By the time they'd installed Hotch in a room, more than one of his teammates was having second thoughts.

"Rossi, he's really weak. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe we should have let the hospital keep him another day." Reid spoke up, but J.J., Prentiss and Morgan's expressions indicated they all shared the same concerns.

"He feels better away from places like that." Dave didn't want to go into detail. Even if Derek and Emily had clued in on their leader's abusive past, he wasn't sure they'd linked it to extended hospital stays as a child, and it wasn't something he thought they should get in the habit of speaking about openly. "He'll rest better here."

Rossi felt waves of doubt emanating from his colleagues. "Look, we still have a case to work. You wanna make Hotch feel better? Bring that unsub in." He busied himself with stowing Aaron's go-bag. "Go back to PD headquarters. See if anything new came in. I'm gonna make sure Hotch has everything he needs and then I'll join you there." In truth, Dave was still feeling guilty about abandoning the team for the last couple of days in favor of staying by Hotch's side.

But he thought those days were past. He could get back to work, knowing that Aaron had turned the corner and was on the path to a full recovery. All the man needed was time, good, honest sleep, and nourishment.

So while the rest of the team set off for the Dallas PD, Rossi helped Hotch get out of the suit Morgan had labored to get just right. He assisted his friend's trembling body into bed, fully aware that the Unit Chief was exerting tremendous effort to appear stronger than he was…and a little alarmed at how poorly he was doing.

But once Hotch's head hit the pillow, all tension and stress bled out of him. For the first time in days he could close his eyes in peace. No childhood pain to haunt him. No unsub to taunt him. Rossi sat by his side and saw the transformation from anxiety to relief.

"Will you be alright on your own, Aaron? I can stay, if you want."

A deep, cleansing sigh, then… "I'm okay…I'm okay…" Hotch roused himself to give a more substantive reply. "Go get her, Dave." They both knew to whom he was referring. "If she's sticking around, she's not going to stop on her own. It'll be suicide by cop or with some other grand gesture, but you know she's already started her endgame. You have to figure out what it is."

Rossi studied the younger man's features, seeing only plain fatigue, not the kind of terror that would warrant his staying close. He nodded. "Alright. The room's in your name, so if the Director or the Bureau needs to messenger anything, they'll be able to find you. I'm leaving your phone right here…" He tapped the bedside nightstand. "I'm also bringing up some food before I go. Something that'll hold its own in this Texas heat, so you can have it whenever you wake up. And I'll be back as soon as I can."

Another deep sigh as Hotch's eyes closed. "Thanks. I'll be fine…Thanks, Dave…" Deep, even breathing commenced almost immediately.

Rossi smiled down at his best friend. I bet the whole time he was out, but aware, he was fighting. It must have been exhausting and terrifying and…well, it's over. Now he's safe. The unsub'll probably go back to the hospital at least once more. But unless she's superhuman and doesn't sleep, she won't show up until afternoon. We'll be ready.

Dave tucked the bedding closer around Hotch's snoozing form, and went to find some bread and fruit to leave within reach. The man would be starving when he woke up.

And maybe by then, we'll have some good news for him about ending this case once and for all.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Megan had no trouble following the SUV into which Aaron had been loaded.

It went straight to The Stoneleigh, a quaint, historic, and not-too-expensive-on-Uncle-Sam's-dime hotel.

Once she was sure of the destination, Megan debated her next move. She really did need to rest if she wanted to be at the top of her game. But it would be so nice to end her day with one last triumph…albeit a very small one…albeit a very, very important one.

She parked on a side street and walked to the building's main entrance. Moving with the calm conviction of one who belonged there, she stepped up to the concierge desk, a relatively humble affair off to one side, and asked for some hotel stationery.

Within minutes, Megan was sequestered in a corner of the lobby, scribbling sweet nothings onto the heavy, creamy paper. She lingered. She took her time. She battled her own fatigue by imagining what Aaron was doing…undressing…being tucked in. But NOT by that woman…Emily!...don't like her…

At last, the agents appeared; exiting the elevator and making their way through the lobby. Their presence was the confirmation Megan had needed. The Stoneleigh wasn't a diversionary tactic; it was the right place.

Folding the pages of her nonsensical note with a precise crease, she inserted them into the small envelope the concierge had provided with such kind, thoughtful professionalism, and sealed it. She addressed it to Aaron Hotchner. With a satisfied smile and the air of one accustomed to excellent service, Megan approached the old-fashioned front desk.

It was backed by an array of cubbyholes. Each one bearing a small, tasteful bronze plaque with a room number deeply engraved. She brandished the elegant, little envelope as the middle-aged man on duty offered her a cordial smile.

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"I have a message for my fiancé…would you be so kind as to leave this for Mr. Aaron Hotchner? He'll pick it up when he comes in."

The attendant glanced at a computer monitor bearing the current room assignments. With a smile for this beautiful, yellow rose of Texas, he plucked the envelope from her long, perfectly manicured fingers and turned to deposit it in the cubbyhole coinciding with Mr. Hotchner's room.

"That's Mr. Aaron Hotchner…" the lady repeated.

"Yes, Ma'am." He nodded reassurance that he was executing the request accurately. "Mr. Hotchner…"

Megan watched him insert the little missive into the cubby whose plaque bore the designation 419.

She favored the man with her most genial, charming smile before turning away and walking out the way she'd entered. She would need a few hours' sleep, but the rest of her plan was falling into place more clearly with every step she took.

She glanced at her watch; its diamonds sparkling like a promise. Housekeeping will be making the rounds for the next several hours. Perfect.

Back in her car, Megan gave the hotel's façade a fond look in her rearview mirror.

Soon, Aaron. Very, very soon…

By the time she got home and fell into bed, Megan was too tired to pore over any more plans. She fell asleep to the sound of her father telling her how proud he was that she had such drive and ambition. Such determination…Such talent…Such resolve…

The approving, masculine voice was a soft, velvet rumble. It sounded a lot like Aaron's…