"We don't even ask for happiness, just a little less pain." -Charles Bukowski
Aaron places his tea in the microwave knowing that it's going to put him behind schedule for the morning. He still needs to get ready for the day but he can afford just a moment to make himself a cup of tea. Anything to soothe his raw throat. Besides, knowing his ragtag group of students he's going to need his voice today. He's going to have to be able to keep up with them.
The thought makes him smile, a light warmth spreading along his chest. He settles his hips back against the counter and settles his gaze along the room. He can't remember cleaning up but the dishes are actually clean, resting in the sink waiting to be put away.
He never washes the dishes. It's a fatal flaw but he hates washing the dishes and… where's the dishwasher? It had been a pity gift from Dave. No point in washing dishes by hand when you're-
When you're… he can't remember where he was going with that line of thought. It's just blank. The sentence just- the microwave beeps behind him and dejectedly, he turns and opens the microwave except the beeping doesn't stop. He shuts the door and the fact that the beeping just keeps getting louder and louder and it's overwhelming causing the soft edges of pain to start blooming across his chest.
And he remembers, there are no kids to go to. No school. No family. No fucking heart-
"Easy," thick, rough fingers wrap around his bicep. A tight squeeze that grounds him to the moment and away from the microwave still beeping frantically from somewhere to his right. But he's not at home. He's not at home because everything is white and it stinks. It smells like bleach and he hates it.
He doesn't know where he is and everything hurts. He can't breathe. It hurts so bad. Tears sting his eyes as they fall but all he can do is limply lay in this bed, in this place he doesn't know. He's not sure what he did wrong but he's sorry and he promises he won't do it again.
He's sorry… please just make it stop.
"Family of Aaron Hotchner?"
Five and a half hours of waiting- fuck, she'd read somewhere it was only supposed to take four. Reid, anxiously pacing, had reminded them all of this fact. It's taking too long but that has to mean some fraction of hope for them, right? As long as it's not too short he hasn't just coded on the table and left them reeling with his loss. Without a fight. With a gaping hole where he once was, wheezing but here.
He'd been here and now…
Standing from her chair, she's not sure what to expect. How can she? The last time she was here for this kind of news, Anderson was dead. Anderson was dead and she was about to be gifted to another office- sent away. What is the likelihood of that happening again? This time there's more at stake. There's Jack and Reid and Penlope and she's quickly realized that in this look group, this misfit family, Aaron is the glue.
What's going to happen if he doesn't make it out of this?
"He's in CICU," the doctor informs them with a nod. "He'll be there for the rest of the night until he's breathing on his own." The doctor's had warned them of this very likely outcome. His lungs have been working double time for months and they'll want this reprieve.
Dave, jogging Jack up his farther in his arms, nods his head. He's really the only one wrapping his head around this information past the point of- he's alive. "Can I go back," he asks, voice thickening with the release of stress now overcoming his body.
The doctor frowns as he considers it. The Cardiovascular Intensive Care Unit doesn't have much room for patients and visitor's to be moving around. However, it's pretty understandable that his patient and his family might benefit from a small visit. That is, as long as they can stand the sight of the bandages.
"Briefly," the doctor caves. "He's not going to be up for too much."
Alive. Not up for much but alive.
"I'll take it."
Dave has to leave Jack in the waiting room. He's still half asleep when he climbs into Reid's lap without complaint. It seems to calm the genius nerves, being able to wrap his arms around the small boy. And alone Dave follows the doctor down the hall.
It's eerie and the only sound down the long, winding hall is the heart monitors. To his untrained ears they all sound steady and he wonders if the doctor hears the same steady rhythms.
"It's for his safety-"
Dave is practically covered in scrubs and plastic. They place gloves on his hands after they instruct him to thoroughly wash. Taking his temperature and handing him a mask to place over his face. He starts to sincerely doubt if he should be back here. If Aaron's health is so dependent on all this, Dave doesn't want to place him in unnecessary danger.
Stepping into the room, Dave's taken aback by all of the wires and the machine. The ventilator pulls in each of Aaron's breathes and releases them with hiss and beep. He's awake though, light brown eyes pinched in pain as he slowly answers the nurses question.
"You're doing great, sweetheart." The nurse commends. "One last question," she promises, squeezing Aaron's hand. "1 to 10, how much pain are you in?"
Hotch's entire chest feels like there's a herd of baby elephants sitting atop it. It's worse than anything he's ever felt. Hell, bleeding out on his classroom floor wasn't as bad as this. Still, he raises only seven fingers. The nurse has to lean over his hips to see his trembling left hand hardly raised from the bed and fingers hardly uncurled. Still, seven.
"Honey," she says, gently and so understanding. "I need you to be honest with me, otherwise, I can't give you any pain medication. Okay?'
He nods and this time he raises a more honest answer. Nine.
The nurse squeezes his knee as she stands, smiling. "See," she says, "that I can work with." When she looks up, she finds Dave and to him her smile softens significantly. "Looks like you've got a visitor, sweetheart."
Aaron moves his head, feeling the uncomfortable pull at his mouth as the tubes remain still. Dave.
"Don't cry," Dave whispers, feeling his own tears sting his eyes at the sight of the ones pooling over in Aaron. "Oh my boy," Dave walks up to the side of the bed. He takes one of Aaron's hands and the other moves to his hair, gently soothing down the sweat soaked locks.
Dave smiles sadly as he wipes away one of Aarons' stray tears. He can see just how tired Aaron is. The dark bags under his eyes look more like bruises but all of that can be excused. Aaron's alive and he's got a new heart and a chance at life.
Of course… his future is built solidly on a hand-ful of medications he's going to have to take daily. He'll have to be careful each flu season and fight from here on out to keep living. To eat healthy and get enough sleep and-
"You did so good," Dave praises, softly. He keeps his hand in Aaron's head, luring him back to sleep. Not that Aaron has very much fight left in him right now. "Get some rest, son."
Where Emily had expected liancy or maybe even some rule-bending she finds only hard schedules and a very weak, recently cracked open Aaron Hotchner. He gets two days to rest. In those days Dave is the only person they allow back and just as he's starting to get restless they bring him down to a different floor. They pass through so many floors she stops bothering to learn which intensive care unit it is.
What's important is that he's on his feet and making slow progress down the hall.
He's leaning a little bit more on Dave than he should be but gone is the tube in his throat. Pulled behind him is the oxygen tank that the doctor has already decided he no longer needs. But for today he pulls in deep breathes through his nose and tries to make it down the hall without incident.
"Emily," he greets breathless, stopping and shaking in place while he looks her up and down. He's not checking her out, there is no baited heat that should make her cheeks flush. Instead, she feels the familiar warmth of his presence wash over her. Nothing but at ease familiarity.
She presses a kiss to his cheek, smiling when he chuckles breathlessly. "You look-"
His chest moves a little too much when he pulls in a breath and he winces, face pulling back in a tight grimace. "-like shit?" he offers, not even fighting when the nurse that had been trailing them pushes the wheelchair behind his knees.
She smiles softly but it's Dave to confirm, "just rest a moment." He rests a hand on Aaron's shoulder, gently rubbing, "you can try again in a moment."
Once he's settled, his eyes moving back up to Emily she shakes her head. "Are you kidding," she asks. "You look hot enough to pick up anybody in this place you wanted."
He pulls his arm against his chest as he groans, the smile on his lips all she needs to know that he's laughing through the pain. "Don't lie to me," he chides without any heat. It's him that blushes first and it makes her smile that much harder.
She rolls her eyes and reaches down to mess his hair up even more.
He wonders if this new heart is really going to be able to deal with all the beats she made the old one skip.
"So, hot stuff," she looks over her shoulder to the rest of the hall. "You supposed to be walking down this hall?'
He nods, throat impossibly tight at the way she says hot stuff so casually.
He really does look worse for wear. His dark hair is perpetually swept in every direction, no brush or amount of gel and water seems to tame it. Normally, his neatly trimmed facial hair never sees the light of much more than a light shadow. Unable to lift his arms and unwavering on his decision to not let a nurse shave him, he's grown a nice beard.
He's scraggly and well past just windswept.
He's lacking nearly all of what makes him so much the Aaron Hotchner the world gets to see. His shoulders aren't squared, he can't even stand up all the way. But Emily Prentiss finds that she's never loved just a ragged thing as much as she does this man.
As teenage girls love the abhorrent idea of a straw too mangled to go loved by another soul. As a child might choose the smallest, most beaten down stuffed animal. Emily Prentiss loves this man who looks up at her with heavy, beaten down eyes. Not because he's broken but because he gets back up.
And Aaron Hotchner might just love her back.