Chapter Text
“So,” Morgan leaned back in his chair and addressed the table in general. “Hotch is a single daddy now.”
“Yeah. And Jack’ll be raised by a single parent.” Prentiss spoke the other half of an equation that they were sure their leader hadn’t quite grasped himself.
For a moment the team and their significant others watched the black-suited figure standing near the door, thanking people for attending his ex-wife’s funeral. It was a surreal, heartless parody of a reception line. Hotch’s natural tendency to look grim and stoic served him well during his ordeal. They continued to watch his joyless performance until his sister-in-law, Jessica, jolted them from their respective reveries.
“Guys, I need you help,” she began. Her eyes were red, scalded by four days of tears, since notification of her sister Haley’s death.
“Sure. Anything. What can we do?” J.J. was the first to respond.
“I need help with Aaron. I just don’t know what to do anymore.” Jessica shifted her gaze among the group, unsure who would be the best to offer aid in this case.
“What’s going on, Jessica?” Rossi took the lead, knowing he had the longest history with Hotch and the most life experience in dealing with broken spirits.
“I don’t know what to do,” Jessica repeated. “Did Haley ever tell you guys how Aaron was when he’d come home from a case?”
After a moment of scanning each other’s faces, which merely confirmed their lack of knowledge, there was a general shaking of heads. Jessica looked uncomfortable, as though she were betraying a confidence. She closed her eyes and when she looked around at them again, the team knew she’d come to the decision to clue them in on something Hotch and Haley had probably wanted kept private.
“He doesn’t eat,” she began. “Haley could always tell how bad a case was by Aaron’s appetite. Usually he’d miss one or two meals. Then he’d recover and be ravenous the next day.” She paused to glance at Hotch before continuing. “But this is different. I don’t think he’s touched food in four days. He hasn’t slept more than two hours a night. I’ve tried talking to him, but I don’t think he even hears me anymore. There’s no light behind the eyes. He’s just sort of on autopilot.”
Jessica once again looked from face to face. “Haley told me if anything ever happened to her, I was to look after her boys. I can take care of Jack, but I don’t know how to handle Aaron. If he keeps going like this, he’ll collapse. That’s the last thing Jack needs to see right now.” She gulped and wiped at her eyes with a tattered cocktail napkin. “You guys are supposed to know all about human behavior. If you can just get some food into him or get him to really sleep…” She left her plea unfinished.
Rossi stood up. Putting an arm around Jessica’s shoulders, he gave a brief hug. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this. Can you take Jack for the night?” Jessica nodded.
“Sure. I’m staying with them for now.”
“Good. We might be bringing Aaron back kind of late, so I’ll need the code for the alarm, okay?”
Morgan, Prentiss, Reid, J.J. and Garcia watched Rossi lead Jessica away. He retrieved a napkin from the bar and wrote on it as she gave him the code to deactivate Hotch’s alarm system. After a few more comforting words, they both approached Hotch. Jessica took his place, acknowledging guests, while Rossi took his arm and led him back to the table where the team shuffled their chairs closer together to make room for one more.
Rossi seated Hotch and stood behind him, hands on his shoulders, controlling and comforting simultaneously.
“Thank you all for coming.” Hotch’s wooden recitation and the blank look he had while fastening his gaze on the tabletop told them their boss wasn’t really present.
Rossi shook him slightly. “Hotch, look up.” The automaton that was their leader in grief did so. “Look at the people at this table.” Hotch’s eyes shifted from face to face. “These are the people who know you best,” Rossi’s voice was low, but firm.
“These are the people who know what happened. You don’t need to explain anything. You just need to know that we were with you through it all and we’re not going anywhere now.”
Hotch swallowed convulsively. A good sign Rossi thought. At least it’s a reaction.
“How are you holding up really?” Morgan caught Hotch’s focus and held it.
Hotch blinked a few times. He glanced around the table again and then, crossing his arms on top of it, put his head down, hiding his face and anything it might reveal.
“I don’t know.” His voice was muffled as he spoke into the crook of one arm. “I don’t know how to do this.”
Garcia’s soft gasp of sympathy underlined various reactions around the table. J.J. brought her hand to her mouth and turned full eyes toward Will. Prentiss took a deep breath, tamping down her own emotions. Reid closed his eyes, wishing the whole situation away. Morgan reached a hand out and tugged gently at Hotch’s sleeve.
“Do what, Hotch?”
“This!” He raised his head, but kept his chin down, unwilling to look anywhere other than the table’s edge before him. Visibly gathering himself to make the effort, he finally raised his head, but his eyes were closed, still keeping something…or maybe everything…at bay. “I solve other people’s problems. I catch bad guys. I don’t know how to stay here and face my own. I’m not that strong,” he finished miserably.
“Come on.” Rossi patted the sides of Hotch’s shoulders in little ‘get up’ gestures. “Come on. On your feet. We’re getting out of here.”
“I can’t,” Hotch said.
“Yes, you can,” Rossi rejoined. “Morgan, get some whiskey from the bar. A bottle, not a glass. More than one, if they’ve got it.” Morgan pushed back his chair and headed toward the back of the room where the bar had been set up.
“Dave, I can’t just leave. Where’s Jack?”
“Jessica’s looking after Jack for the rest of the night. You’ll see him in the morning. Right now, you’re going to do as you’re told. Morgan and I are taking you away.”
Morgan returned with two nearly full bottles of Irish whiskey. Rossi took the liquor and fished a set of car keys from his pocket. “Derek, get him up and bring him outside. The rest of you, see if Jessica or Jack need anything. Otherwise, I’ll see you all tomorrow.”
“Wait a minute!” Prentiss rose from her place. “Shouldn’t we come, too?”
Rossi watched as Morgan pulled Hotch to his feet and managed to herd him toward the door. “I’m sorry, Emily, but this is gonna get real personal real fast. I think Hotch would appreciate having as small an audience as possible for the next few hours.”
“But we can help…,” Prentiss began.
“No,” Rossi interrupted. “Look, we’re just going to get him drunk and give him a chance to scream or cry or do whatever he needs to get back to the land of the living. He’ll be more comfortable if it’s just us guys.”
“Should I come?” Reid sounded willing, but not enthusiastic at the prospect.
“No. I’m only taking Morgan, because I’m pretty sure I’ll need someone to help me get him home, undressed and into bed when it’s all over.”
Morgan and Hotch had disappeared out a side door. The rest of the team were still casting skeptical looks at Rossi.
“How ‘bout this?” Rossi offered, “Morgan and I will take care of getting Hotch off his feet and making sure he sleeps for more than a couple of hours, and tomorrow you guys can be in charge of getting him to eat. Deal?”
“Deal,” spoke a ragged chorus.
Rossi nodded reassuringly at Jessica as he followed the path Morgan and Hotch had taken. As the others gathered up coats and purses as a prelude to their own exit, Garcia smiled brightly. “I have a great recipe for gazpacho soup that I bet Hotch would love,” she said.
“Gazpacho?” Prentiss queried. “After those two get done with him, I don’t think Hotch’ll want anything stronger than dry toast and orange juice.” The sound of Rossi’s BMW peeling out of the parking lot drew her attention. “And aspirin,” she added.