Chapter 4
Twelve hours later Rossi sighed heavily and pushed the stack of paperwork to the other end of the desk. He checked his watch. Visiting hours didn't start until 10am, but he was having trouble concentrating on work so he decided to give up and head to the hospital early. "I think I'm becoming addicted to the coffee" he joked with himself. The truth was that since the bust and Hotch's hospitalization, everyone in the BAU was disjointed and simply going through the motions. Every time the phone rang in Rossi's office, all heads in the bullpen jerked upwards, ears straining to hear whatever news on their Unit Chief might be forthcoming. The status of SSA Aaron Hotchner hadn't changed since he had been moved out of Critical Care into his own room within the ICU, approximately 36hours earlier: 'serious but stable' was the official line. 'Not yet out of danger' was its interpretation by the FBI, and everyone was on edge.
For those agents closest to Hotch, it was impossible to focus clearly on even the easiest of tasks. Morgan tried to get them going with a "You know, Hotch is gonna come back, find that we've fallen behind on all this paperwork, and kick our asses" approach but it lacked his usual gusto and fell flat. Prentiss couldn't help but cast frequent glances up towards her boss' dark office. She couldn't remember ever seeing it with the lights off; it wasn't right. Reid took to doodling, anything to turn off the unfavourable statistics on 'total recovery following severe abdominal trauma' that were flooding his brain. JJ and Garcia were quickly running out of excuses to leave their offices and join their colleagues in the bullpen; it somehow felt better when the team was all together.
Of course, each would much rather be sitting at Hotchner's bedside, holding his hand and willing him to be alright. Morgan had tried as soon as he heard that Hotch had been moved to his own room. He had made it past only the nurse's station before he was intercepted and firmly but politely denied access to the Unit Chief.
"That's my boss lying there! He needs to know we're here for him! He needs some of our strength..."
"Sir, what Mr. Hotchner needs is total rest. Immediate family only, except for Agent Rossi who is the FBI representative."
Morgan tried to step around the nurse but was physically restrained by an intern. He ran his hand over his bald head in complete frustration. "But..!"
"I'm sorry, Sir, that is what the medical team have decided." said the intern. "At the moment, your boss is still in very serious condition. When he is stronger and ready for visitors, we will let you know. Now please, go before we are forced to call Security."
Morgan had returned to Quantico in a foul mood. After recounting his story, the others knew that it would be senseless to go to the hospital until Hotch's condition improved. They returned to their individual worrying.
The 'higher ups' within the FBI also demonstrated concern and compassion for their fallen member. JJ was accumulating 'get well' cards from Quantico and beyond; word had travelled quickly and Hotch was a popular and influential figure in cities all over the country. Locally, Section Chief Erin Strauss had spent her fair share of time at the hospital, pacing and worrying right alongside the BAU team members. Once her agent's condition had been upgraded from 'critical', however, she got down to the business of planning Hotchner's replacement. Despite past history, Strauss had come to trust her Unit Chief, although she didn't always approve of his methods. She prayed the juggling of staff would only be temporary.
Rossi had just pulled into the hospital's parking lot when his cell rang. It was Strauss. Ten minutes later, the senior agent emerged from the SUV and slammed the door in frustration. He took several deep breaths before making his way towards the cafeteria and another cup of bad coffee.
***
"Knock - knock!"
"Hey Dave." Hotch gave his visitor a weak smile. To Rossi, he looked much the same as he had the previous day, although his voice was sounding slightly stronger.
"You're looking a little better... or maybe you're just taking your pain meds..." Rossi said with a straight face as he pulled the now-familiar chair over to the bed and sat down.
"You're…very funny." said Hotch dryly, rolling his eyes. "I wasn't aware...that clowns had...made the visitors list."
Rossi chuckled. "Sorry, Hotch, I couldn't resist." But he was buoyed by his friend's light response. A few days ago, Rossi wasn't sure the two men would ever again share a joke.
"Oh! Before I forget and incur the wrath of Agent Jareau..." he bent down, opened the bag he'd brought, and removed a large stack of cards. "You've made quite a difference over the course of your career, my friend" Dave said, placing the pile on the bed. "You don't get cards from agents all over the country very easily."
Hotch looked at the cards, then at Rossi. "Word travels fast..." He was frowning slightly and had closed his eyes.
"You don't seem too happy..?"
Then all of a sudden, it dawned on Rossi.
"Dammit, Hotch, I'm sorry! I didn't think..." he snatched up the cards and put them on the window sill, out of Aaron's direct line of vision. He cursed himself for being so thoughtless. He should have known that Hotch would be mortified to discover how many peers knew of his injury, especially when he himself was being denied the details. It was now apparent that a lot of FBI agents knew more about what had happened than the victim. "Dammit!" Rossi cursed himself again.
"It's ok Dave...not your fault." Hotch weakly motioned his friend back to the chair.
Rossi considered the man lying in front of him. "While I'm on a roll, there's something else you should know." He sighed heavily and sat back down.
Hotch inquisitively turned his head to face his visitor.
"I got a call from Strauss this morning. She's ordering the team to take some compassionate leave. When we return, she's put me in charge…" a pause "But only until you're back." The words sounded hollow to Rossi. The recent feelings of guilt had returned. Not only had Dave escaped the bust uninjured, now he was taking over his best friend's job... a job that meant everything to Hotch. Even if it was only a temporary role, it didn't sit well with the older agent.
"I'm glad...Nobody else...I'd trust...to lead...the team." but then something occurred to Hotch and he frowned, "But why the leave..? I'm still...here...There are people...out there...that...need us."
Rossi was spared having to compose a reply by a brief knock on the door. Dr. Travis entered the room, picked up the clipboard hooked to Hotch's bed, scanned the contents and regarded his patient.
"How's the breathing, Aaron? Any better today?" he unwound the stethoscope from around his neck.
"A little..."
The doctor looked sceptical but didn't say anything.
"Doc, do you want me to leave?" asked Rossi.
The doctor had loosened the ties on Hotch's gown and was placing the stethoscope buds into his ears. "No, Agent Rossi, that won't be necessary. I'll only be a minute. We are going to take Agent Hotchner for some tests shortly, but I think it's time that he knows where we stand first. You're welcome to stay." He said all of this while looking at Rossi with a 'he might need your support' message clearly written on his face.
Dave stood up and moved to the window to give Hotch a little bit of privacy. Seeing the pile of cards rekindled his anger. "David, you're an old fool. You are going to have to do better." He heard the doctor speak to Hotch.
"Okay, Aaron, try a deep breath for me."
Hotch started to inhale; he almost made it, but a stab of pain around his ribs and stomach area left him gasping and writhing on the bed.
"Easy, Agent", Dr. Travis calmly put the oxygen mask over Hotch's nose and mouth. "Believe it or not, it sounds much better than when I first saw you."
Rossi was sickened. He had seen the look of agony that passed over Hotch's face just before the mask covered it... he didn't want to imagine that pain being any more severe. "God, just how badly was he suffering in the Gordon house for all those hours?!"
"Will...I...recover?" asked Hotch, removing the mask in annoyance now that his breathing had settled.
"In time, yes. And I cannot overstress the 'in time'." The doctor sighed as he tried to replace the mask but the patient turned his head away. "You've suffered severe injuries, Agent Hotchner. Frankly, I'm still wondering how it is that you're still alive. Medical intervention alone would not have been enough to save you."
Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking. "I can't...remember...only bits...and...pieces..."
"Don't push yourself. Your memory should return, probably in fragments as you've indicated. But let me fill you in on your medical condition. Agent, you suffered two gunshot wounds, one is extremely serious. A bullet went right through your left calf but other than causing you some discomfort, it is already healing well. You weren't so lucky with the second bullet; it did all the damage. It entered you from the side, ricocheted off your bottom rib and embedded itself in your abdomen. It nicked your kidney and tore through some of your intestines along the way, causing massive internal bleeding in the area around your lower torso and into your abdomen. It was lucky you got to us when you did; any longer..." he left the sentence unfinished.
Hotch's face was emotionless, but Rossi saw him grip the blanket as the doctor continued, "We removed the bullet, repaired the damage and began trying to replenish all of your lost blood volume before your body went into shock. I'm amazed that it hadn't failed on you earlier... you were certainly showing signs when you arrived in the OR. But you're an exceptionally strong man, Aaron, physically and mentally. You refused to quit and your vital signs held."
Oblivious to the complement, Hotch asked, "and my breathing...?"
"Ah yes. Well, when the bullet hit the rib, it shattered the bone and a piece partially penetrated the bottom lobe of your lung and the diaphragm. Not enough to fully collapse the lung, but certainly enough to cause serious damage... more bleeding... and pain, as you've noticed..."
Hotch closed his eyes, trying to absorb all of the information. Instinct told him the doctor was holding something back. He opened his eyes and looked steadfastly at his surgeon. "Please go on."
Rossi tried to hold Hotch's hand but was gently resisted. "No, Dave...I'm ok...I just need to...hear it all." In spite of his weakness, there was a hardness to his tone.
Dr. Travis sighed. "A few hours after the surgery, you developed complications. You started haemorrhaging again and, combined with the fact that you were already so frail from previous blood loss, and the difficulty with your breathing, you progressed very quickly from shock to respiratory arrest..." he coughed uncomfortably, "to full cardiac arrest."
Dave watched his friend closely for his reaction. True to character, Hotch remained outwardly unmoved. "So...my heart...stopped...entirely?" he asked evenly.
"Your heart went into ventricular fibrillation, where its rhythm is sporadic, like a bowl of jelly. We used the defibrillator to shock it; like restarting a computer, this means getting it to stop and hoping that it will start again on its own... and start with a normal rhythm."
"And is...is this why...my chest is still…so painful?"
"Yes, you had a big jolt of electricity pass through your heart... you're going to be sore from it, as well as your muscles being tight from your lung injury. You might also have some residual pain from the coma. After your crash, we placed you into an 'artificial coma' which allowed us to stabilize your vital signs again."
Rossi was concerned at the apparent ease with which Hotch was taking the news of the cardiac arrest and subsequent coma; he seemed to be in denial as to the gravity of his injuries. Hotch, though, wasn't through with his questions, "And you say... I'll recover fully?"
The doctor answered cautiously, "That is my educated opinion, but it is also why we're going to do a full battery of tests." He became serious, "Agent Hotchner, you have to be prepared for the possibility, slim as it may be, that you suffered some degree of permanent damage to a vital organ."
It was Rossi's turn to close his eyes. He whispered a silent prayer. Any permanent heart or lung damage would most certainly end Aaron's career in the field, and David knew Hotch well enough to realize that if he could not be in the field, he wouldn't remain in the BAU; Agent Hotchner always led his team from the front. David also knew just what the job meant to his friend. He didn't know what Aaron would do if he was forced to retire from it on health grounds.
"No...I won't... accept..."
"No?" Dr. Travis looked at him incredulously. "Mr. Hotchner, this isn't up for discussion. I don't think you understand me."
"I understand...Doctor... But I won't...consider...anything less...than...complete... I'll be fine."
At this point, Rossi decided some intervention was necessary; he had experienced Hotch's stubbornness first hand and an argument certainly wouldn't help his friend's recovery. "Let's just take this one step at a time, Hotch. We'll have the tests done, and then worry about what happens next."
"I'll be fine." said Hotch flatly.
The doctor and Dave exchanged glances. Dr. Travis put his stethoscope back around his neck. "Well then, let me get hold of some orderlies to come and take you for those tests. I'll stop in at the end of my shift and see how you're doing, ok?"
Hotch nodded. Then he looked pointedly at Dave. "We'll talk…about that BAU…team leave…later."
Rossi ignored the comment. Picking up his bag he started towards the door. "Sean and I will be back tonight to see you. Get some rest this afternoon, ok Hotch?"
Outside in the corridor, Dave closed the door and saw that Dr. Travis was waiting for him. "Doctor?"
There was no preamble from the doctor. "He took that remarkably well… too well, in fact."
"That is vintage Aaron Hotchner. He goes out of his way to make sure people don't worry about him. I'm afraid that although you'll find him exceptionally motivated, his stubbornness will make him a difficult patient." Rossi smiled slightly.
"So I'm coming to understand." said the doctor, returning the smile. "But I can't complain; that obstinacy and refusal to give in are probably what have kept him alive. Agent Rossi, I'll need your help… and that of Sean, to present a united front and keep him from doing too much too soon. And in helping him to come to terms with what has happened… you know Aaron very well, and that should help us to push the right buttons, psychologically."
"You've got our total support." agreed Dave, "Whatever you need, consider it done. You'll have to ensure we're using a tough and experienced psychologist, though. FBI profilers are experts at fooling others, and Hotch will know all the right things to say to a psych doc."
"Hmm, yes, I suppose he would. I'll have to think about that for a bit. In the meantime, we'll have to be quite firm with Aaron because he's already in denial. In my experience, given his personality type, our best bet is to be blunt and consistent in the message that he is NOT okay."
"Aren't we risking deflating him?"
"Possibly, but we need to get him past the denial. He will also go through a certain amount of anger and depression as part of the healing process. Don't misunderstand me, I am not suggesting we don't encourage him, but we have to keep his feet planted firmly in reality."
"Alright. We'll follow your lead. Incidentally, what do you expect to see from the test results?"
"I won't know until I get them. But your friend has made some slight progress over the last 24 hours so I am hoping for no surprises… and no permanent injury." And with that, the doctor politely excused himself and left Rossi to reflect on the conversation before returning to Quantico.
***
Hotch was exhausted. He was surprised at just how much the little movement required of him during the tests had worn him out. And the pain had returned with a vengeance; he hadn't put up any fight over medication after being returned to his room by the orderlies. The assessments had certainly been thorough. Technicians had done scans and ultrasounds of his heart, lungs and the affected intestine/abdominal areas. They had drawn what seemed to Aaron to be an exorbitant amount of blood from a catheter in his arm. They had recorded a full 12-lead ECG tracing and taken chest x-rays. "I feel like a punching bag, but at least I'll be able to prove to Sean and the team that I'm okay." he thought ruefully.
He began to mull the injury list over in his mind. Admittedly, the surgeon's recounting of the damage and subsequent complications had unsettled him. "No wonder Sean looked so tired. I can imagine his fear. An ICU isn't a place to spend time in... especially someone like my baby brother. I signed up for this possibility, he didn't. But he needs to see that my heart is beating in rhythm and I'm breathing better today. My gut will improve… maybe I'll even get that six-pack Haley used to tease me about. And the calf is fine..." Just to prove it to himself,Hotch gritted his teeth and resolutely moved his left leg. "Not so bad." he thought, although his hands were clenched and sweat appeared on his brow. He ignored the pain and lay back against the pillows to have another try at piecing together the blurry images from his brain. "What happened?"
Hotch's recollections were still hazy. Other than the flash of a Glock, he didn't remember being shot. He had vague memory of a brief span of lucidity when he realized he was in a hospital ICU. He also recalled thinking of Jack in between the periods of darkness. On recent cases, he had come to use images of his son as a way of distancing himself from the horrors of the job. Thoughts of Jack provided him with happiness, hope and strength. Furthermore, Jack was a prime motivator for Hotch's work at the BAU. Hotch reasoned that the more evil he could put behind bars, the better and safer the world would be for his son.
"Aaron, try to be patient. You know the memories are there, just relax." The pain meds seemed to be kicking in; he was getting very groggy. "They probably slipped me a sedative too." he sighed. He looked at the medical equipment around the bed and attached to his body and scowled. "The sooner I can get rid of this stuff, the better. Only complete recovery, right Jack? That's the least that my family deserve."
He spent another five minutes thinking of all the things he was going to do with Jack after leaving hospital before drifting off to sleep.
***
Later that evening, Sean Hotchner and David Rossi approached Room 307. With his hand on the door knob, Sean peered through the window. "He's asleep."
"Good" said Dave. "I'm not surprised; he's had a busy day. The doc said he was going to do a full battery of tests to determine if there was any residual damage, to the heart and lung in particular. Look, why don't you go sit with him for awhile? Only one of us can visit at a time anyway. I'll see if I can get an update on his condition or an idea of when we might hear about the test results."
"Alright" Sean agreed. He entered the room quietly and took his customary seat in the only chair. Evening had turned into night, so the room was dark save for a dim light coming from the bedside table lamp and the various outputs from the machines surrounding the patient. The younger Hotchner listened to the regular beep-beep-beep of the cardiac monitor and watched his brother's chest rise and fall. Hotch's face mirrored his struggle with pain, his brow slightly furrowed.
Sean covered his face with his hands. "Why couldn't you have stayed a lawyer? More money, better hours and you still got to use that big brain of yours and put bad guys away... and you wouldn't be lying here, scaring the shit out of me." The sleep he had gotten at Rossi's apartment had helped, yet he remained tired and extremely worried. Even with most of the drainage tubes and the ventilator now gone, Aaron still looked fragile; he was as white as a ghost. "I don't know what to do, bro. I feel stupid just sitting here. I'm actually missing that jerk who wants to control my life. Please get better; I need you being a pain in the ass... I need my big brother."
Despondently, Sean got up, went over to the window and looked out over the city with its blinking lights. He missed the sights and sounds of New York, not to mention that he was longing to cook. It was his stress reliever. He knew that his brother still didn't understand the rush he got from inventing a new recipe, but since the big outburst at the BAU some months earlier, Aaron had been making a real effort to support his sibling. Sean had cooked for many of the Big Apple's FBI brass as a result, and had earned a solid reputation. The brothers still didn't talk frequently, but when they did, there were fewer arguments and more banter. In fact, Sean had been on the verge of asking Aaron to come out for a weekend when his cell phone had rung. Unfortunately, it was not Agent Hotchner on the line, but Agent Rossi, and the news was devastating... Aaron had been shot while on duty, had survived the initial surgery but then developed complications, was in a coma and on life-support in extremely critical condition. Sean needed to get to Virginia quickly, things were not looking good.
A soft moan from the bed brought Sean back from his brooding. His brother was waking up. Sean went over to the bed and poured some water from a jug on the table into a cup. "Aaron? Here, try to sip some water."
Hotch tried to take the water but his hand was shaking. Sean stopped him, gently returning the hand to its resting place on the blanket. "It's ok, bro, let me help you. I'm just going to support your neck..." Predictably, Hotch resisted at first, but he was too weak to argue for long and gratefully sipped from the proffered cup.
"Thanks." He murmured.
"You're welcome."
"Sean..?"
"Mmm?"
"I'm sorry...about earlier...I know you..." Hotch winced as he shifted so he could look at his brother.
"Would you quit trying to move?! Dammit, Aaron!"
"Sorry..."
Sean slumped back in the chair. "Forget it. I didn't mean to yell... but you're just so pig-headed at times."
"A... Hotch...ner trait."
"Yeah, well, maybe..."
They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Eventually, Hotch regarded his brother. "So, when are...you going...back to... New York?... The restaurant... must miss...its head chef."
It might have been viewed as an innocent question if it had been asked by anyone else. But not coming from Aaron and not while he was lying in a hospital bed. Sean bolted upright in the chair, hands gripping its arm rests and his eyes flashing with anger.
"What the hell do you mean, 'when am I going back to New York??! What kind of a question is that??! I don't know, do I? Whenever your life isn't in the balance anymore and I can get you the fuck out of here! Someone is going to have to cook and look after you until you get your strength back, or have you forgotten that part?!"
Hotch said mildly, "I'm fine...You can...stop worrying...now...Come back when...I'm at home."
"Your being fine is a bunch of bull, Aaron, and you know it. You're just too stubborn to admit it. You can't get more than a couple of words out without needing more air, you're in god-knows how much pain and you can't lift a plastic cup only half full of water! Do you really think I'm so stupid??!" Sean's voice rose as he spat the out the words.
"Of course... I don't...think...that...But I'm...very...much...alive."
Sean was about to unleash another outburst but stopped himself as Rossi entered the room. "Good evening, gentlemen. Sharing some brotherly love, were we?"
Both Hotchners glared at the new arrival, then at each other. But before anyone could speak again, Dr. Travis appeared in the doorway, a patient chart in his hand.
"Good!" he said, "You're all here. I have your test results, Agent Hotchner. Aaron, may I assume that I can share these with your brother and Agent Rossi?"
Hotch hesitated, but then nodded his assent.
"Fine. Let's start with the good news. Firstly, Aaron, you have the heart of a lion. Your arteries are in good shape and there is no evidence of any damage from the cardiac arrest."
Hotch closed his eyes. "Thank you" he breathed gratefully. Dave said a silent prayer of thanks and Sean's relief was obvious by the broad smile that appeared on his face.
The doctor flipped to another page in the chart. "In fact, all of your injured organs appear to be healing as expected... lung, kidney, and intestine. Of course, there is still the risk of infection, but since we have you on a strong course of antibiotics, this risk is minimal..." the surgeon looked sternly at his patient, "provided that you continue to get enough rest."
"And the blood chemistry work, doctor?" asked Rossi.
"It's about what I would expect at this stage of recovery. It will take some time for Aaron's body to replenish the red blood cells, but the measures associated with his renal function are finally starting to improve." He looked at Hotch. "Once these values are back within normal ranges, and IF your breathing stabilizes, we can start to think about further upgrading your condition and transferring you out of the ICU."
Hotch was very relieved. There did not seem to be any reason why he would not resume his BAU career... and yet... He studied the doctor. Something wasn't quite right. Dr. Travis was fidgeting and his manner had changed, becoming more hesitant. Hotch said "I sense a 'but'... "
The surgeon smiled slightly. "I keep forgetting what you do for a living." The smile disappeared and he became serious. "Yes, unfortunately, there is major concern over your continued respiratory distress."
"It's not...so bad..." said Hotch. "It sounds...worse than...it feels."
"Aaron, your positive attitude is commendable, but you can't fool the doc. The results of the lung assessments and my own investigations" he tapped his stethoscope, "tell me differently. I'm sorry; I know that is not what you wanted to hear."
He carried on, "We always knew that the tear in your diaphragm would take some time to heal, but even so, it is not progressing as we'd expect. This may not sound serious to you, but at the moment all of your energy is being used to breathe, leaving you very little for anything else. You are getting weaker, not stronger and the quality of your breathing is poor and very erratic. Consequently, you are still at great risk for another respiratory arrest; I'm afraid that we're not quite out of the woods yet."
Following the initial good results, this last statement came as a big blow to Sean and to Rossi. Hotch, however, merely looked annoyed. He closed his eyes and his hands gripped the blankets in frustration. Rossi read his friend's body language but decided not to comment. Instead, he attempted to ease some of the tension in the room. "So where do we go from here, doctor?"
Dr. Travis closed the flip chart and tucked it under his arm. "It is imperative that we get Aaron's breathing under control as soon as possible; we cannot afford for him to get any weaker. This means absolute rest... I'm tempted to ban visitors entirely, but I'm going to trust you gentlemen to keep our patient's verbal communications to a bare minimum. I REALLY AM serious about this. If the lung and diaphragm don't show signs of improvement over the next 36-48 hours, we are going to have to consider more surgery."
Sean's head jerked up. "You can't! My brother is too weak; he wouldn't survive!"
Hotch's eyes snapped open and he glowered at his younger sibling. "Of course... I would! But it...isn't going to...come to that..."
"Aaron?" said the doctor calmly. "This is what I am referring to; you need to stop exerting yourself. I'll give you all five minutes to say your 'good nights' and then I want the visitors gone please. Understood?"
The three men nodded in unison. Dr. Travis smiled slightly. "Good." he said and left them alone.
Sean waited for the door to close behind the surgeon then turned to his brother. Aaron wasn't looking at them. Instead, his head was turned towards the window but Sean could tell his sibling wasn't seeing the scenery outside. It was his way of avoiding talking about his feelings. Despite Aaron's best efforts not to show any emotion, Sean knew that he was scared, scared of dying; scared of not being able to resume his normal life. The younger Hotchner knew full well that Aaron would be terrified of being forced to retire from the BAU and of not being around to help raise his young son.
Aaron's silence was rapidly getting on Sean's nerves. "Why the hell doesn't he say anything?!" Sean darted a quick look at Rossi who just frowned unhappily and shook his head in silent disappointment.
Rossi noticed that Sean unconsciously balled his hands into fists, mirroring what his older brother tended to do just before telling someone something unpleasant. Dave braced himself for another confrontation between the Hotchners. He didn't have to wait long.
"Aaron, what the hell are you thinking? Dammit, talk to me!"
Silence.
It was the last straw for an emotionally and physically exhausted Sean. At his brother's prolonged lack of reaction, he just exploded. "I'm not a god damn profiler Aaron, I can't read you!"
More silence.
"For fuck's sake, you almost died! You STILL might die! Doesn't that bother you?!! Cuz I'm telling you, it's scaring the HELL out of me!"
Hotch still didn't say anything but he was now looking at his brother. Rossi detected worry in his friend's eyes, and more than that… fear. "Good. Maybe reality is starting to sink in. I only hope that his concern is for himself, not just for Sean."
Sean now totally lost his patience. "Say something!" he shouted.
Hotch was well aware of the current danger to his life. He understood all too well that he was on the verge of experiencing another 'respiratory arrest', as the doctor called it. "Every single breath is killing me! How can't you see this Sean? Why do I need to explain that to you, isn't it obvious?!" Why couldn't either of them see that he just couldn't bring himself to acknowledge the doctor's words and their implications? To Hotch, such an admission would equate to giving up. There was to be no such surrender, for Jack's sake.
Why couldn't Sean understand that he was alive and that meant he had to take back control of his body and emotions? "Tell him, Dave...help him to figure it out..." Hotch also believed that giving in to the fear of dying would be to concede failure. "Failures." Hotch figured that he had had too many of those recently; he just couldn't take another one. He had to fight back and at this point, regaining emotional control was the only way he knew how to do so.
At his brother's continued silence, Sean threw his hands up in the air in disgust, knocking the jug of water off the bedside table and sending the empty cup flying. Without a backward glance he stormed out of the room.
In silence, Rossi picked up the cup and jug and placed them back on the table. He looked at Hotch, who was frowning again and staring after his brother, the blanket still gripped tightly between his clenched fingers. "About…that leave…for…the team…" Hotch started.
"Forget the team, Hotch, and don't change the subject. You know that Sean's right." Dave said quietly. "At some point you are going to have to face the seriousness of your injuries. And you know part of this means talking to someone; you can't do it on your own…simple 'Psych 101.'
He bent down and mopped up the spilled water with his sleeve, then reached for his coat. "Don't alienate the ones who want to help…" he paused "and who care about you… a lot." Rossi didn't wait for a reply but zipped up his jacket and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.
