Chapter 9

Rossi slowly walked down the hallway toward Hotch's office. With one last glance at Hotch, he opened the door. "Jesus Christ!" Rossi muttered as he took in the room. It looked like a tornado had ravaged the room. Every shelf was torn off the walls, every trophy Hotch had ever earned was laying in broken pieces, every piece of glass whether from a picture or not, was broken into a thousand tiny pieces, every plaque was broken and lying on the floor, every piece of paper that had been filed neatly in the filing cabinet was shredded. What bothered Rossi the most, though, was the numerous holes in the wall. Now he knew why Hotch had shown up with bloody and bruised knuckles every so often. Since the house was older, Hotch wasn't just punching through drywall. It was drywall over top over plaster and lath, and Rossi wondered how Hotch had never broken his hand. He could tell some of the holes had taken several tries to make it all the way though, but he could also see where some of the holes had been made with one strike. He silently thanked God that Hotch hadn't hit him, he shuddered to think how powerful Hotch's fists must have become after hitting the wall so many times.

"See what I mean?" Hotch asked, suddenly behind Rossi.

Rossi turned to him with tears in his eyes. "Jesus, Aaron. How long has this been going on?"

Hotch looked at the floor. "Since I came back." He looked at Rossi. "Everything's fine for a while, and then I just get so mad. I don't know how to control it."

"Has Jack seen this?"

"No! I can tell when it's getting to be too much, but I don't know how to stop it."

Rossi looked at the room again. Everything Hotch had ever owned was ruined, and it broke his heart that he hadn't realized how bad Hotch was getting. "So you're getting angry."

Hotch nodded. "It just comes out of nowhere. I have tried to be who you all want me to be, I really have. I've watched you all and I think I have it down, but then I get angry, and I can't control it." Hotch took a shaky breath. "I've tried to be what you all need to be."

Rossi's heart broke even more. Hotch was trying to be old Hotch. That meant he wasn't old Hotch; that he was just pretending to be. Rossi shook his head. I knew it! God damn it! "Aaron, you don't need to pretend to be something you're not," Rossi told him as he looked him in the eyes.

"I don't? Yeah right! I see the way you all look at me! I know you all don't like me anymore." Hotch's eyes teared up again. "You all want me to be the way I used to be, but I don't know how to be that guy. I don't know how not to be the way I am!" Hotch told him as the tears streamed down his face. "And this damn anger! It's turned me into an asshole. I know it has. I try to keep it in check, but it just boils until it erupts, and I hurt the only people who have ever cared about me."

Rossi knew he was referring to the bar. "Aaron, I'm sorry we've put you through this. If we've put too much pressure on you. . ."

"I should just quit. I should just go somewhere where they don't know me, and then they wouldn't have anything to compare me to."

Rossi could tell by Hotch's face and tone that he felt defeated. "Please don't do that. It will take some time, Aaron, but we don't want to lose you. We can still like you even if you are different."

Hotch huffed. "That's funny, Dave. Every time I have been myself is when you all like me the least," Hotch told him coldly and then walked back to the living room.

Rossi shook his head. Can we like this new Hotch? Yes, damn it! I can't lose you Aaron! Rossi followed Hotch after he shut the door to Hotch's office. Hotch was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. "Aaron, I can't lose you. I don't care what I have to do; I will do anything you need me to do to make this work."

Hotch looked up at him. "It's not going to matter one way or the other if I don't get a handle on this anger. I feel like it's eating me up inside."

Rossi walked up and put his hand on Hotch's shoulder. He remembered a line he read while he was researching that chilled him to the bone: If the prefrontal cortex or amygdala is damaged in a severe TBI, patients may experience an inability to control aggressive or violent behaviors. "Well, let's look at that for a minute. Do you think it would help to talk to someone, you know, anger management or something?"

Hotch laughed. "That would work if there was something that I was actually mad at. There's no reason for it; it just happens."

Rossi sat down in the chair opposite him. "So then we just need to figure out a constructive way for you to release it. Hell, a punching bag would be better than your walls."

"Yeah," Hotch chuckled as he looked as his knuckles. "I wish it was that easy. Punching the walls only helps a little. It isn't until I explode that it seems to go away. I've even tried running it off. I hit six miles and while I was totally exhausted, I was still angry. I've even been going to the range to try to blow off steam. I can shoot a smiley face into a target, but I can't get past this God damned anger."

Rossi bit his lip trying to figure out a way to help his friend. "What happened in Texas?"

Hotch controlled his expression with ease. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it seemed like you were going to explode then, but the next morning you seemed ok."

Hotch pictured slamming the knife into Hanson's chest. "I actually slept good for once," Hotch lied.

"You haven't been sleeping?"

Hotch shook his head. "Only a couple hours at a time."

"Maybe you need some sleeping pills or something." He could tell from Hotch's reaction that he didn't want to do that, and he liked the reaction. Hotch had never been one to take pills, and it was nice to know some things hadn't changed. "Well, we have to figure out something. You can't keep living like this."

"I know," Hotch told him weakly.

Rossi didn't like the way he sounded so defeated. He worried for a second that Hotch might actually do something to hurt himself, or worse, kill himself. "Well, first off you need to stop being someone you're not. Maybe your frustration over trying to be old Hotch is helping to fuel your anger." Hotch looked at him questioningly. "Let us get to know you as you are now. You never know, we may like you more." Rossi told him with a smile, trying to boost his friend's mood.

Hotch chuckled. "I guess I can try it. I don't think you all can hate me any more than what you already do," Hotch told him dryly.

Rossi grabbed Hotch's chin and looked him in the eyes. "We don't hate you, Aaron. We've just have been too stupid to realize what you've been going through. I'll talk to the team. We will do whatever we can to help you through this. You know we all love you, Aaron. We're family, and families have their problems, but they always get through them."

XXX

Rossi had the team over to his house for dinner the next night. He told them what had happened at Hotch's and they were all stunned.

"So there's no going back? He will never be the same old Hotch he was before?" Morgan asked.

"I think if it was going to be temporary, it would have changed by now, but I don't know," Rossi confessed.

"And we've just been making it worse?" JJ asked with tear in her eyes.

Rossi nodded.

"So, we just need to get to know him again," Blake mused.

"What if we. . . I mean, what if he. . ." Reid shook his head. Rossi had never seen him so indecisive before.

"You're worried you won't like him now?"

Reid nodded. "He just seems really cold."

"Only compared to what he used to be. If you just met him, would you still think that?" Rossi asked him.

Reid's eyes got wide. "I thought he was intimidating then!"

Rossi laughed. "Yeah, that's true, but just give it some time. We just need to stop comparing him to before. I'm afraid that if we can't all become comfortable around him again that he'll leave the BAU."

That made everyone shake their heads. They all knew how much Hotch loved his job, or at least how much he used to.

"What about this anger issue, though, what can we do to help that?" JJ asked.

Rossi took a deep breath. "I don't know, other than keep an eye out for when he's getting bad, and then try to calm him down."

"More like just him the space he needs," Morgan told him.

"And not take it personally when he snaps," Blake pointed out.

"Actually, I think he has become a better agent," Reid started. "We have been solving cases at least fifteen percent faster since he's been back."

Rossi smiled. He knew the team would rally behind Hotch. Now he just had to make sure Hotch believed it.

XXX

Hotch's anger hadn't subsided after Rossi had found him at his house. It had turned to a dull fury, but by that night it was threatening to explode again. He knew he had to do something as he drove around trying to figure out what to do. It was late so there wasn't that many options left open for him. He was driving around aimlessly and he found himself in bad part of Georgetown. He unconsciously reached for his pistol, but it wasn't there; he'd left it at home. As he passed an alley he saw a man handling a woman roughly. He smiled as he pulled his car to the side of the road. He got out and walked to the alley. He knew he should have been afraid to walk into a dark alley without a weapon, but he wasn't. He hadn't felt fear since he woke in the hospital. Hotch noticed the woman was struggling to get away from the man. The man slapped her across the face and said something to her. The only thing Hotch could make out was the word 'bitch'.

"You need some help, miss?" Hotch asked as he approached them.

The man looked at Hotch with surprise. He hadn't heard anyone coming. "Mind your own business. If you know what's good for you, you'll turn your ass around and head back the way you came."

The woman looked at Hotch with pleading eyes. "I don't think the woman agrees," Hotch told him coldly as he put a pair of gloves on.

"Look, you son of a bitch, I said get lost," the man told him as he pulled a knife out from the small of his back. The woman screamed; apparently she didn't realize he had it. The man shoved her away pointed the knife at Hotch.

Hotch smiled again. "You should rethink what you are about to do."

"What?!"

The woman took off running down the alley and disappeared around the building.

"You better know how to use that," Hotch told him as he stepped closer to him.

"Just try me, fucker!" The man yelled as he swiped the blade at Hotch.

Hotch kept getting closer. "Oh, I think I will." The man swung the blade again and Hotch tackled him once the blade had arched out of the way. The man struggled and tried to stab Hotch. Hotch deftly avoided the blade each time and ended up wrenching it from the man's hands. Hotch noticed there was dried blood already on the blade, and his anger grew. "Who else have you used this on, huh?" The man was too stupid to understand the look in Hotch's eyes. He kicked Hotch in the balls, and Hotch groaned as the man rolled Hotch off of him. The man stood up and kicked Hotch in the stomach twice before Hotch took his legs out from under him with a sweep of his leg and in seconds Hotch was on him and had stabbed him in the chest.

Hotch knew his aim was perfect and he got off the man before he could get any blood on him. He thought about hiding the body, but decided it wasn't worth the effort and slowly walked out of the alley and back towards his car. He took his gloves off as sat down, started the car, and headed home.

Hotch winced as he took in the bruises developing on ribs. He took a hot shower and get into bed. He smiled as he laid there looking at the ceiling. He finally figured out what he had to do to get rid of the anger.