Chapter 11
Morgan pulled the SUV in front of the entrance to the St. Mary's Trauma Centre, lights flashing. Rossi dashed in to try to find out information on the injured little boy, flashing his badge to get to the head of a very long line up in a packed ER. Hotch lurched out of the SUV and limped after Rossi. In his worry and haste, he slipped on some ice and went down. Exasperated at his carelessness and ignoring the shooting pain in his calf, he hauled himself up and kept going. He had not gotten very far, however, when Morgan caught up to him. Derek had found a spare wheelchair and somehow managed to persuade Hotch to sit in it. At seeing the sea of people in line for the Admissions desk and knowing Rossi would already be at the head of the queue, Morgan wheeled the Unit Chief into a quieter hallway while he went to park the vehicle. Hotch spent the wait for Rossi hitting the redial button on his cell phone. He had left Haley only one message, but was trying both her home and mobile numbers every ten minutes. He just didn't want to believe that she was the woman trapped in the minivan... he didn't want to believe any of this nightmare. Instinct told him to remain rational, to wait for proof. But Hotch just wanted to burst into the operating room and see for himself. Sitting in the wheelchair, he felt helpless. Having to be so reliant on others was eating him up inside. Extremely frustrated, he put his hand to his forehead in an attempt to control the despair that was threatening to engulf him.
'Jack... please be alright, son. I love you...'
Dave finished questioning the admissions staff and looked about for his colleagues. He finally spotted Hotch and pushed his way through the mass of people to get to his friend. Hotch looked up. His dark eyes pierced Dave's face, reading every twitch, every look. "Dave..?" he asked anxiously but quietly.
"They couldn't tell me much, Hotch. The boy is still in surgery. No other ID has been found. We'll just have to wait until you can see him or until Haley answers her phone."
The two men sat in silence for a few minutes.
Hotch was beside himself with worry for both his son and his ex-wife. "Dave, what if she's the one in the minivan? What if they were on their way to see me? I don't know what I'll do if..."
"Shhhhh, Hotch. We don't know anything yet. There are other possible explanations so don't jump to conclusions."
Hotch was holding his head in his hands. "Wouldn't you?"
Rossi smiled a half smile. "Of course I would. But what kind of friend would I be to tell you to worry?"
Hotch grunted and tried to return the smile. He knew Rossi was teasing him in an attempt to take his mind off of Jack. 'Just like during the hostage situation' he recollected suddenly. He looked at the older agent, who had managed to find a chair and had plopped himself next to the wheelchair.
"Dave?"
"Mmm?" Dave had leant his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.
"Thanks."
"For what?"
"For everything... I think you probably saved my life in the Gordon house... And... and you're the only one brave enough to tell me when I'm being a jackass."
Rossi opened his eyes and turned to face Aaron. "I'll take credit only for the latter... and you're welcome. As for saving your life..." he shook his head. "You did that all by yourself; I keep trying to tell you that."
Hotch frowned. "But I don't understand how... All I was capable of was lying in my own blood, Dave. How is that saving anyone? You were the one keeping me going, distracting me..."
"Hotch, you're wrong! You saved us both when you were at that window. Trevor would have shot you, turned around and shot me." Rossi's eyes burned with intensity. "We knew by then that he was never going to let us go. The only reason he agreed to your release was because he figured you were essentially already dead, so he wouldn't really be giving up anything. You had that flashback, so I know that you remember."
"I... I just have this image of Morgan and the rest of the team. They were looking up at me, terrified. They needed their leader but all I could think was that I was about to die... What kind of guidance is that??! They deserved better, Dave."
Rossi put his hand on Hotch's arm. "Aaron."
This got Hotch's attention. Rarely did Dave call him by his Christian name.
Rossi said earnestly, "Aaron, you seem to have a habit of remembering only selective parts of an event. I don't doubt what you saw or felt, but it is your reaction that saved us. Let me tell you what I witnessed, okay? What I saw was a man who remained in complete control when everything around him was going to hell. Hotch, you didn't panic, you didn't freeze, you didn't get mad. Nor did you give up. You completely diffused the situation by calmly telling Gordon the only thing that could possibly have gotten a narcissist's attention... his own fate. So somehow, while suffering severe blood loss and shock, while thinking you were about to die, while wanting to help the team, you managed to remember the profile, formulate the response and deliver it non-aggressively. I know you hate the word, but that is still the mark of a hero in my book. I couldn't have done that. And you know what else? I'll bet if you asked Morgan about it, he'd tell you the same."
Hotch had stopped frowning; he simply looked discouraged. "I... I just don't know what to believe anymore. I don't trust myself, Dave. I don't trust my ability to lead the team... I..." he clenched his fists around the handles of the wheelchair with a sudden display of emotion. "God, I can't even protect my own son..!"
"Hotch! You can't protect or save everyone! What is it you always tell me? You can only try to do the right thing. You do that. I see it every day, in your work, when you're around Jack, when you deal with total strangers. Whatever has happened today is beyond our control. We just have to pray that it wasn't Haley and Jack in that van."
Aaron didn't reply. Instead, he hit 'redial' on his cell and put the phone to his ear. 'Please, Haley, pick up! I will do whatever it takes to make things right by Jack...'
There was still no answer.
Rossi looked intently at his friend and seemed to read his mind. "Oh, and Hotch? You are the only BAU Unit Chief this team will accept so if you're thinking of doing something stupid, like resigning, forget it!"
"Resigning?!! What?!! Hotch! You can't leave us! Especially not like this!" Morgan exclaimed as he dodged a parked gurney. He was carrying a large paper bag in one hand, and a tray of take-out cups in the other.
"No-one is going anywhere, Morgan." said Rossi firmly, looking directly at Hotch.
Hotch remained silent. The smell of food emanating from the paper bag was making his stomach churn. He was already feeling nauseous from stress and pain. He knew he should eat something, but he just couldn't. 'Aaron, try the coffee, you've got to keep whatever strength you have.' he lectured himself.
"I've talked to JJ and Garcia." Morgan started as he handed out the drinks, "JJ's called all of the other hospitals in the area. No-one fitting Haley's description has been brought in. Hotch, Garcia wants to know if you want to put a trace on Haley's cell phone..."
Hotch had already considered the idea but had dismissed it. Haley would see this as a gross violation of her privacy. If things really were alright, she would be furious. But that was three hours ago. Hotch knew the child could be in surgery for hours yet. He didn't think he could wait without knowing for much longer. His adrenaline was the only thing keeping him going. His head was pounding and leg throbbing from overexertion and the fall on the ice. Hotch could feel that he was starting to lose his grip over the panic within him. He ran his hands through his hair. 'I've got to do something! I can't just sit here waiting anymore.'
"Do it." he said unhappily.
Morgan pulled out his phone and had reached Garcia in seconds. "Baby Doll? Hotch needs you to work some magic. We need to find Haley. I'll stay on the line..."
There was a brief pause. Hotch was inwardly squirming, his still-healing abdomen clenched painfully. The nausea was a constant. 'Come on, Garcia! Please... hurry!'
"Last call she made was to an R. Stevens." Morgan repeated Garcia's findings. "She's tried the number but no answer."
Rossi looked at Hotch. "Recognize the name?"
Hotch shook his head. It pained him that he could no longer answer that question. 'How many of Jack's friends could I name? None. When was the last time I saw him at a play date? So long ago that I can't remember... God, Aaron, you're turning into your father...'
"Morgan, get Garcia to find out what kind of car the family owns." ordered Rossi.
It took less than a minute for Garcia to come back with the information. Hotch looked up sharply, his heart racing once again. Morgan began racing towards the exit, yelling "I'm on it!" Rossi put a hand into his pocket and fingered the gold bracelet that had become the equivalent of a rosary. There was still hope.
***
Cases involving children had always been especially disturbing to SSA Hotchner, ever since the birth of his son, Jack. Now, as he was yet again forced to endure a period of waiting, Hotch was plagued by visions from some of these files. He saw the victim's parents' faces as they realized that their offspring would never again come home; looks of shock, disbelief and heart-wrenching sorrow, sorrow that would be forever imprinted in their eyes. It was a prime motivator for the Agent, to make the world a safer place for Jack. He never imagined that he too might carry the scar of a lost child. 'I've spent so little time with him... I always thought I was doing the right thing... that Jack would understand. But now... now I may never be able to show him how much I...' Hotch swallowed hard, and with an almighty effort, pushed the horrific images from his mind and pulled himself together. 'Get a grip, Aaron, you can't fall apart!'
David Rossi was keeping a subtle, but close eye on his friend. Hotch was doing a good job at keeping what must be sheer panic in check, but at what cost? The younger agent was visibly shaken, exhausted and in both emotional and physical pain. Aside from the shooting, Rossi had never seen him this way. Dave knew that there would be no convincing Hotch to return to his hospital bed while Jack's fate was still in the balance; he needed to find a way to keep Hotch from total collapse in the meantime.
"Hotch, you've got to eat something. You need to keep up your strength. What can I get you, since Morgan's offering obviously didn't appeal?"
"Nothing, I'm fine..." Hotch started but was stopped by the scowl on Rossi's face.
"Hold out your hand." Rossi demanded.
Resignedly, Aaron held out his hand. Try as he might, he couldn't hide its trembling.
Rossi gave Hotch an "I told you so" look and dug into his pocket. He pulled out a slightly bent granola bar and placed it in on Hotch's lap. "Eat. I'll get you some water."
Hotch unwrapped the bar and took a bite. His mouth was so dry that it was like eating cardboard. The nausea returned. Chewing determinedly, he managed to choke down half of the snack before Rossi returned. Dave held out a plastic cup of water. Aaron accepted it gratefully. He was about to start on the rest of the bar when a page came from a speaker hanging above their heads, startling both men.
"Paging Mr. Rossi and Mr. Hotchner. Please report to the Admissions desk immediately! That's Mr. Rossi and Mr. Hotchner."
All thoughts of sustenance were immediately forgotten. Rossi guided the wheelchair through the throng of people to the ER admissions desk. A weary looking surgeon was leaning on the counter, rolling his head to stretch out the muscles in his neck. He glanced up and saw Rossi flash his identification to the admissions nurse.
"You're the gentlemen from the FBI?" asked the doctor, looking dubiously at Hotch, who looked like he was waiting for an appointment rather than for information.
The agents nodded.
Hotch explained, "I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner, this is SSA David Rossi. We're with the Behavioural Analysis Unit of the FBI. Look, I know I don't look much like an agent right now and I don't have time to explain. I need to know the condition of the boy that you've just performed surgery on. Did he make it?"
The surgeon regarded the two men for a moment then replied, "It was a close call, but yes, the little guy will be okay eventually. He sustained internal chest injuries, but the most serious damage was to one of his legs. It was pinned between the door of the van and the backseat. The main artery was too badly damaged... I had to amputate the foot. But as I said, he should make a complete recovery and with the prostheses available today, he'll be able to resume his childhood without too much physical difficulty."
Rossi snuck a peek at Hotch. Aaron had lowered his head and was supporting it with one hand. His eyes were closed so Dave couldn't see the mix of emotions that were surging through him: relief that the child would live, but continued anxiety over his son.
'Thank god that he's alive and will be okay! Anything else now is secondary... injuries can heal. But I need to know... I need to see... need to be sure...' Aloud, Hotch pleaded, "I need to see him, please doctor. We still don't have a positive ID from the scene."
The surgeon frowned. "He's still in Recovery and will be for another couple of hours before we transfer him to the ICU. I can let you know..."
Hotch couldn't stand it any longer. "Please! I can't wait!" he exclaimed.
The doctor was confused by the passion in the agent's voice. Rossi saw this and intervened.
"Doc, there is a possibility that the boy is Agent Hotchner's son. We found a hat belonging to Jack at the scene, but weren't able to see the driver to get an ID. We've also tried reaching his mother by phone, with no success. I realize this is unusual, but my colleague here is recovering from gunshot wounds and the sooner we can clear up the situation, the better. The boy's parents, whoever they may be, also need to be informed..."
The surgeon's expression softened. He turned to Hotch. "Okay, I'll take you up and let you see him... but only for a couple of minutes. The child needs rest... And respectfully, by the look of it, you do too." He came out from behind the desk and led the way towards the elevator.
***
Wearing a surgical gown, Hotch slowly approached the bed. From the wheelchair, all that he had been able to make out was a tuft of blond hair poking out from a bandage wrapped around the child's head; the boy's face was hidden under an oxygen mask. Aaron's hands gripped the borrowed walker so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Although he could feel his heart pounding in his chest, it seemed to him that he was moving in slow-motion. The nausea, nerves and uncertainty of the past few hours seemed to weigh him down like a ton of bricks; each shuffled step was a tremendous effort. Hotch was desperate to know the identity of the small figure in front of him, and yet a part of him wanted to flee.
'Please, not Jack...please. I'll do better. Please...' he thought somewhat guiltily, knowing that if the boy were not Jack, there was another father who would currently be going through the same torturous ordeal.
At last, Hotch reached the bed. Taking a deep breath, he peered down into the tiny face, at the cuts and bruises, at the bandages, at the mask. A look of deep sadness appeared in his eyes... and then he crashed to the floor.
***
Rossi was pacing the hallway outside of the surgical recovery room, waiting for Hotch. Morgan had phoned with the news that the Stevens' licence plate matched that of the crumpled minivan. The driver had eventually been freed from the wreckage, but had been pronounced dead at the scene and her body taken to County General, the same hospital at which Hotch was a patient. It didn't seem likely, then, that the woman and boy were the Hotchners, but there was still the possibility that Haley had borrowed the vehicle. And if they were not involved in the accident, where were they and why had Haley not returned any of Hotch's messages? Dave asked Morgan to go to Haley's house and see if she had arrived home; if not, he was to leave an officer to wait.
"And Morgan? Find Haley. Check the morgue at the General; we need a definite ID on the driver. Have Garcia run credit cards and check all the cab companies. Use whatever resources you need to. I'm worried about Hotch. He can't take much more of this..."
Rossi sighed heavily and sat down in the empty wheelchair. Absently, he fingered the bracelet in his pocket. He was extremely concerned about Agent Hotchner. Everyone had their breaking point. Given what Aaron had endured over the past weeks and on this day, he must be close to reaching his. Dave was childless, but he still understood the agony of the situation for his friend. He also knew he needed to return Hotch to the hospital quickly. The man required rest and medication; adrenaline could only get him so far.
A loud commotion roused Rossi from his thoughts and sent him racing into the recovery room.
***
Rossi arrived at Hotch's side at the same time as the surgeon. Aaron was semi-conscious; he tried to push himself up but his body had finally had enough and he fell back onto the cold linoleum. A soft groan escaped his lips as the enormity of all of his pain hit him full force. He closed his eyes.
"Eeeeasy, Hotch. Just lie still a minute, would you?" Dave stood up. He was handed a gown and as he put it on, he glanced at the little boy in the bed. It had been over a year since he had last set eyes upon Jack Hotchner, but unless he was mistaken...
The surgeon had called for reinforcements and the group of medics soon had Hotch lying on a gurney. A nurse was preparing to stick a needle into one of his veins to start an IV but Rossi put a restraining hand on her arm.
"Please, is that necessary right now?"
The nurse looked incredulously at him.
Rossi turned to the surgeon. "Look, I know that he needs medical attention. But he is on day release from County General and I can take him back now. He'll be back to his surgeon and getting all the drugs required in half an hour, I promise."
The doctor stroked his chin. He looked at Hotch, who was now awake but still woozy, and raised his eyebrows at the nurse. "What's his pressure?"
"110 over 60."
"And the boy..? "
Aaron was staring into space, so Rossi said, "The only thing we know for certain is that he is not Jack Hotchner. But our team are following up on a couple of leads. As soon as we find anything, we'll be in touch." Dave took a business card out of his wallet and handed it to the surgeon.
The surgeon smiled briefly at Aaron. "I'm happy for you, Agent, I really am... it must be a monumental relief. Now what do you think? Are you up to the trip or shall we keep you overnight and your colleague can return you to the General tomorrow?"
Hotch turned his head and looked sombrely at the child. He didn't want to leave him; he might not be Jack, but he was someone's son and deserved a watchful presence. But he realized he needed rest, he couldn't last much longer... and he still didn't know the whereabouts of his own young boy.
"I can make it. I'm sorry to have troubled you... Thank you for your help, doctor."
The surgeon shook his head in silent disapproval but shrugged. "Okay, Agent. You're just about fit to travel... but I'm going to insist on the IV."
"Deal." Rossi said before Hotch could protest. Dave walked back into the hallway while the medics finished up with Hotch. He felt the buzz of his cell phone.
"What do you have for us Morgan?" he asked.
According to Morgan, the FBI had found no one home at Haley's residence. Furthermore, the deceased woman in the morgue still had not been positively identified. Mr. Stevens had been located out of town and was on his way back by train. He was due in the following morning. There was a piece of good news for Hotch, however. Prentiss and Reid had gone to view the body and confirmed that she was not Haley Hotchner.
Rossi breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay, Derek, save the rest until you get here. We need to get Hotch back to Dr. Travis. He's not doing so well... He collapsed, not really a surprise considering... Yes, he's alright for the time-being, well enough for transport.... We'll be at the ER entrance."
***
It was a quiet ride back to County General Hospital. Hotch had been given the news about Haley. He felt numb. He was too tired to process his other feelings. He just knew that although still missing, the odds favoured a positive outcome. After all, Haley may have taken Jack out of town... they weren't due to visit until the weekend, still four days away. His team were on the hunt; his family would soon be found. The drone of the engine was comforting; he dozed.
Rossi glanced over his shoulder into the back of the SUV. Hotch's head rested against the window, his eyes closed and mouth slightly open. His IV bag rested on the seat next to him. Dave turned back and looked out at the night. The storm had passed, leaving a starlit sky and half-moon shining. Rossi was incredibly relieved... the day could have ended so differently.
"How's he doing?" whispered Morgan, jerking his head towards the backseat.
"Sleeping, thank god. I'm going to ask the doctor to give him a sedative. He's going to need more than 6-8 hours to get over today's fun and games."
Morgan nodded his agreement. "I've never met anyone like Hotch. I mean, the man is a machine, not to mention one stubborn son of a bitch! He somehow lives through losing a truckload of blood, fights through these flashbacks he's been having, only to have today happen? The man deserves a medal and early retirement!"
"Don't give him any ideas... I think he's contemplating resigning."
Morgan looked sharply at Rossi. "You're serious?! That line in the hospital earlier? You really think he'll leave us?"
Rossi shrugged. "I know I'd be re-thinking my life priorities if I'd cheated death on numerous occasions and been led to believe my son was dead... You know, Hotch, Derek. He will always do what he thinks is right for everyone but himself."
Morgan pursed his lips. He didn't want Hotch to resign. He could understand why his boss might choose to do so, but he didn't want to work for anyone else. Hotch was his mentor and even though Derek knew he would choose a more relaxed leadership style, his Unit Chief's actions over the past months had really opened Morgan's eyes. He had been crushed when Hotch hadn't given him his personal recommendation for the New York field office job. Derek had been pissed at his boss for a couple of weeks, but after some serious self-examination, had come to the conclusion that Hotch's reservations were well-founded. He did finding trusting others difficult, even his teammates. But if Morgan were to trust anyone, that person would be SSA Hotchner. His quick thinking at the bust, standing in that window with a gun to his head... Derek shuddered involuntarily. He would never forget it; he was still in awe.
"Yeah, I get it. But I don't have to like it." Morgan muttered as he pulled into short-term parking at the hospital.
Rossi regarded the young agent thoughtfully. "Derek?" he said quietly, so as not to be overheard by Hotch, who was stirring now the vehicle had come to a stop.
Morgan raised an eyebrow.
"If you really feel that way, you might want to mention it to our beloved leader... and soon. You know, he's still trying to blame himself for the bust and getting shot. Oh and he also doesn't think he is fit to lead this team. I can't seem to be able to get through to him."
Morgan's jaw dropped in genuine astonishment. "What?! Man, are you kidding me?!!" he hissed. "You bet I'll have words!"
Rossi grinned. "Easy, Derek... the man has been through enough for one day. Give him a chance. At least wait until morning."
***
