries to reassure, "but soon he'll be awake and you can tell him again."
"I hope so," Hotch says a resigned tone. "Do you think he'll ever forgive me for this?"
"Of course he will. There's nothing to forgive."
Nothing except almost killing the man I love, Hotch thinks to himself bitterly, but chooses not to voice his thoughts out loud, his energy for continuing the conversation feeling drained. Instead, the two men lapse back into a tense and uncomfortable silence, determined to continue their vigil as they wait for any update on the teammate they care so deeply about.
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He's going to hate you. He should hate you. I hate you.
Hotch stands in front of the bathroom mirror, staring in disgust at his reflection as he leans against the sink counter, hands shaking as tactile memories of holding a series of bloodied knives still twitch beneath his skin. The rising guilt makes him want to rip his own hair out, to go and stab himself in the stomach in order to even the score. But somewhere deep down, he knows Reid wouldn't want him to do any of that. And the last thing he wants is to hurt Reid even more.
Splashing cold water on his face does little to settle his emotions, but he does it anyway, if for no other reason than to wash off the slight trail of blood that had oozed its way out of his head wound. Steeling himself for the continuation of his waiting, he takes a deep breath and pushes open the bathroom door, striding back down the corridor and into the waiting room. As he returns to his seat, Rossi wordlessly hands him a cup of coffee from the vending machine, which he gratefully accepts, drinking it quickly and letting the scalding liquid afford him a moment of distraction from their current situation.
No sooner has he finished the drink then a short, lean woman in scrubs enters the room with a clipboard and an unreadable expression.
"Family of Spencer Reid?"
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AN – the verdict is so very nearly in! Will he survive? Will he not have made it through surgery? Find out next time on This Author Is Very Much Enjoying Torturing Their Readers…
