Chapter 11
Rossi almost left, thinking Hotch wasn't ever going to come home, but at about two in the morning Hotch pulled up. Rossi could tell Hotch was not happy to see him. Rossi got out of his car and could also see the blood Hotch was wiping off his face before he got out of his car. Rossi pulled Hotch's door open. "What the hell, Hotch?"
Hotch rolled his eyes at him and got out of his car. "Have you been waiting for me all night?"
Rossi could tell by Hotch's tone that he wasn't angry. "Yes. What happened to you?" Rossi asked as he followed Hotch to the door and noticed Hotch's slight limp.
Hotch sighed heavily. "Some guy thought I was cheating at pool," Hotch lied as he opened his door and went inside with Rossi following.
"You got into some bar fight?"
"Yep."
"Jesus Christ, Aaron. You could have been arrested."
"It wasn't the type of place to call the cops, Dave. Relax." Rossi studied him for a moment. He couldn't tell if Hotch was telling the truth or not. He went to his drink cabinet and took out his scotch decanter. "You want one?" Hotch asked him acting like nothing was wrong.
Rossi finally sighed. "Sure." Hotch handed him the glass he already poured and poured himself another glass. They went to the couch. "I hope the other guy looks worse than you," Rossi told him with a grin.
Hotch gave him a sly smile. "He'll have a headache tomorrow."
XXX
The next morning, Rossi didn't pay any attention to the news as a reporter commented on a known drug lord being found beaten to death in an alley Manassas. His head had been bashed into the pavement. Once they were all at the office they got a case that took them to Vermont. Four days later and the team getting along with Hotch, Rossi started to think that things were finally working themselves out. Hotch was different, but not so different that he couldn't be liked. He was definitely more of a smart ass, more sarcastic, more driven in the cases (which Rossi didn't even think was possible), more of an action man, but yet still a thinker. Hotch was a darker person than what he used to be, but it wasn't to the point of anyone seeing it as problem. He was also becoming more physically fit. Not having suits to cover his arms all the time had let them all see that he was bulking out a little.
Rossi liked the way things were going, yet he still had a gnawing feeling in his gut, and he couldn't figure out what it was for the life of him. He knew it was because of the anger that Hotch would fill up with, and Rossi knew Hotch was taking risks when he felt it; he just wished Hotch would let him in on what Hotch did to get past the anger. He thought that if he could figure out what Hotch was doing, then at least it would put his mind at ease. It had even crossed his mind that Hotch had joined some fight club type thing, but Hotch never showed up bruised or anything except for his knuckles. Unless Hotch had become a better fighter really fast, he didn't think that was a viable explanation.
He vowed to follow Hotch the next time it happened, and he got his chance three days later after a quick case right in Virginia. Hotch arrested the unsub and Rossi could tell Hotch wanted to hit him. The anger shown in his eyes, but Hotch kept a lid on it until the case was closed. Rossi let Hotch leave and got in his car to follow him.
After twenty minutes and several turns later, Rossi found himself in the bad part of DC. What the hell are you doing here, Aaron? Rossi wondered as he pulled up to park a block away from where Hotch had pulled over. There was only one working street light, but Rossi didn't think that Hotch had gotten out. For a split second, Rossi wondered if Hotch had gotten into drugs as a way to get over the anger, but he dismissed that just as quickly as it came because he knew Hotch wasn't showing any sign of drug abuse.
After about thirty minutes, Hotch took off down the street again. Rossi started his car and pulled out of his spot but his car surged and bucked. What the hell? Rossi tried the gas again and the car cut out. He slammed his hands on the steering wheel, threw the car in park, popped the hood, and got out. He looked under the hood and didn't notice anything amiss, but he wasn't overly mechanical; so he slammed the hood and walked around the car. That's when he noticed a potato shoved into his tailpipe. You slick son of bitch, Rossi thought with a smile as he pulled the potato out of the pipe. He shook his head. He couldn't believe he'd fallen for one of the oldest tricks in the book since 'Beverly Hills Cop' came out. He continued to shake his head as he got in and started his car. It was fine, of course. Rossi actually chuckled at the turn of events. He should have known Hotch wouldn't be that easy to follow. He wouldn't be able to jump him about it either because then he would have to own up to following him. He drove home wondering what Hotch was doing and wondering why Hotch was so hell bent on keeping it a secret, but he chuckled again. That was funny!
XXX
Two cases later, the team found themselves in New York City. Someone was brutally murdering homeless people. After few leads and several days with little sleep, the whole team could see the anger eating at Hotch. Rossi followed Hotch into the parking lot at the station. "Are you ok?"
Hotch turned on him suddenly. "No, Dave, I'm not!"
"Well, what do you do when you're at home to get over it?" Rossi thought he might actually get an answer.
"We're in the middle of a case. I can't go traipsing around the city trying to find some place to blow off steam."
"Why not?" Rossi asked a little worried.
Hotch gave him a look that sent a chill down his spine. "Because it usually involves getting drunk, and I can't do that on a case."
"So you're drinking the anger off?" That didn't make sense if he was driving other places.
Hotch knew Rossi was treading a little too closely. "Yeah. Normally I find a place that I know to be dangerous. I guess the adrenaline I get from going and being in that atmosphere helps kill the anger."
Rossi had to admit that it sounded feasible. "But you don't know this city."
"And I'm on a case."
"Why don't you hit the station's gym? Hitting a bag would be better than just trying to hold it in, and I'm pretty sure they don't want you punching holes in their drywall. Hell, I'll go with you if you want."
Hotch considered him for a moment. He nodded. Maybe it would help him keep a lid on it until they could get home. "I'll get my bag, but, no, you do not need to go. Give me an hour or so and I'll be back."
Rossi watched him grab his bag out of the SUV and head back into the station. Rossi was hoping that it would work. About two hours later, Rossi attention was drawn to a crowd coming into the main part of the station.
"I am so sorry," Hotch was telling a burly sergeant as they walked into the room.
"It's fine," the man told them and the whole team stopped what they were doing to watched the crowd approach.
"No it's not. I just. . ."
"Agent Hotchner, it's fine!"
"What's fine?" Morgan asked them and eyed the throng of police officers that had followed Hotch and the sergeant.
"Agent Hotchner knocked out Sargent Mosley!" A young officer told him apparently very excited about it.
"Knocked him out?" JJ asked suddenly worried.
"In the ring," another officer told her.
"No one has ever beaten Mosley," another officer told them.
Hotch rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I said I was sorry."
Mosley smiled. "I saw him tearing the shit out of a punching bag and asked him if he wanted to get rid of his frustration with a real target. And he said he'd never boxed before," he smiled as he clasped Hotch on the back.
"You box?" Reid asked Mosley.
"He's the reigning champ of the station," an officer told him proudly.
The whole team eyed Hotch warily. "It was a lucky shot," Hotch told them innocently. Rossi could tell that the anger wasn't gone, but he didn't think that it would be hard for Hotch to control the little bit that was left.
"Yeah right, stop being so modest," Mosley told him with a grin.
Hotch shook his head. "I'm going to take a shower," he told them and made his way through the crowd of officers to congratulations and pats on the back.
XXX
After two more days they solved the case and headed home. While Hotch's anger hadn't threatened to erupt for the rest of the case, Rossi could tell it was slowly building again. He knew Hotch would have to do something about it if he wanted to get Jack from Jessica. It was early enough in the afternoon by the time they got home, so Rossi figured Hotch had plenty of time to go blow off steam. Hotch didn't leave the office, though, until later that evening. When Rossi asked him about it, Hotch said he needed to get the files done. That's when it hit Rossi that Hotch only went to get rid of his anger at night, and that bothered him. Maybe the types of places he goes are only opened at night. Rossi went to his office and tried not to think about what Hotch was doing, but the gnawing feeling that something wasn't right just kept bothering him.
He got up and decided to take matters into his own hands again and went to the parking garage. When he was sure no one was around he used a jimmy and opened the lock on Hotch's car. If you won't tell me, then I have to resort to desperate measures. He took his phone out of his pocket, turned it on silent, and wedged it up under the driver seat. He smiled as he locked the lock and shut the door. He whistled to himself as he walked back into his office to wait for Hotch to leave.