III. HOTCH

SSA Aaron Hotchner rubbed his palms together, the pads of each glancing off each other, creating friction. It was a nervous habit, not one needed to create warmth. More something he did to tell himself that it was time to get down to business. As he turned his attention back to the overwhelming stack of papers beneath him, his eyes flickered up towards his coffee cup.

A small voice in his head reminded him that he was trying to cut down on caffeine, so hey, maybe a sip later. But not right now because if he drank it right now, he'd just need to refill it in a few minutes and gosh, how would that be cutting down?

With some amusement, he wondered if maybe that voice belonged to his wife.

Turning away from the coffee cup, putting off the inevitable for a few moments, he glanced down at his watch. 9:16. Maybe it would have been easier to look up at the clock on the wall, but he was a creature of habit. And that meant keeping time next to him.

Because you just never knew when it'd get away from you.

Ah, but it'd been a busy morning already. Not even ten yet and he'd already fielded two extremely agitated calls from senators concerned about cases the team was either working at or looking at in their districts. Everything was political. He understood that, but still, sometimes it got obnoxious. Sometimes he just wanted to tell these people, some of them old friends, to just go the hell away and let him do his job.

Oh and then of the course there were the after action reports that the team had filed about their trip to New Orleans. They needed to be edited, sent back for corrections, re-edited and then filed away.

He sighed. This was a part of the job he could gladly do without. Reaching down, he picked up one of the reports. Reid's. Meticulously typed and without grammatical error, it was still somehow, not right.

But how, just how, Hotch wasn't quite sure. Not yet anyway.

Reaching out, Hotch lifted up his mug of coffee and brought it to his lips. He stopped just before he allowed the dark fluid to slide into his mouth. He considered it for a second, heard the voice again remind him "you're cutting down" and then without further hesitation, he gulped it down.

No way that voice could have been the wife. No way he'd have blown her off so easily. No way she'd have let him, he thought was a bemused inner chuckle.

Pushing himself to his feet, hearing just a bit of a creak in his left knee, he exited his office and stepped out into the open office area known affectionately as the bullpen.

And from what he could see, the day was already in full bloom.

In the middle of the floor, leaning casually against his desk was Derek Morgan. His posture was easy, his weight effortlessly shifted. He was chatting with Emily Prentiss. They were laughing, teasing each other.

He heard the words "worst date ever" come from Prentiss's mouth. And then Morgan replied, "Trust me, girl, I can beat you."

And in spite of his reservations about the newest member to his team – reservations that were born more of how she'd come to them rather than how she'd acted among them – he found himself thankful that she was bonding so well with others, becoming part of the group.

Only Reid seemed to have an issue with her these days.

But then again, Reid had an issue with everyone and everything these days.

Hotch turned slightly, taking in the sight of Garcia in the kitchenette, buttering up a cut in half bagel. When she crossed back into the bullpen, she delivered a plate to Morgan and Prentiss. Both shot her grateful looks, Morgan even going so far as to quickly loop an arm around the quirky blonde woman. He said something to her and she responded with a full laugh, one that made her face positively light up.

"Interesting group, no?" a voice from Hotch's left said. He didn't need to turn.

"Indeed," Hotch replied, with a small smile. "How was your weekend?"

"Quiet. All one can ask for," Jason Gideon replied. "Yours?"

"I changed diapers," Hotch said, a bit triumphantly.

Gideon laughed. "Amazing, huh? We save more lives than can probably be calculated, but sometimes nothing means more than five minutes alone with the little guy."

Hotch nodded, his chin lifting a bit as he saw Doctor Spencer Reid enter. Reid looked a bit unorganized, but with him it was hard to tell of that was his natural scattered nature on display(due to just too damn many things going on inside his brain) or if it was the after affect of whatever the hell it was that was kicking his ass.

Drugs. Alcohol. Something.

Something that he knew would have to be dealt with very soon.

Very soon.

"Morning, Reid," Hotch tossed out, voice even and controlled.

Reid looked up at him, dark circles under his eyes. For a moment Hotch mused that were he a woman, Reid would have known to cover those up. A little make up went a long way.

JJ could attest for that.

She looked great, but the weariness of her body, the morose looks he sometimes caught when she didn't think anyone was watching, those told the tale.

But that was JJ.

Reid had always had circles under his eyes; he probably thought no one would notice how dark, deep and ugly they'd gotten to be.

Everyone had noticed.

"Hotch," Reid said easily, like nothing in the world was bothering him. He'd gotten awful good at hiding things, but Hotch wasn't a profiler for nothing.

"Good weekend?"

Reid shrugged. "Need coffee," he said then, making a quick escape. As he fled towards the kitchenette, moving past Morgan, Prentiss and Garcia, Hotch turned towards Gideon, who gave him a look that said he knew.

And soon, soon it would be dealt with.

Then, to change the subject, Gideon mused:

"JJ's late."

And this was true. And rare.

JJ was their media liaison, but in fairness she was much more than that now, a junior profiler even if she didn't quite realize it. Far more than just a well oiled media flack. Every bit a part of the team.

And she was always punctual. Always. Always.

But things were different now, had been since Tobias. And for more than just Reid. She'd been shaken up by that day as well.

Thing was, she'd seemed alright.

She seemed to have dealt.

But again, Hotch wasn't a profiler for nothing.

"It's early," he said just the same. "Traffic."

Gideon shrugged, like no matter. She'd be there soon enough. And for now, the quiet of not needing her, of not seeing her walking towards them case in hand was something to be savored.

And then, as if to test that, across the room, a phone rang on Morgan's desk. He plucked it up effortlessly, the receiver seeming almost small in his big hand. After greeting his unseen conversational partner, Morgan suddenly frowned. He turned slightly and motioned for Hotch and Gideon to approach.

Morgan held up a finger and then said into the receiver, "Thanks, L.C." And with that he hung up the phone and turned to the others, all who were watching him with curious looks.

"Problem?" Hotch asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

"Maybe. That was my buddy down at the DC police department. He was telling me that he and his partner just got called down to the scene of a double murder. Guys got tore up real good."

"Ok," Hotch said, frowning a bit, his by the rules mind trying to figure out what Morgan was going to say next and preparing the appropriate response.

"Location is 1523 Port Avenue," Morgan said then, making his point.

"That's where JJ lives," Reid squeaked out immediately, a tinge of panic in his voice. Hotch glanced around at the others and saw the same worry there, the same dark thoughts. The same ugly "what ifs".

"Explains why she's late," Gideon put in quickly, as if to somehow mentally stop the runaway train that had started up in all their minds.

Hotch nodded, following Gideon's lead, using the same authoritative and right to the point, down to business kind of tone. "Have they talked to her yet?"

"See, that's the strange thing. Her car is in the driveway, but she's not answering. Considering that the murder happened two houses down from her, they're considering breaking down the door."

"Call him back," Hotch replied, shaking his head in the negative. "Tell him not to. Tell him we're on our way." He turned slightly, inclining his head towards Prentiss and Morgan as if to say "you're coming with us." He didn't miss how Reid stepped back and away.

How Reid clearly was too afraid to go along for fear of what he'd see.

Oh yeah, that was going to have to be dealt with very soon.