Chapter 24

Hotch stared at his friend nervously. He noticed the older man's anxious expression, and realized Rossi appeared reluctant to tell him something. He had known Rossi a long time. And one thing he knew was Rossi had never been reluctant to tell him anything. And if he was, then whatever he had to tell him had to be bad.

"What is it, Dave?" he asked warily. "Has something happened to Darryl? Is that what you're reluctant to tell me?"

"Yes and no," Rossi began slowly. Never had he ever had trouble finding the words he needed.

"What does that mean? I don't want riddles, Dave. Just tell me whatever you need to tell me."

"Okay. First, Darryl Wheaton is fine. He hasn't been injured in anyway. But that's the good news." He went on to explain everything as best he could. And with each word, he kept his eyes focused on Hotch, watching for any warning signs of a meltdown. He promised himself the minute he saw one, he would stop.

"Wha…what are you saying?" Hotch wasn't sure how to react, or what he was hearing.

"We spoke with Darryl, Aaron. He admitted to taking part in the sexual assault on you, and to strangling you."

Hotch's eyebrows shot up into his hair.

"I don't understand. Why would you say something like that?"

"Okay, let me start again, and give you the short version."

Hotch's eyebrows knitted together, a look of anger on his face which, with the bruising, made his face look somewhat grotesque.

"You damn well better," he hissed.

"After being found unconscious in an alleyway across town, we traced your movements from the BAU to the Serendipity. We watched the bar's surveillance tape. Wheaton arrived before you. We also saw him have a discussion with the bartender, Todd Westlake, and hand him what we believe to be a vial of Rohypnol. After you left the bar to take the call from Jack, we saw the same bartender pour the contents of the vial into your drink while Wheaton stood watching him. You came back inside shortly afterward, and finished your drink. About thirty minutes later, we observed a change come over you on the tape. You appeared lethargic and disoriented. To anybody who didn't know you, you would appear to be drunk. Wheaton proceeded to lead you out of the bar, where we lost track of both of you until you were later found in the alleyway across town. Wheaton told us his instructions were to slip you the drug, and once under its effects, bring you to the UnSub who would rape and sodomize you."

"Darryl wouldn't do that to me, Dave! You're mistaken." He swallowed the building lump. "What else have you got?"

"Wheaton lived in Milwaukee during the time the attacks took place there. The attacks stopped after he left. From what we could find out, he left Milwaukee right after we did, and returned to Quantico shortly after we did, Aaron."

"Coincidence," Hotch said a bit harsher. He had the beginnings of a blinding headache. "Darryl is not the Rohypnol rapist!"

"We're not saying he is, Aaron. But he's at least an accomplice."

"No! I refuse to accept that. What else do you have?"

"The bartender identified Wheaton from a photo as the man who gave him the date rape drug. And he identified you from a photo as being with Wheaton the night of your assault. Said he heard Wheaton call you AM. Aaron Michael Hotchner. And according to Wheaton, our UnSub demanded he take part in your assault after he did."

"You're lying. Darryl wouldn't do that to me." The beeping from the heart monitor began to increase. Hotch became nauseated as if he were going to throw up, despite having nothing in his stomach.

"I'm afraid he did, Aaron."

"Darryl wouldn't do that to me," Hotch repeated. He was becoming agitated, but Rossi didn't stop now.

"The UnSub demanded Wheaton strangle you after they were done."

"Then why aren't I dead? Why am I still alive?"

"Because Wheaton couldn't bring himself to kill you. So he strangled you until you passed out, and told the UnSub you were dead, hoping the UnSub believed him. Unfortunately the UnSub found out you were still alive."

"Is that why agents are posted inside and outside my room?"

The words were so soft that Rossi nearly missed them. The beeping became erratic now, and Hotch whimpered from the pain in his head and his body. He massaged his forehead.

"Yes," Rossi replied gently. "Our UnSub is still on the loose and could still be after you as you're still alive. You need to be protected."

"No, you're wrong," Hotch stated with tears running down his cheeks. "You're lying! Why are you lying to me? Why, Dave? You don't even know Darryl. But you do me. What did I ever do to you to make you lie to me? Why would you blame him for something so heinous?" The beeping was going haywire now.

"Aaron, I'm not lying to you. Everything I've told you is true. There was DNA from two men found. Swabs of each were taken and sent for testing."

Rossi noticed Aaron had turned his head away from him, but appeared to still be listening. He hated hurting him this way, but it had to be done.

"One result matched that of Darryl Wheaton." He saw Hotch close his eyes. "The other DNA result we haven't been able to match up with anybody yet." Rossi paused. "I'm sorry, Aaron. But you need to face the fact that Darryl Wheaton took part in sexually assaulting you, and leaving you for dead in that alleyway."

Hotch was about to respond, when the door opened. Two nurses, followed by Doctor Correa, hurried into the room and to their patient in response to the incessant beeping.

"I need you to leave the room, Agent Rossi," Correa urged as he removed the stethoscope from around his neck. One of the nurses pushed several buttons on the machine and the incessant beeping returned to normal.

Before he left the room, Rossi reached out a hand and touched his friend's shoulder.

"Aaron…"

"Agent Rossi, I must insist you wait outside…now!" Correa insisted when the older agent hesitated.

"Go away, Dave. Just…just leave me alone. I can't take any more of your lies."

"I haven't lied to you."

"You haven't given me any proof either." Hotch turned his tear-streaked face toward his friend. "All you've given me is a weak case in which any first year law student can poke holes. Now get out."

The doctor put the earplugs of the stethoscope in his ears, and glared at Rossi leaving no room for discussion. He would have the agent forcibly removed if necessary.

Rossi straightened. "I'll go…for now. You need time to process everything I've told you. But I'll be back later with the proof." Rossi glanced at Correa and the nurses, turned, and walked away. As he gripped the door handle, he paused one last time, and looked back at his friend who avoided looking at him.

"Te Amo, Aaron. Te Amo." Rossi left the room quietly.

Prentiss was about to press the doorbell again when the door opened. She and Reid were greeted by a woman with honey-blonde hair just below the shoulder, and the brightest green eyes she had ever seen.

"Agatha Pearson?" asked Prentiss.

"Yes," the woman asked glancing back-and-forth between the two people on her doorstep.

"Agent Prentiss and Doctor Reid of the FBI," Emily announced as she and Reid held up their credentials. "May we come in and talk to you?"

"Of course." The woman stood aside allowing the agents to enter as they put away their identification. She gestured to the sofa in the living room and for them to have a seat. After she closed the door, she sat in a chair to the side of the sofa facing them. She crossed her long legs, and wrapped her arms wrapped around her top leg. "Now, how might I help the FBI?"

Reid glanced at Emily for a split second, then back at Agatha. "We'd like to ask you a few questions about Jason Hemminger."

Agatha rolled her eyes in annoyance and sighed. "What's he done now?" she asked. Emily's eyebrows arched at the remark. She realized that wasn't what she expected. The brunette and Reid glanced at each other.

"Why do you say that?" she asked curiously.

Pearson shrugged. "Because you need to understand Jason and how his mind works," she explained. "We lived together throughout our engagement. And I learned one thing during that time. And that was when Jason became obsessed with something or someone, nobody else mattered."

"And did you become someone who didn't matter after awhile?" asked Prentiss.

Agatha smirked. "At first I figured he was having second thoughts about the wedding. Pre-wedding jitters and such. As time went on, I suspected he might have been having an affair. But I soon discovered it was another person. But not another woman. It was a man he interacted with at his place of employment with the FBI." Her expression changed after a few seconds. "In fact, you might have heard of him. He said his name was Agent Hess…Hot…"

"Hotchner?" asked Emily.

"That's the name. Agent Hotchner. You know him?"

"We're uh…familiar with him," Reid replied. "Tell us, how did you figure out he was obsessed with this Agent Hotchner? Did he come right out and tell you this?"

"No. After awhile, he was all Jason would talk about, day and night. Agent Hotchner this, and Agent Hotchner that," Agatha replied. "He went so far as to collect anything in writing he found on him. He had an entire folder of clippings." She chuckled. "For awhile I began to suspect Jason might have been gay and had a crush on this Agent Hotchner. After awhile, I found myself planning our wedding alone." She sighed. "But then I slowly began to realize what I considered to be a crush at first, was an obsession. And unhealthy obsession." She chewed her lower lip. "It took awhile before I realized Jason not only forgot I even existed in his life, but that I no longer had any place in his life. I had been replaced by Agent Hotchner. That's what I meant by an unhealthy obsession, Doctor Reid.''

Reid mulled over his next question before he asked it. "Did he ever tell you why he was so interested in this Agent Hotchner?"

Agatha nodded her head. "Something to do with his father. Something about this agent being partnered with his dad years ago, and his dad getting killed. He started ranting about how he discovered this agent allowed his father to get killed. I told him that was ridiculous, but he became angry when I said that. As far as he was concerned, Agent Hotchner was responsible for his dad getting killed, and he wasn't going to let him get away with it." Emily and Reid exchanged looks between them.

"You said he collected clippings on him. Do you have this folder by chance?" Reid asked hopefully. He didn't hold out much hope, but he had to ask.

"Sorry. When I asked Jason to leave, he took everything with him. Including the folder."

Prentiss nodded her understanding. "No problem. Can you tell us why Jason believed this agent allowed his father to be killed?"

"I know what Jason told me but I don't believe it."

"Why?" asked Emily. "What did he tell you?"

"Way I understood it, his dad was being considered for a promotion. He found out later this Agent Hotchner was up for the same position. Said he believed this Agent Hotchner let his father be killed because he wanted the job himself. I thought he was just being paranoid myself and told him."

"How did he react when you said that?" asked Prentiss.

Agatha let out a deep breath. "Not well. For awhile, I was afraid he might hit me he became so enraged."

Both Emily and Reid were stunned by the declaration. Neither one believed for a single minute that Hotch would allow somebody to be killed.

"One last question, Miss Pearson," Emily began. "Why did you wait until the day of the wedding to leave him? Why not break up with him earlier? He certainly gave you enough justification to break things off with him."

Agatha shrugged. "I don't really know," she said. "Guess I fooled myself thinking he would get over things, and reconnect with me. When I finally realized he wasn't, I figured the best way to get back at him was to stand him up at the altar. Hurt him like he hurt me."

"And did your actions have an effect on him?" asked Reid.

"No. By then he was so obsessed with getting back at Agent Hotchner that what I did didn't even faze him."

He sat in his worn recliner chair with his legs elevated. He had a tumbler of cheap Scotch in one hand, and a smirk on his face. The Scotch was to celebrate. The smirk was for what was yet to come. He reached over to the end table beside the recliner, and picked up the 8.5 x 10.5 inch photo of Aaron Hotchner. The smirk grew wider as he stared at the photo and took a drink of the liquor.

"Soon, Aaron," he said. "Soon I will experience you again, and you will enjoy what I do to you. I only need to find a way past those guards assigned to you. Then I will have you all to myself." He chuckled. "I will have you begging for more of what I do." He took another drink. "I will introduce myself at the proper time. And trust me when I say my name will be on your lips when you feel me inside you." He tossed the photo back onto the table and shifted in his seat. With one hand now free, he undid the snap on his jeans, and pulled down the zipper, offering a bit of relief to his swelling member. He reached a hand inside and began to stroke his manhood. "Oh, Aaron…" He hissed as a warm sensation built up in his groin. "Aaron…see what you do to me? Just saying your name arouses me in a way that none of the others did. Feeling you grip me was exhilarating, unlike the others. Aaron, I can't wait to experience you again." The warm sensation grew to the point where he felt he would burst, but he kept stroking. He kept fantasizing the agent writhing beneath him. "But I need to be patient," he reminded himself. He kept stroking until the explosion erupted from his lower region, causing him to shout the name on his lips.

"Aaron….!"

He studied the wallet-size photo of his ex-wife and child. He looked lovingly at the child, then snorted in disgust at the woman. And while he didn't mind paying the child support for his daughter, he loathed the alimony payments. His ex-wife was bleeding him dry. He silently cursed the judge who had approved the amount she wanted for alimony. How dare that old fool grant that little, gold-digging wench what she wanted? He ground his lower jaw while he continued to glare at the woman in the photo. Where had it all gone wrong?

He sneered as he recalled where it had all gone wrong. It began when he unexpectedly came home early one day, and found his wife in bed with one of his coworkers. He hastily packed his clothes and left the home they had shared for years. After that, he and his wife haggled back-and-forth through their lawyers over dividing the assets, custody, and money. In the end, he was granted the divorce on the grounds of adultery. He didn't care that she got the house, nor that their assets were divided fifty-fifty. But what he did object to was his ex being granted sole custody of their daughter. He also objected to the outrageous amount of alimony on top of the child support. The child support amount was acceptable to him. He didn't want his daughter to want for anything. But paying alimony, child support, and to maintain his new and younger girlfriend, things had become tighter than ever for him. There wasn't enough money to satisfy everybody.

So when a stranger approached him at work about an FBI agent named Aaron Hotchner, he was willing to listen. He had considered walking away until the stranger shoved a bulky white envelope across the table at him. He picked up the envelope and opened it. His eyes widened at its contents. Inside were dozens of hundred dollar bills; must have been several thousand dollars at least. He couldn't be sure without counting. This stranger now had his undivided attention.

(Flashback):

"There's over twenty-five thousand dollars there," the stranger said with an amused grin. "I'm sure with your hefty alimony payments, and your girlfriend, you can use the money. I will pay you the same amount as long as you agree to help me with what I want whenever I want."

He fingered the bills in the envelope. Cash like this can come in very handy. His new girlfriend had expensive tastes.

"What do you want with Agent Hotchner?" he asked the stranger as he tucked the cash-laden envelope inside his inner jacket pocket.

The stranger smirked. "What I want with Agent Hotchner is none of your concern. All you need to be concerned with is being able to carry out the orders I give you at the proper time. Do we have a deal or not?"

"What if I say no?" he asked.

The stranger leaned close to him, and with a menacing look in his eyes, stared hard at him.

"Then you will never see your daughter grow up to adulthood. Also, you will take Agent Hotchner's place in my plans. And you will suffer his fate. I will have him with or without you. But it will be easier with you. And you will earn extra cash in the process. Now…do we have a deal? I will not ask again."

He patted the pocket in which the envelope was hidden. A slow smile crossed his face.

"Deal."

(End of Flashback)

And true to the stranger's word, he continued to pay him twenty-five thousand dollars on a regular basis, even if he did absolutely nothing. All he knew was that the stranger had told him his services would soon be required.

Reid and Prentiss had thanked Agatha Pearson for her cooperation, and left her home positive of one thing. And that was that Emily's suspicions about Hemminger were correct. But any further discussion would have to wait until they were in the privacy of their vehicle.

Once Prentiss got behind the wheel of the Suburban, and Reid in the front passenger seat, the brunette pulled out her cell and speed-dialed the number she wanted. She put the phone on speaker.

"Rossi. What'd you and Reid find out from Agatha Pearson, Emily?" His voice was strained, and Emily let it go for now.

"She and Hemminger lived together while they were engaged. Turns out he's had an obsession with Hotch since his father died. She said he blamed Hotch for letting his father die so Hotch could get the job of Unit Chief and replace Gideon. She then told me and Reid that Hemminger collected anything on Hotch he could find, and had a file on him."

"Was she able to produce this file for you?"

"Unfortunately no," Reid interjected. "When Hemminger left her home he took the file with him. But she did say he was intent on not letting Hotch get away with letting his father be killed."

"That's total bullshit!" Rossi stated harshly. "Aaron would never let somebody be killed under any circumstances."

"But apparently somebody forgot to tell Hemminger," Prentiss replied. "Rossi, what's wrong? What's happened?"

"Don't worry about it."

Emily and Reid exchanged looks. They both knew their Acting Unit Chief was lying. And only one thing or person could have Rossi this upset.

"Has something happened to Hotch?" she asked. "Is he all right?" A long pause on the other end made her suspect Rossi had disconnected the call. "Please. He's our friend too, Rossi."

Rossi exhaled deeply. "I told Hotch about Darryl Wheaton's involvement in what happened to him."

"Ouch," Prentiss exclaimed understanding how difficult it must have been for the older man.

"Needless to say he didn't take it well."

"Is there anything we can do?" asked Reid, concerned.

"Not at the moment, thanks anyway," Rossi added. "Best thing we can do for now is to give him time to process the information. I'll go back later this evening to see how he's doing."

"What do you want us to do now?" she asked glancing at Reid.

There was another pause, but not as long as the earlier one.

"I think it's time we speak with Jason Hemminger."