A/N: Sorry for taking so long with an update, but things have been upsetting and annoying at the same time. First, I have seemingly developed writer's block regarding this story. After that, my laptop went on the fritz with viruses causing it to freeze and would not allow me to get into, or would knock me out of certain sites. Happened four times in the span of one week. Then real life set in with one thing after another with no let up until recently. And to top it all, my bipolar depression reared its ugly head again, which renders me unable to function in any capacity, not even to write. Thank heavens things are finally settling down after three weeks. But writer's block or not, I will finish this story. Now enjoy the next chapter. I will try to do better. And like before, much of Hotch's therapy session in this chapter, was based on some of my own therapy sessions with my own shrink.

Chapter 44

It was a tired Derek Morgan who, after picking up his go-bag, trudged toward the cab stand outside the airport. While his vehicle was parked outside, he didn't trust himself driving considering how tired he was. So a cab would have to suffice this time, and he'd pick up his SUV later. Also, after a long trip from Detroit back to Quantico, Morgan wanted nothing more than to go home, take a hot shower, and sleep for a week. But in his heart, he knew he needed to be at the BAU. He could sleep after his boss and friend was safe from this bastard. So with a weary sigh, Morgan got a better grip on his go-bag when he paused in his tracks, a tired grin appearing. In front of him stood one David Rossi who jingled a pair of car keys from his fingers.

"Hey, man," Morgan remarked as he and Rossi gripped hands. "You didn't have to come and get me. I could take a cab and pick up my vehicle later. I just don't trust myself drivin' right now."

"That's why I'm here. I'm your personal chauffeur," Rossi said with a devious grin.

Morgan shook his head, chuckled, and reached for the keys. But the older man was quicker, and moved the keys out of reach.

"You don't need to drive me, man. I can take a cab to the BAU."

Rossi smirked. "Not on your life. Now stop your whining and get in the damn SUV."

With a defeated expression, Morgan followed the older man outside, and made his way to the parked vehicle. He tossed his go-bag onto the back seat, and climbed inside, settling on the passenger seat while Rossi slid behind the wheel.

As Rossi started the vehicle, he let the engine warmup for a few minutes. While waiting, he turned toward his co-worker. "So, what did you find out from your trip to Detroit, my friend?"

Morgan sighed, leaned his head back on the headrest, and massaged his forehead. He turned his head toward the older man. "You're not gonna believe this, Rossi, but Aariz Abdul aka Coral James Blackman, died the same morning I arrived in Detroit."

"What? How? What happened?" Rossi was more than stunned.

"Massive heart attack, man, according to the hospital where he'd been taken. And before you ask, according to the brother, the man had a heart condition for years. Was hospitalized several times in the last five years for heart-related problems, and was scheduled for a bypass to be done the following day. But he suffered the heart attack and died the night before the operation."

Rossi mulled over the information. "Do we know whether he had any contact with Hotch at all?"

"Again according to the brother, Blackman never had any contact with Hotch since he was expelled from college. Hasn't even seen him since college. Said his brother wasn't even in Virginia at the time Boss-man was attacked. His brother was in the hospital at the time Hotch was attacked, so there's no way he could be involved. I checked with the hospital…"

"And…?"

"And he was tellin' the truth, Rossi. Blackman was in the hospital the entire time before Hotch was attacked. And during the time of Hotch's attack, Blackman was being rushed to the hospital again. Several nurses there verified the man's brother was there with him the entire time and never left his side. So did several neighbors I spoke with about both men. The brother would go to the hospital at the beginning of visitor hours, and stay until he was kicked out when they ended."

"So neither Coral James Blackman nor his brother were here at the time of the assault."

"Not unless one of them can be in two places at the same time." Morgan sighed again. "So what now?"

Rossi suddenly smirked. "But, I may have something that just might put a smile on your face, my friend."

"What's that?" Morgan asked as Rossi maneuvered the vehicle into traffic after leaving the hospital parking lot.

"Agent Hemminger was arrested last night, and is awaiting interrogation even as we speak."

Morgan straightened up in his seat. His eyebrows narrowed. "You got 'im, Rossi?"

"Not me. Reid was the one who got 'im. Found 'im hangin' around outside Jessica Brooks' home, looking through the window."

"Doin' what?"

Rossi shrugged. "I'm not really sure. I suspect he was spying on the inhabitants inside the house."

Morgan ground his lower jaw in anger. "What exactly are you tellin' me, Rossi?" he hissed.

"What I'm telling you, Derek, is that I want you and Emily to put the screws to Hemminger. He may be the only one who got a look at the Rohypnol rapist." He glanced at the other agent, and saw a slow smile cross the man's face.

Hotch sat in his wheelchair staring out the window, watching the cotton-like white clouds in an otherwise crystal clear blue sky. Not only was he bored out of his skull, but he found staring at the sky relaxing and peaceful. He found it much better than lying on his back in the bed staring up at the ceiling tiles. But there was still one thing he wished he could change. He turned and glanced at the agents standing on opposite sides of the door, then at the wall clock, and frowned. I wish they'd leave and not stand there staring at me like I'm a lab experiment! He sighed and turned back to looking out the window again.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a gentle knock on his door. But instead of turning, he kept his eyes glued on the sky.

"Come in," he announced, his voice a bit strained.

The door opened seconds later, and a smiling Doctor Amanda Carson walked inside, holding two Styrofoam coffee cups, one in each hand. She continued to try balancing both cups and holding open the door at the same time.

"Hello, Agent Hotchner," Carson said standing beside Hotch's wheelchair. "I brought you a cup of herbal tea."

"I'd prefer black coffee," Hotch replied listlessly.

"No can do, agent. Your doctor okayed tea for now, and herbal tea will help you relax. Here." She offered Hotch one of the cups. "I think you'll like it. It's called Red Zinger, my favorite." (1)

"Thanks," Hotch replied not looking at the woman. She then handed her patient her own cup, released the wheelchair brake, turned the wheelchair around, and started pushing it toward the door.

"I am your chauffeur today, I'm afraid," the woman explained. "Unless you'd rather hold our session right here in your room."

"I don't really care, doc."

Carson smiled. "My office it will be then." She leaned closer and brought her lips near Hotch's ear. "Besides, my office will be far away from eavesdroppers."

Hotch snorted but said nothing as they made the trip from his floor to that of the doctor. Once they were settled in Carson's office, the doctor reset the brake on Hotch's wheelchair, and took her cup from him. After setting it on her desk, she sat down in the plush chair behind her desk. Facing Aaron, she leaned back in her chair with her slender legs crossed, a notebook in her lap, and a pen rotating between the fingers of one hand.

Aaron decided to stall talking about his problems as long as possible. Maybe even avoid them all together. "Since when do you make house calls?" he asked.

"When I worry that my patients won't come back again," she replied with an amused grin. Carson understood exactly what the FBI agent was doing. According to his file, Agent Hotchner likes to bury anything about himself. Well, I like a challenge, and Agent Hotchner may be my toughest one yet. "I'm sure in your line of work you know the ones I'm talking about, agent. The stubborn ones who think they don't need any help."

Hotch only grunted a response and took a drink of his tea. He had to admit to himself that this herbal tea was pretty good. But what he really wanted a big steaming cup of black coffee. After taking another sip of the tea, Hotch sat his cup near the edge of the doctor's desk. He continued to stare at the cast on his left wrist and forearm.

Amanda stared at Hotch for several minutes. She tilted her head to the side slightly while waiting for Hotch to say something. I'm willing to bet Agent Hotchner doesn't want to be here, and is hoping I'll just go away. Sorry, but I can't do that, Aaron, because whether you realize it or not, you are worth the effort. She watched Hotch pick at the fingernails on his left hand.

When he didn't say anything after nearly five minutes, Amanda smiled. "I think I understand, Aaron." She picked up her cup, took another sip of tea, and sat the cup back down on her desk. "You are embarrassed to discuss what happened to you with a woman. You believe I will consider you weak and pathetic. And you're wondering what was going through your best friend's mind allowing me to be assigned your case."

Hotch still didn't speak, but Amanda sensed she had his attention. "I understand, Aaron. I do. And I get it. But nobody else is available to take my place. But if you prefer, I'm sure I can talk to the COS and we might be able to find somebody else. I will not be offended in the least. But I truly believe I can help you if you let me. And I will do all I can to make you feel comfortable enough to speak freely to me." She licked her lips. "So, Agent Hotchner, do you want me to get you assigned to a different doctor? Preferably a man?"

Hotch continued to stare at his casts. He suspected Rossi would say he's a coward because he refused to talk to a woman about what happened. He shook his head.

"You can stay if you want. I really don't care anymore."

Amanda took her patient's reluctance to replace her as a plus, and decided to move forward.

"So, shall we get started? How's your wrist and forearm doing?"

Hotch shrugged his right shoulder as the left one was restricted by the casts. "So, so."

"And how do you feel about Agent Rossi right now?"

"Angry."

"How so?"

"He should have known better."

"What do you mean?"

"Should have known I can't discuss what happened with a woman."

"And do you think if you talk to me about what happened, I will think less you? That I will consider you weak, pathetic, or less of a man?"

Hotch snorted and stared over the doctor's shoulder and out of the window behind her. "Why not? Everybody else does. Others say I got what I deserved."

Amanda shook her head and frowned. She was quite aware of the whispers going around about the FBI agent, and it angered her. It angered her that someone could take a despicable act, and twist it into something completely untrue.

"And how does what people saying you got what you deserved make you feel?"

Hotch sighed and looked down at his hands again. He didn't want to tell the doctor what was going through his mind about what those people said. Of how it affected him. So, he kept silent.

With a sigh, Amanda pyramided her fingertips together with elbows on the arms of her chair. She sensed the man was shutting himself off from the lifeline she was giving him, and she couldn't let him do that, or she would lose him completely. "Agent Hotchner, I realize that as a LEO, you have a thing about divulging information. But let me assure you that in this room, what you tell me stays between the two of us. Now if you want my help, I need more from you than incomplete answers or a few words. But, if you don't need or want my help, I suggest you tell me now so we don't both waste our time. I can assure you if you don't want my help, other patients do. Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"

Hotch nodded. Still unable to meet Amanda's eyes, he kept his eyes focused on his hands as he continued to pick at his left fingers. "Doctor Carson…I…that is…this is not easy for me being an extremely private person. But, I'm hoping you can help me with something."

"You're asking for my help?"

"I just said that, didn't I?"

"No you didn't, Aaron. You said you're hoping I can help you with something. It's not the same thing."

Hotch frowned as he massaged his forehead with his right hand. He had hoped he could slip one past this woman without her realizing what he had done. But she was proving to be more intelligent than even he thought. He began to suspect this doctor was profiling him, and he didn't like being on the receiving end.

Amanda put both feet on the floor, and leaned forward after putting her notebook and pen on her desk beside her coffee cup. "Aaron, before you're able to ask for my help, you first have to admit that you need it...but not to me, but admit it to yourself. What I see right now is that you are still denying what happened to you, and are uncomfortable with the fact that I'm a woman. And I suspect your friend overlooked my being a woman, realizing that despite that, I am the best qualified to help you. So why don't we start with you denying you need help."

The woman sensed Hotch struggling internally with himself and waited patiently. This is a man who knows he needs help, but doesn't know how to ask for that help.

"Aaron, I know you can do this. In addition to reading your file, I have spoken to each of your team members including Agent Rossi. Everyone tells me you are one of the strongest men both mentally and physically, that they've ever known. Your file tells me the same thing. So I know I can help you if you give me the chance."

Silence. Hotch still avoided looking at the doctor. Amanda sighed, then decided she'd try a different approach.

"Your technical analyst's name is Penelope Garcia, correct?"

Hotch looked up this time, not sure what was happening. "It is."

"And when you need help on a case, do you ask her to get it for you?"

"I do."

"And when you ask for her help, does she consider you weak or less of a man because you asked?"

"Of course not."

"Why?"

Hotch snorted in disbelief that he had so easily fallen into the doctor's trap. He shook his head, impressed. "Garcia is trained to do research and she does it extremely well. The success of our team depends largely on her, and her ability with computers."

"So on that basis, surely I am not any different from your technical analyst? I am nothing more than a trained professional in an area in which you do not have experience or extensive knowledge. It's the same logic."

"But you…"

"There are no buts here, Aaron. None. Now, we can either continue or I can have you returned to your room and I won't bother you again. Which will it be? Your decision."

Despite what he wanted to do, a nagging little voice in his head advised him to stay. Give her a chance, Aaron. So what if she's a woman. She's intelligent, and you sure aren't doing well on your own. So what can it hurt? You don't want to lose it around Jack, do you? You'll frighten your own son causing him to be afraid of you. And do you want to chance it that Rossi will keep Jack away from you? Do you really want to take that chance? Letting out a deep breath, Hotch turned and looked Doctor Carson directly in the eye and ground his lower jaw.

"Doctor Carson, I…I want you…that is…" Hotch gritted his teeth forcing the rest of the words out of his mouth. "…I need…your help. Help me. Please."

(1) Red Zinger is made by Celestial Seasonings and is my favorite tea.