Rossi stepped off of the elevator and glanced around the still empty bullpen before making his way to the stairs that would bring him to his lofty office. He often arrived well before the rest of the team, relishing in his early morning alone time. It gave him a chance to reexamine evidence at his leisure and approach cases from new perspectives that often eluded him when surrounded by the hive of activity so common in the BAU. After working these last few years as part of a team, he could finally appreciate the advantages, but he still enjoyed the thrill of solving a puzzle on his own like he had in the olden days. Being the only one in the office gave him the chance to escape into his head and relive those bygone times.

Then, of course, the present came with a mountain of paperwork. Yet another reason to long for the past. Finalizing cases was satisfying, but having to slog through the required documentation was just a pain in the ass. He tried to think of it as a writing exercise that would benefit his next novel, but he had never been very good at lying to himself. So it was with a groan that the Italian flopped down behind his desk and fired up the computer to begin the arduous task of a desk jockey.

Dave had become so engrossed in transcribing his notes that he missed the soft ping of the elevator as well as the steady cadence of footsteps along the stairs. He never once glanced away from his work until the quiet clearing of a throat alerted him to the fact that he was no longer alone in his private sanctuary.

"Aaron," he called with a smile for the imposing figure in the doorway. "Come in. You've come to rescue me from this drivel?"

"Temporarily, perhaps," Hotch responded as he silently slipped in and closed the door before taking a seat.

Rossi watched as his protege shifted restlessly in the comfortable guest chair before drawing a settling breath. Finally raising his head, the unit chief fixed his gaze on the senior profiler.

"I'm ready to talk," the younger man quietly announced.

"Are you ready to listen as well?" the Italian asked with a faint tip of his head.

"Yes," was the immediate answer given as Hotch sat up straighter and crossed his arms over his chest.

Taking in the younger man's closed body language, Dave mentally sighed, but gave a nod before leaning back in his chair in a relaxed manner.

"How's Jack?" he conversationally inquired.

"He's fine. He's bounced back like yesterday never even happened, but I'm afraid it's going to take a little longer for me to recover."

"That doesn't surprise me. It's often much more difficult on the disciplinarian. No one wants to be the bad guy, Aaron, but there are times that you have to put your feelings aside so you can do what's right by those you love."

"I get that, Dave, but it doesn't stop me from worrying."

"I know it doesn't, but you have to trust yourself. You're a good man, and a damn good dad. Even more importantly, you have a great little guy there. He'll keep you on track. Never fear, but now let's get onto our business. Did you do that thinking like I asked?"

"I did."

"And?" the profiler prompted.

Aaron closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead as he exhaled in an extended huff.

"You're right. I wouldn't allow any other member of the team to take the risk I took last night," he admitted before allowing his hand to fall away from his face so he could once again meet his mentor's gaze. "But I stand behind my actions. There wasn't time ..."

His attempt at defense was cut off by Rossi's raised right hand.

"There's always time. You don't enter a dangerous situation without backup, regardless. I thought I taught you that lesson a long time ago, Aaron, but it seems that I was remiss. Lucky for you, that apparent oversight will be taken care of soon enough, and then we won't ever have this problem again."

"Dave, that isn't necessary."

"Oh, but it is," the Italian calmly replied before leaning forward onto his desk. "I won't have you leaving this team without its leader, and I sure as hell won't sit by and let you make an orphan out of Jack."

For a moment the two men stared at one another in stubborn silence before Hotch lowered his gaze.

"I wasn't injured," he reasoned in a near whisper.

"This time," Rossi countered. "You were lucky, but what if you hadn't been?"

"I had to do it, Dave. That one act, as hazardous as it may have been, led to a satisfactory closure of this case."

"Nice try, Aaron, but I'm not buying."

Pushing his chair back, Rossi eased himself to his feet and stepped out from behind the desk.

"The outcome of that unnecessary risk was positive. I'll give you that," the elder said with a nod. "You saved an innocent life and did indeed gain information that led to the capture of our unsub, but there were other leads that were being run down at the same time. Leads that would have reached the same conclusion without endangering your life or the life of the officer with you."

Hotch's head snapped up and he caught Rossi's eye with a cold, level glare.

"I did nothing to endanger anyone but myself," he defended.

"Really?" Dave questioned while perching on the edge of his desk. "It was just you out there? Lieutenant Garner didn't accompany you?"

"You know he did, but I didn't place him in any danger. I requested that he check on backup. He was in the clear."

"I see."

Rossi broke eye contact as he rubbed the back of his neck while reflecting on his leader's story.

"Do you know where he was when you exited the building?" the older man asked after a rather lengthy uneasy silence.

"Well... No. I was focused on getting Mr. Morris and myself to safety."

"Ah."

Dave slipped off the desk and slowly began to circle around Hotch's chair as he carefully weighed his words for maximum impact.

"Aaron, do you see those file folders in my outbox?"

"Yes. What of it?"

"Those are the reports from the Detroit case. All of the reports."

"Morgan hadn't arrived on the scene yet. He doesn't know the de..."

A warm, firm hand landing heavily on his shoulder stopped the Unit Chief's speech mid-word.

"It's not Morgan's report that piqued my interest, though he did give a very thorough account of what he witnessed at that diner."

Aaron cleared his throat, but otherwise remained stoically silent as the veteran profiler stood squarely behind him and brought his other hand to rest on his protege's opposite shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze.

"Do you know what I did find to be a most interesting read?"

"I can hardly contain my curiosity."

Rossi tightened his grip on both of Aaron's shoulders to prevent himself from cuffing the insolent boy on the back of the head.

Bending down, his lips a breath away from Hotch's ear, Dave whispered, "Lieutenant Al Garner's report."

Aaron barely breathed as he stared across the desk at the recently vacated chair and processed the information he had just been given. What could a standard police file possibly hold that would be pertinent to his current situation?

With that question in mind, he glanced over his shoulder and was met by Rossi's dark, stern eyes — eyes that brimmed with disappointment and ... fear? A lump formed in the lead profiler's throat. He hated to have his old friend angry with him, but he absolutely abhorred the idea of causing the man undue concern or anxiety. Dave had filled a void in his life when he needed it the most. He had been much more than a supervisor to the agent in his early years, and if Aron was willing to be honest with himself, he would admit that Rossi was even more than a mentor back then. The unit chief was well aware of the debt that was owed the man. He wanted to make things as easy on him as he could, but in this case that was next to impossible.

To his mind, this time the ends honestly did justify the means. Now he needed to find a way to win Dave over to his side of the argument. It would be an uphill battle, but he had to find a way to win the war. He was the team leader after all.

Hotch cleared his throat as he reminded himself of that fact. It was no longer Rossi's place to question his decisions, something his old friend continually forgot.

A mild tightening of his jaw was proof of Hotch's growing frustration — something Dave had not failed to notice. The legendary profiler had played his hand and now patiently waited to see where the chips would fall.

"How did you get Garner's...? You know what? Never mind. I don't need to know. I don't even need to know what it says."

"Oh, but you do, my boy," Rossi said with a sad sarcastic smile. "It's a real eye opener. For instance, were you aware that Lieutenant Garner sustained injuries related to the blast? He had managed to reach the door of the dinner, with plans of offering you assistance, just about the time you came barreling out of that blast furnace. A few seconds, all hell broke loose. He was closer to the building than you were when it exploded. He was fortunate to come away with only some mild burns, but his hearing has been damaged. You do recall what that's like, don't you? Having a perforated eardrum from a concussion blast? It's no picnic, is it? And do you know why the lieutenant was in the danger zone?"

Closing his eyes, Hotch turned away as he tried to find some shelter from the guilt that was beginning to bubbling up inside.

"He was trying to serve as your backup because he knew you shouldn't be going in there alone."

Aaron grimaced for a moment before his proud head dropped in defeat.

"Still believe you're only responsible for yourself? Still think that you didn't endanger anyone else?"

"I didn't know," was the soft, yet clearly articulated reply.

"I know you didn't, but you should have. We're all brothers in this battle against the bad guys. We all step up to cover each other's asses when the need arises. You know that, Aaron. You just conveniently forgot it because you wanted to be the hero. It's that ego of yours shining through again."

Hotch shook his head.

"Yes, it is. You always know what's best. You can handle it all on your own. And you know what? Most of the time you can, but you're part of a team that you need to rely on, and who needs to be able to rely on you. And I'm not talking about just our team, but that larger team of law enforcement. This job isn't meant to be done alone. We all have a part to play, and we succeed or fail together."

"I don't listen to Iron Man," the unit chief muttered quietly,

"You sure as hell don't," Rossi replied as he step away from his protege to reclaim his position of leaning against the front edge of his desk.

After several long seconds, Aaron finally raised his head and gave Dave a woeful expression.

"Why did you say that to Jack?"

"Was it a lie?" the senior profile asked as he raised a questioning brow.

A tense silence fell over the men as they continued to stare at one another until Hotch finally looked away.

"No, Aaron. Look at me and give me an honest answer."

The younger man warred with himself for a few moments before giving into his friend's demands.

"I try, Dave, but sometimes I have to..."

Rossi stopped him with a shake of his head.

"There's no buts to this. But what, Hotch? But you're above the rules?"

"I didn't say that."

"That's what you were going to imply. You and I both know it, so stop trying to shit me. I know all your arguments. I should. I've heard them enough times over the years. Just like you know my response, and you know I'm right. You know I've always been straight with you."

"This is not like any other time."

"You sure as hell didn't listen. That's the catalyst for every time we've had to have this particular discussion."

Hotch's jaw locked as he shot the carpet an angry scowl while shaking his head.

"You just don't get it."

"Get what?" Rossi barked as he tossed his hands in the air. "What am I supposed to get? That you have a hero complex? Or is it some damn death wish that you're willing to risk the lives of everyone around you to accomplish? Because that's how you're acting right now!"

The lead profiler was on his feet, hands clenched into fists at his sides, before his mentor could even react.

"I'm your fucking boss! I don't have to answer to you. I make the decisions for this team. Not you. And sometimes I have to bend the rules, rules that I've set forth. Sometimes my actions may seem hypocritical to you, and you're allowed to feel that way, but you will not castigate me for doing my damn job."

Dave folded his arms as he calmly studied his enraged unit chief. The stiff posture. The labored breathing. The flashing eyes. A physical response was completely out of the question, and words of rebuke were not going to penetrate that guarded facade. Still...

Thinking quickly, the Italian softly exhaled and nodded.

"You're right, Aaron. You are the boss, and I know that you always bring your A game to the office. I've over stepped my bounds. I apologize. Who am I to question your methods or motives?" Rossi said with a shrug. "I just wonder what you'll tell the family of the next Lt. Garner who crosses your path and isn't so lucky. Just hoping to save you from that unpleasant task, but hey, that's not my call, right? After all, you're the boss. It's your show, and your ass that's on the line when things go south. Whatever you wanna do, I'll always have your back, even if I don't agree with your methods."

The reminder of endangering his partner stung, but Hotch refused to let it show. Instead he drew an easy breath to help calm himself before nodding.

"I appreciate that, Dave," he said in response to the man's final statement. "So are we done here?"

"Absolutely. The rest of the team will be arriving soon. I suggest you take a few minutes to get yourself back under control. This performance doesn't frighten me, but the others don't know you as well as I do. Would hate to have them running for cover for no reason."

A slight flush pinked Hotch's pale cheeks as he consciously reined in his anger.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout."

Rossi shook his head.

"It's alright. The fault was mine. I shouldn't have pushed so hard. Let's forget it ever happened, and focus on just getting through the day."

Aaron nodded and was turning toward the door when Rossi's voice rang out once more.

"Oh, Hotch. Here. I've gone through them, but you still need to sign off on them before they get turned in."

The lead turned back and accepted the stack of folders that his friend held out.

"They're all up to par. You can just scribble your John Hancock on them and send them up to Strauss if you want. No need to suffer through them."

Internally, Hotch sighed. He knew what the man was doing, but he also knew that there was really no way around reading the reports. He had never, and would never put his name on something he hadn't reviewed thoroughly. Dave blamed his law school training, but his signature was a mark of his approval, and he couldn't approve something that he hadn't read.

"Thanks. I'll take care of it," he said as he held the files aloft for a second before silently stepping out of the office and slipping into his own, shutting the door firmly behind him.

A soft rapping on his door frame gave Rossi the opportunity for a much appreciated break in his day of electronic paperwork. Looking up he was mildly surprised to find the resident genius standing there shifting with nervous energy.

"What's up, kid?"

"I was wondering if you had a minute," Reid said before glancing away from the senior profiler's inquisitive gaze. "I need to talk to you about something."

"Is something wrong?"

"I...I don't really know, but it sure doesn't feel right."

"Then come on in and lets figure it out together."

The youth apprehensively looked over his shoulder before fully stepping through the door and closing it behind him — a move that piqued Rossi's curiosity even further. The somewhat highly strung young man tended to prefer open doors that offered an easy escape from stressful situations. The desire for privacy made his visit even more intriguing.

As Reid sunk into the chair opposite of his, Dave clicked the computer screen off and gave the boy wonder his full attention.

"I'm not sure how to ask this," the youth began with a stuttering start.

"Just take a breath and ask," the man helpfully suggested with an easy smile meant to calm the lad. "Is it something I did, or didn't do that's troubling you? I promise I won't get upset at you for filling me in."

"Oh, no. It's nothing like that. I was only wondering..." Spencer licked his lips as he tugged at the hem of his sweater vest. Finally, inhaling deeply, he directly met Rossi's gaze before blurting out, "Is something wrong with Hotch?"

Dave sat up straighter while his brow knitted as concern suddenly overtook his usual easy manner.

"Why do you ask that?"

"He's been really reserved, even for Hotch. He's staying closed off in his office, and then when he does come out, he's very direct with what he needs before he disappears again. It's like he doesn't want to be around the rest of us. Is it something we did? I figured you've known him longest so maybe he confided in you."

The legendary profiler visible relaxed while the young man voiced the concerns that Rossi knew were shared by the tight knit group milling around the bullpen.

"It's nothing like that," he said with a faint shake of the head. "Hotch is working through a few things right now. This last case was a bit more trying than he initially thought. He needs a little alone time to process it, but I can assure you, he'll be alright."

Reid frowned.

"It was a pretty standard case overall. At least as standard as our work can be. Why does this one bother him more than past cases?"

Rossi rolled his eyes up to the heavens as he carefully considered how much information he should offer in explanation.

Rubbing his bearded chin, he exhaled while weighing his words.

"Reid, you know that some components of this case were a little out of the norm. Some actions that were taken could easily be argued as haphazard."

The youth's soft worried eyes immediately registered understanding.

"But Hotch is okay, isn't he? We were told that he hadn't been injured in the explosion."

"Physically, he's fine. You have nothing to worry about. He's just starting to grasp what could have and what did happened the night at the diner. That's putting a lot of emotional strain on him."

When the doctor's eyes widened, Rossi quickly attempted to ease his mind.

"It's not a bad thing, Spencer. Not at all. He's starting to understand all that could have been loss, and the effect his hard-headedness has on the team. That little twinge of conscience will go a long way to keeping him safe in the future. I know it's not easy to watch, but you have to believe me when I tell you that this is what's best for Hotch."

The gentle watery gaze wavered for a moment before Reid looked down at his hands resting in his lap.

"Can't you ... I mean, isn't there something you can do? Something to help him?" he asked in a whisper as he picked at his nails, unwilling to meet Rossi's eyes any longer.

Sighing, the Italian got up and went to his young friend. Crouching down he placed a hand on the boy's knee while he reached out with the other to chuck Reid beneath the chin.

When their eyes met, the elder smile.

"Spencer, you know there isn't anything I wouldn't do for Aaron, but he has to want my help. It's no good trying to force anything on him. He won't respond to that. It has to be his decision, and that will come in his own good time."

"Can you at least talk to him?" Reid pleaded in a high pitched voice. "If it was me, he wouldn't let me go though something like this alone."

"Oh, Reid." Dave wrapped his hand behind the doctor's neck and gave it an affectionate squeeze. "He's not alone."

"But you said..."

"I said," Rossi stressed. "That he needed some alone time to gather his thoughts and make peace with them. That doesn't mean we've abandoned him. We're a family, kid. We're always there for each other, no matter what. Hotch knows that. He knows we're here for him. Believe me, he knows, but the ball's in his court. He'll come to us when he's ready."

The dark glassy eyes that searched his face tore at the senior profiler's heart.

"Alright, kid. I'll make you a promise. If Aaron doesn't come to me soon, I'll approach him. I can be persistent when needed. I'll find a way to get through to him, but you're going to have to be patient. Hotch is ... complicated. You're going to have to trust me to do things my way because I know what works best with him."

"I do trust you. I just hate to see him suffer."

"As do I. It's never easy to watch someone you care about suffer, but he will come through it stronger and wiser for the experience. And we'll be there to help him when he's ready."

Reid lowered his gaze once again and chewed on his bottom lip, but slowly began to nod.

"Good?" Rossi questioned with a raised brow.

"I wouldn't go that far, but I feel a little better about what's going on. I was starting to think it was something I'd done."

"Don't be silly, kid. This is really all Hotch, and keep in mind that he's going to feel a lot better once his cognitive dissonance clears up. It just takes time."

"Hopefully not too much."

"He'll be back to normal before you know it," Dave said with a smile as he brushed Reid's lanky hair back from his face and caught his eye. "Now get on out of here, and get that paperwork polished. Aaron can get really surly at times like this. I would hate for him to growl at you when it's himself that he's angry with. It's better not to give him any excuse to project. Okay?"

"'kay," Spencer agreed as he got to his feet and shuffled towards the door.

"Kid."

At Rossi's call, the genius paused at the open doorway and looked back over his shoulder.

"He's lucky to have you in his corner. I don't want you to ever question how much he appreciates that. He's not good with expressing his emotions, but he knows, and it truly means a lot to him."

"Thanks," Reid softly said before darting out the door and back down to the bullpen to complete his day's work.

In the silence that followed the young man's departure, Rossi took a moment to center his own thoughts. Aaron could be bull-headed at times. It looked like this was going to be one of those times.

Flopping down in the guest chair, Dave leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He scrubbed his hands over his face before releasing an exhausted sigh.

If he said or did anything to escalate his unit chief's feelings of guilt, he could easily push Hotch over the edge and cause him to spiral further down into depression. That was certainly out of the question. If he sat by and did nothing, the team's morale would suffer. They all held the unit chief in high esteem. No doubt the concerns the boy expressed were shared equally among them all, and until this matter was resolved they would be edgy and off their game. Thank God they were between cases at the moment, but that never lasted long. A call could come at any moment, and then what?

"Aaron, why must you make things so difficult at times? How about giving the ego a rest, and let me help you through this so we can all start over. Clear the air. Clean slate. That's all I'm asking. Is that really so much?"

"No," a deep, silken, solemn voice stated.

The Italian's eyes popped open and he turned in his seat to find Hotch standing in the doorway.

"It's not too much to ask," the man clarified while folding his arms and lowering his head with a sigh. "I saw Reid leave. It doesn't take a genius IQ to guess why he came to see you."

"They're worried about you."

"I know, and they needn't be."

"Easy for you to say. I know you've been putting yourself through hell today, but that's just as hard for the team to watch as it is for you to bear."

Cool dark eyes flicked up to meet his mentor's.

"Sorry," he said with the slightest hint of sarcasm as he propped his shoulder against the door frame.

Choosing to ignore the touch of attitude after judging it a huge improvement over what he had endured that morning, Dave quietly surveyed Hotch.

"So where are we now?"

"Stage five," the man replied as he lowered his gaze once again to the worn carpeting.

Rossi smirked as he shook his head. He clearly recalled the day he had related Kübler-Ross' stages of grief to one highly pissed off Aaron Hotcher. It had been meant to explain the way he viewed the boy's outburst at the time his protege was arguing about the unfairness of being leashed to a desk for two weeks following a botched case. It really had been Wachowski's informant's fault that the perp had gotten away, but the director had placed the blame solely on Rossi and his rookie partner.

The kid certainly hadn't been entirely wrong in his grievance, but office politics weren't going to change simply because Aaron Hotchner didn't like working cold cases for eight hours a day.

Eventually the Italian had gotten through to his underling and they all survived those grueling two weeks. As an added bonus, it appeared the current unit chief had a new understanding for the shifting emotions he tried so hard to hide. Rossi had watched the pattern emerge throughout the day, with Reid finally coming to him with his concern once Aaron had plummeted headlong into Stage 4 — depression.

"How do you feel?"

"Like crap," Hotch responded without hesitation.

Clearing his throat, the senior agent schooled his expression into a mask of neutrality.

"So am I to take it that this means you accept that your actions were wrong?"

"Yes, they were wrong, but I still believe that my reasons were right."

"That's generally how your subordinates feel when you call them on the carpet. Does that grant them a free pass as far as consequences are concerned?"

"You know it doesn't," Hotch growled while shooting Rossi a sideways glare.

"You might want to consider checking that attitude, Aaron. I've let it slide a lot today, but my patience for it is nearing its end."

The younger man raised his head at the not so subtle warning, before he felt his cheeks flush at the decidedly well earned reprimand.

"I..."

"I know," Rossi stated with a nod. "I understand, but you need to remember who you're talking to. I know you're my boss, Aaron, but ..."

Hotch shook his head.

"Dave, I never should have taken that cheap shot at you. I am your boss, but it wasn't an underling who I was speaking to this morning. It wasn't even my co-worker. It was my friend. A friend who I owe a great deal. A friend who sure as hell doesn't deserve to be treated the way I treated you. I can't ..."

The words suddenly caught in his throat as a shimmer of tears glazed his eyes, and the leader of the most elite team the FBI had ever seen fell silent.

As his head bowed, a gentle hand pressed against the back of his shoulder, guiding him into the safety of the office, and closing the door firmly behind him to isolate a shaken Hotch from the world outside.

The resonant thud of Rossi's office door closing caused Spencer to look up from his notes. Noting Hotch's open door and vacant desk, the boy genius groaned.

"What's up, kid?" Morgan asked as he put the finishing touches on his final report of the day.

"Do you think Hotch will be alright?"

Derek glance up to the offices and seemed to notice Rossi's closed door for the first time. Snorting to himself, he nodded.

"Hotch is in good hands. I wouldn't worry about him. I'd be more worried about getting my work done so I could get the hell out of here. How many more of those do you have?"

"Eleven," Reid answered with a more expressive groan than before.

"Elev...What in the hell have you been doing?"

"Worrying," the doctor honestly replied.

"Well, you're worrying about the wrong damn things. Give me a few of those and let's put this baby to bed early so we can go out and have us some fun before a new case raises it's ugly head."

"I wouldn't mind a new case."

A ball of wadded up paper bounced off Reid's head as Morgan expressed his dismay.

"There's definitely something wrong with you, pretty boy."

Fanning the file folders out on the desk, the senior officer clicked his tongue.

"You know what I'm thinking?"

"I haven't a clue," Reid answered truthfully.

"Tomorrow is another day. Let's cut and run. We'll grab Garcia and JJ, and go hit a couple of the clubs downtown. After the day we've had, I'd say we've earned it. Grab your coat, and let's go."

"But what about Rossi and Hotch?"

"That's nothing you want any part of. Let them work their issues out while we go get our groove on."

Morgan was already on the elevator while Reid gathered his messenger bag and slung it across his body. Looking back up at the solid, shut door he wondered once more about the occupants within. He caught himself hoping that Rossi wouldn't be too hard on Hotch, while praying for an equal level of leniency in the unit chief for the legendary profiler.

The thought that his family could be at odds caused a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He wished there was something he could do to make things better, but what?

"Come on, Romeo. Let's go! Don't want to keep the foxy ladies waiting."

With a soft exhale, Spencer did his best to quiet the nagging voices in his head, and strode towards the elevator leaving the department elders to solve the troubles of the day.

AN: ... Hm... Well it started out as a simple little story about Jack being naughty, but morphed into my alpha males butting heads. I was curious how Rossi would deal with Hotch if he didn't submit to being punished. He would never abuse him, so force was out of the question, and Aaron is the Unit Chief so if he doesn't want to submit to disciplinary action...

Anyway, there you have it. Guess I will wrap it up in the next chapter barring the boys twist things in a different direction.

For the record, I will no longer be watching Criminal Minds, but I would like to keep the team together through fan fiction if there remains enough of a reader interest in Hotch. To me, there can't be another leader of the BAU...with the possible exception of Rossi, which isn't the way CBS is going, so... Pfft! Long live Thomas Gibson!

Thanks for reading and I look forward to your comments. Stay safe out there guys. Y'all rock!