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Chapter Text

They never did get that first date. As soon as Reid was cleared for duty they had that awful, nightmare case in Detroit, and immediately after that…

Well, suffice it to say that it was eight weeks after that not-date at Reid's place, and in the meantime they'd faced down something truly horrendous in Detroit, Reid had been shot in the knee, and Hotch had been attacked in his home, stabbed nine times, and had had to put his ex wife and his son in protective custody. All in all, it wasn't a peaceful time suitable to pursuing a budding romantic liaison.

Now, the team was back from a case in Long Island- a case Reid hadn't joined them on, being grounded to the office. He knew that sitting out the case, working with Garcia instead of in the field with the team, wasn't the last word on the subject from his supervisor. He wasn't at all surprised when Hotch called him to his office only minutes after they returned that evening. He'd hoped it could wait until the next day, but Hotch was never one to postpone things- especially when a new case could come at any minute. So Reid made the slow, still painful journey up the steps from the bullpen to Hotch's office, and sat down as requested (ordered, but he chose to see it as a request).

"You lied to me."

"It required a doctor's signature." Reid was going to stick to his story on this. "I'm a doctor."

"You're not a medical doctor, Reid." Hotch's voice was hard, but there was an underlying thread of fatigue in it as well. "You lied and falsely signed a document. I can't keep this off your record."

Not a happy development, but not all that surprising, either. Reid nodded. "I understand. Will there be an enquiry?"

"No, Strauss is letting you off with a reprimand, since I've convinced her that your intentions were good." Hotch knew that Reid had only wanted to assist the team so they wouldn't be two people short, and he knew why, and the reminder of his own injuries, the time he'd needed to recuperate, made his already volatile mood even worse. "You got lucky."

"Thanks- for talking to her." A reprimand wasn't too bad. Reid knew he had no future with the Bureau beyond the BAU, and that he'd never been the team leader, and he was alright with that. He didn't want to leave the BAU, and he definitely didn't want his own team. He wanted things to stay as they were. He returned his attention to Hotch, because it was clear that the older agent hadn't finished yet.
"Official consequences aside, Reid- you lied to me."
"N-not to you personally…" Reid hedged, recognizing that look on Hotch's face- resigned to something he felt was his duty. "And technically, I didn't lie-"
"I don't care about the technicalities. You told me you were medically cleared to fly. You weren't. Nobody thought to check your medical records or ask the doctor, because we tend to believe you. Possibly that's going to change now. I'm getting a sense of déjà-vu here, Reid- are you?"

"Hotch, that's unfair- I just wanted to help! There's no real medical reason why I shouldn't fly." The changing pressures were no risk to his knee, now that he'd been cleared to return to work, which had taken two weeks of boredom and worry. "It's not like I went out to chase down the unsubs with them, I stayed at the station. They needed my help."

"I don't doubt they did." Hotch nodded shortly. "But the fact remained that you lied to me. You lied to the team. And you went out well before you were cleared for it. How many cases did you fly out on before I returned?" His eyes bored into Reid, making him flush. He hated it when Hotch was this angry and this distant, and his already overactive mind was working at a furious pace. He'd heard from the others how Hotch had reacted in the field, knew how worried Morgan was- should he even allow this to continue, if Hotch was going where he thought he was going?

"Two." He admitted quietly, but not showing any subservience. He knew the physical cues for it as well as Hotch did, and his stance remained firm and confident, as much as he could. This time he wouldn't blink.

"And once more after I returned, last week." Hotch added, and Reid nodded. Hotch sighed. "I understand why you wanted to fly out with them. Believe me, I do." If Hotch could've, he would've done the same. "However, the fact remains that you lied, and I'm not about to let that go, not without certain consequences." His eyes shifted meaningfully to the desk drawer when Gideon's paddle still rested. As much as he'd disliked the instrument, Hotch hadn't the heart to throw it out. Reid pursed his lips.

"I'm injured."

"Cleared for desk duty- and obviously not hurting enough that you followed medical advice and kept your signature off documents it had no business being on." Hotch countered.

"I'm still injured- and so are you, for that matter." He hadn't meant to treat Hotch any differently now that he was back, no attention beyond the normal, he didn't want to mention the Foyet incident- but after hearing from Morgan and Emily, he wasn't sure that was the best way to go. Maybe Rossi's way of tackling things head-on was better. It was worth a try anyway.

To his shock, Hotch blinked. It wasn't so much a flinch as a ripple of muscles twitching, almost unnoticeable before his stern mask settled back into place, unless one was an expert Hotch-watcher, which Reid certainly was. After almost a full minute of silence, Hotch tilted his head down a little.

"You'd be amazed how many of my physiotherapy exercises involve raising and lowering my arms." He sounded almost, almost, amused. "You won't talk your way out of this one, Spencer. Might as well get it over with so we can both go home." Hotch knew it was absurd, but doing this, as much as he generally disliked the idea of physical discipline, would feel like a return to the norm, and he desperately needed something normal right now, even if this was it.

Reid gave him a long, searching look. "No."

"No?" Hotch raised an eyebrow, surprised.

"No. Not tonight." Reid repeated steadily. "I'm injured, you're injured. If nothing else, I'm in enough pain that a spanking won't even be a blip on my neural radar." Not remotely true- he was in a considerable amount of pain, yes, but he knew he'd still feel the paddle just as he would without an injured knee. "And most importantly, you're in no shape to do this."

"I've been cleared for field duty." Hotch pointed out. "Unlike you." It wasn't that he couldn't feel the fresh scars pulling whenever he moved wrong, because he could, and they were too fresh for him not to think about them, to be fully aware of his injuries every time he moved. But the pain was mostly gone, he was off the medication he'd taken against possible infection, and had almost his full range of motion back. Almost.

"You know I don't mean in the physical sense. That's more my problem." Reid gave him a faint smile, meant to disarm him- it didn't quite work. "You're in no shape for this emotionally, and I think you're aware of it yourself. If you think I should be disciplined for lying to you, assuming I agree with you- which I haven't yet- it can wait until I'm physically better and you're not as close to flying apart as you currently are." There, the ultimate bluntness, because anything less wouldn't work. In fact, Reid wasn't sure being entirely blunt would work, either, but he decided to try anyway. He'd given Hotch space, and plenty of it, but now Hotch had made the first step, and Reid was going to take shameless advantage of it.

Hotch was silent for a few breaths, then huffed out what might've been a sigh or a very short laugh. "Thank you for the snap diagnosis. And nice try, but I've told you, you can't talk your way out of this one. You lied, you'll take the consequences. It's very simple." He was nowhere near 'flying apart', who did Reid think he was, anyway? A gifted profiler, for all his social awkwardness, and a friend, a nagging voice in the back of his mind reminded him. If Reid was right- and he wasn't, but if he was- what did it mean, for Hotch, for the team and his place on it? Nothing good.

"I don't need to talk my way out of it. I could just get up and walk away. You can reprimand me in some other way if you feel it's necessary, but at this time, I don't think you're in the right head space to-" Reid paused, not sure how to phrase it without hurting Hotch's feelings.

"To what, Reid?" Hotch's voice was quiet and dangerous. Reid forced himself to face him directly, not to look away, not to show he was a little frightened.

"To trust yourself with my well-being, in this particular situation." Reid said at last, hoping it didn't sound as bad as it had in his head. By the stunned, almost stricken look on Hotch's face, it probably sounded worse. "Which isn't to say that I wouldn't trust you with my life, on a case. But you're barely keeping yourself in control right now, and I don't feel comfortable handing control over me to you. It's a burden you don't need at the moment."

"I think it's my choice, don't you, if I want to 'burden' myself with disciplining my team when they need it?" Still quiet and dangerous, and Reid had the sudden sense of being a small rodent, if a quick and very clever one, facing an angry, hungry snake. This undermining of his authority just drove Hotch's anger further- he didn't need to be reminded of his weakness, his lack of control in letting Foyet blindside him. If he couldn't prove it to his teammates, to himself, how could he work? If Reid didn't trust him on a one-on-one basis, how could he trust him in the field? Hotch shook his head quietly. "No. You gave it a good try, Spencer, but believe me, I have enough control for the both of us."

Reid wanted to believe him, as much as he really, really didn't want a spanking just then (or ever, he reminded himself. Not a masochist.), but he honestly wasn't sure. He could read Hotch's body language cues, which he was pretty certain that the older man didn't know he was broadcasting. He really wanted to do this, to align action and reaction with his sense of justice- in a way, to put something to rights that he felt had been a personal affront- Reid's lie- in place of the real wrong that he couldn't fix quite yet. One place in which he could have justice, such as it were. Reid knew it'd be a pale, paltry replacement, but it would be something. He took a moment to consider his options. He could get us and walk (hobble) away, and there was nothing Hotch would do against that, short of stopping him which physical force. If he stayed and allowed Hotch to spank him, however…One of two options- the more optimistic one was that Hotch would indeed retain enough control to see it through without going overboard, and the second, the likelier if he was any judge of probability, was that he'd crack, one way or another. Go too hard, too long, too…Uncontrolled. Both ways held considerable discomfort for Reid, anyway, but there was only one way of knowing whether he could trust Hotch with this. It'd be an experiment- a painful one, granted, but science often was, and Reid knew he could handle himself. He had his doubts about Hotch, but none about himself.

All this rushed through his head in less time than it takes to describe, of course- and his decision was made well before he had all the possible eventualities spread out in his head. He inclined his head once. "Ok."

"Ok?" Again, Hotch echoed him and raised an eyebrow, a little surprised by this turn of events. He'd been quite sure that Reid would refuse him again- and maybe that might've been the better choice, but he had confidence in his own abilities. He was fine. He was in no way close to flying apart. It was going to be ok.

Liar, his mind whispered to him as he stood up and felt a twinge in his shoulder, another under his ribs on the right. The scars went deep, beyond the flesh and torn muscles, and those wounds were still raw. But he had to do this, he had to prove to Reid and to himself that he could fulfill all the duties that came with his job as team leader. He had to be able to lead. He opened the drawer and pulled out the paddle. "Are you on any painkillers right now?"

"No." He'd been taking NSAIDs for going on two months now, and the risk of secondary damage was growing, not to mention the havoc it played with his stomach, so he'd gradually lowered his intake of painkillers. Now he only took something if he really needed to sleep, or if the pain got bad enough that it made him cranky, because the others didn't deserve that sort of attitude from him. "Are you?" It would speak towards Hotch's clarity of mind, and that mattered.

"Not right now." Hotch shook his head. He'd been on the more powerful drugs at the hospital, of course, but had insisted on switching to something that carried no risk of physical addiction as soon as he could. There was a residual ache, almost constant, but not bad enough that he needed anything for it yet. His eyes went from the paddle in his hand to Reid, to the sofa, to his desk, and he pursed his lips. "Ok. Not over the sofa, right?"

Reid considered this. Whatever position they used would probably hurt his knee, but over the sofa would probably be the least comfortable, giving his legs little to brace against. The angle of the desk would be easier, he thought, but not as good a height for Hotch- but he admitted to himself that Hotch's comfort wasn't his top priority at the moment. "The desk?" He suggested, and Hotch nodded tightly and carefully cleared away the few papers and files that had found their way to his desk despite his habitual obsessive neatness.

"Get yourself into position." He ordered. It took longer than normal, and Hotch reminded himself that Reid was injured, and that he should make this session short and to the point- get the message across as quickly as he could, and be done with it. Prove to them both that nothing had changed. Finally, he turned around to find Reid bent over his desk, his trousers around his knees, stopped by the brace on his knee, and his ass upturned and ready. This time, he didn't allow his eyes to linger and appreciate it. Keeping a hold on his family, recovering what was left of it once Foyet had been taken care of- that meant not starting anything. It would be a greater betrayal than at any other time. His family needed him now. This…Well, the parts of it that weren't the job, anything in his life that wasn't the job, or protecting his family, was a distraction. "What are you being punished for, Spencer?"

Reid sighed. "Could we please skip that part today?" He tried to put as much weight as possible on the desk and on his good leg, and the position still hurt. He didn't want to recite the list of his transgressions, because he still didn't entirely agree that he needed to be punished at all. The hard impact of the paddle against his ass pushed him forward into the desk and he yelped, unprepared for the twin jolts of pain.

"No. It's not a long list, Spencer, just get it over with."

"O-ok." The breath stuttered in Reid's throat and he decided this had been a very, very bad idea. He could remember every spanking he'd ever had, and this was definitely the single hardest blow of the paddle he'd been given until now. There was no warm-up, just the immediate heat and pain of it. Great. Some genius you are. A second blow pushed him forward again and drew another yelp, and he glared behind him. "Patience is a virtue. I'm thinking."

"Think faster." Hotch's voice was icy, and Reid grimaced. Oh yeah, he was in trouble.

"I'm being punished for lying about being cleared to fly, for signing a document that needed a medical doctor's approval even though I'm a PhD, not an MD, and for going out with the team and putting myself and them at risk." He recited quickly, giving everything he could think of just then. "Counts as lying and potentially putting myself in harm's way." He concluded.

"Good." Hotch nodded, satisfied with the thoroughness of the list. "As before, I know your intentions were good, but your actions leave something to be desired. Rules and regulations are there for a reason, and if you abuse your abilities, they become more of a liability than an asset. And if you'd put yourself back in the hospital, you'd have only had yourself to blame."

"I know." And if he did himself damage with this bit of idiocy, he had only himself to blame as well. After all, he could've gotten up and walked away, but no, he just had to experiment, to let Hotch push the limits of his control. Any damage would be his own fault entirely. "I'm sorry." He added, not so much for lying but because he knew there'd be consequences to this encounter beyond this evening. He had to believe Hotch would know when to stop, though- and that if he didn't, that he'd still stop if and when Reid demanded it. He stood up and nearly overbalanced, driven by a sudden, horrifying thought. "Hotch- is your office door locked?"

"Damn." Hotch crossed the room quickly and turned the key in the lock, and made sure the blinds were fully drawn down. "It is now." How could he have forgotten that? Maybe Reid was right after all- he pushed the thought away. Reid wasn't right, and Hotch would prove it. He could do this. "And it doesn't look like anybody's still here." He'd glanced through the blinds at the empty bullpen. "But you might want to keep quiet, just in case."

"Uh- yes." Reid agreed wholeheartedly, but refrained from pointing out to Hotch that he wouldn't get loud just for fun. In fact, he didn't plan on being any more vocal than normal, and he was normally pretty quiet during a spanking. As soon as Hotch took up the paddle again and started the paddling in earnest, the young genius knew that his plans would need immediate revising. It was hard and fast, harder than ever before, and done in a single-minded silence. Reid bit his lip to stifle any further yelps, but couldn't stop the occasional gasp as the paddle roasted his rear end, and his knee was jarred and jolted with every stroke. "Stop." He hissed after the tenth stroke, when it didn't look like Hotch was anywhere near done. Pain radiated up and down his legs, and his eyes stung with it. "Just- need a moment." Beyond the unusual force and silence, it didn't look like Hotch was out of control…

And then the paddle landed again, just as hard, while he was halfway to rising, and pushed him forward into the edge of the desk again, knocking the breath out of him. He was only able to draw a shallow breath before another stroke came, and bit his lip again and tasted blood. "I said stop!"

"When you've had enough, I'll stop." Hotch spoke through clenched teeth. Reid had lied to him, he'd lied to the team, and this time justice would be done. Hotch knew he could give him the full measure of punishment to repay the lie, that he could be sure…He put one hand on Reid's back, holding him down. "It was 24 the last time you lied, it'll be 24 now." He was in control- of both of them. Reid grunted as another stroke landed, and tried to rise again, but Hotch was stronger.

Panic started to bubble quietly in Reid's mind. He wasn't sure he could take 24, even though they were over half way done with it now, and he knew he had to stop Hotch somehow. "Hotch, you have to stop. I need a break- at least-" Fourteen, and he couldn't stop a low moan of pain. His knee was killing him. "If I scream someone will notice." He added, breathing fast and shallow. He didn't want anybody to notice, if they were caught it would end Hotch's career for sure, and be about as bad for Reid, too. Fifteen, sixteen- while he was thinking, Hotch was still going on, paying no mind to what he was saying. Obviously, he was just as aware as Reid was that it was in both their best interests to keep this quiet. He wouldn't scream, and Hotch didn't even bother to point that out.

 

The challenge now was to stay quiet, because it really did hurt like hell, and it wasn't the cathartic, cleansing kind of pain, either. It was just pain, like getting shot all over again, and felt about as impersonal. It was just pain. Pain he could deal with. He'd faced down school bullies almost as big as Hotch when he'd been much smaller, hadn't he? Reaching for the sort of resolve and dissociation he hadn't had to employ in a very long time, Reid steeled himself and knew he could do this. He counted out the strokes, felt the impact, but knew he wouldn't cry out, wouldn't even let the tears overflow. Bullies didn't deserve that sort of reaction.

He tucked the fact that he was grouping Hotch with the bullies who'd made his life miserable in school away, to be dealt with later. Twenty one, twenty two…

"Twenty four." Reid's ass was a mass of red and purple blotches, radiating heat and with several raised marks where the edges had left their harsh imprint. Hotch was breathing hard, his hand trembling a little when he finally came back down to reality- and what he saw almost made him sick. He dropped the paddle, his fingers suddenly nerveless. "Spencer-"

"May I go, Sir?" He pushed himself up, balancing on his good leg because the injured one wasn't up for any kind of weight. He felt lightheaded, dizzy, and a little nauseous, and just wanted out of there. He'd been an idiot, now he was paying for it and he wanted to go somewhere private and quiet and metaphorically lick his wounds. He knew he couldn't keep the stoic front up for much longer.

Hotch swallowed hard, noting the blank look on Reid's face. Obviously and understandably, the younger man didn't want to talk to him right now. He knew they needed to talk, had to, but not right now. He stepped away, looking over to the side more to give himself a break from looking at the damage he'd caused than to give Reid privacy while he rearranged his clothes. There was no sound of distress, as there usually was when Reid pulled his pants back up after a spanking, but when Hotch glanced over he could see the grimace of pain and flinched inwardly. Finally, realizing that Reid was waiting for an answer, he nodded jerkily. "Yes. You can go. I'll see you tomorrow." But how exactly would they be able to work together, after this?

He wouldn't, because the team was off-duty the next day, and normally Reid would've corrected him, but telling him he was wrong, after what had just happened, seemed like a terrible idea. Reid knew he'd more than passed his quota of terrible ideas for the day. Taking up his crutches and bag, Reid started towards the door, pain shooting through his knee with every step, echoed by the steady throb of his ass. Hotch said nothing as he watched him leave. When the door had closed, he fell heavily into the sofa, leaned back and covered his face with one hand, uncertain of what, if anything, he could do to undo what he'd done.

Reid cursed the steps leading down from Hotch's office to the bullpen. Normally he barely even noticed them, but with the crutches they'd become a nuisance, and now, with every step a problem, the trip down to the elevator seemed pretty near impossible. At least there was no one there to see him, which was really good because Reid knew he didn't look half as calm and normal as he wanted to look. Tossing both crutches and bag down the stairs, he gripped the rail with both hands and hopped down on his good leg, gritting his teeth at the impact. One down, not that many more to go. He could do this.

An eternity later, it felt like, he was at the bottom to the steps, trembling with the effort of staying upright. He would never, ever take the ability to navigate steps for granted again. The voice behind him made him spin too fast and almost overbalance.
"Reid?" Oh, damn and hell and shit. Prentiss, of all people, come out of Rossi's office. With Rossi right behind her. Rossi's office, which shared a wall with Hotch's. A wall which wasn't really enough to completely soundproof the office. Reid felt his heartbeat speed up sharply. They'd both heard it, hadn't they? From the suppressed fury on Rossi's face, they had. He nodded at Emily and went into Hotch's office without knocking, the door slamming shut behind him.

Chapter Text

Emily started down the stairs with enviable ease. Reid opened his mouth to say something, although he wasn't sure what, and she stopped him. "You don't need to say anything. I just want to help you get home, ok? You can explain later."

"Can I?" He bowed his head, feeling humiliated and exhausted and sick of it all. "Just leave me alone."

"Well, you don't have to explain. All I know is you're a friend, and you're hurt, and you don't have your car here, because you can't drive with that knee. So I'm offering you a ride home. Alright? No questions asked." For now, her body language said, but he was too tired to argue. He nodded, and her heart twisted at how dejected he looked. "Good. Let's go, then." She didn't touch him as they made their way down to the parking garage, knowing it wouldn't be welcomed, but she wished she could. Her mind was bursting with questions, even after Rossi's explanations- and how had he known about it, anyway? He headed to the passenger side when they reached her car, but she opened the back door instead. "I thought you'd be more comfortable with your leg stretched out." She said easily, thanking God and her mother for endless practice at saying awkward things with minimal awkwardness. It was better than 'I don't think you'll enjoy sitting right now, why not lie down instead?'.

Slowly, in silence, Reid put his crutches in the car and crawled in, hissing a little when he jarred his knee again. Lying down was a huge relief, and he tried not to think about that fact that normally he'd have taken Emily's words at face value and sat down with his leg propped up rather than stretching out as best he could in a back seat that's too short for his full length. It was still infinitely better than both sitting and standing, and he closed his eyes and did his best to just drift away. He didn't want to talk, he didn't want to explain or think- and for the first time in five years, he honestly didn't want to come in to work on Friday. He didn't need to give Emily directions to his place, she'd visited a few times before, to borrow some books and with Garcia to cheer him up during the week he'd been practically homebound after being shot. He raised his head when she stopped the car, and managed to get out without aggravating any of his injuries. He leaned against the side of the car for a moment, and was only a little surprised to see Emily had stepped out as well, and was circling over to his side. He should've known. "You don't have to-"

"I want to." She stopped him again. "And I think you need it." As if she was going to leave him alone after that. That Hotch had let him go at all was just added to the list of reasons she'd yell at their team leader later, after Rossi was done with him. "Reid, just…you've already taken risks tonight. Do one responsible thing and accept that you need a hand." She sounded so earnest and so obviously aware of what had happened, at least in part, and he was so very tired, that he didn't even bother to deny it or defend himself. He simply shrugged and nodded, and turned towards the elevator. If she decided to report him and Hotch, she would, and there was nothing he could do about it tonight. At least she didn't seem shocked or disgusted, and from her tone he was willing to bet that she'd had some experience, even if it wasn't first-hand. He just hoped she wouldn't stay long, because his hand shook when he fumbled for his keys, and reaction was clearly starting to set in.

She let him open the door and followed him in, noting the usual organized disorder of the place, the ever-growing stack of magazines, and the fact that the sofa was free of clutter, and Reid made a beeline right for it. "Why don't you get settled, and I'll get an ice pack?" She suggested, and he turned, irritation overcoming the numbness for a moment.

"I can get my own ice. Really, Prentiss, I'm alright." The fact that he'd used her last name was telling, they both knew- he was trying to create a distance between them, to move away from the personal and back to the professional, but now that they were here in the privacy and safety of his apartment, she wasn't going to let him.

"You're not, and you shouldn't be walking." Her voice was warmer now than before, her face less guarded and showing both concern and sympathy more clearly. "I'm not saying you can't take care of yourself, I'm suggesting that maybe you don't have to- and shouldn't." He hesitated, already facing the kitchen, and she took advantage of that. "Go. Sit down." With a sigh, he nodded and turned to comply with that order, when she added, "And you should probably take off your pants."

"What? No!" He stopped, glaring at her. "Prentiss-" His voice held a definite note of warning.

"No." She stopped him, angrier than she'd seemed earlier. "No, Spencer. You don't get to do this. You don't get to come out of Hotch's office looking the way you do now, after I'd sat there for an hour and heard what I heard-" he winced and flushed, "and expect me to ignore it. You don't just crawl off home and pretend you'll be ok. You should know better than that- and Hotch should, too. Hell, you both should know better than to've done…any of what you did, whatever the hell it was." She was letting her own anger show, and knew it wasn't fair to jump on Reid when he was like this, but she'd held on to herself all through the drive here, and she just had to vent or she'd explode.

"Are you angry because we did it, because it's unprofessional, or because you didn't know?" He tried his favorite trick of deflecting a difficult topic towards the logical and analytical. Again, she didn't let him.

"I'm angry that you're hurt, mainly. From what Rossi said you both should know better." Their private lives were just that, even if they chose to exercise them at the office, and she was hardly outraged over it- surprised, sure, but not disgusted.

He was barely standing, but she'd offered yet another distraction- and something he'd wondered about. "How did Rossi know, anyway?" Hotch wouldn't have told the older agent without letting Reid know that he was, since it would put them both at risk. On the verge of a breakdown or not, Reid didn't think Hotch would hide something like that.

"Well, from what he says he figured you had a thing for Hotch pretty much just after I did, but he didn't know about the- the- you're going to have to explain that bit- until after the thing in Texas two years ago, when you ditched us to face the UnSub alone." She explained. "Will you please sit down? I'll explain in a moment, but please sit. I'll get ice and come right back."

Rossi'd figured it out on his own? Reid figured they were actually pretty lucky, working where they did, that Rossi was the only one. He sat down on the sofa, immediately regretted doing it, and raised his legs, stretching them out and leaning back so his weight wasn't all on his ass. His knee was more important at the moment, anyway. He didn't take his pants off, but he did roll one leg up so he could remove the brace from his knee, which felt hot and over-sensitive. "Put the kettle on?" He called towards the kitchen. If Emily was up and determined to be helpful, she could at least make tea.

"Oh, you have demands now?" But she sounded amused rather than angry, and she did fill the electric kettle and turn it on before she returned with two ice packs and a towel. "Here." She handed them over, and Reid quickly wrapped his knee up, experienced after over a month of this. "You're still dressed."

"Uh, yes." He had no intention of letting her see- well, anything at all. Her presence and having to talk about things other than what had happened (directly, anyway) was holding off the impending reaction, for now, but not for long. He wanted her gone before it hit. "I'm ok now, really. Thanks for the ice, but I'm sure you have other things…It's late." It was, actually- later than he'd realized before. "Really late."

"We have tomorrow off." She shrugged. "I told you, I don't think you should be alone tonight. I don't know what Hotch was thinking, letting you leave like that. He should know better. But he should know better than to do anything while you're injured, too." With a shake of her head, she studied Reid's strained face. "I wouldn't have thought you were enough of a sub to let him do that."

"It's not like that. It's- it's not that kind of relationship." Reid protested. It wasn't that he denied his own submissiveness, especially when it came to Hotch, but he didn't want Emily to get the wrong idea, together with her knowing that he had a thing for Hotch- which was a terribly vague definition. "It's just a- a disciplinary arrangement. We're hardly in- well, in any kind of relationship." He couldn't look at her face, couldn't handle the sympathy and possible pity he'd see there.

Emily snorted. "I don't care what you call it, Spencer. If you hand over control to him, it's that sort of relationship, if only for that point in time. It was incredibly irresponsible of him- and of you. You knew how close to the edge he was." Her voice was harder than she'd intended, and Reid couldn't quite hide the flinch, which made her feel like a bully- but she was worried and a lot less calm than she looked, and needed to know nothing like this would happen again.

Reid swallowed convulsively, feeling the lump rise higher in his throat. He didn’t want to talk about this. "I d-don't owe you an explanation." He said, his voice catching. The kettle started whistling, an old fashioned sound effect on a very modern electric heater, and he clung to that minor save. "Water's boiling."

"The water can wait." But she could see the desperation in his eyes, the silent plea for a moment alone to gather himself with some privacy and dignity, and rose smoothly. "But we'd best not let them cool again. I'll be right back." She carefully closed the door to the kitchen behind her, glad that Reid's place didn't share the open floor plan of her own apartment.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Reid flipped over, dislodging the ice from around his knee to the floor. He had to get the pressure off his ass, and he knew he had maybe a minute to get himself back under control before Emily came back- and demanded answers. Answers he didn't want to give and wasn't sure he could, anyway. Some of them weren't his answers to give. He grabbed a cushion and buried his face in it as the first shudder washed over him, then settled into a steady trembling. Control, wasn't that the whole problem? It had all been a question of control, or the lack of it, in the exchange. The betrayal of his trust, and his own stupidity in even allowing the situation to go that far, hurt far more than any physical bruising. The fact that the consequences of that evening would last well beyond the end of it, that his relationship with Hotch, such as it was, was probably wrecked beyond any recovery. He was worried for his work relationship with his boss, as well. More than anything, though, he feared for the older man's mental and emotional state, after tonight.

"Hotch is probably freaking out really badly." He said into the pillow when he heard footsteps returning from the kitchen. Emily touched his shoulder lightly and he twitched.

"This is what you're thinking about right now? That he's freaking out?" She had to laugh at the absurdity of that. He nodded, his face still hidden in the pillow.

"I know I'm freaking out, but I'm more used to it." He wished his voice was steadier. "He isn't. He's- he lost control. I let him do it, I thought he could keep his head, I thought- if I doubted him it would just throw him into more of a loop with doubting himself." He'd trusted him. He'd trusted himself to retain enough control to be able to stop Hotch. He'd been wrong on both counts. "I hate being wrong." Especially now, on this. "I could've just walked away from it, you know? It's- it's supposed to be-" his voice caught, cracked, and she squeezed his shoulder again very briefly, "fully consensual. It's always been, before."

"How many times has he done this?" This hadn't been part of Rossi's explanation, earlier, which told her he didn't have the full picture either.

"This was the- the third time." He was still shivering. "But he only picked up that end of the arrangement once Gideon was gone. And Gideon started before I ever became a full agent." The first, very memorable time, had been on his third week at the Academy, and the second, only slightly less memorable one, towards the end of the five-month course. "But it- it was always by mutual agreement." It had almost always ended with him feeling better, especially with Hotch. Now he just felt horrid, betrayed and drained and miserable. "I asked him to stop and he didn't." His voice was almost too quiet for Emily to hear, and he could feel the pillow growing damp under him. Her hand returned, stroking his shoulder slowly, unexpectedly comforting.

"Has that ever happened before?"

"Never. Not once. I- with Hotch, I never even had to ask." He'd always paced himself, taken breaks, even stopped on his own when he thought Reid needed it. Not this time. "I j-just needed a break…" He tried to regain control of himself, but it was harder than usual with Emily still stroking his shoulder. He took a deep breath to steady himself. "Please stop touching me." Sometimes it was best to ask directly. Emily complied without comment. That didn't mean she was about to let everything go, though.

"You should have a look at your backside." She hesitated over the word for a fraction of a second, before choosing the least formal, yet least vulgar expression she could come up with. "I mean- from what we heard, he really let you have it. You should put something on it."

"I will." Eventually, after Prentiss left. He was comfortable enough with her to've bantered about it, under different circumstances, but not tonight. "Later, though." He added, to clarify that no, she wasn't about to get a look at his ass. He knew what state it was in- still pink, slowly changing into purple as the bruises rose, and likely to remain so for days as the deeper bruises made themselves felt and seen. Possibly even blistered, but nothing that called for immediate attention. "It's not so bad." But certainly the worst he'd ever had. Emily clearly didn't believe him.

"It sounded pretty awful, but…" He almost sensed her shrug. "No, you know what? I was going to say you're a grown man and you probably know best, but after tonight, I honestly don't know that I trust you to do what's best for you, Spencer." She wasn't about to let his sense of propriety keep him from taking care of himself, but she had no intention of leaving him alone, either.

Reid supposed that was only fair, if he tried to see if from Emily's point of view, even though he knew that he was ok- for a given value of 'ok', of course. Certainly not bright eyed and bushy tailed, but unlikely to dissolve or freak out any further tonight. He sighed. "I'll make you a deal, ok? If you could get me my pills, they're on the fridge, then I'll probably be up to walking by the time you leave, and I promise I'll take care of it." In private, in peace, thank you very much.

"One modification-" She raised a finger. "I'll get you your pills and bring the tea over with them," he hadn't even noticed that her hands were empty when she came back, "and when you're up to walking, you go take care of yourself in private while I read a book or watch TV out here- and then you come back out here. The alternative would be me following you around, of course." She added when he started to reply. "I told you, Spencer, you shouldn't be alone tonight. The only way I'm leaving is if Hotch comes by and you two need to talk."

With a shudder, Reid looked up. "He won't come. Not tonight." And if he did, Reid didn't think he'd want to talk to him. He needed a day or so to calm down, and he was pretty sure Hotch needed the same. "And you really don't have to stay." He wanted to be alone, but he knew she had a point, he'd studied the after effects of physical and
emotional trauma (yes, in his head he could admit it, though he never would out loud) enough to know that having someone stay with him was a good idea. He sighed. "I'm not going to convince you, am I?"

"You're not even convincing yourself right now, sweetie." She replied, smiling a little. "I'll be right back, ok? And I'll bring the good stuff."

It wasn't good stuff, really- just an aspirin, but for now it was all he had, and all he was ever likely to get. One never stopped being an addict, after all. Reid propped himself up on his elbows when Prentiss returned, carrying two steaming mugs and the small pillbox. "Thanks." He shook out two pills, took a tiny sip of tea just to smooth them down, then put it on the table to cool. "So, uh…You heard all of it?"

"We didn't actually hear any of what either of you said." Emily sipped her own tea, blowing on it to cool it a little. "Those offices are a little soundproofed, just…not enough." Wood on skin had carried pretty distinctly. "You're lucky it was only us."

"Definitely." It could've been so much worse, after all. But it was pretty bad all the same, Reid thought. "So…"

"So you went in, and I sat down with Rossi about the report, I needed a few details, and I honestly didn't even realize you were still there until-" she paused, not sure how to define it- "well, until we heard it." It was awkward, there was no denying. "What was it about, anyway? You said- a disciplinary thing?"

"I did sign my own medical clearance a few weeks ahead of time, you know…" Reid shrugged. "Hotch doesn't react well to lying, you may have noticed that about him. It's at the top of his list of 'things that get me called into his office.' I- Well, on any normal day, I wouldn't have even argued too much. It's not like I didn't know it was likely to get me into trouble with him when I did it, but the team was two people down, I thought it was a valid calculated risk. Clearly, I underestimated the risk." He finished, a little sourly. "My own fault, really."

"Partially, at least." He was intensely grateful that Emily didn't try to put all the blame on Hotch, because it really was about equally shared between them, as he saw it. "So he was angry?"

"You know how he gets when he can't protect us- and he couldn't bury this, it's going on my record." Which mattered not at all to Reid, but Hotch cared about that sort of thing, as it reflected badly on the whole team. "And he does hate lying, and…" He sighed. "He wasn't angry with me by the time we got down to it, really. Unhappy, yes, irritated, sure, but not angry. I wouldn't have let him if I thought he was doing it out of real anger and in the heat of it." He held up a finger, his expression rueful, "That's where I miscalculated, actually. I underestimated how angry he was because he wasn't angry with me, specifically, but he was still pretty furious."

"Foyet." It didn't need to be a question.

"Yeah."

"That's unfair, Spencer." Her face was very serious. "He shouldn't be using you as an outlet for his anger. Not you, and not any of us, and not the suspects or the locals we work with."

"I-" Reid had been about to say that he was used to unfairness, that the world was unfair and he didn't expect it to be different, but then he paused. From Hotch, he did expect fairness. In all the time he'd known him and worked with him, Hotch had never been anything but scrupulously fair. He shrugged, silent, and couldn't look at Emily, worrying about what he'd see on her face as much as he was about what she'd see in his. Bullies weren't fair- but Hotch wasn't a bully, even if Morgan sometimes thought he was. And Reid had reacted to him as he had to schoolyard bullies- and that was disturbing on several levels. With a barely audible groan, Reid pushed himself to his feet, taking a moment to make sure he was steady. "Painkiller's working. I'll just go- I'll be right back." It was too soon for them to work and Emily probably knew that, but he needed a moment alone, and he doubted she'd just leave if he asked.

"I'll be right here." He wasn't sure whether that was a promise or a threat, so he chose not to respond beyond a nod of acknowledgement. Walking to his room took up most of his concentration, anyway. He didn't bother with the crutches, as there were shelves and a table to hold on to for support, and he hated using the crutches in the apartment, anyway. They constantly knocked things over. Finally, he closed the bedroom door behind him, locked it, and collapsed on the bed as slowly and carefully as he could, which wasn't very.

He still hurt, the pills hadn't started to dull anything down yet, and he didn't really want to face the physical evidence of his encounter with Hotch, not yet. But putting it off wouldn't make him feel better, physically or emotionally, so he gave himself a moment to recover, then quickly pushed his trousers and shorts down and glanced back to survey the damage.

It was, in short, exactly what he'd expected it to be- fading from red to a mid-range pink now, with several faint marks already showing where the first bruises would appear. It was no worse than he'd thought, and no better- but it was worse than he'd ever gotten, by a fair margin. He didn't think about it too hard, but kept both his thoughts and his hands clinical, brisk without being rough, spreading the soothing cream he usually used when he got banged around on cases. It was supposed to make bruises heal faster, and he was reasonably sure that it worked, having used it for five years now. Then he lay on his bed and finally relaxed. He hoped he wouldn't fall asleep, as he didn't want Emily to force the door, and he was pretty sure she would if he didn't come out soon. He closed his eyes anyway, just drifting, letting his skin absorb the cream properly.

Emily took fifteen minutes to come and check on him, which was a lot more than he'd expected. The knock on his door pulled him out of a pleasant haze of not thinking about anything that mattered, solving equations in his mind and relaxing a little, and he frowned.

"Spencer, is everything ok in there? Did you fall asleep?"

"That's one of the questions it's very hard to answer in the affirmative, you know." He replied through the door. "Unless of course the answer is 'I did, but you've woken me up', of course."

"Did you?" She chuckled.

"No. I'll be out in a moment." He thought about it for a second, then decided he'd lose nothing by trying to distract her again. "Is there any chance I could stay here and just rest? You can go home, really, I'm alright. Better already." He didn't think that it would work, but his pride demanded another attempt to shake her off.

"For the last time, Reid, I'm not leaving." Any other evening, Emily would've just left well enough alone, given him the privacy he so clearly needed, but this wasn't any other evening. If she had to be entirely honest with herself, for all that she tried to be open minded, for all her minor experience in power exchange relationships, she was still struggling with wrapping her mind around Hotch and Reid in such a context. This sort of- violence, for lack of a better description, worried her deeply. She knew if she left right now she'd work herself up to something very unpleasant, just wondering and speculating. Best to stay, for her own peace of mind, and for Reid, who really shouldn't be left alone. "But take your time, I have some papers to go over." She wasn't leaving, but she didn't want to crowd him beyond what was absolutely necessary, either.

"Ok. Thanks." Reid wondered what was better- to let sleep take over for however long he needed, and leave Emily alone to profile him and his living room, or to get up and be sociable for a while longer, until she was reassured enough to leave. He was fairly sure he could sleep straight through 'til morning if he allowed himself, but he had no reason to doubt that Emily would insist on staying the night. With a deep sigh he forced himself up after a few more minutes, rearranged his clothes, and headed back out of the bedroom.

"Listen…" Emily looked up from her reading, concern clear on her face. "I want to go to sleep. I know there are some things that need to be dealt with, but I'm in no shape to do it now. If you insist on staying, can we at least open up the sofa for you? There's no reason you can't sleep." He wanted to sleep, himself, just to escape from everything else, and he rarely felt really comfortable with sleeping while anybody was at his place, awake. Even Emily.

Her lips thinned, probably thinking he was trying to brush her off again, and he added quickly, "I really don't think I'm capable of a lot more than a nap, Emily. I'm sorry. But really- if you don't want to go, then at least don't give up a night's sleep over this. Trust me, this isn't for you to lose sleep over, that's more my thing, and Hotch's." Only the slightest hesitation before he said the name, a minute hitch of his breath between words.

She considered this- he did look pretty beat, and she knew she was already pushing well past his normal limits on privacy, and any further would just cause more damage. He didn't need to be bullied by two of his colleagues in one evening. She wanted to stay close, but sleep did sound like a good idea. "Alright. We've both had a tough case, sleep sounds pretty good." She nodded and got up. "I'll help you get things?"

"I'll manage." He stopped her calmly. "Could you- do me a favor, though?" Something he knew he couldn't do himself, not yet. At her expectant look, he plowed ahead, "Call Rossi for me? And- check up on Hotch. I just-" He couldn't even explain it. She shook her head, exasperated.

"Your priorities are completely out of whack, Reid. But yeah, I'll call." She was already pulling her phone out.

"Good. I'll be right back." He didn't want to listen in on that particular conversation.

Chapter Text

The silence in the office stretched and stretched. A clock was ticking somewhere, but beyond that, only the palpable force of Rossi's rage even told Hotch there was someone in the room with him. He could feel it even with his eyes closed, heavy and dangerous and gathering like a storm. It took maybe twenty minutes, but finally the tension of it was too much to bear.

"If you have something to say Dave, just say it." Hotch was pretty sure he didn't want to hear anything Rossi had to say- any accusations and recriminations the other man could throw at him were already crowding in his mind. Still, he could feel the pressure of unspoken words, and it was making him claustrophobic. Best to get the explosion over with sooner rather than later. The older agent took a deep breath.

"I thought I'd give you a bit of time to form an answer, because when I ask you what the hell went through your mind earlier, I want a clear and concise explanation." He didn't sound as furious as he'd looked, storming into the office like an incoming one-man army, but there was frozen steel in his voice. Still, Hotch looked so dejected, so shattered, that Rossi couldn't bear to push him any further over the edge. He'd known his friend was fraying at the edges, but hadn't realized until tonight just how bad things were. "That's what I have to say, for now. When you have an answer, feel free to start talking."

Hotch made a sound between a huff and a bitter laugh. "Hope you're in the mood for a long wait."

"My schedule's clear." Rossi shrugged. He sounded a lot less hostile, which made Hotch look up for the first time since Reid had left. Something in Rossi's eyes made him flinch. "Take your time- if you can explain it to yourself, you can explain it to me."

For several more minutes, silence returned. Hotch tried to think, tried to figure out an explanation, anything that would make what he'd done ok. He couldn't think of anything- he'd done it and nothing he could say offered a reasonable explanation. He couldn't explain it away or excuse himself; he'd lost control, hurt a colleague, a friend, a subordinate, someone who'd trusted him- there was no justification. He swallowed hard, tasting bile. There was no explanation. There was nothing beyond shame, deep and burning, and fury at himself and the world. Rossi sighed, and Hotch opened his eyes again.

"I'm going to give you a few minutes alone to think. I'll be right back." He stood up slowly. "I don't need to do something melodramatic like taking your gun with me, do I?"

The thought, which hadn't occurred to him before, startled Hotch momentarily out of the morass of self-hatred. He raised an eyebrow, "No."

"Good. You have until I return to stop wallowing and give me an explanation." That Hotch hadn't even tried to push him away or told him to leave it alone spoke volumes to the man's fragile emotional state. Rossi didn't think for a moment that he'd do himself harm, but the suggestion had broken him out of a cycle of guilt and anger once before, and apparently it still worked. He hoped that with a bit of careful nudging Hotch could pull himself back to reason himself, and from there they'd be able to work things out. Until there, Rossi figured he could at least be useful and make coffee. On second thought, he decided on his way to the break room, better make it tea.

Left alone with the silence and his own thoughts, Hotch refused to focus on Rossi's question. He kept seeing Reid's face as he'd asked for permission to leave, the resolute decision in his face when he'd told Hotch he was willing to take his punishment, and hearing the sound of wood on bare skin. It was better than the alternative, the slightly panicked note in the younger man's voice when he'd asked Hotch to stop, and was denied. What had gone through his mind? Hotch had no idea.

"I don't know." He started talking as soon as Rossi entered the room, nudging the door closed because his hands were full of mugs. The words were like ashes in his mouth, dry and cold and choking. "I have no explanation. I wasn't thinking. I just- I lost control." It physically hurt to admit that, but the hurt was more than physical at the same time.

"Ok. Good." A steaming mug was placed in front of Hotch, and he picked it up out of habit, cradling the warmth and breathing in the soothing smell of tea. It wasn't the response he'd expected, though.

"Good?"

"Yeah, good. I'm glad you aren't even trying to rationalize it. The first step is admitting you lost control." Rossi's lips quirked up, but he was far from amused. "From here we can maybe deal with it." He sat down, dragging the spare chair over so he could sit cater-corner to Hotch. "You lost control."

"Yes." Now, what did Rossi want him to do about it? Resign? He'd lost control, destroyed a personal and professional relationship- how could Reid even look at him now, never mind take his orders or trust him in the field? Rossi's fingers snapped in front of his face, pulling him back to the present.

"Hey- I'm talking to you. Stop that. It happened. Now, what are you going to do about it?"

Hotch pursed his lips. "Hand in my resignation tomorrow morning. I have a letter ready." He'd had one in his desk drawer since his return from medical leave. "I can't- you know what I did- and why." Now that he thought about it, Rossi was taking it pretty calmly. "How long have you known, anyway?"

"A while, and clearly not all the details." But Rossi refused to be drawn away from the main topic, "And when you're done being an idiot, I'll have several questions about that. But no, wrong answer. You are not throwing your career away over this. Try again."

"It's not a matter of throwing away my career." Hotch protested. "I'm sure Reid will ask for a transfer as soon as he can, any other team'll be lucky to have him- but what if I- I mean- I can't-" He couldn't trust himself with any of the others now, could he? And they'd be wise not to trust him, either. Rossi crossed his arms and gave him a stony look, silent. Again, Hotch couldn't let the silence linger- it was just too much on his already raw nerves. "What?"

"I'm waiting for you to stop feeling sorry for yourself." Rossi glared at him. "And hopefully by the time you stop, you'll have your head on straight as well."

"I'm not-" Hotch stopped, aware that he was, in fact, feeling sorry for himself. Very much so. He exhaled loudly. "Look, I lost control, I crossed a line, I don't know how I'll be able to look at any of them tomorrow. What if I do something like this again?"

"Will you?"
"I don't know!" The anguish in Hotch's voice almost softened Rossi's heart. Almost. "I thought I was in control, I thought I was ok. I- he let me do it. I figured if I trusted myself and he trusted me…Guess we're both idiots." He looked down into his mug, dejected.

"Guess you are. And I'll be having some words with Reid, later." Rossi shook his head. "For a supposed genius, the kid has no sense of self preservation."

"He did it for me." Hotch felt maybe an inch tall. He rubbed a hand hard over his face. "He tried to convince me I wasn't up to it, I insisted, and he agreed. It took-" Actually, in retrospect it had taken far less convincing than it should have, all things considered. "Damnit. He can deny having a self-destructive, masochistic streak all he wants, but he keeps proving he has one." He sighed. "He'll be entirely within his rights to file a complaint against me. On top of everything else, I just let him go home alone." He swallowed hard, feeling bile rise in his throat again. It made him so much worse than Gideon ever was, this breach of trust.

"Emily's with him." Rossi was sure that Emily wouldn't have let Reid get home under his own power, the way he'd looked leaving Hotch's office. "We were both in my office, couldn't help overhearing things. You know how thin the walls can be."

"Oh." The enormity of that tried to sink in, but Hotch's mind blocked it as forcefully as it could. Rossi and Prentiss had overheard it all. They both knew. There weren't enough swear words in the English language to properly explore his opinion of that. Rossi slapped his back hard and he drew in a painful breath and coughed, only then noticing the black dots dancing in front of his eyes. He couldn't get enough air, which only fueled his panic further.

"Aaron, breathe!" Rossi pushed his head down. "Slowly, deep breaths. You'll hyperventilate." He couldn't remember seeing his friend like this, not even immediately after Foyet's attack, and it worried him. "Calm down. Breathe."

"Don't- tell me to calm- down." Hotch wheezed, struggling to force his lungs back into action. "God, Dave…"

"You know we're discreet, Aaron." Rossi squeezed his shoulder quickly, then let go. "I told Emily it's a consensual arrangement because that's the way I saw it, and I don't think I was wrong. You were in there long enough that Reid could've left anytime. You know neither one of us is going to take it outside the team, as long as we're sure nobody's going to get hurt again." He half-smiled. "I can't promise I can protect you from Emily's rage, though. She can be a bit of a mama bear."

"Yeah, no kidding. She'll kill me." And he might just let her. He had so much explaining to do. Raising his head, Hotch also raised his mug and gulped down some lukewarm tea, coughing a little. A little calmer, he put the mug down on his desk. "Dave, how do I apologize for something like this? How do we move past it? It's- 'I'm sorry' just won't cut it."

"Probably not." Rossi agreed. 'I can't tell you how to apologize. That's between you and him. If it helps, I doubt he'll ask for a transfer. Or file a complaint."

"It doesn't. He should do both." Then at least he'd feel like there were consequences for what he'd done. "I wouldn't put it past him to just let me get away with it." His sense of justice, already on edge over Foyet, protested this sharply.

"He won't. Trust me, he won't, and even if he's dumb enough to want to, which I doubt, we won't let him." From the way Reid had looked when he'd left, Rossi didn't think that would be a problem. "You're going to have to live with this memory. With the knowledge that you lost control and hurt a colleague and friend. Even if he accepts an apology, this won't go away." Hotch flinched at those words, a full shiver of dismay and self-hatred. "Wonder if this'll at least cure his crush on you." At the groan that followed, Rossi chuckled. "What? You think it's not obvious to anyone with eyes? Really?" He studied his friend's unguarded expression, so unusually open, and his eyes widened. "Oh. Oooh…Mutual, is it? Jesus, Aaron, when you fuck something up you go the whole nine yards, don't you?" Hotch didn't reply, his face pale and pinched-looking. "How long?"

"A while." But clearly not anymore. "We haven't- I know, and he knows, but we haven't- ever- it's complicated." He forced the words out.

"Yeah, I'll bet it is." Rossi pinched the bridge of his nose. "You really-? I never thought you'd swing that way." It didn't bother him much, except for the small issue of in-team relationships being frowned upon, and he'd indulged in enough of those in his time that he couldn't afford to disapprove. "Haley?"

"Was over long before I signed the damn divorce papers." Hotch half-shrugged. He still loved her, still cared about her, but no longer dreamed about getting back together. He'd been ready to think about moving on, before Foyet. "She's family, I'll do anything to keep her and Jack safe, but…" He couldn't put it into words, not right now. He'd justified it to himself, privately, by reminding himself that he had a right to be happy. Now, he wasn't so sure about that. Mercifully, Rossi didn't press the issue.

"Not easy. But that's between you two as long as it doesn't affect the team. You know just because an apology isn't enough doesn't excuse you from apologizing, right?" Something in his demeanor softened. He didn't doubt for a moment that Hotch would do anything to keep his family safe, regardless of any new relationships he may develop- though him being interested in a guy was unexpected- and right now it looked like he might just end up with nothing.

"I know." Hotch rolled his eyes. "And I will- if he's even willing to talk to me at all." He wasn't sure how he could bear to look Reid in the eye. 'I'll find a way to make it up to him, somehow. To make things right."

"He could bend you over the desk and use that thing on you." Rossi indicated the abandoned paddle on the floor, which he'd just registered- and he was only half joking. "Nasty looking implement."

"I hate it." Hotch admitted. He hated it even more now. "And I doubt it'd help, even if he agrees to do it, which he won't." Violence wasn't Reid's way, and pain had never held the same meaning for Hotch. There'd be no catharsis, only revenge, and revenge wasn't healthy for either of them.

"He won't." Rossi nodded. "I could do it, if you prefer, and he could watch." He was still at least a little serious.

"No, thank you." Through clenched teeth.

"You sure?"

"Stop trying to help." Flatly.

"As long as you need help, I'm gonna keep helping. Might need a good kick in the pants, too." But clearly it was better to veer off that conversational path, now. Rossi returned his attention to the paddle on the floor. "If you hate it, why use it?"

"It was Gideon's legacy." Hotch nudged it with his foot. "It's very…effective. I- I wanted something that'd be fast and make a- a memorable impression." He swallowed hard again. "I didn't- didn't mean to give him so many, initially." When had it become 24 strokes? He'd never intended to go higher than twelve- when had that decision changed? He stood up abruptly, "Excuse me." He left the office almost at a run, and made it to the bathroom in the nick of time.

Rossi gave him five minutes' grace and followed, glass of water in hand. Hotch was slumped on the floor in one of the cubicles, still pale and shaken. "Feeling better?"

"No." He was still queasy, the floor was cold, and losing his lunch hadn't helped at all, he still felt like shit. "Sorry."

"Not me you should be apologizing to, Aaron." Rossi handed him the glass, then leaned against the wall. "Wanna talk about it some more?"

"Would it help if I said no?"

"Not in the least."

"I didn't think so." Maybe talking to someone instead of hashing things out in his own mind would help, for a change. "Ok."

"Can you get up? This isn't the best place for this sort of conversation." Too public, despite the late hour. Rossi offered Hotch a hand up, and pretended not to notice when his friend grabbed a paper towel on the way to his feet and wiped his face quickly. "Come on. We'll stop for more coffee on the way."

Coffee sounded good. It'd wash the nasty taste out of his mouth at least, and maybe keep him coherent a while longer. Hotch's head was throbbing and he felt exhausted for no good reason. As he trailed behind Rossi towards the break room, he asked, "You're sure Emily's with him?"

"Almost sure. She wouldn't have let him go home alone, and she knows enough about trauma to take care of him. I have a feeling that she has at least a working theoretical knowledge of how to handle a person after a bad session." At least, she hadn't freaked out too badly. She'd been angry, yes, and confused, but not morally outraged.

"Trauma?" Hotch's voice wavered slightly, and his hand shook, rattling the spoon in the coffee jar. Rossi nodded again, not pulling any blows.

"Physical at least, if not emotional. And possibly that, too. He's still injured, Aaron. You know that, and you knew it when you started it tonight, too."

"He was well enough to fly." It sounded weaker now than it had before. Hotch fell into a chair and groaned. "God. I can't believe I was that stupid. That stubborn and blind."

"And yet." Rossi let him complete that sentence on his own. Given Hotch's state, he decided to take over the coffee making. "Believe it and work past it, because we're back here on Friday, and we might get a new case, and you'll have to work together." He placed the coffee in front of Hotch's nose. The other man took it, looking lost.

"I don't know what to do." He admitted. "This- nothing like this has happened to me- ever." Even as a much younger man, his outbursts had never been like this. "It's unforgivable."

"It's not entirely up to you to forgive, Aaron. It's mostly up to Reid, really." Rossi pointed out. "But that's not a subject for tonight. Tell me about the paddle." He added unexpectedly, drawing the conversation away from the harder aspects of it and back to what had interested him earlier. "Gideon's?"

"Yeah." Puzzled, Hotch still allowed him to change the subject. "He was the one who started this arrangement with Reid- before he'd officially joined the BAU, even. He left it to me, along with the responsibilities that came with it." Responsibilities he hadn't been able to uphold.

"You knew about it?" Rossi didn't show any surprise, but really he was willing to believe just about anything of Jason Gideon.

"Of course. I didn't like it much, even though I knew it was entirely consensual. And I knew they both found it helpful, Gideon explained it pretty thoroughly." Hotch sipped his coffee. "But I didn't have exactly the same arrangement, you know? It was more…"

"Sexual in nature?" Rossi suggested.

"No! No." He nearly dropped the mug. "Never that. That part- what there was of it- wasn't part of that at all. But it was less- Gideon was more-" He wanted to say strict and authoritarian, but was he any better now? "I didn't do it nearly as often. Maybe Reid was finally learning." He shook his head helplessly. "I never harmed him. Not until tonight. He always agreed to it- even tonight."

"Yes, we've already established that you aren't holding the exclusive rights to idiocy tonight." Rossi huffed. "I figured it out after that case with the kid in Texas- you did something after that, didn't you?"

"First time I did, yeah. You didn't mention it at the time."

"He deserved it, and I didn't see any change in your interaction afterwards, so I figured it was none of my business. Would've stayed that way, too." The evening's events had pretty much forced his hand. "I thought it was a one-time thing, until that case in Las Vegas that involved Reid's dad."

"You noticed after Vegas?" And Hotch had thought they'd been so careful. Rossi nodded.

"Only because I had the background info and knew what to look for and extrapolate, when I noticed he wouldn't sit down for a full day after we go back. Nobody else commented on it, everyone was excited about JJ giving birth." He added to reassure him. "I wasn't sure why you'd done it that time, though- had the impression you approved of what Reid was doing."

"I did. He asked me to do it." Hotch stared into his coffee mug, almost empty now. "He was upset, guilty over accusing his father without sufficient evidence…felt he needed it. He had to talk me into agreeing, that time." All that trust Reid had put in him, broken. 'And I haven't done it since, you know? I didn't think it was necessary."

"It hasn't been that long since then." Less than two years in all. "I'd have been surprised if he'd managed to get into more trouble in that time period, he's more or less a grown man, after all." Rossi thought for a moment. "If he wasn't injured, and you were in full control of yourself- everything else aside, did he deserve some sort of punishment tonight?" Hotch opened his mouth to reply and Rossi held up a hand to stop him. "No, don't answer without thinking. Wade through the guilt, ignore it, and give me a thought-out answer."

Hotch forced himself to think clearly, ignoring the guilt-driven reply of 'no' that came into his mind first. "If he hadn't been injured, he wouldn't have had to lie."

"True. But if he'd lied for some other reason, done something like this, what would your typical reaction be?"

He frowned. Reid hadn't deserved the severity of the punishment, especially in his current state, but did what he'd done warrant some kind of negative consequences? "He lied, to me and to the Bureau, he signed a form he had no business signing, damaged his own reputation and credibility within the Bureau, professionally, and personally. He had his reasons, and they weren't bad reasons, but the facts don't change. He shouldn't have done it, and I'd have punished him for it." He paused, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I should've waited a week or two. He told me as much, he flat out said neither one of us was in any shape for it- especially me. But putting it off felt- wrong. We'd both have been antsy all week, waiting for the other shoe to drop." As a child he'd hated having to wait, knowing his father would be home, or done with guests, and only then let fly with fists or belt- but his father hadn't been one to put off venting his anger, or to deliberate too much before it either.

"Ok. But you knew he was still injured." Rossi said slowly. He wasn't trying to steer Hotch's thought process, just allow him to work through it.

"Being injured doesn't excuse him- it was his knee he hurt, not his brain. He should've known better. I was harsher than I should've been- a lot harsher." The word 'abusive' flashed in his mind again and again, as much as he tried to block it out. "But- I wasn't entirely unfair. I should've waited, or found some other way to express how much trouble he was in." He gave Rossi a desperate, searching look. "Do I sound like an abuser, justifying myself like that?" The question made another wave of nausea rise, but he had to ask it.

"You sound like an agent-in-charge who screwed up." Actually, Rossi thought he sounded like a parent, agonizing over having to discipline a child, but he didn't say that since Hotch didn't need to have his mind messed with any further, tonight. "You're not justifying what you did, you're offering a reason why you did it- why, not how."

"It's important to be consistent." Hotch said, frowning again. All the theory he'd read said so, and the thought had been there, underlying everything he'd done that evening. "Once certain rules have been made, you have to stick to them or we both get confused. He lied, there had to be consequences." Action-reaction, that's how it worked. Rossi kept quiet, just looking at him, until he continued. "I should've been more flexible. I should've waited- I could see he didn't fully trust me, and- well, he had a point, didn't he? But I was so angry, and worried- he could've gotten hurt, or gotten himself benched for a while. This team's been two men down for too long. It was irresponsible of him to lie- and even more irresponsible of me to go through with things tonight." He put down his empty mug. "If you're trying to help me formulate an apology, I don't think it's working."

"I'm not. I told you, an apology is entirely between the two of you. But you're explaining it to me and to yourself, which should make explaining it to Reid simpler."

"You know the worst thing about all of this? I don't need to explain, he'll understand it all on his own. He already understands, that's why he let me do it. He didn't really contest the fact that he'd done something wrong, only the timing of it. If he lets me fumble through an explanation, it'll be for my sake, not his."

"Probably." The kid might not have a shred of self-preservation instinct, but Rossi was pretty sure he understood exactly what Hotch was going through. Too damn clever for his own good. "You should do it anyway, just so he knows you understand it as well. Once you're both on the same page, you'll be able to move on in whichever direction you choose." He stood up, taking the mugs to the sink to wash them. "Are you a bit more stable now? Not so close to falling apart on me?"

"I wasn't-" Rossi turned to glare at him, hands full of dish soap.

"Aaron, I could still paddle your ass if I need to." He looked dead serious this time. Hotch subsided, shaking his head.

"You don't. And I think I'm ok." His thoughts had lost the sharp edge of panic, at least. He wasn't ready to just curl up and die anymore, either, and he was thinking more or less rationally. "Not ok, maybe, but you know what I mean. Not a danger to myself or others, for the time being." At least, he thought he wasn't. "I think Garcia would declare me officially not freaking out anymore."

"I think she wouldn't go as far as that." Rossi's lips twitched into a cautious smile. "But you're thinking clearly again, that's good. It's a start." His phone rang, and he wiped one hand to flip it open, his eyebrows rising. "Rossi. Oh, hi Em." Hotch sat forward, trying to catch what she was saying. "You're at his place? Ok, good. Yeah, we're still at the office. Guess I'll send him home soon, and myself." He paused, listening. "Yeah. Ok." He gave Hotch an unreadable look. "He what? Tell him his priorities are screwed up. Well, he can stand to hear it again." He chuckled, hearing her reply. "He's not wrong, either, but that part's pretty much over, I think. Hold on a moment." He removed the phone from his ear and glanced at Hotch. "Reid wanted to check up on you, make sure you weren't freaking out alone. Apparently he's worried about you."

A sudden wave of emotion he couldn't describe, somewhere between disbelief, relief and guilt and sadness and gratitude, welled up and choked Hotch a little. He cleared his throat. "His priorities really are screwed up. Is he ok?"

"As ok as can be expected, Emily says. You wanna talk to him, should I put it on speaker?" Rossi frowned as Hotch shook his head.

"Too soon." He didn't want to have this conversation with anybody else listening in. Rossi nodded into the phone.

"Yeah, Hotch just said the same. Ok. Tell Reid that he and I need to have a little conversation as well, about taking idiotic risks." He chuckled again and quirked an eyebrow in Hotch direction. "Emily says she needs to talk to you as well. Personally I think it's a conversation you should have in the gym, so you'll have something soft to land on when she slugs you."

Hotch winced. "I'll talk to her." He nodded tightly, "But tell her it'll be after I talk to Reid, ok?" He owed Reid that much- it was the more important conversation by far, and he wanted them both to agree on what else any of the others would be told, on how they'd handle being exposed. "So it won't be before Friday at the earliest."

Rossi repeated his words into the phone, then listened for a few moments. "Ok. Yeah. I think we're good to go, here." He tilted his head in Hotch's direction, "Anything else you wanna tell either of them?"

"Not through an intermediary, thanks." He thought for a moment. "Actually, tell Reid- tell him it's up to him. He can call, when he feels comfortable with it. No pressure." He didn't want to push Reid into anything, but hoped he wouldn't take too long; he knew he'd be on edge until they talked, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Rossi passed the message on, said his good byes and hung up.

"Emily said Reid's doing as well as can be expected- no long-term physical damage, according to him. Says he's pretty quiet, otherwise. Not spilling his guts to her, but possibly she's just being discreet." He wasn't sure, really. Reid was a pretty private person. "Anyway, her professional opinion is that he'll be fine, eventually. She's staying the night, just in case."

"Good." Reid would probably hate it, but Hotch was glad he wasn't alone. He stood up and stretched with a groan. "I don't need a babysitter, if you're wondering."

"I'm not even sure Reid needs one, and I wasn't going to offer. You're both grown men." Rossi headed out of the break room and towards his office. "I've taken about all the drama I can handle for one week." He'd had a shitty case- at least the past hours had distracted him.

"I've already kept you too long." Hotch got up the stairs and paused at the door to his office. "We should both get some sleep."

"Think you'll get any?" Ever realistic, Rossi grabbed his bag and joined Hotch by the door.

"Probably not, but I'll try." He was exhausted, but he barely felt safe in his apartment even on good nights, and tonight was far from good. "I won't do anything stupid, anyway. I've reached my quota of stupid for one night."

"Buddy, I think you've caught up on a few years' worth of stupid tonight." But at least they were probably past the worst of it now, and Rossi was sure enough of his friend's emotional state to joke about it a little, which was a vast improvement. "But I believe you'll both be ok."

"Thanks." He found Rossi's confidence immensely reassuring, far more so than he'd expected. "We'll try. I will, anyway, and I'm pretty sure Reid will as well." If nothing else, he was sure that they both wanted to save their professional relationship. For now, he mainly wanted to go home and sleep.

"Good. Go home, Aaron, and try to take it easy tomorrow. Oh, and put that thing away." He gestured at the paddle, still on the floor. "If the cleaning people come in tomorrow they might be a bit startled by it just sitting there."

"Yeah." Hotch picked up the paddle gingerly, and dropped it back in a drawer. "Thanks, Dave. For- all of it."

"You're welcome. Now leave me out of the rest of it, ok? I want whatever happens between you and him from here on out to remain a mystery to me." It was both a request and a warning reminder, that whatever happened couldn't affect the team, and Hotch took it to heart. He packed his things in silence and drove home, almost looking forward to a sleepless, anxious night.

***

Emily flicked her phone shut and realized that while they were talking, Reid had brought linen from somewhere and made up the sofa as a guest bed. "Less worried now?" She asked, motioning for him to let her finish.

"A little, yes. I wanted to make sure he wasn't planning something rash, like calling Strauss and confessing everything and resigning, you know?" Reid let her take the pillow from him and leaned against the wall carefully. He'd been worried about worse, actually, but why bring that up? He'd mainly wanted to make sure Hotch would have some support during the inevitable freakout. "What did Rossi say that made you laugh, before?"

"That your priorities are screwed." She smiled, recalling it, "And Hotch said the same, apparently. When I told him I already told you that, in so many words, he said you could stand to hear it again."

Reid snorted. "Great." He chewed on his bottom lip, wondering what else Hotch had said. Emily seemed to read the question in his face.

"Rossi also said that he wants to talk to you, and I'd love a chance to yell at Hotch for a while…"

"Don't." Reid stopped her. "Believe me, he needs you lecturing him even less than I need Rossi lecturing me, and I really wish he wouldn't. He's harder on himself than either of you could possibly be, you know that." It was a testament to his regained composure that he could talk about Hotch without displaying any overt sign of anxiety. He still felt it, of course, but he wasn't showing it. Given a few days, he was sure he'd be able to face him and talk to him reasonably, too.

"Well, he wants to talk to you first anyway." Immediately Reid felt his heartbeat speed up, and his hands grew cold. "Relax. Not tonight, not even tomorrow, probably. He said it's your call, you decide when you're ready, and contact him." Concerned by Reid's suddenly-shuttered expression, Emily took a step towards him and he waved her off.

"I'm ok. I'm fine. I'll call him." Text him, maybe. Or email, that'd be better. "It'll take a day or two before I'm ready to do that."

Emily could totally understand that. "Take your time. You're taking Friday off?"

"Don't think so. People would wonder, you know?" He didn't take sick days unless he was injured, none of them did. He thought he'd be alright to go in, physically at least, given a day to recover and some painkillers. As for seeing Hotch, he'd just have to deal. "We'll see, though. I'm not making any plans for further than the next few hours. During which I intend to sleep." He added. "Um, toothbrush and things?"

"I have my go-bag here, I'm set." It'd been a short case, too, so she still had clean clothes. "I'll be ok out here if you'd like to go to bed."

"I would." He admitted. He was just barely keeping from falling asleep on his feet. He gave a final thought to the possible ramifications of letting Emily loose on his living room, unattended, decided to trust in her discretion, friendship and integrity, and made up his mind. "I'm going to close the door." It would give them both more privacy, "But not lock it. Just in case. See you in the morning?"

"Yup. Night Spencer."

"Night Em. Thanks- for this. Even though it's really unnecessary."

"I think it is. Bed, Reid."

"I'm going, I'm going." And go he did, falling into a deep sleep in minutes. Discomfort and nightmares woke him up shortly after, but he managed to keep the noise down to a minimum, and got back to sleep eventually.

***

When Emily woke up, she was in an unfamiliar room, and immediately tense until she remembered where she was and why. It was possible that the smell of pancakes helped reassure her, too. She raised her head to look through the open kitchen door at her host, calmly flipping pancakes, and cleared her throat. "Morning."

He turned around slowly, and she noted immediately he was moving stiffly, but his expression was sunny enough. "Hey. Coffee?"

"Shower first." She dragged herself to her feet. "What time is it?"

"Just after nine. Sorry I woke you up, you looked like you needed the sleep."

"Nine is the latest I've slept in weeks." Emily's mind fully woke up and her eyes narrowed. "How long have you been awake?"

"A few hours." He hedged. "You know where the towels are, right?" Maybe she was still too sleepy to pursue that line of questioning.

"Yeah. Did you get any sleep at all?" She grabbed her bag, asking for the sake of asking and clearly not intending to probe much further. He sighed and turned back to flip another pancake.

"I got plenty of sleep. Really." At least four hours before nightmares and physical discomfort had chased away any plans of staying in bed. He'd gotten up eventually, showered and started cleaning the kitchen, switching over to cooking naturally. He did feel rested, he thought as the bathroom door closed behind Emily, if sore all over, and far more settled than the previous evening. The night had definitely helped.

By the time Emily returned to the kitchen there was fresh coffee brewed and a plate of pancakes keeping warm in the oven. She eyed the oven and raised an eyebrow. "It's not even Saturday. Those are an extra hour on the treadmill."

"It's a day off, that counts as a Saturday." They missed so many weekends with cases that ran too long, that keeping count was pretty pointless. Besides, he'd felt like comfort food. "You can afford the extra calories, and making you breakfast is the least I can do to thank you, right?"

"You don't need to thank me." She could actually afford it, they all got plenty of exercise after all. "How are you, Reid? Really."

"I'm ok. Really." He repeated when she gave him a Look. "Still achy, but I slept, and my knee's back to what passes for normal these days. I feel much better." He'd taken a Tylenol when he'd woken up, and the shower had helped soothe muscles sore from being clenched tightly for a long time the previous day. "Did you sleep well?" He poured her a giant mug of coffee.

"Surprisingly, yes. You have a very comfortable sofa." She took the mug with a smile, and he nodded. He'd made sure the sofa was comfortable when he'd bought it, as he was as likely to fall asleep there as in his bed. "I'm so glad we have today off. Need a hand with breakfast?"

"Get plates, I'll get the syrup." The orange juice was already out, and soon they were both seated and working their way through stacks of pancakes. If Reid was uncomfortable sitting, Emily could see no outward sign of it, so she didn't ask how he was again. "I'm glad we have today off, too. I've piles of reading to catch up on, and a physiotherapy appointment at eleven." While true, he mentioned it as a hint that he was really alright now, and could be left alone safely. Fortunately she seemed to get the hint.

"I'm meeting a friend for lunch, and I'll want to stop at home first." Go-bag or not, she hadn't been home in three days, and wanted to water her plants and get some laundry going. They ate in companionable silence, and she decided to address the small elephant in the room only when their plates were empty. "Spencer-"

"Do we have to?" He cut her off, not hostile but unwilling to approach the problem again. "Really, Em, from here on it's between me and Hotch, ok? Give us a chance to work it out." It was only fair, Emily had to concede, and she nodded after a few seconds of consideration.

"Fair enough, I guess. I still have piles of questions about everything, but most of them straddle the line between legitimate concern and nosiness, so I'll control myself. If you ever feel like sharing, though…" She winked and he smiled back, relieved.

"Unlikely, but I'll keep that in mind." Reid didn't expect to ever want to talk about any of this more than he already had, but he had to admit that Emily would be at least reasonably sympathetic, and not entirely ignorant of what his arrangement with Hotch (if it survived this fiasco) entailed. It was a comforting thought. "I should head out soon." His physio was clear on the other side of town.

"So should I, actually." The dishes were quickly piled up in the washer, and they both got ready to leave. 'I'll see you at work tomorrow?"

"Yeah, most likely." Even if he didn't talk to Hotch by then, he was sure he could handle it.

Chapter Text

Hours later, Reid was no longer so sure about how well he'd handle it, or anything else. Three am found him curled up on the sofa, unable to sleep, too anxious thinking about the next day.

He'd tried to have a normal day. Gone to physio, struggled through it somehow, returned home and made no progress whatsoever in his reading, unable to concentrate. He'd napped on and off through the day, cobbled together some lunch and forgot to eat it, and tried very hard not to think about Hotch and the previous day. He failed, of course- his mind kept returning to it, circling back every time he moved wrong and something suddenly flared in renewed pain. He decided not to take any more painkillers, even though he really wanted to. Four times an hour, at least, he stopped himself from calling or texting Hotch. Finally, as the day settled towards evening, he decided as a last measure to preserve his sanity, to go to a meeting before contacting his team leader.

He sat in the meeting, fidgeting with more than physical discomfort until it was his turn to talk. When he got up to the podium, he discovered he couldn't speak. Discretion and anonymity were nice promises, but certain things couldn't be said out loud in front of strangers. Eight pairs of eyes were looking up at him, though, and he had to say something, so edited the truth, exposing what he could of it without risking anything, to obfuscate the rest.

"I've been clean for over two years." He started. 25 months, three weeks and two days, but he left it vague on purpose. Nobody here knew him as the boy genius, and he liked to keep it that way. "As you can see, I got hurt- shot- in the line of duty recently." They were all cops here, they understood. "Did something stupid, but in my defense it worked, and saved someone's life. Before that- I was sick for a while. I'm in pain, more or less all the time, on NSAIDs that barely take the edge off, and it's been like this for two months. Most days I manage, you know? I keep busy, I don't think about it, I get used to it. Other days, like today, all I want is to curl up in bed and never leave home, and I wish I had something better than Tylenol for it." Here, he could talk about it and not feel like he was whining or complaining over nothing, even if that was exactly how it felt. It was what he was supposed to do, here, what was expected of him. It was nice.

The others made supportive and sympathetic noises, but other that support and meditation, they had nothing else to offer. He left the meeting without any new solutions, but calmer, more balanced. Having vented his anger at the general unfairness of the world, independent of Hotch, he could now talk to the man rationally, with his full attention on resolving their problem.

Still, he hesitated. The night deepened, and morning grew closer, with the inevitable, unbearable meeting at the office. They had to talk before then, or risk parading their issues in front of a room full of profilers who already knew them both too well. After a long time lost in thought, Reid took his phone and texted Hotch. //We need to talk.//

It was only after he hit 'send' that he noticed it was just after 3, but still, unsurprisingly really, a reply came in under a minute.

//We should. Pick the place?//

Not his own apartment, nor Hotch's. Whichever coffee place or diner they found open at this hour would be too exposed, too public, too awkward and uncomfortable. Reid processed options, and texted back. //The usual park where you run? I'll meet you there in 30.// At this time of night it would be quiet, neutral but still reasonably private without feeling cramped.

//I'm actually already there…Meet you when you arrive.// Ok, that was a little startling; apparently Hotch was as jittery as he was. In a way it was reassuring. Reid gave a mental shrug and unfolded himself from the sofa, and called for a taxi.

With the post-midnight traffic, he was at the park in under 15 minutes. It was closer to Hotch's old house than to the apartment he lived in now, but Reid knew he still preferred to run there. They hadn't set an exact spot, but the park wasn't large, and completely empty at this hour. It was easy enough to pick out the lone figure on a bench, in a corner that got enough light from the street to be visible. The two cups of steaming coffee next to him on the bench were harder to see, and surprised Reid when he got close enough to make them out.

"I didn't know there was anywhere open around here at this hour." It made more sense than 'hello', as a conversation opener. Hotch nodded.

"All night diner down the block. I just got back." He looked up at Reid, handed him a cup, and didn't suggest that he sit down.

For a long stretch of silence, they studied each other. The set of shoulders, the tilt of faces and eyes, the twitching of facial muscles, the tension in each other, the shifting of weight, the placement of hands- reading each other like familiar books. Both saw things they weren't used to seeing in the other. Hotch was in sweats, looking a little disheveled and winded, and a lot haunted, his face drawn, shadowed even in the light. His eyes held a world of regret, his shoulders tense, as if sensing a sword waiting to fall.

Hotch looked up at Reid, noting the tension almost equal to his own, the slight defensiveness in the posture, that he was sure Reid wasn't even aware of. He was dressed as casually as Hotch had even seen him, in loose-fitted pants and a university sweatshirt, and even that said something about his mental state. His face showed the signs of not enough sleep, and he'd moved across the stretch between the road and the bench stiffly, even accounting for the crutches. He felt something in him shrivel and die, seeing the evidence of his loss of control. Finally, breaking the silence, Reid gave a single, helpless chuckle.

"Now that I'm here, I don't know what to say."

Hotch knew, but he'd waited, let Reid have the first word- as he'd let him have the last, when it got to that. "Reid- Spencer- I- I wish 'sorry' was enough. It's not, I know that, I can't make up for what I did or undo it- but-"

"Shh." Reid held up his free hand to stop him. He couldn't listen to this now. Now yet. "Don't, ok? Don't babble an apology. I agree that it won't be enough, and you can save yourself the embarrassment of trying. I know you're sorry." He added a bit more gently, noting the stricken look on Hotch's face. "To start with, I guess I should let you know there's no permanent damage. I'll heal, I'm already doing better, and other than a minor strain I could've acquired just as easily climbing stairs, my knee's as fine as it was before yesterday." At least the physical, clinical side of things he could talk about.

"That's…Good." Hotch's voice sounded hollow, dry and lost. If he couldn't apologize, what else could he say? He knew 'sorry' wouldn't be enough, but where else to start? He couldn't just pretend everything was ok. "You're entirely within your rights to file a complaint about me, or ask for a transfer." Bureaucracy was a nice, reasonably safe topic, wasn't it?

"I know." Reid nodded. He had no intention of doing either. "I won't, though. This is between us, and 'us' has already doubled in size in a way I didn't anticipate or want." Too many people knew already, and he wasn't about to blow this wide open.

"It's better that they know- if it means they were there yesterday. You needed someone." Hotch countered, then admitted "I did as well."

"You more than me." Reid's lips quirked in a joyless smile. "Sounds like you were really freaking."

"I've- I've never lost control like that, Spencer." It was still incredibly hard to say, but he owed it to both of them to say it. "Never. Never with a colleague, never with anybody I held power over. Not since high school, never." He shook his head, lost for words again.

Reid nodded. He was holding on to the urge to just leave, bracing for all he was worth. He refused to let Hotch apologize because he refused to give up any more of his autonomy. He had to be the strong one, the one in control, because he refused to be a victim. "Next time I tell you you're in no shape for it, take my word for it."

"Next time?" Hotch's head jerked up hard, and Reid snorted, a little amused despite himself.

"There won't be a next time. Not for a long while, in any case. But there may be other things you're in no shape to try, until you get yourself back into what passes for normal, in our line of work." Hyper-vigilance had become a habit for most of them, he could hardly fault Hotch for it. "You should start listening to us about that sort of thing, not just to me." He knew the others were worried as well.

Hotch thought for a long moment, knowing Reid was right, but still having a hard time admitting it. Still, he'd had to face worse things about himself in the past day than his tendency to overdo things, so this was less of the challenge. "Maybe I should." He nodded. He found he couldn't look directly at Reid, and forced himself to do it anyway. "Reid- I just-" He didn't have the words. He shook his head, frustrated and angry with himself. "I had a whole speech planned out, talking to Dave. Well, more or less planned out." It sounded stupid, saying it, but Reid actually half-smiled.

"He must've been overjoyed to hear it. " Rossi hated personal dramas, being thrown into this couldn't have been fun for him. "He's a good friend."

"He is. He offered to paddle my ass and have you watch, if it helps make you feel better." Hotch felt he had to be honest about that, just in case Reid wasn't to take Dave up on the offer after all. "I think he was even serious."

Reid choked a little, then shook his head hurriedly. "No, I don't think it'd change anything. It wouldn't make me feel better, you've been banged around enough."

Hotch let a momentary relief flood through him, that at least they agreed on that particular point, and nodded as well. "I told him I didn't think it'd help."

"I'm not looking for revenge." Reid shrugged simply, sticking to the easiest facts. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, though. "It's- it's not really something that can be fixed like that, you know?" It'd just extend the circle of violence. He tilted his head slightly. "Although, now that I think about it, you've done plenty of things in the past three weeks alone that would've gotten me into a lot of trouble if I'd done them." Going off on a tangent was easier than staying on topic, and Hotch seemed to agree with him on that point because his expression prompted Reid to continue. "No, really- you walked into a dangerous situation without you TAC vest, ignored your backup, broke away from the team and barked at Morgan at least once that I know of- should I go on?" He'd counted on his fingers as he talked, and now waved the open hand in Hotch's direction. The older man frowned.

"So you're saying I deserve a…" He couldn't say it yet. Reid found he was chuckling, which surprised them both.

"I'm just saying there's a certain double standard. But no, I don't think you deserve anything. Maybe a lecture from Rossi, but I think you had one already. Another one from Emily, possibly. And whatever you think you deserve, I won't be the one to deliver it." He had to make that point very clear.

Hotch sighed. "Lectures are the least they can do, I should be grateful."

"You should." Grateful that they had friends willing to talk them through this. Reid thought for a moment, then braced himself and sat down on the bench, as far from Hotch as he could without falling off the edge. The other man took the hint and edged away himself, putting the full length of the bench between them. Reid thought he managed to hide his reaction to the effects of the hard bench on his abused rear, but saw Hotch flinch as he did, and shrugged slightly. "You'll see me every day, Hotch, and it'll be at least a few days before I have my full range of motion again. If you look that guilty every time something like this happens, everybody'll know." That would be the greatest sort of torment, for Hotch- to know he was at fault and not be able to fix the situation, and to face the evidence of it daily. They both knew that, and acknowledged it in a silent look that passed between them. Hotch nodded slowly.

"You'll be at work, then?"

"Of course. I've had worse and come to work after."

"But never from me." Hotch suddenly felt choked, and the words came out through tightly clenched teeth. "Not from me, Spencer."

"No." Reid agreed, his voice as neutral as he could make it, but his eyes expressive enough that Hotch felt tears rise in his eyes.

"I'm sorry." It was like talking through a throat full of broken glass, but he had to say it. "I'm sorry, I can't ever say it enough."

"You can. You will." Reid leaned back, forcing himself to keep his eyes on his unit chief, the man he still, damn it all, really liked. "You'll never do anything like this ever again. I won't let you."

"Never." It was as heartfelt a promise as Hotch had ever given. He pressed his lips together hard, breathing through his nose to regain control over himself.

"Good. I believe you." Reid took a deep breath. "You have more important things to focus on, now." When Hotch looked like he was about to speak, Reid held a hand up to stop him. "No, listen to me. After I'm done, you can have your say. You should focus on your family, on Haley and Jack, and on keeping yourself together enough that they both have something to come back to, when we get Foyet." He stressed the 'we', reinforcing the team's commitment to helping, not just his own. "When we get him, when your family's back and safe, when you have the free mental space to deal with- with this-" He waved a vague hand, indicating the two of them, "Then you can decide what's important for you to focus on. But not before then."

"Isn't that supposed to be my choice?" Hotch was only now processing the fact that Reid didn't hate him, that he was angry and hurt, yes, but not bitter, or shattered, or any more distant than he had been before, professionally. Even that little bit of distance tugged at his soul a little, but it was so much better than a complete, irreparable break, that he was willing to embrace it as the best possible outcome. But he figured this sort of decision, relating as it did to his life, should be at the very least a join one.

"Supposed to be, yes. But you can't have everything. Hotch. You can't do everything. Can't be everything. So you have to prioritize." Reid took a deep breath. This was harder than he'd anticipated, and he wasn't sure how long he could keep it up. "I don't want to be the one distraction that keeps you from getting Foyet and still having a normal life to get back to when he's caught. I don't want you to look back and think that, if you'd only let this go, things could've gone differently. So let it go. Just for now." He'd had an easier time talking psychotic unsubs down, but then, he had more to lose here, in this.

Hotch stared at him, wondering (quite absurdly) whether this was the adult version of breaking up- or the teenaged version, Xeroxed into their adult lives. It hadn't been like that with Haley, but then Haley had never let him explain, and never explained things herself. They weren't even in a relationship, other than a professional, mostly friendly one- except that wasn't just it, was it? He had to admit, to himself at least, that their after-hours relationship was not professional, and was as intimate a relationship as he'd had with anyone other than his wife- ever, probably. And Reid was asking him- no, telling him- to let that go. "Just like that? Let it go?"

"Let it go, or you'll tear yourself apart. Let it go, or risk something like this happening again." Reid forced himself to be harder, harsher than he wanted to be. This had to be a clean break, with no ugly threads hanging loose to muddle their professional relationship. "Let it go, just for now. Until everything gets back to normal." He could quote him articles about hormones and brain chemistry, could refer to poets or psychological studies, but when he got right down to it he only had his own words, and those felt inadequate. He'd never done anything like this before. He breathed out sharply. "This is really hard, Hotch. Don't make me say it again."

"You don't have to. I understand." He did, even if the words sounded dull and lifeless in his mind. "We go back to being colleagues and no more than that, or risk not being able to be even that much."

"Yes. Exactly." It sounded very clear and neat, put like that. "Ok?"

"Far from ok, Spencer." Hotch saw Reid wince, brace himself for further argument, then relax when he added "But the best we can do right now, so yes. Ok." He swallowed hard, feeling heartache slide down his throat and disappear, ready to be buried under the demands of everyday life. He allowed himself to wish, very briefly, that work didn't have to come before everything else for a change, before he let that thought go as well. "I'm still sorry."

"So am I." Reid nodded. "And I accept your apology." He half-smiled. "It's all about self-control. I maintained mine because I knew you and Gideon were watching. Now we'll have Rossi and Prentiss filling the same function for us both." And they were both a considerable threat.

"Scary thought." Hotch echoed his thoughts, prompting another very small smile. Reid pushed himself up to stand again, a little stiff from the cold but easily enough that Hotch wasn't tempted to offer him a hand up.

"I'll see you at the office, then?" It wasn't near sunrise yet, but only because it was early winter and the sun rose later every day. The work day was a few short hours away- too short for either of them to sleep. Hotch nodded slowly.

"Yeah. Hopefully it'll be a quiet day."

"Hopefully." Reid echoed, then hesitated in place before saying. "It'll be ok, Hotch. We'll get him, and you'll have your family back- all of us. The team's as much your family as Haley and Jack." He set his shoulders, infusing as much conviction as he could into the words. "And until then you'll be ok. We won't let you lose yourself in this."

It seemed forever before Hotch spoke again. "I believe you. Thanks, Reid."
Something in the younger man's eyes made it clear that they were back to last-name-basis, even in private. And that private situations would be few and far between from now on. "See you later then?" Striving to normalcy, in a situation as far from normal as he'd ever had.

"Yeah." Reid nodded, looking up at the sky. "Pretty soon, even."

"Yeah." After another moment of thought, Hotch cleared his throat. "Reid?"

"Mm?"

"You still do your best work in moments of extreme terror, don't you?"

Damn him for being such a good people-reader. Reid snorted and nodded. "Pretty much." Admitting how hard it had been, and still was. Hotch's hand hovered in the air two inches from his shoulder, and he pulled back sharply. Hotch dropped his hand as if he'd been bitten.

"Sorry. Sorry, I- I just. Thank you. For all of it. One day I might be able to make it up to you."

"One day." It was the most he was willing to give. "I'll see you at the office."

"See you."

By the time Reid had left and Hotch pulled himself out of the haze of thoughts left in his wake, his coffee was long cold.