Quantico Medical Center

What happened…Hotch thought as he slowly opened his eyes. His entire body was throbbing in pain, especially his stomach which felt like someone was repeatedly stabbing him. The last thing he remembered was crying and Allison talking about his stitches….

He attempted to turn onto his side, but was stopped by a restraint on both wrist; the right restraint was located below a needle that was attached to an IV bag. What the hell? he thought.

"Hey, you," he suddenly heard from across the room. Allison was standing at the door with a white paper bag and a cup of water. She walked over to the side of his bed and placed the cup and bag on the bedside table.
"What happened?" he muttered, licking his chapped lips. He tugged again at the restraints, which did not budge.

"You had a nightmare and had torn a few of your stitches. You were so worked up about the nightmare that we had to sedate you," Allison stated. She stepped back and continued, "I also started you on an IV to get some fluids in you. I thought it might be a good idea to get you to at least drink and nibble on something."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Just…..no." Allison stared at the man, fighting the urge to smack him at the back of his head. It was a weakness that many said that she had; she treated all of her patients as if they were family. In this case, she felt as if she were dealing with a stubborn child of her own. She had encountered many suicidal patients, but she had a feeling that Hotch was going to be a challenge.

"Ok- I'll just leave these here in case you change your mind. The IV stays in, my friend- hence the restraints .Don't- Aaron, don't pull on the restraints. It won't do you any good."

Hotch relaxed both arms and gave Allison a glare. She returned a smile and asked, "So you are an FBI agent?"

Hotch turned his head towards her with a confused look on his face. "What?"

"Before this….before any of this- you were the boss of an FBI squad, right?" Try and get him talking, Alli.

"Yes."

I hate short answers. "Yes and?"

"Just yes."

Darn- try something else. "You have a son?"

"Yes."

"Wow…how old?"

"5."

"Oh, so he's starting school soon. Oh, I remember when my little on Nathaniel started school for the first time- he was a mess! He never wanted to leave my side; the poor little boy asked me if he could stay at home with me forever! I think it was because of his father- he asked me every day where the man was. I can just remember it- "Where's Daddy?" over and over again. Bless my soul; I had no idea what to do!" She stopped and found Hotch only staring at the ceiling, his eyes filled with misery. Concluding that she was going to get no response, Allison turned and walked back to the door. Before she could step out into the hallway, she heard,

"His father died, didn't he?"

Allison gave Hotch a sad smiled. "Yes, when Nathaniel was 5 1/2."

"What happened to his father?"

Allison glanced down to the floor and back to Hotch before saying, "He had done a tour in the Persian Gulf and didn't come back the same man. He eventually killed himself. My point with this story, Aaron, is that what you did or at least tried to do doesn't just affect you; it affects everyone around you. I know you feel like that world would be better without you…but it actually would be worse for the ones that love you. Think about that."

Rossi's Mansion

"I'm coming….I'm coming," Rossi mumbled as he staggered toward the front door of the house. He let out a yawn and glanced down to his watch to see that it was 2:30 in the morning. He had been only nodding off in the living room with Garcia, who had asked to stay the night. Rossi had no idea who would be over so early in the morning; the only reason he could think of was for an emergency. Once at the door, he unlocked and opened the door to see Prentiss, standing at the door with a bag over her shoulder and a pillow.

Before she could say anything, he gave her a warm smile, "Couldn't sleep?"

"No…..I think I felt much better when I was with someone than in my house alone. I feel like I'm imposing-"

"No, Emily. Come on in," Rossi answered," Penelope is already here."

Prentiss let out a chuckle and walked into the living room. She found Garcia sitting Indian style on the living room floor in striped pajamas and pink fuzzy slippers. "Hey, you came to join our sleepover," Garcia joked softly. Prentiss placed her bag down and sat on the floor across from Garcia.

"Hey, where's Sergio?" Garcia asked as Rossi walked over and sat down on one of the couches.

"He is at a neighbor's house- I had asked them to watch him for a few days so I could deal with everything that was going on without having to worry about him."

"Ooohh…I hope my little man is ok."

"He's fine, Penn," Prentiss laughed. "What were you guys doing before I came?"

"Nothing really. We got a few hours of sleep until Penelope became a distraction," Rossi joked, earning a playful slap from Garcia. "Was not," she retorted, "I'm just a restless sleeper."

"You snore!"

"I do not!" Prentiss smiled as she watched the two continue to argue.

A few miles away, Morgan was sitting on his bed deep in concentration. He had been home for hours, but still had on his jacket and was sitting in his dark room. He felt lost and confused; a small part of him still told him he had done the right thing, but the rest of him was ridden with guilt. Over and over, he replayed in his head what might have had happened if no one had called Garcia in time to stop Hotch. His mind even went back to the day where he had expressed his concerns about Hotch to Strauss.

"Ma am?" Morgan called out as he gently rapped on the office door. Strauss looked up, took off her glasses, and said, "Come in, Agent Morgan."

He complied and sat down in one of the silver chairs located in front of her desk. Strauss leaned back in her chair and asked, "How can I help you?"

"I'm concerned….about Agent Hotchner," he answered. Morgan expected a reprimand, but only received a soft expression from the Section Chief.

"You're concerned about what happened with Foyet."

"Something wrong, ma am. Seriously wrong."

"Well, he's mourning, Agent Morgan. It's been two and a half weeks."

"I know and I understand that. It's just that- he's putting everything into his work; I don't think I've ever seen him taken a break within the three weeks, hell- months! I've seen this behavior before and I think he's going to crash, ma am."

"Well, I can have him sit down with the company psychologist. He's very good." Strauss reached over to pick up her phone, but stopped when Morgan said, "No offence, ma am, but I know Agent Hotchner very well and- the man is very stubborn. I honestly think he would find a way around any psych evaluations that are thrown his way."

Strauss leaned back in the chair. "What do you suggest, Agent Morgan?"

"I-I don't know, ma am. I know that here we are supposed to have a working relationship here, but these people are my family. I can't lose any of them- not like that."

"Hmmmm," Strauss said, "Just watch him. If he does or says anything that makes you question the safety of his well being, you let me know. Ok?"

"Yes ma am."

Morgan turned onto his side and allowed his mind to travel under the quiet chirping of owl from outside. He knew he had to be the strong one- he was always Hotch's right hand man. For the past five years, he knew that if Hotch went down, he would have to lead the team. Unfortunately, Morgan's actions had contributed to the team falling apart and…

The agent turned himself onto his back again. Did I do this? Did I screw everything up?

Would any of this would have happened if I had not said anything?