A/N: Hope everybody had a Merry Christmas, a Happy Hanukah, and enjoying a Happy New Year so far. Also, I apologize for not updating until now. Have been a bit under the weather with sinus congestion and its accompanying ailments, and cramping in my right fingers which made it impossible to type until recently. And to TrekkieGirl10 for her review of chapter 6, I re-read that chapter four times, and nowhere did Morgan refer to Hotch as 'Aaron.' It was Rossi who called him by his first name, not Morgan. I assumed it was obvious.

Chapter 33

Garcia was hard at work when someone knocked on her office door.

"Enter mere mortal," she announced not stopping what she was doing. She only stopped and turned when the door opened to see David Rossi enter, his mouth set in a grim line.

"Kitten, did Morgan give you my message?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. What can I do for my wounded liege?" Even though she wasn't a profiler, Garcia had keen insight into people, and that included being able to read the members of her family. And it was this ability which told her Rossi was hesitant to ask her for this particular favor for Hotch. But she told herself no matter what it was, she would do it. It was for Hotch, and that was all that mattered.

"Penelope, I want you to visit Aaron this evening and bring your laptop."

Garcia was confused. "Why should I bring my laptop, sir?"

Rossi let out a deep breath, hesitant to continue. He was aware he might be subjecting Garcia to Aaron's anger, but it had to be done. Also, Garcia was the one person at whom Hotch would not get angry. He explained what he needed her to do and waited for her to respond. He didn't have long to wait.

The tech analyst looked at him and smiled. "Sir, don't worry about throwing me under the bus as they say. If it helps my liege, I will be happy to do it."

The older man smiled. He figured he had been right to choose Garcia for what he needed done.

"Thank you, Garcia. For both myself and Aaron. Thank you."

Jessica pulled into the driveway outside her house about two hours after she and her nephew left the hospital. While on the way home, she had stopped at Jack's favorite fast food place, and treated her nephew to lunch. She watched her nephew struggle to stay awake while he ate his lunch. But Jack managed to surprise his aunt afterward with his sudden burst of energy while playing on the monkey bars in the play area outside the restaurant. After what she guessed was about thirty minutes, Jess decided to get Jack home to enable him to take a nap before dinner. He needed sleep badly. She smiled while she buckled Jack inside the back seat of her car. Then, she slid behind the steering wheel and started the car for the drive home.

After exiting her vehicle, Jess unbuckled Jack's seat-belt, pulled him into her arms, and carried him to the front door, his head on her shoulder. Grabbing for her house key, Jess prepared to unlock the front door, and paused when she noticed the small business card sticking from the door-frame. Concerned, she shifted her nephew's body into one arm and removed the card with the other, wondering who had come to the house while she was out. She studied the writing on the card, and what she read caused panic to set in quickly. The card was from Child Protective Services asking her to contact them ASAP.

After Rossi left Garcia's lair, he returned to the BAU. As he pushed open the Plexiglas doors, he spotted Morgan and Reid seated at their desks, and JJ and Emily seated on the edges of those same desks. The four appeared to be deep in conversation with each other. The conversation stopped when JJ and Prentiss spotted Rossi approaching them.

"Rossi," Prentiss remarked causing Reid and Morgan to look around and see their teammate. Emily handed him a sheet of paper. "Sebastian Merker stopped by and sat with a sketch artist. Does the person in this sketch look familiar?" She watched him study the sketch. He noticed that despite differing from the earlier sketch, it did look familiar.

"If I didn't know better," Rossi began with a glance at the brunette. "I would say I was looking at a sketch of Jason Hemminger."

"That's what we thought when we saw it," JJ added crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yeah, except for the fact that Hemminger has blue-gray eyes." Rossi handed the sketch back to Prentiss.

"Colored contacts can take care of that easy," Morgan mentioned.

"True," Rossi agreed sticking his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "But he'd be taking an awful big risk especially if he realized he'd be a suspect in what happened to Hotch."

JJ shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe he thought we wouldn't suspect him at all as he never took any action against Hotch after the death of his father."

"Maybe. But Hotch did reject Hemminger's application to join the BAU," Reid said.

"That might be what set Hemminger off," Morgan added. "The death of his father was the trigger as he blamed Hotch for his father's death. But as long as his mother was alive, she kept him in check. But when she died a year later, there was nobody to stop him. That must have been the secondary trigger and he blamed Hotch for her death as well."

"How's that?" asked a puzzled JJ.

"Simple," Morgan continued. "In Hemminger's damaged mind, Hotch is responsible for his father's death. And then his mom died a year later. But to him, Hotch was to blame for her death also as to him, one death led to the other."

"And when Hotch rejected his application to the BAU, that was the final straw for Hemminger," added Prentiss. "It was like to him, Hotch was out to destroy him. But what I don't understand, is why did he wait until now to go after Hotch?"

Reid twirled a pencil between his hands to keep them busy.

"Many people are very good at hiding their true intent for long periods of time before they choose to act on it," he added.

"That reminds me, Derek," Rossi explained. "I need you to visit Detroit tomorrow."

Morgan glanced at the others before eying the older man, puzzled. "Why? What's in Detroit?"

"I need you to interview an Aariz Abdullah."

"Who's Aariz Abdullah?" asked the black agent staring at Rossi.

"He's formerly known as Coral James Blackman, the man who blamed Aaron for him being expelled from Georgetown. He had converted to Islam and changed his name which was why Garcia had trouble finding him at first. But we need to find out what he's been up to since he last saw Hotch."

Rossi stuck both hands into the pockets of his jeans, and focused on Morgan again. "I want you to head to Detroit first thing tomorrow. Garcia will give you Blackman's address."

Morgan nodded. "You think he might be involved somehow?"

Rossi exhaled and wrapped his arms around himself. "Something tells me he's not. But we can't exclude him until we talk with him." His eyes then fell on Prentiss. "Emily, tomorrow I want you and Reid to bring Doctor Caswell in for more questioning. He's hiding something, and I can't stop believing it's got something to do with Hotch."

Morgan arched an eyebrow. "Caswell? Isn't he that doctor who told Hotch he was given Rohypnol when he wasn't supposed to tell him?"

"The one and only."

"Isn't he the one with the birthmark or scar on his hand?" asked JJ.

"What birthmark or scar?" asked Reid with arched eyebrows. He studied Rossi's face. "Describe it to me."

Rossi shrugged his shoulders. "A wine-colored mark between his pinky and ring finger."

Reid nodded his head with understanding. "Klippel-Trenaumay syndrome or Sturge-Weber syndrome."

"What are those?" asked a confused Prentiss.

Reid stared at her in amazement which, for him, was surprising. He often forgot there were people who didn't have his vast amount of knowledge.

"Klippel-Trenaunay syndrome and Sturge-Weber syndrome both need medical attention," he began. "They're both port-wine stain pinky colored birthmarks which often grow darker. Klippel-Trenaunay is a rare congenital medical condition in which blood vessels and or lymph vessels fail to form properly. It affects men and women equally and not limited to any racial group. Also there's no cure. It was first described by the French physicians Maurice Klippel and Paul Trenaunay in 1900."

"And the other?" asked the brunette.

"Sturge-Weber is a rare congenital neurological and skin disorder, and is characterized by abnormal blood vessels on the brain surface. Normally only one side of the brain is affected. It's named for William Allen Sturge and Frederick Parkes Weber."

Prentiss stared at Reid hoping he had finished his rambling.

"Of course," Prentiss teased the young genius. "How silly of me to have forgotten that." She rolled her eyes at JJ who chuckled.

Morgan merely shook his head at Reid's enthusiasm when he was spouting facts and statistics to people.

Emily smirked as she faced Rossi wanting to get the discussion back on track again. "And what if Doctor Caswell won't come voluntarily?"

Rossi grinned deviously. "I'm sure Reid can convince him it would be in his interest to cooperate with us." His eyes glanced briefly at the young genius having been told of Reid's deception of Sebastian Merker. Reid averted his eyes in embarrassment as his cheeks turned crimson.

"I was just stating a fact," Reid insisted.

Morgan smirked as he tousled the younger man's hair.

"What'cha so embarrassed about, Pretty Boy?" he asked with a grin. "Wasn't for you we wouldn't have this sketch that resembles Hemminger."

Reid glared at his best friend. But the glare was ignored by the older man.

"If you're tryin' to intimidate me with that stare, kid, it ain't workin'. You ain't Hotch."

Everybody chuckled at Morgan's remark at Reid's expense, and the young genius was aware his friends were teasing him. If anything, the teasing relieved a bit of the tension the team had been enduring since Hotch's attack, and it felt good to laugh, even a little.

Hotch was again counting the ceiling tiles. He had watched the news on television for a while, but after thirty minutes he turned it off, bored from watching to the same news repeated continuously. After he had reached his decision to fight with everything in him, he had pressed the buzzer requesting a nurse's presence. When the nurse arrived, Hotch explained he was scheduled to see Doctor Amanda Carson, a shrink, the next day, and he was hoping she could make time for him today. The nurse smiled and said she would see if this was possible and left the room.

Hoping he might be able to see his assigned shrink today instead of the next day, Hotch almost missed the door opening again. One of the two agents assigned to him stepped inside his room, and closed the door. The man looked at Hotch with a strange expression on his face. An expression which told Hotch this man didn't like him. He had seen that same expression on the faces of other agents throughout the last few hours. And for the life of him, he didn't understand why it would be directed at him. Added to that, he had seen these same agents glancing at him and whispering among themselves. He could only hope what he feared wasn't true.

"I'm sorry," Hotch began warily. The glare bothered him. It was a similar glare he himself used when questioning suspects, but not quite as intense. But it did bother him to be on the receiving end. "I'm afraid I don't know your name."

The man crossed his arms across his chest. "You can call me Agent Sizemore," he hissed.

"Well, Agent Sizemore…"Hotch adjusted his position in the bed hoping to get more comfortable. "I get the impression you don't like me. Care to tell me what I ever did to you?"

Sizemore snorted and turned his face away from the older man. If he had his way, he wouldn't be wasting his time guarding Hotchner.

"I'm waiting for an answer, agent…" Hotch began to suspect there was something more going on than this agent not liking him.

Sizemore turned his head and faced Hotch again with a look of sheer disgust. "You want me to tell you why I don't like you, Agent Hotchner? I'll tell you. I hate people like you. Your kind disgusts me!"

"Excuse me. My kind? Exactly what kind is that?" Hotch sensed his anger building.

"Don't play innocent with me, Hotchner! You might have others fooled, but not me! Oh you try and act all professional and respectable around others. But what you really are is nothing but a perverted degenerate who sticks his dick where it doesn't belong and enjoys it when somebody else sticks his…"

Hotch appeared horror-struck by Sizemore's words, and it showed on his face. Oh my God! No! How did they find out? He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Agent Sizemore, that's enough!" an authoritative voice interrupted all further conversation. Both men turned toward the voice. The voice belonged to a tall man with the build of a professional football player with a head of thinning gray hair and angry green eyes. The man was glaring at the agent.

"Sir, I…." Sizemore began but was cut off by the man who turned out to be Agent Patrick Comines, head of security and Sizemore's boss.

"I don't want to hear your excuses, agent. You are not to speak to Agent Hotchner like that again. Do I make myself clear?" Comines got close to his agent's face and stood nearly nose-to-nose. "I want you out of my sight and return to the office. I will deal with you when I return to the office later."

"But sir…you have no…."

"Get. Out. Of. My. Sight, agent. Now! And for the moment you still are an agent. So I don't suggest you push me."

"Yes, sir." Sizemore's shoulders slumped. He glared one last time at Hotch over his shoulder before he stormed out of the room. His eyes told Hotch he was blaming him for this.

Hotch watched him leave. A feeling of quiet panic was setting in now, causing a tightness in his chest. How did Sizemore know what happened to me? The only people who knew the truth were members of my own team. Somebody had talked. I'm sure of it. But my teammates wouldn't betray me like that. They just wouldn't.

Comines came closer to Hotchner's bed and looked down at the agent who had been a friend for years.

"I'm truly sorry about this, Aaron. I have no idea what's come over Sizemore. But I can promise you it will be dealt with when I return to the office. Of that you can rest assured. It won't happen again."

Hotch chewed his lower lip to keep it from trembling. If Sizemore knew the truth, then he was willing to bet other agents assigned to protect him probably did as well. And if what Sizemore had said was a sign, he could only imagine what others might be thinking about him. Aaron squeezed his eyes shut tightly again to keep the gathering tears from falling. He would not cry in front of Comines. When he opened them again, he noticed Comines studying him with concern on his face.

"Aaron, what's wrong? Please don't tell me you're still upset over what Sizemore said to you?"

"No, that's not it, Pat," Hotch replied in a strained voice. He couldn't admit what the agent had said was only a small part of the problem.

"Then what is it? Please talk to me."

Hotch looked up at his friend of fifteen years. He couldn't discuss this with him. Not now, not ever. It was now obvious as to the reason behind the strange stares and whispers. He was the talk of the agents assigned to him. He glanced at Comines.

"I can't talk about it, Pat. I wish I could, but I can't. It's…it's personal."

Comines let out a deep breath. "Aaron, if you're worried about me having heard what Sizemore said to you, don't. And regardless of what you may be thinking, I consider you a good and decent man who doesn't have a perverted bone in your entire body. So please don't let what was said cause you to lose sleep. Anybody who really knows you will know that what Sizemore said to you was a pack of lies."

Hotch chewed his lower lip and avoided his friend's eyes. "Thanks, Pat. I appreciate that, but…but I'd really like to be alone. Please. I'll talk to you later. I promise. I just need to be alone right now."

Comines smiled and patted his friend's shoulder. "Sure, Aaron. No trouble." He glanced sideways and spotted the telephone. "Call me later if you want. Okay?"

"Thanks. I'll be all right. And thanks for stopping by, Pat. I appreciate it."

"No trouble. Take care of yourself, Aaron." Comines' smile disappeared once Hotch turned away from him. When he reached the door, he paused, looked back at his friend one last time, and frowned. Then with a sad shake of his head, he exited the room. He found himself face-to-face with three agents who were to relieve three of the four others now on duty. He was glad to see that Sizemore who was supposed to relieve the fourth agent was nowhere in sight.

"Hey, Pat, what's going on with Todd?" asked one agent, puzzled. "He shot outta here like he was fired from a cannon. He have a problem with guarding the pervert in the room?" The others chuckled at the remark, but all laughter ceased when they saw their boss's face.

"The next person that says something like that is going to find himself on desk duty until they reach retirement age. Understand?" Comines hissed.

"Yes, sir. Sorry."

"Have you three just come on duty?"

Yes, sir," said the agent who had been chastised a few seconds ago.

"You three are good friends with Todd Sizemore. I want one of you to tell me where he got that information about Agent Hotchner."

"Sir?"

"You heard me, Capstein. I want to know who started these rumors about Agent Hotchner and is spreading them around the hospital." The three agents looked nervous but remained silent.

Capstein licked his dry lips. "Sir, no offense, but what makes you so sure they're rumors? I mean…"

"I understand what you mean, agent. And they are rumors because I've known Agent Hotchner for fifteen years and there's no truth to them. Now I want the three of you to listen to me and listen carefully. Seeing as none of you seem to know where these lies started or who started them, it ends here and now. If I find anybody repeating these rumors, there will be hell to pay. Understand? And one more thing. When I find out who started these lies, he'll be lucky if suspension is all he faces." Comines turned his glance to the forth agent whom Sizemore was supposed to relieve. "Jerry, you can leave. Capstein, you can stand guard inside Agent Hotchner's room alone while Pomerance and Samuels stand watch outside the door."

Agent Jerry Ballard nodded at his boss and quickly hurried away. Comines waited until he was out of sight before he stared at the remaining three agents. "You three have your assignments. And just remember what I said." He walked away without waiting for a response from his subordinates.

While he continued down the corridor in the direction of the entrance to the hospital, he reached inside his jacket and pulled out his cell phone. Comines would never tell Aaron the truth. That Dave Rossi had told him the truth of Hotch's injuries to secure Aaron's security for as long as it was necessary. After he scrolled through the list of contacts and found the one he wanted, he pushed speed dial. He listened to the ringing, and was about to hang up when he heard someone pick up on the other end.

"Rossi…" a familiar voice on the other end said.