PANOPLY OF FEAR
Chapter 3
Spill

Robert Frost wrote, "We dance round in a ring and suppose, While the secret sits in the middle and knows"

When Aaron Dave and Emily arrived back at the PD offices, Aaron called his team together. He felt so tired he thought he might be sick.

"We can all get back to the hotel, and meet in my room for a debriefing." He said "I need a short sleep first, so shall we say in two hours, meet up and discuss what we've got today, and plan tomorrow."

Various nods and mumbles of 'ok' and 'yes'. They had two SUV's lent by the PD. Hotch took Reid, Emily and Dave in his. He asked Emily to drive. He was afraid he would fall asleep at the wheel. Dave looked pale and in pain, and Spencer had dark rings under his eyes.

Morgan took Jareau and Garcia.

Emily and Garcia were sharing. Jareau had requested a single room. She said she snored since she became pregnant, and didn't want to keep anyone awake. Morgan was with Spencer, and Aaron with Dave. But Aaron needed a drink first to wind down.

He sat at the bar alone and lonely, his hand gripping the glass and melting the ice. He never imagined he could feel this lonely; he thought Haley would always be there for him. He had a space in his life that he desperately needed to fill. He had hoped... Ah well, that was not going to happen now. He swallowed the drink and asked the bar man to do him another. He looked at Aaron, wondering if it was a good idea. Aaron caught the look.

"It's ok." He said. "I'm going to have a sleep after this one."

The barman took his glass and poured him another whisky. Aaron sipped this one; he allowed the warmth of the solvent to fill his throat and mouth. Then he picked up his drink and wandered outside into the cool evening air.

He breathed in the darkness, and tasted the tang of ozone. There was a storm coming tonight. He couldn't sleep through storms; he was compelled to watch them. Looking up he could see the demarcation between the starry sky and the clouds. He could almost feel them slowly cutting off the universe, isolating him from the rest of creation.

He took another sip of scotch and walked slowly towards the loungers around the tiny pool.

-0-0-0-

"So," Garcia said. "Have you told him yet?"

"Told who what?" Emily looked up from where she was sitting on the bed still dressed. Pen had stripped down to her underwaer and was in the bed.

Emily knew exactly who and what. She was playing for time. Should she pour her heart out or keep it safe inside?

"No, Pen. I can't." Pour her heart out she decided. Pen was totally trustworthy, and sometimes had good advice.

"You have to, Sweetheart. He almost died a few weeks ago, and it would never have been said." Garcia said. "What's the worst that could happen? You have to weigh up the risks."

"Do you know, I was glad when Haley left? It made the way open for me, now the door is wide, I'm scared to go through." Help me here, Pen! "I go all trembly when I see him. His eyes; that mouth! If he's hurt, I just want to run to him!"

"Look, Love. The worst that could happen is that he prefers Reid."

"Yeah. That's another thing. I'm competing with someone I care about. It doesn't feel right."

"Oh Em! That's completely misplaced loyalty! Hotch either likes men or women. You can't change that." Garcia put her feet out of the bed and sat facing her.

"Go now. Go and tell him you're in love with him." She took Emily's hand and squeezed them. "You have nothing to lose!"

"Except my dignity."

"Pah! What's dignity compared with a lifetime of love with the G-Hotch-Man?"

"You know what?" Emily stood up. "You're right. I'm going now!"

She went to the mirror and quickly raked a comb through her hair. She stood back and undid her top shirt button, and fastened it again. Garcia laughed.

"Ok! Ok! I'm going!" Emily grinned at her friend.

And she was gone.

-0-0-0-

She walked past Hotch and Rossi's room a couple of times, and stood outside for a minute or two, and then she knocked.

There! I've done it!

She looked down at her hands and was amazed and not a little cross to see them shaking. She folded them tight across her chest; nervous pose!

Come on you silly girl! Get a grip!

The door opened, and Rossi stood there in pyjama bottoms and an undone Liberace dressing gown. She looked in amazement at the muscles on his chest. He quickly and self consciously pulled the gown around him.

"I...erm...Is Hotch here?"

"He is down in the bar."

"Ok." She said nervously. "I'll catch him down there. Thank you."

She really wanted to run away. Talk about embarrassment! But she sauntered off towards the lift. Dave closed the door and went back to his book – Scotland Yard: The Early Years – but the puzzled frown on his face refused to go.

-0-0-0-

"So the most likely group is this one." Reid said, picking up a flyer he had found in the public library. "The EPN group – End Poverty Now." He picked up his phone. "I'll call them."

"Good idea!" shouted Morgan from the bathroom. "Find out how to join, what their aims are."

Reid dialled the number shown on the flyer. A local number. He wanted to know how far reaching the group was, and if there were any pressure groups affiliated with them. A woman answered the phone.

"I'm sorry, the person you need to speak to isn't here at the moment. Maybe call back in a couple of hours."

"Ok, thank you. Who should I ask for?"

"The EPN chairman. He prefers we don't give out names. We get a lot of problems, especially from racist groups. Our names and addresses are with held until we are sure of people. I'm sure you understand."

"Yes ma'am. Are you able o tell me the names of these racist groups?"

"I'm sorry, but no I can't tell you. When you meet the chairman he will tell you everything."

"Ok and thank you." He put the phone down and looked across at Morgan who had just emerged from the bathroom. He had a towel around his waist, and was rubbing his head dry. Reid told him what had been said.

"She mentioned being targeted by racist groups." Reid said.

"A high proportion of impoverished Americans are black." Morgan said. "They would benefit most directly from the charity. Racist groups wouldn't like that."

"I can't understand racism." Reid said. "It doesn't make sense."

"That's because you are not an ignorant peasant with an IQ of five." Morgan answered. "Doesn't matter how smart you are. I defy anyone to understand racism. Even racists can't explain it."

Reid looked at his watch. "We're meeting at Hotch and Rossi's in an hour. I'm going to have a little sleep."

He lay back on the bed and turned onto his side with his back to Morgan. He took off his glasses and put them on the bedside table, and went straight to sleep.

-0-0-0-

Hotch sat sideways on a sun lounger, and faced the pool. There was no body swimming. He thought he might have a short swim later after the debriefing. It was quiet, but not deserted. A couple walked slowly past him, giggling and touching. He felt the pang of loneliness grip him again. He watched them as they walked round the pool and went into one of the little cabins on the opposite side. He sighed and sipped his drink

His mind drifted back to the lovely holiday he had with Haley that first year out of school, just before law school. So very much in love. They would not have dreamed it could end like this...

He heard sounds behind him as some people came down to the pool. He was about to take another drink when strong hands gripped his upper arms and dragged him backwards off the lounger.

He struggled with two men, a third stood nearby, watching. These men were powerful; the grip on his arms was stopping blood from getting to his hands. He dropped the glass and it smashed on the blue mosaic tiles, the golden liquid slowly trickling towards the pool.

"What the hell are you..." The punch in the face stopped his words; He felt a bolt of pain as the plate so recently screwed onto his cheekbone dislodged.

"Stop struggling." The third man said. "Or we will have to stop you."

Hotch couldn't speak without feeling as if he'd been stabbed in the face

"Do it." The third man said again.

They dragged him to the edge of the pool and kicked his legs from under him. He fell forwards onto his face at the edge of the water.

Oh my god, they are going to drown me!...

He kicked and struggled and noticed that his mouth was bleeding and colouring the water on the side of the pool. He cried out as his face banged against the tiled floor and the skin broke. He saw more blood and...

They pushed his head under the water, still holding his arms. He felt hands on the back of his head hold him under. He kicked and fought but his assailants were strong and there were three to one. He saw pink strands of water drift past his eyes as his struggles lessened, and his eyes misted over.

Suddenly the attackers felt him sag in their grip. He stopped struggling, and his head stopped moving. His hair stuck around his face as they pulled him out of the water. His head fell forewords, and pink water coloured his pale skin in uneven streaks.

"Get him out to the car. Quickly now before anyone comes."

The two holding him lifted him upright and dragged him through the gate, and out into the street.

"He's drunk again!" one of them said as a passer by gave them an uneasy glance. The passer by looked away and scuttled off. The car door was opened and Hotch was pushed into the back and strapped in so that he was sitting in the car. They arranged him so that he appeared to be sleeping, and the three got in and drove away.

-0-0-0-

Emily went to the bar.

"I'm looking for my boss." She said to the barman. "Tall powerful man with dark eyes and hair. About forty. Have you seen him?"

"Yes." He answered. "He went out to the pool. He looked kind of sad. Is he ok?"

"I'm not sure." Emily said. "I'm going to find out. By the pool you said?"

The barman smiled and nodded and went back to polishing glasses. Emily went outside.

There was no one about. She began to walk around the pool, when she felt a crunch as she trod on a piece of broken glass. She bent down and pulled the glass out of her shoe. It hadn't cut her, but it was dangerous. She saw that there were several shards of glass on the floor. Carefully she started to pick up the pieces, and that was when she noticed it.

Blood. Not a lot, but then it could have been washed into the pool. Slowly she stood up and looked around with the glass in her hand.

Hotch? Hotch!

He wasn't by the pool, or in the bar. Had he gone for a walk? He had looked as if a sleep would have been a better call. He wasn't one to walk just for the sake of it.

So where was he?

She checked the time. Ten minutes before the briefing.

She turned and made her way back to the lift, dropping the glass in the bin on the way past. She felt utterly deflated. She thought she could have actually told him that she was in love with him. Now the moment had gone...

She must have missed him. They were probably all sitting in Hotch's room now waiting for her.

Wearily she got in the lift, absently sucking the little cut on her finger from the broken glass, and ascended to their floor.