Chapter 5

The days were definitely getting shorter. The trees were bare and there was a nip in the air. It had been 3 weeks since the doctors had finally seen fit to release Agent Hotchner from the ICU and admit him into the 'Respiratory Medicine' (RM) wing of the hospital. He was exceptionally weak and his condition was still serious, but no longer life-threatening. Aaron considered this day to be a major victory on his road back to the BAU. It had been a vicious struggle to get his ventilatory system back on track, full of many excruciating and invasive treatments as well as long periods of time where the pain and drugs forced him to remain completely still. Twice along the way, his injured lung and diaphragm had threatened to fail him permanently. Twice prompt medical intervention and the patient's extraordinary will to survive had kept him alive.

Sean Hotchner had returned to New York. Shortly after Hotch's transfer out of the ICU, Rossi had come home from the BAU to his apartment to find a freezer stocked with homemade meals and Sean, surrounded by at least half a dozen empty beer bottles, passed out on the couch with his small travel bag acting as a pillow. Dave didn't try to stop him from leaving. In his lucid moments in the ICU Hotch had remained emotionally withdrawn; things had not improved very much in the RM wing and Sean thought this intolerable. The result was a great deal of tension which was simply making matters worse; the brothers' relationship was fracturing. Rossi knew that once Aaron was recuperating at home, he would really need his younger sibling. Thus, some degree of separation seemed warranted in the meantime to preserve what little good will remained. Dave kept in daily contact with Sean; it wasn't an ideal solution, but at least there were no Hotchner battles to slow Aaron's physical recovery. For his part, Hotch wasn't happy with the situation. He viewed his brother's departure as running away, but he was still far too weak and in too much agony to do anything about it.

Dave was still feeling residual guilt over Hotch's shooting and had taken it upon himself to ensure Aaron's complete recovery, his emotional healing in particular. It was a difficult balancing act to try to be supportive of his friend whilst addressing the frequent periods of denial. Dave hoped that he had gotten it right; he did not want the relationship with Aaron to be affected. In fact, he was seeing Hotch more and more like a brother after all the hours spent at his hospital bedside. The downside to this was more remorse at assuming Agent Hotchner's role at Quantico.

Life inside the BAU was also resuming some semblance of routine. The team returned from their forced leave on the same day that their Unit Chief was wheeled out of the ICU. Strauss had made it Agent Rossi's responsibility to make sure that the BAU ran smoothly until it could be handed back to its true Supervisor. On the surface this appeared to be relatively simple; the team were very experienced and intrinsically motivated. But Rossi was fully aware that a change in leader would mean a change in their dynamics. He was a different personality to Hotchner and had a different style. Everyone would need to be patient and professional in the upcoming months for the team's success to continue; Rossi aimed only to hold everyone and everything together. A very large hole had been created with the bad bust and this void would not be filled until Agent Hotchner came back to work. This was not going to happen anytime soon so team members simply put their heads down and worked hard. They wanted their boss to be proud of them when he took back the reigns. Besides, keeping busy also helped to alleviate their disappointment at not being able to visit their Chief on a regular basis. The doctors were still limiting his guests so other than a quick trip to drop off a card and some gifts, Rossi remained the team representative at the hospital.

***

Aaron Hotchner's next major milestone was passed when Dr. Travis paid a personal visit to the patient to remove the hose from his nose and turn off the oxygen tank. "Finally!" thought Hotch, "I'm starting to get my body back." It was a huge relief. He wished that his brother was there to share his joy. With a pang of guilt, Aaron recalled Rossi's warning him not to alienate his loved ones. "But Sean just couldn't bring himself to understand..." he tried to justify his silence. "He'll be fine once I can get out of here and things can return to normal."

***

Presently, Hotch was sitting in a chair next to his bed reading a book from Reid, his bad leg propped up on the mattress. He was wearing a navy blue t-shirt and pair of light blue hospital scrub pants, the latter a leaving gift from the ICU nurses. Aaron finished the chapter and placed the book on the bed. Gingerly (his rib and abdominal areas still hurt him greatly) he bent forward to examine his calf. The bullet's entry and exit points were healing well, but the calf was still very tender. It was so heavily bruised that it looked like he was wearing a thick purple sock. Hotch sighed, leaned back in the chair and shut his eyes. He had begun physiotherapy and was worn out from the morning's session. His physiotherapist was a young man named Kyle. Aaron was convinced that Kyle continually confused him with a large rugby player; his treatments were always aggressive. And yet his calf was definitely improving. Despite the severe bruising Hotch could now put his some of his body weight on the leg and was able to limp a few paces with the aid of a walker.

The major limiting factor in Hotch's physical recovery was his fitness. The long and harrowing fight to stay alive and to regain respiratory control had taken its toll. Although Aaron could now talk and breathe concomitantly, even brief conversations left him exhausted. Attempts with the walker were very short and left him breathless. And yet Hotch refused to acknowledge the obvious link between his degree of weakness and close shaves with death; he flat out would not discuss his cardiac arrest, coma or subsequent respiratory failures. Consequently, he expected more of himself physically than he should have and was frequently frustrated when his body refused to oblige.

If it hadn't been for his exercise physiologist, a petite brunette named Megan, he most certainly would have pushed himself beyond breaking point and ended up back in the ICU. Megan found a way to use Hotch's stubbornness to her advantage, either to slow him down or as a motivator. She seemed to think he was progressing right on schedule given the severity of his injuries and was constantly bombarding him with this message.

Their first appointment was at the hospital's rehabilitation pool. Megan wanted to build Aaron's cardiovascular fitness without impact, sparing his calf and rib. When she handed him a floatation belt, he had raised his eyebrows and looked unconvinced. "You're trying to drown me" he had said, only half-joking. Hotch remembered that she had laughed easily, rolled her eyes, taken the belt from him and wrapped it around his waist herself. It wasn't an unpleasant experience although he was embarrassed to lack the strength necessary to enter the deep end of the pool without her help. He was mildly surprised when he didn't sink as she let go of his hand.

Megan asked him to walk the width of the pool and then stop; Aaron made it only a quarter of the way before the weakness of his respiratory system betrayed him. He was forced to grab the side, gasping and short of breath. "Aaron, you're pathetic…exhausted after 5 steps!"

His physiologist seemed to read his mind. "Aaron, don't you dare get down on yourself! This is only the first session; I don't expect you to be perfect..." she paused, looking down on him in the water, "…just yet." She grinned and gently poked the hand that Hotch was using to hold onto the side of the pool. "Come on, Mr. FBI, try again for me." In spite of his physical discomfort, Hotch found himself smiling back at her. He took a breath, gritted his teeth and let go of the wall.

***

Hotch began to realize that it might be quite some time before he regained enough of his strength to return to work. The physiotherapy and fitness sessions, simple as they were, were painful and progress excruciatingly slow. And however much he relished the chance to get out of his hospital room and work out some of his irritations, he was more often than not even more frustrated by the time he returned to his bed. Gradually, determination was being replaced by doubt and depression.

Agent Hotchner was also grappling with other aspects of his recovery. Mentally, he had to concede that he was extremely lucky to be alive. Aaron's training told him that he needed to come to terms with what had happened to him, but his impatience to get back to the BAU was ever-present. Such haste once again brought out his denial of the gravity of his injuries and pushed acceptance to the background.

Furthermore, Hotch still had no memory of the bust and subsequent hostage situation other than the blurred images he had experienced in the ICU. It was becoming more than a slight irritation. His frustration was growing and he was beginning to project it outwards, snapping at the doctors and Rossi when they tried to tell him to relax and let the memories return naturally. After discussing the pros and cons of forcing the issue, Dr. Travis and Rossi agreed that Aaron had regained enough strength to be able to deal with the news; more postponement would simply hinder his mental recovery.

Rossi decided that a morning would be best to talk to Hotch before his physiotherapy or fitness sessions wore him out. Dave sat in the hospital cafeteria, trying to plan exactly what he would say. Aaron would read something into every sentence and would be profiling him so careful wording was required. Rossi looked at his watch and sighed. He couldn't postpone this conversation any longer. He made his way to the Respiratory Medicine ward, knocked on Aaron's door and walked in.

"Morning, Hotch."

Hotch was half-sitting up in bed, his empty breakfast tray pushed off to one side. Upon seeing Rossi in the doorway, he pushed himself higher up onto his pillows in alarm, grimacing slightly as he did so. "Dave? What's wrong? You're supposed to be at the BAU…"

Rossi raised his hand, cutting off his friend. "Nothing's wrong, Hotch." He picked up the tray and placed it on a near-by table. "But we need to talk."

Hotch regarded Dave as he sat down. Rossi looked agitated. If he didn't know him better, Aaron would swear his colleague was nervous. Dave was unconsciously fidgeting with a gold bracelet he had taken out of a pocket. "Something about that bracelet…" Hotch strained to remember but came up blank.

"Aaron, the doctors have agreed to let me tell you what happened at the bust."

With his dark eyes, Aaron gazed fixedly at Rossi, frowning slightly. Dave squirmed slightly under their intensity. "Look, I'm going to be up front with you… this isn't easy for me."

Hotch's look softened somewhat. "I'm sorry, Dave. From what I've been told so far, I know that you were there with me through it all… It can't have been easy."

"I just… I just felt so useless…" Rossi stopped and pulled himself together. He had promised himself not to allow his emotion to show, it would only make an unselfish Hotchner feel guilty. "Do you remember anything at all, Hotch?"

Aaron closed his eyes, trying to think. "I know that we were on a bust, but I don't actually remember it… I have an image of a flash, which must have been the gun, a feeling of pain and then just a lot of darkness… "

Rossi said "the gun was a Glock, and you were actually shot twice at that point; the bullet through the calf came later. Anyway, the bastard was lucky with the first shot, slipping it in under your vest. The second bullet hit you in the chest and the momentum took you into a wall, which knocked you out."

"Lucky vest…" Hotch murmured, voice level, eyes still closed, and giving nothing away. "But how did you end up as a hostage too? You know the rules… don't hang around."

Dave ignored the implied disapproval, "Yes, Hotch, I'm well aware of procedure and was about to follow it, but I could see the reflection of one of the brothers in the window. He was pointing his Glock at your head and threatening to finish you off… I wasn't going to let that happen."

Aaron opened his eyes and looked over at Rossi. For a long moment, neither man spoke then Hotch said softly, "Thanks."

Dave gave a small smile and nodded. "You would have done the same for me."

Rossi then recounted the rest of the story. He stuck to the facts as much as possible, leaving out details of the more intimate parts of conversation. As expected, Hotch watched him closely. Dave tried to keep his face expressionless but he knew from the questions Aaron was asking that the younger agent was missing nothing. "Dammit, why do you have to be such a good profiler?!" he bemoaned.

When the tale was finished, there was another period of silence. Rossi felt relieved that Aaron finally knew the circumstances surrounding his injuries, although he was also well aware that the hard work was only just beginning. Hotch would need time to make sense of it all and be able to move forward; moreover, he would need professional assistance. "How do I get Hotch to accept some help? I can tell that he's already blaming himself..."

Hotch hadn't moved since Rossi sat down. He had shut his eyes again, processing the information. He was still frowning. "At least he isn't trying to tear the blanket apart" thought Dave, observing Aaron's relaxed hands. Yet the lack of reaction was unsettling even if predictable.

"What's happened to Stewart Gordon?" asked Aaron suddenly.

It was Rossi's turn to frown. "Hotch we need to talk about you. What happened to you in there… you just don't get over it. You need to work this through with a trained professional…"

"I'll be alright, Dave. But Gordon, has he been..?"

"Aaron! LISTEN to me! You will NOT be alright. You are NOT alright now." Rossi was not shouting, but the volume had increased and his pitch had hardened.

Hotch couldn't remember the last time he had heard Dave raise his voice. He didn't want his friend to be so concerned. "Maybe not physically, but I'm fine…"

"NO HOTCH!" Rossi dropped his voice but his tone was still stern, "No Hotch. I'm sorry but you're not fine. The Aaron Hotchner I know may not show a lot of emotion, but he doesn't hide in denial. He faces challenges head-on. He admits his short-comings. He doesn't snap at those around him, especially not at people he doesn't know. You've got your team of doctors and nurses totally on edge; they're afraid to say anything lest you give them one of your looks… You've managed to chase Sean back to New York. And you've even given my patience a run for its money."

Aaron was about to utter a retort, then stopped. He stared vacantly down at his hands. In his head he replayed his visits with Sean, the doctors, and Dave. He couldn't deny there was a pattern, although he hadn't realized his behaviour had spread to strangers nor to the extent his manner had changed. "How did you let it come to this, Aaron?! Where is all of your self-control? Getting shot shouldn't affect your ability to treat people with respect." Guilt and anger began to build inside him. "None of those people deserve anything but gratitude for saving my life! What is happening to me? I'm a trained FBI profiler! I've seen people in far worse shape deal with their situation much better than I have... where is my discipline? I can't be a good team leader if this continues. I can't have everyone worrying so much and on edge. God help me, I can't go on like this! Peoples' lives depend on our team! I need to be able to function and stay calm. What's it going to be like in a life or death situation under stress if I can't handle even simple conversations with my medical team without blowing up?"

Hotch considered the possibility that Rossi was exaggerating simply to make a point. But deep down, he knew this to be false. David wasn't one to embellish, nor to sugar-coat facts. There must be some truth in his observations.

Minutes passed in silence. Aaron's frown disappeared. He looked deflated and defeated. "Have I really been that bad?" he asked faintly.

Rossi knew he could not shield his friend from the truth. He nodded. "Yes, Hotch." A pause. "Look, we all understand." Dave said, trying to sound more upbeat after seeing the mortified expression on his friend's face. "God knows how testy I would be in your shoes… Hell, I wouldn't still be here. I'd have died at the scene; your will to survive is incredible."

Hotch didn't appear to have heard Rossi's last comments. Slowly, he raised his head and faced his friend. He looked confused and miserable. "Dave, I'm sorry."

Dave gave him a quick smile. "It's okay, forget it. My ex-wives would be pleased to hear that I'd been on the receiving end of some tongue lashings…" he turned serious. "But Aaron...we need to get you some help."

Despondently, Hotch just keep staring at Rossi. When it came, his nod was barely perceptible. "Ok." His voice was no louder than a whisper.

"Now THAT is the Aaron Hotchner I know and love. We'll get you through this Hotch, I promise."