Aftermath

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas

This chapter is focused on Rossi, a character who I love. As I am posting this on Halloween I hope you feel it is more of a treat then a trick. Happy Halloween all those who celebrate.

. . .

Sat in his office, Dave studied the half empty bottle of scotch that was perched on his desk. He held a glass containing a large slug of the amber liquid. Dave tipped the glass slowly back and forth, letting the liquid swirl in the rhythmic movement. His mind was not on the glass and its contents or the label of the bottle that he had absentmindedly read numerous times now.

Dave's head was still back in the sorry excuse of the interview they had all had to endure in the name of a 'fair investigation into the incident'. Inside him his anger at the whole situation started to bubble once more. Aaron having to suffer the indignity of the process of events that had drawn this all to an 'official end' frustrated Dave once more. Though he knew that today was not the end of the story, just the end of the chapter. There would be more questions, more probing, to find out if Aaron was fit to return to work.

He had managed to maintain his cool in the stuffy room that had held the panel meeting in. Dave had come so close to telling them once more just where they could stick the BAU, but deep down he knew that would solve nothing. The problem wasn't the BAU, it definitely wasn't the team he worked with. They had won him over now. No Dave wanted to remain here, ready for Aaron, ready to help. Knowing when to get out was one thing – he wasn't ready for another exit, yet.

Taking a sobering sip of the rich peaty scotch Dave winced, knowing he had really had enough already but wasn't ready to stop yet. Was it physically possible to finish the bottle and still stand? He wasn't ready to head home either, not yet. Dave wanted to make sure every last member of the team was out of the building, he somehow felt it was his duty. They had dispersed once Hotch had left with little Jack but no-one had seemed to want to walk away. From his office he could see the bullpen was near enough empty now, the odd desk light warping the shadows that fell across the quiet room, the only buzz that of the cleaners going about their nightly business. He could make out Spencer Reid; head down at his desk, the last one still here. Maybe he should go down and hurry him home, but then maybe the young genius just needed to process this in his own way. Who was he to interrupt that and dictate what Reid should do? Dave decided to leave his colleague a while longer then go and check all was ok.

Dave knocked back the last of his drink and swiftly poured another. Sat alone like this he knew his temper was liable to reach boiling point once more - his annoyance at the system that had made Hotch the bad guy in all of this. Yet he couldn't walk away and clear his mind. Yes Aaron had been cleared and the investigation closed, but he shouldn't have been question in the first place. The man had been defending his son and himself - his actions perfectly understandable in this situation. The Reaper was a known serial killer who had set his mind on destroying Aaron Hotchner because Aaron wouldn't do as he wanted him to. It was never going to have a happy ending; just no-one had imagined this. Everything had been done to keep Haley and Jack safe, but everything was not enough.

From the minute they had realised what was going on the decisions had been hard. Go in to the apartment or hold back and watch? Head out together or send Aaron on ahead? Follow protocol or cut corners? Save a life or be too late?

That was their problem; all along they had been one step behind. Hell they been a whole mile behind and no ending sprint would have been enough. Nothing was enough. Dave drained the large shot he had poured, the fire of the amount he had swallowed in one go building in his gut, burning alongside his own fiery temper.

Slamming the glass down on the table he poured another. Reaching in to his desk he retrieved another glass, and added a generous amount. Picking them both up he headed towards the door. Sitting here was doing him no good. Making his way along the catwalk and down the steps to the main bullpen, he headed directly to Reid's desk. The young man was gathering his things, obviously readying to leave.

"You ok kid?" Dave said as he placed the glass on the table, perching on the edge next to it.

Spencer nodded, still filling his satchel.

"Sure?"

Another nod, but this time he looked up; "Are you? . . . ok, I mean?"

Dave gave and uncomfortable smile, he lifted his glass slightly; "Not yet, but I'm working on it if you know what I mean. . . Care to join me." He pushed the other glass towards the younger agent.

Spencer shook his head; "No thank you . . . painkillers for my knee." He gave an awkward shrug by way of an explanation.

Dave's eyes narrowed not sure that he was being told the whole truth, but accepting the reply. "Up to you. Heading home?"

Spencer nodded once more, "I've caught up with everything."

"Hey don't get defensive, most left a while ago."

"I know, I just . . . "

"Hey it's ok Kid, I understand, after all I'm here too. At least you are being constructive with your time."

Spencer struggled to standing, stiff from sitting so long. He pulled his bag over his head and steadied himself. "You're not staying much longer, are you?"

"No, I think I will follow your lead." Dave stood and watched his colleague leave before returning to his office. He finished his drink and the other that he had poured, before gathering up his own belongings. Organising a cab home he switched off his light and made his way through the building. Knowing that he would be returning to fight another day, this was not the day to leave.