Criminal Minds 1. Chapter 1

JJ regarded her travel companion with concern. Two days ago they had flown commercial to Missoula on a Fugitive consult while the rest of the team travelled to Cincinnati to work a serial bank robbery.

Somewhere along the way Hotch had developed a raucous fever. That morning she pulled her scarf tight around her neck and danced outside his hotel room door in an effort to evade the biting Montana cold. He had taken longer than usual to respond to her (always polite) knock at the door. When he finally answered she found him sweating and shivering and nauseous beneath his dark power suit. She took a few moments to study him and then….

"You've got to be kidding me?" she said without pleasantries "You can't go out like that Hotch. You look like you're about to pass out". She pushed her way past him and into the warmth of the hotel room.

For a minute he protested. She insisted that he prove his health by successfully finishing the stale Danish she'd brought him from the lobby. He regarded the Danish with disgust but nonetheless he plucked it from her fingers and finished it without a word. JJ smiled, crossed her arms, and quirked a single eyebrow upward in amusement as he grudgingly finished off the pastry.

To his credit Hotch stood his ground for an admirable five minutes. He even put on a little show, grabbing his phone and keys from the bedside table; making small talk in an effort to convince both of them that he was fit for duty. After the five minutes had passed he predictably stopped in his tracks and JJ watched as his face turned a shade of green she didn't think existed in nature. Hotch turned on a dime, racing toward the loving embrace of the porcelain goddess in order to empty the contents of his stomach upon her alter_. I haven't felt this bad since Haley convinced me to try that street fair sushi_ he thought miserably. JJ afforded the man a moment of privacy to collect himself before peeling back the partially open bathroom door and staring down at the man with a mix of sympathy and mild amusement.

"I thought you were a nurturer" he said in a heap on the bathroom floor with a sweaty, pale-faced smile. "What kind of nurturer shoves Danish down a sick man's throat?"

JJ let out a genuine belly laugh at the uncharacteristic display of humor and vulnerability.

"Alright Hotch" she said, offering him a hand "If your casting me in the role of the nurturer in this little melodrama then I'll assume you're willing to admit you're the stubborn child." She smiled down at him as he accepted her open palm and she leaned backward to give herself enough leverage to help lift his larger frame.

"I suppose" he agreed, defeated. With her support he moved shakily to his feet. He grabbed a file from the bedside table and shoved it towards her. "Are you sure you're okay with this on your own?" he asked.

"I'm gonna have to be" she replied "You look like death warmed over". His face became a mask of guilt and she immediately regretted the statement. "Hotch, stop it" her voice insistent "We all get sick. The Sheriff and I can carry the load for a day. I'll call you if anything comes up and we can go over everything tonight. Hopefully you'll feel better by then."

She left him there on his hotel bed with a bottle of Ibuprofen and a string of assurances that she would call him if she needed anything.

When she returned eight hours later the sun had set and there was six inches of snow on the ground. She stood outside his door, still remembering to knock politely. She hopped and danced and pulled her scarf tight around her neck as she waited, but there was no evading the biting Montana cold. Eventually she stopped knocking politely and starting pounding with the strong side of her closed fist. After some time had passed her annoyance turned to concern and she worriedly found a manager to open the door for her.


	2. Chapter 2

The hotel manager stuck the keys in the lock and fiddled around for what seemed like an eternity. When he finally pushed the door open JJ nervously brushed passed the old man and found Hotch in a sweaty tangled heap in the bed where shed left him that morning.

Hotch's face was sheet white and when she leaned over to feel his forehead, he didn't stir. She didn't have a thermometer but she had felt enough foreheads to know that he was too warm, _too FRIGGIN WARM _she thought!She yelled over at the manager to call an ambulance and the old man quickly dissolved into the background presumably to complete the assigned task. JJ tapped Hotch lightly on the cheek, (always polite). When he didn't respond she slapped him.

"Hey!" his eyelids snapped open. He looked confused.

"Hey" she tried to look serene, but he was clammy and he looked confused and confused just wasn't Hotch. "How are you feeling?" she asked lightly.

"I don't know" he responded slowly. He looked confused. Her concern mounted.

"Did you sleep well?" _my voice is a tranquil feather on a sea of something…tranquil_…_just_ _don't spook the horses_ JJ thought.

"Haley?" he called his dead wife's name. He looked confused. She was now terrified.

"No Hotch it's me, JJ." _my voice is a shining shimmering whatever. Just keep it cool_!

"Oh, right JJ" he paused "right" he looked confused "sorry"

The manager returned with a cell phone in hand. "God be praised. An ambulance is on its way" he stated triumphantly "but the 911 woman wants to talk to you Ma'am" he thrust the phone into JJ's hand. _Maybe you should wait until the Ambulance is here to praise God, old man,_ she thought angrily.

JJ placed the phone to her ear "Hello"

"Hello" said a comforting voice on the other line. _Now this woman knows something about feathers and tranquility_ thought JJ "You have a sick man." The operator said. It was not a question.

"Yes" JJ responded "He is confused and he has a high fever."

"Okay you need to understand something Ma'am. I'm sure you've noticed by now that we are caught in a doozy of a storm" JJ almost laughed at the antiquated colloquialism "I can't promise you an Ambulance in anything less than an hour." The operator finished. JJ was no longer thinking about laughing.

"What!" she was outraged "How can an ambulance take more than an hour?"

"Ma'am are you looking outside? Listen to me…"

JJ cut the woman off "No problem, I have a response vehicle with lights and sirens. I'm an FBI agent I'll bring him to you. I'll give you my address you just give me the nearest hospital. You ready to copy?" JJ rambled "My hotel address is 5…"

"No" The operator cut her off firmly "Do not under any circumstances try and drive anywhere in this weather" she continued.

"The vehicle is a Suburban. It will be fine on the road." JJ tried to reassert herself

"I don't care if you have a tank" the woman again interrupted. "You are liable to get yourself stuck and then what?" the operator scolded "You are stuck in a car with a sick man. It may take us even longer for to find you and that's only if you are able to get cell phone reception so you can tell us where you are." She continued "Don't be foolish" her voice softened "Is he bleeding or choking?" JJ was painfully aware that the operator probably already knew the answer to most of her questions. It was like talking to a charming country, female version of Yoda _Dammit_ _Morgan get out of my head. Focus JJ._ she thought impatiently

"No" JJ admitted

"Okay then you and I can try to make him comfortable until the ambulance gets there, okay?"

"Okay" JJ was annoyed "What do you want me to do?"

"What is his temperature? Do you know?" pressed the operator.

"No" JJ answered. She knew where this line of questioning was going and she decided to protest before her judgment could be called into questioned "listen, I am a mother. I know how to treat a fever and I know when I need to be concerned. I wouldn't call an ambulance without good cause" she insisted "This is not an overreaction. This man is sick"

"I don't doubt it" the woman was using her comforting voice again "we can save time with his diagnosis and treatment if we can get as much information as possible. So, let me ask again. Do you know his temperature?"

JJ sighed and looked at the old manager who was still hovering in the doorway. He looked kind and eager to help and she was sorry she had been annoyed with him earlier.

"Excuse me" she asked the manager "do you think you could find a thermometer?"

The old man nodded with a silent air of resolve and dissolved again into the background.

"Okay" she returned her attention to the phone "Someone is getting a thermometer. What else?" she asked eagerly.

"Is he awake?" Inquired the operator

"Yes" JJ hesitated "kind of"

"Okay well if you can get him to respond, ask him a few simple questions."

"Like what" JJ interrupted.

"Just ask him three or four simple questions to test his level of awareness. Ask him if he knows his own name, what the day of the week it is, what the date is, who the president is, stuff like that. When you are done with that ask him if he has any pain other than the fever"

JJ turned to Hotch. She dispensed with the niceties and smacked Hotch lightly on the cheek,

"Hey!" he yelped as his eyelids snapped open again. He still looked confused.

"Hotch, what's your name?" she didn't hear how ridiculous the question was until it had escaped her lips. _DAMMIT JJ you're an idiot _"Hotch, what's your first name?" she clarified.

He waited a beat "Aaron" he replied albeit still looking confused.

"Great, who is the president?" She continued

Hotch smirked in a way that made JJ think he would have laughed at her if he had the energy. "Obama" he replied as though the question was stupid.

"And what day of the week is it?"

Hotch looked confused. Then he looked frustrated "Sunday?" It was definitely a question and not an answer.

"Okay" JJ didn't feel it was necessary to tell him it was Wednesday. "I don't suppose you know the date?" JJ immediately regretted the question. _Why would he know the date if he doesn't know the day of the week_ she scolded herself. Hotch now looked afraid and confused; as though he had finally clued in on the reasoning behind JJ's "stupid" questions.

"I don't know" he finally admitted, mortified.

"No big deal. I don't know the date most of the time" She smiled playfully. She figured that if he's confused maybe he'd be more susceptible to deception, and right now, just this once, Hotch definitely needed to be lied to. "Do you feel any pain other than the fever?" she asked.

"Huh?" confused….

"Hotch is there anything bothering you other than the fever" she persisted "What else hurts Hotch?" she rephrased firmly.

Hotch concentrated on the question and quietly replied "My neck"

"What?"

"My neck hurts" he repeated "my neck is stiff, it's been stiff since…" he trailed off. JJ could tell that he couldn't remember.

"Okay" she soothed "Anything else?"

"A headache" he was fighting a losing battle with his eyelids "That's all I can think of" he whispered before his eyes finally slammed shut.

JJ turned back to the phone "He knew his name and the current president but didn't know the day of the week or the date." She stated curtly "He said his neck hurts and he has a headache."

"I see" the operator responded

At that moment, the old man re-entered the room. Without a word he placed a thermometer on the bedside table and began untangling Hotch from the bed sheets. She might have asked him what in the hell he was doing but the operator was still relaying instructions on the other end of the phone.

"Now You need to check him for further injury." The operator's voice was as calm as a classical music DJ and suddenly, it was beginning to piss JJ off. She moved away from Hotch and started pacing in order to expend some nervous energy.

"What" JJ asked incredulously "How do I do that?"

"Well" the operator hesitated "You should check his head, stomach, back, side and extremities for any obvious rashes, bleeding, gashes, etcetera. If you think he might have fallen you should keep his neck stable just in case" JJ stopped pacing.

"You want me to take his clothes off?!" still incredulous.

"I gather he is not your spouse?" the operator asked flatly.

"No" JJ responded firmly

"Okay" The operator began "It's always smart Just to check the obvious areas unless you are certain he didn't injure himself." The operator started "Are you certain he hasn't injured himself?"

JJ didn't answer; she simply harrumphed angrily into the phone line. _He's not injured he's sick _she silently protested but the less petty part of her mind realized that inspecting Hotch was necessary to eliminate the possibility of further injury or alternate causes of his current illness. Even though Hotch was an immensely private man, JJ knew he would understand the small invasion.

When JJ grudgingly turned around to follow the operator's instructions, she was pleasantly surprised to find that most of Hotch's clothing had already been removed and the old man was holding Hotch firmly on his side in order to review his back. A pillow was propped under Hotch's neck to keep it stable _just in case._ The old man must have been able to hear both sides of the conversation and he examined Hotch with the focused gaze of a trained medic.

"No injuries" the old man responded to the unasked question and carefully rolled Hotch onto his back. A moment later something beeped and the old man removed a thermometer from Hotch's armpit. _I'll be damned_ she thought. I didn't even notice he'd put that there.

"Oh wow" the old man frowned as he read the therometer"106 degrees, that's no good"

JJ placed the cell phone back to her ear. "He has no other visible injuries and a temperature of 106" she barked into the receiver with more intensity then she had intended.

"I see" the voice never wavered but JJ could somehow tell the operator was concerned.

JJ listened to a further fifteen minutes of instructions and reassurances that the ambulance would arrive soon. By the time she finally hung up with the 911 Operator, JJ felt fairly confident that she, Hotch and the old man could hold out for another 30 to 45 minutes.

As the three of them waited, she eventually found her small town civility and asked the old man his name.

"Curtis" he replied with a smile.

JJ carefully regarded Curtis' and noted a few military tattoos. She combined the new information with his obvious medical background and asked him softly "Korea? Corpsman?"

"I'm sorry?" asked Curtis, clearly not understanding the question.

"You were a Corpsman during the Korean War." It was no longer a question.

Curtis beamed and shook his head. "Yes Ma'am" rightfully proud of his service.

"Well thank you for your service, both then and now" she smiled genuinely "I work with a former Marine. He's a Vietnam vet and one of the best people I know." She thought fondly of Rossi. "My name is JJ by the way" she extended a hand to Curtis across Hotch's still form. It felt a little awkward but she couldn't abandon her manners. Curtis laughed as he accepted her open hand and shook it jovially.

"Well if he's a jarhead, I'm sure he's mentioned that there are no former Marines" _only about a million times _thought JJ. "and you're welcome. I'm Glad I could help."

JJ turned her attention back to Hotch. He shivered on occasion but had not woken. He lay on his back with the bed sheet pulled up to his waist. Somehow the fact that he was bare-chested only made him look worse. His newly exposed skin clearly displayed the lack of contrast between the color of his pigment and the white bed sheets.

Originally, as Curtis completed his exam of Hotch, JJ was content to turn away and give them some privacy. She knew, at the very least, Hotch bore unwanted scars from recent years. And, because you can't help but profile each other, she recognized that he may hide scars from years long past. She knew deep down that Hotch wouldn't want her to be witness to either, but unfortunately for both of them, while Curtis was adeptly attending to his patient, JJ noticed a mark on his stomach that was too large to ignore, even from her peripheral.

The minute she saw the burn marks, she recognized them and she was entranced. That is how she found herself in her current predicament; making small talk with Curtis while silently regarding her colleague's chest with a mixture of concern and professional interest. She was certain she had seen those burn marks before but couldn't remember where, exactly. It must have been a case she'd reviewed _and probably rejected_ she mused.

The burn wasn't a single mark, but a series of circular burns that linked in a linear pattern and extended from the right side of Hoch's belly button to the left side of his back. It looked like an unfinished ring that was meant to connect at the other side of his bellybutton. At the center of each ringlet was what appeared to be a tiny, sloppy "Y" or possibly an unfinished "X". The pattern was distinctive _maybe I'm going crazy_ she thought.

JJ squinted as she tried to recall the specific case. After some pained concentration, it hit her and the details came flooding back. It was a Virginia State Police case. The victims had been three pre-pubescent boys. Two of the boys were found in Virginia and the third in Maryland. All three victims were found with the same circular burn marks. Unfortunately, the cases hadn't been linked until years later. Two of three of the victims had been orphans raised in group homes and the third was a runaway. The cases garnered little media attention. By the time it reached her desk, it had been eight years since the last victim was found and the evidence trail had run cold long ago. If JJ remembered correctly she had given the file to Morgan for his review and he had sent it back to the Virginia State Police with his analysis. The only reason she remembered the incident at all was because the peculiar burn marks had stood out in her mind.

20 Minutes later the ambulance arrived and JJ was forced to refocus her attention. JJ briefed the paramedics on Hotch's level of alertness, temperature, and known medications. She rattled off the pulse readings she'd collected for the last hour in accordance with the 911 operator's detailed instructions and relayed the results of Curtis' examination.

The paramedics, for their part, looked impressed and appreciative. JJ doubted they really needed her input and secretly wondered if the 911 operator hadn't been doing a little profiling of her own. JJ was fairly certain that most of the "treatment" she had administered to Hotch had been more for her benefit than his. _I guess everyone needs to feel in control sometimes _she mused as she hopped into the ambulance behind her supine colleague's gurney_. _


	3. Chapter 3

Apart from the few moments she had spent chatting with Hotch's doctor; JJ had spent the better part of two hours on the phone.

"Meningitis?" Rossi stated with shocked bemusement as he listened to JJ relay their friend's tentative diagnosis. He stared through the window of the jet at the black night. When he shifted his gaze toward the inside of the plane he was startled by the presence of Morgan, Reid and Blake who must have heard JJ on the other line and moved with the stealth of vampires to occupy the previously unoccupied seats surrounding him. _Sweet lord_ he thought slightly frightened by the trio of eaves droppers.

"Yeah Meningitis" JJ repeated from her plastic seat in the hospital lounge "they can't be 100% certain until they get some test results but his doctor seems pretty confident" In the background JJ could hear Reid predictably spouting off Meningitis statistics.

"Brain damage?" she could barely hear Rossi's shocked response to one of the less fortunate statistics "Holy crap JJ." He could be heard more loudly now as he directed his voice pointedly through the receiver. "Is there the potential for brain damage?" his voice was full of paternal concern.

In a repeat of the conversation she'd had with Hotch's doctor she assured them that Hotch had been evaluated and there was no reason to believe he had suffered any kind of brain damage nor was there any reason to believe that he wouldn't make a full recovery in a few weeks.

After rearranging airline tickets, coordinating with the Missoula Sheriff's Office, Skyping with Will and Henry, calming down Beth and then calming down Garcia who hadn't been present on the Jet during the first phone call, JJ was beat. She finally placed the phone back in her pocket and tiredly sauntered back to Hotch's room to check on him before she turned in for the night.

The nurses had assured her that he wouldn't be awake for at least another six to eight hours. She pulled up an uncomfortable chair beside his sleeping form and smiled when she noticed how much better he looked. Aside from a few beeping machines and some IV's he looked like he was napping. A healthy hue had returned to his pigment and while there were still signs of fever, the shivers and profuse sweating seemed to have subsided.

JJ sighed as she allowed herself to ponder the burn marks on Hotch's stomach that she now knew lay just beneath the surface of his hospital gown. She'd pushed the issue to the back of her mind for the last several hours but now that she had a moment of peace she was forced to consider the repercussions of her unintended _and unwanted _discovery.

As an investigator and a profiler she knew that weather she wanted to or not, she had stumbled onto potential evidence in a cold case, serial homicide. To ignore that evidence would go against everything she believed in. As a friend she knew that the burn marks were almost certainly something Hotch didn't want to discuss with anyone, not even the team, let alone the Virginia State Police. That discussion would be unavoidable if she released the information to the local case agent.

Hotch would be embarrassed if she'd told him what she'd seen and even more embarrassed when she requested to send a photograph to the local authorities for a comparison to the marks on the victims. She could picture herself facing his stony expressionless face as she sputtered and stuttered nervously, trying to explain how she'd encountered the marks in the first place. For a few weeks he would pretend not to be mad and attempt to come up with logical reasons not to contact the State Police but eventually he would see her logic and do his duty. When he did, they would photograph him and interview him and he would be forced to let go of whatever shred of his personal life that this job hadn't already taken from him. That's the part that JJ feared the most.

She rubbed her temples in frustration. JJ realized that she couldn't ignore the situation for very long. She needed to sleep and eat and read stories to her little boy and she wouldn't be able to focus with this hanging over her shoulders.

_Is this really that big a deal_ she thought _I saw a couple of photographs several years ago. It's entirely possible that the burns are nothing alike_ she reasoned. _Burns are common in child abuse cases. The similarities could easily be a coincidence._ _If I send them an unidentified close up maybe they can rule it out as a match_ _and that might spare us all a lot of unnecessary heartache_.

JJ made her decision. She stood up and gingerly pealed down the top half of Hotch's gown, grateful that the hospital staff hadn't fastened the back. She continued until she had uncovered the distinctive burn marks. She then pulled her phone out of her pocket and took a close up photograph of the offending marks. After rolling the gown back over her boss she dialed Garcia's number.

"Hey what's up?" Garcia's voice was full of concern.

"Nothing, sorry" she forgot that Garcia assumed the worst during late night phone calls, especially when they had a team member in the hospital. "Everything is fine I just wanted to ask you a favor before I forget."

"Ask away" Garcia replied with uncharacteristic forwardness.

"I need you to track down contact information for a Virginia State Trooper who submitted a case a few years ago"


	4. Chapter 4

Garcia grabbed the remote from the conference room table and pointed it towards the flat screen on the wall. A picture of "Mr. Hanky the Christmas Poo" from the South Park television series appeared on the screen. Most of the team laughed with the exception of Hotch and JJ.

Among the less enjoyable meningitis facts is that one of the methods of transmission is contact with fecal matter. Upon learning this fun tidbit, the team (but really Morgan and Garcia mostly), had decided to bombard Hotch with an endless parade of crap jokes.

It started on his first day back when he found a plastic turd sitting on his desk chair. Hotch didn't really get the joke at first. He hadn't really thought about how he might have contracted the illness. He was too busy feeling like crap.

When he walked out to the bullpen, turd in hand, everyone tried to stifle their laughter except for Reid who looked genuinely concerned about Hotch's potential reaction_. I told them it was stupid idea_ thought Reid. _I'm not covering for them if he gives that one angry look_…._I hate that look_.

"I imagine this is a joke of some kind" genuine confusion showed on Hotch's face "but it can't be a very good one if the subject doesn't get it"

As Morgan, Rossi and Garcia laughed uncontrollably, Reid was forced to explain some of the Meningitis facts that Hotch had missed as a result of the two weeks he had spent at home sleeping, retching and recovering.

Since that day in the bullpen, the team had come up with what seemed like a thousand and one ways to make poop references. Hotch realized that if he would have had glared angrily at the team on that first day, he probably wouldn't be dealing with a Southpark drawing at the start of a serial rape case presentation. Hotch decided to end it now and leveled Garcia with a glare that said _Okay it's gone a bit too far now_ and the laughter ended abruptly.

"Okay" said Garcia with trepidation "So the poop jokes are over I guess."

Garcia pushed on like a professional and within 45 minutes the team was on the Jet and headed to Boise Idaho.

After a couple of hours on the plane Hotch stood up from his seat next to Rossi and walked toward the coffee maker. As he neared the forward end of the cabin he passed Reid, Morgan and Blake who were still discussing poop while they played a game of spades.

"Actually" Hotch heard Reid say "…fecal matter is only a common method of transmission in viral Meningitis and since Hotch had bacterial meningitis…." Reid's voice trailed off as Hotch moved further away from the Trio and closer to his final destination. Hotch rolled his eyes as he passed them and tried to block out the conversation completely.

As Hotch poured his coffee he allowed himself a moment to observe JJ. Yesterday evening she had received a phone call that clearly upset her and since then she had rebuffed every friendly inquiry, every offer for a "shoulder to cry on" and every gesture of comfort. It was very Un-JJ of her, to say the least.

"Give her some space! She isn't you Hotch!" Rossi said sternly "She doesn't hold things in unnecessarily" Hotch snorted sarcastically "Seriously. I know JJ and she likes to talk things out. If she's keeping something to herself she probably has a good reason. Leave her alone"

Hotch realized that giving counsel wasn't his strong suit. There were a few occasions when his stern countenance and pragmatism were exactly what was needed, but normally he was the last person anyone wanted to talk to.

Hotch tried to be aware of his own weaknesses so when a team member was going through a rough patch, (and someone else hadn't already noticed) He would send Rossi or JJ to exercise their considerable talents on that front. Hotch normally found unspoken or unnoticeable ways to support the team when they were suffering.

But there was one topic for which JJ, in particular, sought Hotch's council above all others. Whenever she encountered a problem with Will or Henry she would find him in his office after hours. On those nights he would offer her scotch and she would pour out her heart to him.

He remembered last year after her family had been briefly held captive by a couple of bank robbers and Will's partner had been killed, JJ spent more than a few late nights in Hotch's office trying to figure out how to help her husband through his grief and guilt. Hotch eventually convinced her to let him take Henry for a weekend so the couple could talk _and maybe a few other things_ without worrying about their son.

"I know the boy will have nightmares" Hotch had said in response to JJ's protests "but he is going to need to deal with being in a strange place eventually, and at least I know what to do"

After JJ and Will relented, Henry eventually did come over one weekend late in May. As expected the little boy had a nightmare. It was jack who woke the screeching child, hugged him and gave him a glass of water. Hotch entered just in time to watch his son propose a perimeter defense plan that the two of them had used several times since Haley's death.

"We can build a fort near the couch facing the outside window and we can play Chutes and Ladders while we watch for bad guys" His son said with a comforting smile "and if we see any bad guys then dad will stop them….but no bad guys will come, you'll see" Jack looked to his father who stood in the doorway "can we dad?" Hotch stood amazed at his son's depth of understanding and his simple kindness _he is his mother son _he thought.

"Of course Jack" he smiled "Is that what you want Henry? We would have to stay up all night and maybe watch some movies and play some games to stay awake." Hotch watched as the emotions on Henry's face transformed from fear and uncertainty to unbridled joy. The boys fell asleep on his lap in the comfort and protection of their hastily made pillow fort watching Despicable Me on an iPad. The television had literally been two feet away but Henry had insisted they continue to man the Fort.

When Hotch walked into the BAU on Monday he didn't even get ten feet into the bull pen before JJ rushed him and enveloped him in a bear hug. Contrary to popular belief Hotch enjoyed a nice hug, especially when it was a genuine one, but he didn't really have time to prepare for this one so it was an awkward few seconds before he was able to figure out what was happening and finally wrap his arms around her in response.

"Thanks" she said releasing him

"Least I could do. I guess it helped?" he smiled

"It did" she replied

"I'm glad" he said simply.

After a beat, the pair noticed Rossi and Morgan staring down at them from the walkway above the bullpen with what Rossi would describe as a pair of shit-eating grins.

"What are you two idiots smiling at" asked JJ suspiciously.

"Nothing it's just nice to know that mom and dad had a nice play date" Morgan directed his statement directly at JJ. She, in turn, threw the pair a lewd gesture. Hotch rolled his eyes and headed towards his office to face an unending mound of paperwork. "You can never make it disappear" he remembered Gideon once saying "you can only hope to keep it a manageable size"

Hotch remembered that hug fondly. He remembered every hug he'd ever received and that one was definitely in the top five. It seemed so seldom that he could actually do something tangible to help a friend and that weekend had been one of his rare successes. Now he looked at her staring out the window of the jet with a blank stare and it broke his heart to not know what was bothering her.

His team had been through a lot both personally and professionally and even though some of their challenges had seemed insurmountable, at least he (usually) knew what those challenges were. He knew when Reid's mom had a schizophrenic break and the hospital had to call. He knew that, weather he would admit it or not, Morgan would have nightmares every time they had a case involving pedophiles. He knew when Bakes separation from her husband was starting to overwhelm her and he knew that since Strauss death, Rossi had been suffering from a bought of guilt and depression.

All of these problems he knew about, and even though he wasn't the best councilor there were a multitude of little things he could do to try and ensure that life didn't overwhelm them. They usually involved making them work less hours or making them work more hours, maybe ensuring that someone was with them on a long weekend or challenging Morgan to a boxing match that he knew he would loose and his body would regret. He'd ask Rossi how to make the perfect pasta for Jack and on a few occasions he gone so far as to find work to do in Boston or Las Vegas so Reid and Blake could visit their families, but right now as he looked at JJ there was nothing he could do and his impotence was killing him…

"Hey" a voice interrupted his reverie. Somehow Rossi had moved all the way from his seat to the coffee maker without Hotch noticing. "Stop it. I could hear you thinking from my seat" Rossi Continued "Leave JJ alone. This is one of those times when we let her come to us when she is ready. Now sit down." Hotch sighed and walked to his seat. Rossi was right. Rossi was always right….


	5. Chapter 5

JJ was terrified. She was terrified and angry and a little dumbfounded. It had been a month _a friggin month_ since she had sent a photograph of some suspicious burns she had seen on an unconscious and delirious Hotch to a Detective from the Virginia state police for comparison to three cold case homicide victims.

When she first sent the photograph, JJ had felt pretty damn good about herself. After three weeks passed without a word from the Virginia State Police she was elated. Her plan had worked. She had spared Hotch the knowledge that a co-worker had seen evidence of his past, as well as the shame she knew would accompany that knowledge. She had also stayed true to her conscience as an investigator and a profiler. _Done and done_ she had thought happily.

She considered a follow up email to the lead detective, _but No news is good news, right? _She concluded that the photograph she had taken of Hotch must not have matched the images from the case file _or I would have heard from someone by now_.

Unfortunately JJ's brilliant plan was instantly dismantled the day before yesterday when she received a call from Detective Delgado of the Virginia State Police.

"Hello my name is Detective Delgado from the Virginia State police" the minute she had heard the law enforcement agency she knew what the call was about.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to get back to you Ma'am" said an apologetic voice on the other end of the telephone line.

_Seriously! _She thought angrily_ it's been three weeks. The Mounties only take a couple of days to respond and they are in friggin Canada._

"I took a month of medical leave when my daughter was born" the detective continued by way of explanation "I didn't get your email until a few days ago and It took me some time to compare the new photograph to the old ones"

JJ listened with increasing horror as Detective Delgado described how similar the photographs had been and how excited he was that new evidence had emerged. He had been the lead detective on the second victim's homicide. The murder had been staged to look like a suicide and because of the boy's station and witness accounts regarding the victim's disposition just prior to the homicide, Detective Delgado hadn't spent much time questioning the suicide. It wasn't until a year later, when the detective got wind of a victim in Maryland with some strange burn marks that he had considered that the case may have been a homicide. A quick review of the autopsy report confirmed Delgado's suspicion and within a month the Detective had found a third victim from among a sea of lost and forgotten case files _and a sea of lost and forgotten souls_. Delgado, of course, blamed himself for failing to do his due diligence. For her part JJ found herself wishing that, just this once, the lead detective had been a salty, angry "sweep it under the rug" type, instead of a man with a conscience and a desire to do good in the world.

Delgado further explained that he would need a better image. He needed a photograph taken with a camera with higher pixilation for a more detailed comparison and, of course, an interview with the new victim.

"Unless you want to come and consult on this case yourself?" the Detective suggested excitedly "I realize I am supposed to invite you in, but I'd more than invite you, I'd roll out a red carpet."

"I don't know" JJ replied hesitantly "Obviously I don't make decisions in a vacuum but I'll brief my boss. For now I'll need to work on getting the victim to cooperate" JJ sighed sadly as she thought of the now unavoidable conversation with Hotch.

"Yeah" he paused "I was going to ask you why he'd withheld his identity." She could hear the confusion in his tone "Don't get me wrong, I figured it would be difficult to convince someone like that to testify if it ever came to that, but why come forward only to keep your identity a secret."

"Well," JJ hoped the annoyance wasn't too obvious in her tone "if I get him to cooperate then you can ask him yourself but until then give me a couple of weeks, okay?"

She hung up with the detective feeling overwhelmed by a sense of dread. That dread only increased as the hours rolled by and she had time to contemplate every possible outcome of her impending conversation with Hotch. Now two days had passed and she had never felt so stifled by a set of circumstances.

She had resolved to keep the situation regarding Hotch's burn marks to herself until they were back in Quantico. She wanted to allow Hotch to focus on the case without placing another burden on his shoulders. Unfortunately, at some point after she hung up with the Detective Delgado she realized something that made it progressively more difficult for JJ to hide the tumult within. This realization was the reason she hadn't followed up with the lead detective in the first place and the reason she was so happy when she hadn't received any initial response after sending the photograph.

_…I was wrong_ she realized. _No matter what my intentions were, I had no right to take that photograph without Hotch's permission_. Had it been any other case, she would never even have considered an action so intrusive without the victim's permission. _No I would never do that to a victim_ she admonished herself sardonically _I reserve that kind of crappy treatment for my friends._

It was true that she had wanted to help Hotch avoid embarrassment, but if JJ was honest with herself she had done it to avoid the argument and the potential damage to their friendship. She had sent a picture she had no right to send in order to avoid a discussion that Hotch had every right to engage in. Hotch had the right to argue with her about the release of his personal information. Even if she didn't agree with his decision, he had the right to withhold that information. She realized now that she had robbed him of that decision.

She would take it back if she could. She had made a rash decision on little sleep and an empty stomach and now she could think of nothing else beyond the potential damage to her career and her friendship.

"You need to tell him" Rossi said as they walked toward the suburban. They had just interviewed the victim's brother and JJ had to admit she had been distracted.

"What?" She had no idea what he was referring to.

"You need to tell Hotch whatever is bothering you" he waited a beat and then said "now!" for emphasis

"Rossi…"

"No" interrupted Rossi gruffly "don't deny it, just do it!"

"I realize I was a little distracted…"

"Distracted!?" He cut her off again, his tone edged on incredulity "JJ you were useless!" he threw his hands in the air

She was speechless. The comment was piercing and maddening and _God I hope an exaggeration_

Rossi sighed and his expression softened. His hands wiped at his face and then returned to his sides. JJ had been more than a bit absentminded during the interview and he found himself exasperated by her inattentiveness. He realized he had a shorter fuse since Strauss had passed away and it had annoyed him more than it should have. _We all had off days_ he mused _calm down_ he breathed.

"I'm sorry" he admitted "you have never been useless. I shouldn't have said that." He grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her in the eye "but it is starting to affect your work now. I'm sure you think you have a good reason for keeping it from him…but you need to work it out."

JJ knew it was worthless to fight the man. She knew it was equally worthless to deny his insinuation or to ask him how he was _so certain_ her problem involved Hotch. She sighed deeply and ran a hand thorough her hair. "Rossi" she started "If I tell him it will just make this case impossible for both of us."

"Okay what is it then?" he asked "Maybe I can give you some advice."

"I can't tell you" she said pointedly

"What?" he was exasperated "JJ…"

"It's not my place to tell" she cut him off "God Rossi, you think if this were about me I wouldn't have spoken to someone by now" she pleaded "not being able to talk about this with someone is killing me but I just can't…..It's just…not my place" she trailed off

Rossi shook his head in annoyance. _He had a way shorter fuse since Strauss had passed away_ noted JJ.

"Fine!" he said in a clipped staccato "Tell him, or I'll make him come to you." He pointed and flailed and JJ couldn't help but think that he looked like an Italian stereotype using his hands so expressively "I may not know what the problem is but I know when someone is feeling guilty. If you've done something wrong then it's best to just tell him" he turned on his heel, opened the driver side door and disappeared into the driver's side of the Suburban. JJ sighed as she opened the passenger door. She stepped in and sat silently in the seat as she belted herself in. She turned to Rossi who was staring straight ahead and she noted that he hadn't turned on the ignition. He seemed to be waiting for a response.

"Okay" she sighed "I'll talk to him tonight at the hotel" she said softly.

"Good" he spoke softer and when he turned to look at her he wore a sad smile that reached his eyes. With that he turned on the ignition and drove towards the police station.


	6. Chapter 6

Hotch swung open his hotel room door with enough force to ensure it made a satisfying "thud" as it hit the outside wall. He observed his crisp, clean hotel room from the entry way and took a few weary steps inside. He took a deep breath and then threw his bag on the floor dramatically. He wanted to do something melodramatic to reflect his mood even if the only witness to his little outburst was the hotel mini fridge so he'd thrown his bag on the floor in the same way he'd seen television characters throw their belongings theatrically on a coat rack or a couch at the end of a stressful day. He sighed as he stared at his bag now haphazardly strewn on the floor. It looked messy and disorganized _and there are important case files in there that might be damaged._ Hotch quickly remembered why he avoided grand gestures _you're too anal retentive to really commit _he mused as he picked up the bag and placed it in a more appropriate location.

It had been a long day and he had committed to coming back to his hotel room and enjoying something overpriced from the mini bar before falling asleep. _Thank God I have my own room tonight_ he thought happily as he formulated his plan. He tried not to drink during cases but the Boise Police Chief had made his current experience in Idaho among the most grating of his career. He'd dealt with cases that were emotionally draining before, he'd even had a few dust ups with the locals before but nothing like this.

Everything with the Police Chief was an argument. Not only did he have to spend a ridiculous amount of time debating every decision with the man but the chief had pissed off every member of his team, and most of his own police force so instead of working the case, Hotch has spent an inordinate amount of time fielding complaints from his team members or listening to yet another officer explain how "We all think he's a dirt bag. Please stay and help us. Don't let this case go unsolved because of one asshole. You know what will happen if you leave. We don't have your resources or expertise" So Hotch had stayed and his headache had grown with every passing hour.

_Now where is that mini bar?_ He wondered as he shut the door and peeled off his tie and jacket.

"Ah ha!" he said to no one in particular as he spotted a rack full of miniature liquors. He plucked a Jameson from the top row and smiled as he grabbed one of the neatly laid out glasses from the table top. He plopped himself down on the bed with a harrumph, towed of his shoes and switched on the television. He twisted the tiny cap off of his bottle of Jameson and was two inches away from pouring it in his glass when….he heard a knock at the door.

_You've got to be kidding me_ he thought

"Who is it?" _I hope to God it's someone I can send away_

"It's JJ" came the muffled reply form the other side of the door.

_Dammit JJ! I forgot all about JJ!_ Hotch suddenly remembered. So much of his time had been monopolized by the case and the politics of the Boise_ PD _that he had almost forgotten how increasingly strained his interactions with JJ had become since they had arrived in Boise. JJ had started acting strange a few days ago but yesterday Hotch noticed that she was specifically avoiding him. It had become clear that Hotch was at the center of whatever was bothering her.

"One second" he yelled as he placed the tiny cap back on the Jameson bottle.

When he opened the door JJ was staring at the floor.

"Hey" he greeted "What's up?" he tried to keep it light. She still didn't look up

"Mind if I come in?" she asked, eyes still firmly fixed on the floor

"Sure" he replied "Can I expect to have this entire conversation with the top of your head" he said trying to add some levity. She looked up.

"I'm sorry Hotch" she sighed. Hotch stepped aside to allow her in and closed the door behind her as she entered the room.

He turned around to face her and was shocked by the turmoil he saw in her eyes. She didn't say anything.

"JJ" he finally burst out "The suspense is killing me. What in the hell is going on?"

She looked up at him and cleared her throat. She opened her mouth but nothing came out. She closed her mouth. Her resemblance to a fish in that moment almost made Hotch laugh but his face remained a stoic mask. She stopped trying to talk and started pacing. Hotch let her pace for a few minutes before he grabbed her lightly by the arms and forced her to face him. He looked down at her and fixed her with a questioning gaze.

"I saw the scars on your stomach when you had meningitis" she practically spat the words at him. She continued to stare. He dropped his arms from her shoulders to his sides trying to process her words.

"Oh" he replied. Stunned "Okay" he knew which scars she meant. He didn't think anything left by Foyet would spark such a dramatic admission. She already knew the stab marks left by Foyet's blade were there, even if she'd never seen them. He was suddenly feeling a little self-conscience. Now it was Hotch's turn to stare at the floor. _I knew that something like this might have happened. I knew she might have checked me out before I was taken to the hospital. _

"Well" he forced himself to look her in the eye. Staring at the floor would only make her uncomfortable and she didn't deserve that. It wasn't her fault "I knew that something like that may have happened. You did what you had to JJ."

He silently wished that her conscience hadn't brought her here tonight. If she hadn't told him what she'd seen then he could go on pretending that his past was his own little secret. Now he felt shame washing over him in waves. He was nearly overwhelmed with the urge to get away from JJ. His illogical, reptilian reaction caused him even more shame. He knew that that JJ wouldn't think of him as weak or foolish or vulnerable or any less capable as a leader but he couldn't escape the presumption.

"listen" he said firmly and with a fair amount of certainty that his stoic mask hadn't slipped "I am grateful that you were there" he grabbed her arms again in an effort to reassure her "If that's what has been upsetting you for the last few days then you've gotten yourself all worked up for nothing" he added a smile for effect.

"No Hotch" she spoke slowly "That's not what has me so upset." She brushed his hands off her shoulders and sat down in one of the hotel room wicker chairs next to the window.

"I want you to know something before I tell you this" she stared up at him and waited for an acknowledgement.

"Okay" he said quizzically as he quirked an eyebrow upward. His shame was slowly being replaced by suspicion.

"I did something wrong and I wish I could take it back" she started rambling "I did it without thinking and I did it because I thought I was protecting you and helping a victim and I would never intentionally do anything to hurt you and I wish I could take it back" _you already said that last part idiot_ she thought. "and most importantly I'm sorry" JJ sat there again waiting for an acknowledgement. Hotch placed his closed hand close to his mouth, confusion and suspicion now evident on his face.

"Okay" he acknowledged with a nod of his head.

JJ took a deep breath "I recognized the burns from an old case." She paused for a moment allowing the information to sink in "It was an eight year old cold case. There were three victims all young boys and all of them had the same burns that I saw on your stomach."

_Impossible!_ Hotch would have put voice to thought but at the moment he was so shocked that he didn't think he had the power of speech. He just stood there with the same stoic stare and his closed fist still resting over his mouth.

JJ wanted to say so much more than she could. She had run through the dialogue a million times in her head. She wanted to say _I knew that you would be embarrassed if I confronted you. Logically you'd understand why I invaded your privacy but silently you'd resent me. You'd pretend that it didn't bother you but in the end shame is in your nature. You'd end up revealing every sad detail of the story behind those burns to the Virginia State Police and more than likely the team would eventually find out. You'd be angry and resentful and you'd only have me to blame. _

But JJ didn't say that. She couldn't say that. Hotch needed control and he'd already been knocked too far of balance. Profiling him in this particular moment would just piss him off, so instead she said…

"I didn't know how to confront you" she started "I was embarrassed that I had looked in the first place. I didn't know how to tell you but I didn't want to withhold evidence so I did something stupid in the hopes that I was wrong and the burns were unrelated" she stared at him looking for some kind of permission to proceed. She received nothing but the same stoic stare. She starred him in the eye. "I took an anonymous picture with my phone while you were unconscious in the hospital and I sent it to the lead detective." The nature of his unwavering glare had somehow become icy and he hadn't even batted an eye "he called me the day before yesterday and said the burns seemed to match, but he couldn't be certain based on the quality of the photograph I'd taken." She looked at the ground again. She didn't say anything for a long time. She knew Hotch would be able to fill in the last sentence even if she didn't voice it. "He wants us to take the case if we're willing. If we won't take the case he still wants more photographs and an interview with you."

Hotch continued to stare at JJ and then he sat down on the bed. He didn't really know how to react. His brain was overloaded. JJ had just given him so much information in such a short period of time. Each new fact inspired a new set of emotional reactions and as his mind jumped from one piece of information to the next he just became more and more confused. The only thing he knew for certain was that he was angry…and embarrassed. Somewhere in Virginia there was a man with evidence of his most shameful experience and that past had been knowingly uncovered by someone he thought he could trust.

"It's not possible" Hotch stared at the wall. His voice was clipped and angry. JJ noted he was having a hard time controlling his facial features. She didn't think she could handle it if his eyes started to water "the person who did that to me died a long time ago"

_Your father, yes I know Hotch_ Thought JJ "Even so" she said softly "The burn patterns are too similar to ignore Hotch. There are too many coincidences. I should never have banked on the markings not matching. I should have told you from the start…."

"Yes you should have" Hotch interrupted and when he turned his head, his gaze nearly leveled her. His tone was measured and angry and sad and hurt and disappointed. She had expected rage but not this subtle disappointment. She wanted to be yelled at. Shed expected to be yelled at. She didn't even know what this was.

For his part, Hotch still didn't know what to do or how to feel. He knew he needed time to think things through because at the moment he felt the beginnings of a deep seated anger toward JJ and he knew that couldn't be right. He knew she must have had her reasons but at the moment he just wanted to punch something and he that wasn't helpful so he gathered up enough self-control to say…

"We need to focus on the case" his voice was flat "we can't do anything about this now so let's finish up here and well discuss it later."

"Hotch…"

"JJ" Hotch cut her off before she could say anything else. He grabbed the bridge of his nose and rubbed profusely as he squinted his tired eyes "we can't do anything now and I need sleep. I don't even know what to think of all this so let's put this off until we get home." he finished

"Okay" she replied noting his exhaustion. After a few moments she stood to leave. She turned the knob and pulled the door open. She looked at him before exiting "Hotch. I'm sorry" she added and waited patiently for a reply.

He looked up at her tiredly "Okay thanks" he replied dismissively. He knew he should have let it go right then and there. Were he a better man he would have told her that he knew she did it for the right reasons. Were he a better man he would have forgiven her right then and there, but he was not a better man, so he let her slip out the door without another word.

When she shut the door he once again removed the cap from his tiny Jameson bottle but instead of pouring it into the glass he drank it in one swig. Hotch stood up and walked back to the mini bar and finished off a tiny Smirnoff followed by a tiny Patron. He stared in the mirror and slapped himself in the face a few times thinking the action would somehow restore some sense of control. Then he turned off the light and got into bed fully clothed. He spent the next seven hours staring at the ceiling and trying to figure out a way to shut down his mind long enough to fall asleep. He'd had nights like this before. He knew it wouldn't work.


	7. Chapter 7

Hotch clenched the edge of the desk. His face and body remained controlled, and as always, he looked professional. With the exception of his tight grasp on the desk he appeared calm. His fingers clasped down with increasing pressure until his hands turned white.

The shootout made national news within ten minutes of the incident. Few things amazed Hotch like the speed and cunning of a reporter on a blood trail, and in this case, there was one hell of a blood trail. Edited footage of the shooting played on the twenty-four hour news networks for the last half hour. Blake and Morgan who had become close to one of the slain officers (and had consequently begged Hotch to allow them to participate in the doomed mission that had resulted in the officer's death) had stormed out twenty minutes ago, presumably to smoke or punch walls or participate in any number of destructive activities that would relieve their immediate despair. Hotch knew the pair would blame him for a little while, but the only thing that kept him from killing the Police Chief who had ordered the disastrous mission in the first place, was the fact that his team was safe.

"This isn't you fault" said Reid quietly from the seat next to him. Reid had remained so quiet through Blake and Mogan's outburst that Hotch had forgotten the younger man was sitting there.

"I know" replied Hotch

Reid coughed and cleared his throat and remained quiet for a few more minutes. Hotch could hear the gears turning in the younger man's head as he contemplated further words of comfort.

"I know you think they blame you, but they don't" he murmured.

"Yes they do" Hotch sighed "but that's okay, as long as they are still breathing"

"No you think they blame you because that is your default assumption but I promise you they don't" he paused "not even for a second. They are just angry." Hotch turned his head and looked quizzically at the younger man who so rarely engaged Hotch on such matters. He didn't really know how to take this kind of advice from Reid. It's not that he didn't respect the genius. It was just out of character.

"I hope your right" Hotch replied

"I am right" Reid stated simply "and you should really let go of that desk" he suggested with a wry smile "I've never been so afraid for an inanimate object"

Hotch laughed softly and looked back at the televised coverage of the shooting. His smile quickly disappeared and he grabbed the desk with renewed vigor.

For his part Reid just sighed. This case had been a disaster. In all his years at the BAU he could really only remember one case that had been so politically draining and complicated. Usually the biggest problem they had to deal with was the unsub, but in this case the Police Chief had made decisions that led to the unnecessary deaths of his officers and the BAU was forced to stand by and watch. The impotence was killing all of them but Hotch looked like he was on the verge of losing control. That scared the crap out of Reid.

The team had delivered the profile yesterday morning and by lunch they had narrowed down the suspect pool to Vernon Williams, a known sex offender and a Sovereign Citizen. They had profiled that his house would be well fortified. They had profiled that he would have explosives, booby traps, and multiple assault weapons. They had profiled that he would not surrender and that he would take out as many officers as possible in his attempt to "go out in a blaze of glory". They had implored the Police Chief to send a tactical team.

"The SWAT team is on another mission" the Chief replied

"Our Hostage Rescue Team would be happy to help…" Hotch was interrupted before he could finish.

"Out of the question" he said angrily "How long would it take them to get here? Hours…days?"

"Yes, it might take a few hours, but there is no rush…"

"No rush?" screamed the chief "Five dead girls and you are telling me there is no rush?"

"We know where he is. Your officers have secured the perimeter. He has no victims in the home. There is no reason to rush" Hotch was pleading now "If you send patrol officers in that house without long guns, shields, flash bangs, something, anything other than a pistol, you will lose officers tonight! You will lose them! Don't you see that? There is no reason…!" Hotch was yelling now. A crowd had developed at the door to the chief's office. "This unsub is the reason we develop tactical teams in the first place. You must see that. There is no reason for this. A tactical team with shields and long guns…"

"I know what capabilities a SWAT team has Agent Hotchner and I know this city. I know this subject and I know my officers. They are more than capable of securing that house" He snarled

"listen to me" His voice was controlled bow "This has nothing to do with ability and everything to do with equipment. Please just wait for SWAT to finish their mission or the FBI will support. Whatever you need"

"You can't seriously be thinking about sending patrol officers in there" Morgan chimed in from the doorway. Hotch glared at Morgan. The conversation was confrontational enough without another "Fed" whipping out his addition to a measuring contest that had already spun out of control. Hotch tried to amp it down. _You challenged his authority. You have to give him a reason to do what you're asking that still makes him feel dominant_ he thought.

"Okay" _breath Hotchner get it together_ "Okay, listen, I'm Sorry. You're right I don't know as much about the city." He paused "I've crossed a line and I'm sorry for that. Agent Reid has some additional information. He might better explain some things. Let me send him in here to finish briefing you on the case."

"We don't have time for any more briefings Agent Hotchner." The chief sneered "We can sit here and talk for hours or we can go get the bad guy. I know the FBI likes to talk, but this is a police force. We have to actually enforce the law here." He looked towards the crowded door "Detective Harrison!" He yelled.

The lead detective on the case, Detective Harrison, emerged from the group of newly assembled onlookers.

"Yes Sir?" asked a beleaguered looking detective.

"Go get him!" the chief said firmly with an air of what could only be described as hubris.

"Yes Sir, but do you mind if I talk to you for just a minute?" The chief was hesitant but relented.

The onlookers poured out. Hotch and Harrison shared a knowing look before Hotch exited the office and the door shut firmly on the session between Harrison and his boss. The discussion quickly escalated to yelling that could be heard through the closed office door. The Detective was clearly of the same mind as the BAU and realized that he and his officers were ill equipped to secure a well-fortified residence without likely amassing casualties. As the argument in the closed office escalated, the officers in and around the bullpen began whispering their dissent.

"He's gonna get us killed for a promotion" He heard one officer whisper. "Maybe the suspect is not as bad as they say?" speculated another. "Yeah but why risk it? It doesn't make any sense. I've never seen a boss this stupid before and I've seen some rocks." another replied.

Harrison was unsuccessful in his attempt to convince his boss to wait for a tactical team. A half-hour later the Detective left to link up with the officers on perimeter security at the William's residence. Their orders were to secure the residence and apprehend the subject. Hotch, Blake and Morgan accosted the Detective at the door on his way out.

"You don't have to do this" said Blake "We have connections. This guy shouldn't be leading a flea circus let alone a police department"

"She's right" added Hotch "We can build a civil case against him if you refuse to participate and he attempts any form of retribution."

Morgan was about to chime in but the Detective put up his hand to stop the verbal onslaught

"I hope you do make a case against him." The detective said "I really do. But that doesn't solve the immediate problem." He sighed "If I don't do it, then someone else will. It's my case. I have a hand-picked team of good guys with solid tactical backgrounds" he paused for effect "and none of them have kids." With that he offered his hand to Hotch who sighed and reluctantly shook the offered hand. The detective shook hands with Morgan and gave Blake a hug. "Thanks for the help. We would never have found him without you guys." He smiled "we'll be fine" And then he was gone; along with the two other officers whose lives were lost needlessly that evening.

Hotch continued to grip the table like a lifeline. Maybe Blake and Morgan would have made a difference, but he couldn't take unnecessary risks with his people's lives. He took enough necessary risks. There had to have been something more he could have done. Someone he could have called. He just didn't try hard enough. In that moment he thought of his father. _Dammit Hotch get it together. I've got to get out of here._ His reverie was interrupted by screaming.

"I didn't' know. I didn't know" cried a teenage boy who was being dragged on either side by two very angry looking officers.

"Shut up, shut up" the officer on the boys left yelled. The officer was covered in blood and didn't seem to have much patience for the wailing teenager. Hotch recognized the Officer as Joseph Leary. He had noted Leary among other officers because he had a friendly face and a kindly demeanor. Now the man was inches away from a break down.

"Shut up" the threesome had halted its procession and the officer and the boy were now simply yelling

"I didn't know" the boy cried

"Shut up" the officer continued "shut the fuck up or I'll kill you. Shut up"

"I didn't know." the boy wailed and attempted to fall to his knees forcing the officers to bear his weight.

Leary's face contorted in hatred and annoyance. Hotch realized he might punch the teenager. Luckily Rossi emerged from thin air.

_Where the hell did he come from _thought Hotch _and how in the hell does he do that?  
_Rossi placed a firm hand on Officer Leary's shoulder and when the two exchanged glances Rossi saw the anguish of a man who had just lost a friend. Rossi knew the look too well.

"Who is this?" he calmly asked the officers, referring to the weeping teenager.

A pregnant pause fell over the conversation. Leary was desperately trying to control his breathing and prevent tears from falling. The second officer decided it was a good time to speak up.

"This is Kel Williams" said the second officer "he is Vernon's son. They found him in the basement." The officer continued. "He says he didn't know anything." The boy was practically lying on the floor now suspended loosely from his armpits by the grip of his captors. He continued to weep.

Rossi's hand hadn't moved from Leary's shoulder. He looked the anguished officer in the eye. "Let us talk to him?" he asked softly. Leary didn't answer. He simply nodded and relinquished control of his portion of the prisoner. Rossi and the second officer hoisted the teenager to his feet and dragged the crying youngster to the interrogation room.

The officer cuffed the boy to the interrogation room table and then looked to Rossi "you need anything else?" asked the tired man.

"No" replied Rossi "are you going to get some sleep?"

The officer looked at him confused "what?" he finally asked.

"Nothing, it's just" Rossi paused "I'm really sorry about your friend"

The officer stared at the ground. "Thank you" he said without looking up. Then he exited the room.

The boy sat with his head in his hands and continued to cry albeit more silently. Rossi approached the boy and offered to un-cuff him.

"Really?" the red faced boy asked.

"Really" replied Rossi. "You want some water" he offered

"Yes please" The boy looked more hopeful.

Rossi walked out of the room to grab the promised water and confer with Reid and Hotch, who he knew would have moved to the observation room by now.

"Hey" he said to his colleagues who were now staring at the teenager through the one sided mirror "what do you think?"

"JJ just called me from the subject's residence" Started Reid "Given where Vernon kept the girls, it's unlikely that Kel could have been oblivious to his father's activities. Given the large number of casings spread throughout the residence its possible Kel participated in the shooting." Rossi nodded and looked to Hotch who seemed distracted.

"Hotch?" said Rossi with some annoyance "any thoughts?"

Hotch looked at Rossi "We should get Morgan and Blake in here." He said simply "they'll want to see this." Hotch stared back at the boy and considered the teenager quizzically while Reid dutifully contacted his teammates.

Rossi leaned over to Hotch who was still staring a little eerily at the teenager.

Rossi arched an eyebrow and leaned in to speak in Hotch's ear "Are you okay?" he inquired softly.

"Yeah fine" came the predictable response.

"Okay Reid and I will talk to him" said Rossi "I think having another young person in there might be helpful. "He seemed to react well to the soft approach" he continued "let's see where that leads us…."


End file.
