Story I – Chapter 22

Hotch opened his go-bag and looked at the lunchbox that was lying beside his clothes and then sighed. When he had opened the little refrigerator at home, he had been surprised to find it stocked full of bags of human blood, but knowing the bags came from the medical field had made him feel a little about drinking it because he knew no one had been hurt per say to get them. And Joey would probably hate me if she ever found out I drank animal blood.

He had also been surprised to find out that the sight of the bags didn't entice his hunger, either, because he was actually afraid it would. I fed yesterday, so if I feed tomorrow, I should be fine. He had taken three of the bags in the event that the case proved to be a difficult one, but he was suddenly worried about it staying cold enough. He had put ice and an icepack in with it at the house, but he knew that wouldn't stay cold the whole time. I guess I can fill it with ice every night at the hotel. He nodded to himself. Yeah, that'll work.

He zipped his bag closed as he heard a heartbeat approaching and then moved to his desk.

He looked up when someone knocked on his door and Garcia gave him a smile. "Is there anything special you need me to do? I mean, besides the case stuff?"

He gave her a smile. "No, Garcia, but thank you for asking."

"You know I would do anything, all you have to do is ask."

With the way she'd stressed 'anything' Hotch knew what she was implying. "I know, and thank you."

"Well. . . Good luck," she offered and then turned to go.

"Penelope," he started and she turned back around. "Really, thank you."

She smiled warmly and then left as Rossi came to his door. Rossi looked after her for a moment and then back to Hotch as he narrowed his eyes. "Was she. . ."

"She's was just wishing me luck," Hotch told him quickly knowing Rossi had probably told the whole team to leave him alone about his new life for the time being.

Rossi smiled. "Then you ready?"

Hotch nodded and grabbed his bag. "Let's do this."

XXX

The beginning of the case went off without any problems as the whole team worked on victim interviews and building the profile at the police station. Everything went smoothly as if nothing had changed, and Hotch felt good as he made his way to his hotel room. When he opened his bag to get his pajamas out, though, he cringed. Damn it! He pulled out his sweats and a t-shirt and they were soaked on one side; apparently Wyatt's lunchbox was not waterproof. He pulled the rest of his clothes out and every piece was wet in at least one spot. Son of a bitch!

He shook his head and started laying his clothes around the room hoping that what he was planning on wearing the next day would be dry by the morning at least. He sighed as he hung up his sweats in the bathroom; they had absorbed most of the water from the melted ice and he knew there was no way he was wearing those to bed. He huffed. Won't be the first time I slept in my boxers.

He made his way back to his bag and then grabbed the lunchbox. A moment of panic hit him thinking that maybe the bags had leaked or been hurt by all of the tossing around his bag had suffered, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the bags intact. He grabbed the ice container off the hotel counter and headed to the ice machine. After filling it up, he headed back to his room and grabbed the trash bag out of the little bathroom trash can and put it in the lunchbox as a liner. He shook his head. Only you, Hotchner. Only you.

XXX

Once he was done with his shower, he called his wife, and she busted out laughing when he told her about the leak. He shook his head. "It's not funny!"

"I told you to use Jack's dinosaur one."

"Shut up, Kahlan."

She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. "I'm going to find you something that will work better than a lunchbox."

"Something a little more grown up would be nice," he offered.

She giggled. "Pink with white polka dots?"

"Kahlan!"

She giggled again. "I bet Pen has something even more outlandish."

"I'm going to hang up now."

"Alright, I'll be nice."

He took a deep breath.

She sighed and then got serious. "How are you going to handle tomorrow?"

He knew she was asking about him feeding. "I'm going to do it in the morning before I have to meet the team."

"That sounds good. So has everything been going alright?"

"Yes, Babe. You don't need to worry."

She huffed. "I'm allowed to worry. You are my husband."

He chuckled. "That's true, but maybe now you don't have to worry so much."

She took a deep breath. "I don't think that's going to happen, Hun."

He mentally sighed knowing it would take him proving that he could handle his new life before she truly relaxed. "Well, I better let you go so you can get to bed."

"Alright. I love you, Aaron. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Babe. I love you, too," he told her and ended the call.

He took one more look at the lunchbox, took a deep breath, and then crawled into bed and turned off the light. You can do this, Hotchner.

XXX

The next morning he woke up a little earlier than normal and after he was finished with his morning routine including shaving and such, he made his way back into the room. He eyed the rest of his clothes which had dried and the lunchbox, and then quirked his brows. I guess I better drink before I finish getting dressed. I'd hate to get any on me. He went to the lunchbox and unzipped it and then sighed. I don't even feel hungry. He bit his lip. I wonder if I could. . . He shook his head. No. On a case is not the place to find out how long I can go. It's better to be safe than sorry. He took out one bag of blood and then looked towards the sink and the wrapped plastic cups that were there.

He took a step towards them, but then stopped. And then I'd have to get rid of it, too. He sighed. Shit! What am I even going to do with the bag? It wouldn't be very good for something like that to be found by housekeeping in any room, let alone a room rented by the FBI. He frowned and wished he had thought the whole thing through a little more thoroughly. I guess I'll just have to put it back in the lunchbox and take them home with me. He nodded. Yeah, Kahlan will know how to get rid of them.

He looked at the bag and then tried to figure out how to open it. He cringed when he pictured ripping it open like Sebastian did and it spilling everywhere. He huffed and shook his head. I'd like to see you explain that one to the authorities, Hotchner. He frowned as he looked the bag over and then tried to open the bottom of it. There was a small tube like thing at the bottom with a twist-off cap, but once he got it off, he realized that something had to slide up into it to really open it and let the blood out. They must shove the IV tube or something up in there. He sighed and then sank down into the chair. And yet you had it all figured out. You're an idiot, Hotchner. He looked to his briefcase lying on the top of the dresser and wondered if a pencil would work. But will that contaminate it. . . Would that even matter? He shook his head again and then ran a hand down his face. A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts, and he frowned as he looked at his watch. The team shouldn't even be up, yet.

He hid the bag under the towel he'd used and then went to the door, but once he got close to it, he could tell who was on the other side, and he smiled as he opened it and saw Rossi on the other side of it. "Morning, Dave. What are you doing up so early?"

Rossi quickly took him in in nothing but his pants and the rest of his clothes scattered about his room and then frowned. "Exactly what are you doing?"

Hotch's brows furrowed and then Rossi gestured to all of his clothes and Hotch shook his head. "Don't ask," he uttered and then went back to the chair and flopped down into it.

Rossi shut the door and then joined him at the little table. "Everything alright?"

Hotch took a deep breath and then wilted. He didn't want admit to having such a hard time with something that should have been so simple, but he knew he had to. "You got a knife on you? I left mine at home."

"A knife? What do you need a knife for?"

Hotch sighed and then pulled the bag of blood out and threw it to the older man. "Cause I don't know how to open it."

Rossi caught the bag and then chuckled.

"It's not funny, Dave. I'm trying to convince myself that I can live this life and yet I can't even get over the first hurdle alone."

Rossi laid the bag on the table and reached over and gave Hotch's shoulder a fatherly squeeze. "But you're not alone, Aaron. Maybe if you stop trying to convince yourself that you have to do it all by yourself, you'd have an easier time."

Hotch studied him and then nodded. "You're right."

Rossi gave his back a pat and then nodded. "Of course I am."

Hotch sat up fully and then looked at him. "So do you have a knife or scissors on you or in your room?"

Rossi smiled. "You don't need that."

Hotch frowned. "Then how am I supposed to open it?"

Rossi licked his lips and bit back the chuckle that wanted to escape. "Just bite it. What the hell do you think you have fangs for?"

Hotch's face scrunched up in disgust as he imagined doing that, but after a few seconds his brows rose as he considered it. "I guess that would ensure I don't get any anywhere else that could lead to evidence or something."

Rossi smiled as he nodded. "Yep, but if that ever happens, Aaron, you know we could clean it up to where there was never a trace. We've all learned a thing or two on this job."

Hotch nodded as he thought about it and then smiled. "That's true."

Rossi chuckled and looked at him. "Did you want me to stay?"

Hotch shook his head quickly. "No. I got it."

Rossi appraised him and then stood up. He knew that chances were that he would eventually see Hotch feed, but he figured Hotch had to get comfortable doing it before he would ever let anyone else see him, so he pat him on the back again. "Then I will see you down at breakfast."

Hotch nodded and gave him a grin. "Thanks, Dave." He watched Rossi shut the door behind him and then picked up the bag of blood. He took a deep breath. Just do it, Hotchner. He shut his eyes and made himself change and after another deep breath he put the bag into his mouth and bit down on it. The plastic didn't stand a chance against the sharpness of his fangs and as soon as the blood hit his tongue, he gasped.

He felt himself trembling as he drank it down and the sounds of the plastic collapsing in on itself made Hotch think of Joey drinking a juice pouch and he squeezed it to be able to get it out of it faster. Once he's sucked it dry, he looked at it as he stood up and took a deep breath. He dropped it onto the table and his hands balled into fists and a shudder ran through him as his eyes slid shut.

After a few seconds, he opened his eyes and he had changed back. As much as he hated the thought of drinking blood, he smiled at the way it made him feel. He grabbed the crinkled up bag, stuffed it back into the lunchbox, and then zipped it up after making sure the little trash bag was twisted at the top, and then closed his go-bag so no one would see it. After another shudder ran through him, he grabbed his shirt and tie and proceeded to the bathroom to finish getting ready.

XXX

He walked into the room where the hotel was serving breakfast and Morgan looked him up and down. "Damn, Hotch. You look like you're ready to take on the world even more so than normal, Man."

Hotch gave him a cocky grin. "I feel like I could take on the world," he offered as he joined them at the table.

JJ smiled and shoved a coffee and a muffin to him as she leaned in close to him. "And eating that will make people think you are."

He huffed and then shook his head, but grabbed the coffee and took a drink. He wasn't about to tell her he was full because he didn't want to have to explain why.