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It was cold in the hall, the high ceilings and open floor plan made it nearly impossible to keep well insulated. He’d always hated when his mother threw parties here. In summer it was sweltering, they could scarcely keep the bugs out but the windows had to remain open, the air conditioning wasn’t powerful enough to keep large parties comfortable. In autumn, they froze. For such a majestic old building, it certainly had its faults, but it was where he and Haley had their wedding reception and her parents insisted it be where she take her final bow. Exit stage left. Aaron argued that he’d rather find another venue, somewhere without memories of a white dress and broken promises, somewhere he couldn’t feel his mother’s disapproving glare even when she wasn’t there. Her photo hung on a wall of trustees, a placard in front of a small but well-groomed grove of cherry blossoms lining a small path that lead to a lower level and a parking lot bore her name, she was everywhere and nowhere.
“She was your ex-wife, Aaron,” she’d contested as he spoke through clenched teeth, jaw tight. Anger beneath the sadness, anger for her.
She knew what he looked like, she didn’t have to see him to know his features would be pinched, stone cold, so like her own. He didn’t look a thing like his father, round faced and wide eyed, Sean got all of that. He had the sharp angles, the harshness of his geometry on display as he lost weight, lost hope. Didn’t have to see it to know, he was so like her. She could hear the carefully placed emotion in his voice, sad but nowhere near tears, just frigid. Fruit of her loin. He’d learned long ago that tears did nothing but distance him from her further. “It’s improper. I won’t do it, I won’t have all of those people looking at me…not after what happened to her, poor girl. Give me the Brooks’ address, I’ll send a card and some flowers.” Not after what happened to her, he thought bitterly. That was certainly one way of putting words to what everyone was thinking. Not after what you did to her was what she meant, he heard it plain as day. It didn’t sting as much as it should have.
“She was…” he began, ready to let his mother hear something, anything that might melt her icy heart, make her stand beside him so he would, just this once, not be left alone…but he stopped short. It didn’t matter whether she was there or not, he would still be alone. She couldn’t truly be anywhere with him, she could hardly stand to look at him. So like her, in every way - from their brooding dark features to the carefully hidden bruises, bound together. The worst part of it was that he didn’t even blame her, he didn’t want to go either, to stand and be crushed under the weight of the accusing stares. Not after what happened to her.
“I’m sorry, Aaron,” Sean said later that evening, he at least sounded genuine. And busy, he was out of breath and Aaron could hear the clatter of dishes and voices in the background, he’d taken the call at work. It had to count for something. “I really can’t afford the trip down.”
“I’ll pay for your plane ticket, pick you up, whatever you need…please Sean…” Don’t make me beg, you sonofabitch. So desperate just not to be alone. He would give anything to see Sean, to have his brother there. And for what, really? Sean was nothing but a myth, more the idea of a brother than anything real. He let his guard down, let his voice shake with emotion, he could hear Sean’s struggle on the other end. There was silence on the line for a moment, and when he spoke next the kitchen noises were gone, he’d gone somewhere private.
“I’m working two jobs and tons of overtime right now just to pay my rent, not sure how I’ll cover utilities and food…I can’t miss the shifts or I’ll get fired, man…I’m really sorry about Haley, I just can’t…not right now. Maybe in a few weeks…“ He always had a list a mile long of can'ts that meant it wasn’t his fault, he wanted to, truly. And the worst part was that Aaron believed him, he knew Sean struggled perpetually - it was where he was comfortable. When things were too good he got itchy, he would do stupid things to sabotage his good fortune. The Hotchner Curse, they liked to call it once enough beers had numbed them, opened up their smiles. Sean used it everywhere he could, Aaron seemed only to pull it out in his personal life, when it really mattered. Derek had been the first person immune to the curse, the first person to see through it and put him in his place.
“I understand.” Sean wasn’t good at being there, he wouldn’t have known how but Aaron always thought maybe this…this big thing would be the thing that changed it. His wedding, the birth of his son, divorce, being stabbed nearly to death…nothing was big enough to drag Sean away from whatever seemed to be plaguing him. He would call, send all of the important cards, maybe fire off a text or two. A congratulations card came after Jack was born, sympathy after his divorce, it seemed to be the only trait their mother had managed to instill in both of them - some old fashioned sense of etiquette that allowed you to pass on real human connection so long as you had a pen and paper and a few well-thought out catchphrases. After Foyet nearly killed him, he’d invited Aaron up to New York, it was the most substantial offer he’d ever received but traveling wasn’t on his agenda, Sean didn’t seem to comprehend the magnitude of his injuries or maybe it was his safety net - he could offer more, knowing Aaron wouldn’t come. Maybe it was better that way, maybe it would have been disastrous if Sean ever did come and make an effort to be part of his life – most days he was alright with it, today he’d probably sell his soul just for the opportunity. A fight with Sean, in person, would be better than whatever this was.
Jessica helped him into his suit, the strain in his shoulders almost enough to make him give up and cry every time he moved. He could have done it, she insisted. Gave her something to do with her hands anyway and it spared him the tears. They burned his eyes every moment he was awake but wouldn’t fall, just constant pressure in his sinuses, built up in the dark purple crescents beneath his eyes. It was bad enough that Jessica had commented. “Your bags are packed, Aaron,” she mumbled, smoothing her thumbs over his cheekbones. “You’ve got to cry sometime.”
He hadn’t cried since holding Haley’s body and there was nothing Jessica or Jack or Derek could do about it. The tears just stayed put, ready at a moment’s notice but no one had given the signal. She slid one arm in and then the other, calling him useless, poking at him, trying to get something out of him. A smile, a frown, a fuck off.
“You’re worse than Jack,” she chided, pushing him down to the bed so she could help with his tie, he was too tall. “Come on, Aaron,” and he was so angry at himself for even needing her help as if she hadn’t just lost her sister. Here she was being strong for both of them, all of them, an entire family hung their pain around her neck. He pushed her hands away, tried to work his fingers into the material, to make a nice knot, and she rolled her eyes and took it over quickly - sure, maybe he could do it but she wanted to, and she couldn’t take the pain on his face while he worked. She hated seeing him in pain. “We’re in this together. You and me, kid.” She hadn’t called him kid since high school, since she was mocking him for his grades being worse than hers in the creative writing class they’d both begrudgingly ended up in when everything else was full. Neither of them excelled at the topic, neither of them was terribly creative but somehow she pulled it off. She beat him only slightly. Better luck next time, kid, she’d said and he’d fumed. Only 6 months apart but a full grade, and when you’re a teenager, that one grade might as well be a lifetime where maturity was concerned. Best of friends, worst of enemies. Haley couldn’t stand when they got going, at least Jack provided some distraction for her when they went at it. They’d both, lovingly, accused her of wanting a baby just so she wasn’t outnumbered anymore.
“I miss mommy,” Jack whined from the doorway, all dressed up and ready to go except the milk spilled down the front of his shirt. Jessica had already changed his shirt twice, it was only milk, it would dry and be fine. “Mommy has da good cereal wif da mashmellows.”
“Daddy’s cereal is just fine,” Jess snapped, knowing this was the worst possible time for Jack to start in on this…again. It would be the third time that morning and who could blame him, really? He didn’t know any better, the energy in the house was weird and his dad…well, his dad wasn’t behaving like his dad. Gentle one minute, angry the next, despondent when all else failed. What was he supposed to do? Still, each outburst just set her back that much farther with Aaron. “We’ll go buy you what you like tomorrow, all of your favorite foods so the cupboards are stocked baby. If you’re hungry now, you’ll eat what daddy has.”
“Not hungry…” Jack muttered, pouting. She sighed.
“Jack, honey, please…” She didn’t even know what she meant to say. Not today? Not now? Awful. How could she? “Come here,” she said, and she pulled him in to a hug, stayed right beside Aaron hoping he’d join in but he was somewhere else entirely. Checked out, she could see it in his eyes. Part of it was the concussion, she understood that – the constant headache and the nausea, the way that he wanted to sleep all the time, but it was just a river flowing into the ocean of his grief. She couldn’t tell the difference in the brackish water. Did he need another Tylenol or did he need to cry? Derek seemed to be able to tell the difference, he had some ingrained sense of Aaron that made her fumble and wonder if she knew him at all - no one had ever done that before, not even Haley. She understood him because they were so alike, but Derek wasn’t a thing like either of them and he just…knew. To her, it simply looked like he was dying, barely beyond her grasp. He was suffering in ways she couldn’t understand, he’d seen and done things to protect the rest of them that would weigh on him for the rest of time. Maybe, she thought, Haley was the lucky one - she went so quickly, Aaron’s death would be a slow fading out of existence if he continued on this path. She would lose her sister and her brother in one fell swoop.
Dave picked them up. Not Dave, exactly, but Dave in a rented car because he insisted that none of them should drive. Under normal circumstances Aaron would have thrown a fit, but he put up only the weakest protest. Didn’t have it in him to fight much of anything.
“You’re in no condition to drive,” Dave assured him and he patted him on the shoulder. A poorly concealed wince told him all he needed to know about how Aaron was healing after the fight with Foyet, about what he looked like beneath that suit and tie. Derek was keeping his mouth shut, keeping the team focused on work and not Aaron, but they all had their ideas and the exhaustion in Derek’s features each morning told them plenty. He worked himself to the bone keeping the BAU afloat and went home to his grief stricken family, tried to hold them together through the darkest hours of the night. Back and forth, between Aaron who couldn’t sleep and Jack who couldn’t stay asleep, even Jessica who cleaned out the fridge with a toothbrush at 3am, he was the in the trenches with each of them. Aaron, in spite of the pain it caused, turned in to the touch, half expecting and maybe hoping for a hug but Dave turned away from him and lifted Jack into his arms instead. “Shall we?”
A blinding sea of emerald, clods of dirt and roses. His day was marked only by mementos, snapshots out of order, the rest disconnected fog. His vision blurred and his face flushed, felt too hot and he wavered only briefly as he gave his eulogy that he would have no memory of later. Jessica would tell him it was beautiful, perfect, Haley would have loved it. He would be honest with her, tell her that he didn’t remember what he said, he’d blacked out but somehow remained upright. All eyes on him, blaming him, her casket his failure, his betrayal. Til death do us part, she’d broken that promise but he took it too literally. His scars felt like fire, he forced himself not to look down for fear they’d opened up, were pouring his life out all over the hallowed ground. He moved away from any attempt at touch. People wanted to pat him, to shake his hand, offer empty condolences.
But the building, the cold building with its great open balcony overlooking his mother’s coveted cherry blossoms and the twinkling lights of the city beyond soothed the burn. He felt cold here, and cold was better, cold kept him even. So like his mother. The headache held steady behind his brows, a constant rhythm of pain for days now like he might never be rid of it, the pressure forcing his eyes into narrow slits. Still there were no tears, only the choking sound in his voice gave away any emotion at all. Jessica stood close to him, they received guests and their condolences with solemn features and quiet voices when it was their turn, when her parents needed a break. Like a competition, who could be more composed. Haley would have rolled her eyes and called them both imbeciles, begged them to put on a show for her. I’ll only die once, you know, I deserve the waterworks, a theater kid to the end.
“Nice party,” Roy grunted from behind him and he turned, nodded. Roy had that glint in his eye that told him to hold his tongue, he may have stopped talking but he’d really only just begun. “How much do I owe you?” With his checkbook clutched in his hand, he waited.
“It’s taken care of,” Aaron whispered, lips hardly moving. In a very childish way, he hoped Roy would put away the checkbook and open his arms, pull him in the same way he’d done when he was a boy. Seventeen and so thin, deep bruises and swallowed tears and there would be those arms, that bear hug that crushed him, compressed aching ribs and held him together when his world was flying apart at the seams.
Too tight, too long, too much at first.
He fled from the sudden outpouring of paternal love. In his limited experience, that love meant pain and he could barely survive the first thrown at him, he would never withstand a second.
“Like hell it is. She is…was…my daughter, she wasn’t your wife anymore…you’ve done more than enough.” To anyone casually listening it might have sounded gracious but Aaron knew better, he understood Roy plainly. This second paternal love reduced to ashes, pain in its wake, just took longer to get here. This part he understood.
“It was paid for by the Bureau,” Aaron replied, eyes downcast. Jessica watched the way shift in his demeanor, from strength to humiliation, just like when he was seventeen and couldn’t look Roy in the eye. He couldn’t admit he’d done something wrong, made a mistake for fear of disappointing the only man who had bothered to treat him like a son. A man who never had to, a man who made the choice and look at all it had gotten him. “It’s taken care of.” He repeated it, and Roy grunted, scrunched up his nose and shook his head.
“We don’t want your damn blood money,”
“Roy,” his wife began and he rolled his eyes and snorted.
“Give me a name.” Sighing, Aaron thumbed through his wallet and located Chief Strauss’ card, told Roy to call her and discuss it. He was holding back, Aaron could see that there was so much he wanted to say, so much his whole family wanted to say. He didn’t need to hear the words to know them, to feel them himself. To agree. They were all much too raw to talk. His head swam and he excused himself, stepped aside to gather his bearings.
"You should sit down,” Jessica said, following him. “You can go home with Derek, I’ll bring Jack back with me later.” She tried to fawn over him, tried to take care of him right there in front of her family’s watchful eyes. He shook his head, waved her off.
“I’m fine, I just need a moment.” Couldn’t allow it.
The team were there, each of them solemn and silent, keeping their distance from the rest of the guests. None of them really spoke to him, just watched him warily until Dave chanced it, took the first opportunity to pull him away from his host duties. Jess looked almost relieved at the glass of scotch passed from one hand to another and she shot Derek a nod of approval – sending Dave in as a buffer was always a smart move. They spoke in hushed whispers, broken only by Derek with bad news.
“We have a case,” he said softly, and Dave nodded. None of them were surprised.
“We’ve gotta go, ” Derek whispered, standing with him just out of sight of the guests. Close, very very close, foreheads and noses touching, pressed against one another. Derek didn’t care much for personal space, not when it came to this. Aaron sucked in a deep breath, nodded – of course he understood, of course it made sense to him. “Everything’s gonna be okay. I’ll call you when we land.”
“You don’t have to…” He hated that Derek worried, but he knew it wasn’t without reason. “I’ll be okay. Jess won’t let me out of her sight.” The last part was meant as sarcasm, but it was also true and they both knew it. Derek simply shook his head.
“I said I’ll call you when we land,” and the I love you was whispered as a soft kiss pressed against his cold lips, one hand cupping his jaw, sowing warmth where it lay. Derek tasted like wine, deep and red and velvet. A nod and a smile and that was it. He was alone in a sea of wolves out for blood. Somewhere he thought he could hear Haley’s honey gold laughter, now you know what it feels like Aaron.
“Hotch?” A slow drawl from behind startled him as he stared at the trees, leaned just a little too far over the ledge. “I hope you don’t mind me stayin’…” It was Will, Aaron thought he’d gone when JJ did but here he was. “I noticed that not a lot of people ‘round here seem to be sayin’ very nice things 'bout you and the team…”
“Can you blame them?” he asked, more than a little sour and instantly sorry for it.
“'Spose not,” Will shrugged, unbothered by Aaron’s tone. Truly, he seemed unbothered by everything, always so calm and collected, Aaron was more than a little envious of Will’s demeanor. “Still. Thought you could use one person in your corner…”
“You really don’t have to stay.”
“I know. So, I uh…I talked to Haley’s sister and she said you had your weddin’ reception here. Little morbid, don'tcha think?”
He couldn’t help it, Aaron laughed. A real laugh that started way down in his diaphragm, rumbled up through bruised ribs. There was life in his bones yet. “Haley’s mother insisted.”
“Well. Can’t stop the mamas, huh?”
“I suppose not, no.”
“You look like you could use a drink…”
Beside his hand sat the scotch from Dave, still untouched. The smell made his head pound, eyes water. It wasn’t going to help, though the burn might make him finally cry but for all the wrong reasons. He felt sick just thinking about it. He’d intended only to say no thank you, that was all that went through his mind but what came out was very different, bypassed all of his filters. His operating system had gone rogue.
“I don’t know what I need.”
Will couldn’t hold back, there was some sense of urgency tangled in the desperation of Aaron’s tone that told him now, do it now. Aaron set the glass back down and began worrying his fingers back and forth over one another, a little tick JJ had mentioned once, something he did when he was anxious. Maybe it was fatherhood that made him do it, see a need.
He reached out and he pulled Aaron in for a hug.
He knew the man was hurt and he paid it no mind, didn’t coddle him, was not gentle. Aaron, uncharacteristically, didn’t pull away, he let it happen. He fell into the embrace, the familiarity of it. Will smelled like cedarwood and baby powder with a hint of lavender, he smelled like a father who carried his family with him everywhere he went. Suddenly he was seventeen again, not for the first time that day and probably not the last. He was in Roy’s arms, admitting his failure, his mistake – maybe a bad grade, a fight in the school yard, wrecked his bike. Before he knew what he was doing, before he could stop himself, he felt a sob shudder through him. The force of it was so violent he couldn’t have stopped it if he’d tried, if he’d seen it coming. Will patted him fiercely on the back, hands splayed over tender shoulder blades, his pats rough and reassuring. It hurt, and the pain made him feel alive, connected to someone. It was the kind of hug a father gives their child as they say they forgive them, I know you made a mistake but I’m just glad you’re okay. The kind that says this hurts me more than it hurts you, the kind that says you’re loved and someone always has your back. There would be time for shame later, there always was – for now, he cried. He drenched Will’s shoulder in his tears, and Will never tried to push him away, never told him he’d had enough.
He just held steady, he wouldn’t budge.
Too tight, too long, but not too much.