Work Text:
He’d been listening to see who would come find him. The cases that involved kids were always the worst and this case was even worse for Aaron Hotchner because he and the team were in Maine while his partner of over four years was across the country in Nevada, finishing his extended leave and currently unreachable by phone.
It had been chilly out when he’d wandered to the bar, probably even colder now that the sun had gone down. Hotch hadn’t had his suit jacket with him, would probably wish he did later. Through the haze of trying to drink away eight infant boys who’d died at the hands of a madman, Hotch was aware the bartender, and likely owner in a place that small, kept giving him a worried look. He had plans to sit quietly in his chair until he was told it was time to leave, and then wander back to the hotel to hopefully sleep it off till morning.
At some point long after he’d lost count of the glasses that had rotated before him, but still hadn’t erased the memory of the last little boy who looked so much like their own, Hotch felt a gust of cool air as the door opened. He barely picked out the sound of footsteps across the tile floors; if he had to guess, size seven and a half, black, ankle height heeled boots. Seconds later a mostly familiar face swam into view, long blonde hair brushed against his hands as a glass was taken away.
He tried to smile at her, not sure if he actually managed it. He wanted to convince her he wasn’t drunk, but JJ’d been a good profiler long before she’d taken the classes and he knew deep down she knew how to read him like a book. He tried to cooperate as she helped him up. His size was almost too much for her to manage, but after a slight stumble, she had him moving in the direction of the door.
Outside he tried to walk independently despite her protests and what he was fairly certain was one accusation of being a ‘stubborn ass’. In his attempt he managed to fall, smacking one knee hard into the pavement bringing tears to his eyes and soaking his pants in muddy water from a puddle.
The next think he knew, he was seated in the passenger seat of the SUV, JJ leaning across to secure him. He reached out and ran fingers through her hair, having always suspected it was as soft as it looked.
JJ took his hand and folded both into his lap, “Keep your hands there. Hotch, it will only take a minute to get back, but if you need me to pull over, say so. Okay?”
He nodded, afraid if he tried to speak, he would slur horribly.
He must have dozed off because he woke to the sound of JJ on the phone as they pulled into the front of the building. She hung up and got out, coming around to open his door. “The others got held up. I think maybe we should wait and have Morgan and Rossi help you upstairs.”
It took a minute for him to process her words, “No, we can go up.” He tried to get out, forgetting he was still buckled.
JJ shook her head and calmed him before pressing the button and freeing him from the seat. She checked her watch and sighed, helping him stagger to the doors, noticing just in time as he went a shade of white then green. He couldn’t help but sway as he threw up in the bushes alongside the entrance. Where they’d had to stop there wasn’t anything to hold onto, so JJ did her best to hold him up. Finally it seemed like he was okay and they continued up to his room.
She directed him to the bathroom to get cleaned up; telling him it would all be okay soon. He wasn’t sure how it would be okay, but he trusted her. She appeared with a pair of pajamas and frowned at him trying to manage the buttons on his shirt. “Hotch, stop. Let me do it, okay?”
She ended up helping him completely undress and step into the tub. He was sure that later he would be embarrassed.
The water running over him seemed to help clear his head, though it didn’t help settle his stomach. He’d had to be sick twice more while in the shower. When JJ returned, she frowned more, this time at the smell of scotch that still lingered.
“Get dry and dressed and come lay down. They should be here shortly.” She vanished again into the main room.
---
Hotch woke to the room dark and someone’s fingers holding his wrist. He heard a whisper from somewhere in the dark asking how is it, the person holding his arm replying that it was still strong.
The next time he woke, the curtains were wide open and all the lights were on for good measure. He groaned and held his head, unsure which pain he was feeling was the most urgent. He tried to get up, but was pushed back down again; the movements made his stomach roll. He tried again with the same result and felt something pressed against him right as he was spectacularly sick. All he could do was pray that it was almost over, one way or another. As his body settled down, he heard a voice he wasn’t expecting.
“For the record, I think you deserve how you’re feeling now.”
He tried to look up at his boyfriend, but everything was still fairly blurry. “How…”
“Morgan called. It took time to wrap up what I was doing and get a direct flight. I saw the file though. The little boy who …, taken and beaten to death. I’m sorry you couldn’t reach me, but from what I’ve spent all night hearing, you didn’t reach out to anyone else either. Just a glass.”
“All night?” He winced at the sound of his still-slurred voice.
“Someone had to stay up and make sure you didn’t choke to death. JJ finally went to sleep, she was here when I arrived and stayed till Dave came to relieve her.”
It took a minute to process, “Dave?”
The older man came into view, frowning, “We have to be at the plane in three hours. You have two to get sorted out.” He stood and left them alone.
Reid busied himself collecting all of Aaron’s things, packing them away. He was upset, but he knew he needed time before confronting his partner.
Once everyone was settled on the jet and Aaron had been forced into a handful of pain killers and a bottle of water, he was left at the back of the plane alone while everyone else started a round of poker. He startled when JJ sat down beside him.
“He loves you more than anything in the world. He dropped everything out in Vegas when Morgan called and told him what the case looked like. Last night he told me that seeing you passed out, he was afraid you weren’t going to wake up. He wanted to take you to the hospital to have your stomach pumped. I convinced him you’d thrown most of it up by then.” She looked back at the younger man and then back to her boss, “He’s hurting too and he’s trying to be strong through this for you. But we all understand Aaron, Dave and I…we really get it. Maybe you need to take more time off.”
“No, I can’t sit at home and stare at that room.” His eyes welled with tears, “The room’s still all done up. Jack snuck in and took one of the teddy bears, he doesn’t think we know. If I sit at home then the room keeps reminding me that there’s no one to fill it.”
The others were trying to subtly eavesdrop; JJ ignored them as she took her boss’s hands. “What if we came by and moved everything? Packed it up? Do you thing that would help?”
Hotch chewed his lip, tears finally splashing down his cheeks as he screwed his eyes shut. Finally he nodded.
“Okay, I’ll sort it out.” She gave him a hug before returning to the front of the plane, where she stopped and pulled Reid into a hug as well. “We’re all here. No matter what.” She whispered into his ear.
When the plane touched down a short time later, everyone filed off leaving Reid and Hotch alone on-board. The younger man studied his partner from a distance. The stress lines were back, they’d all but vanished in the months leading up. Hotch had been so happy and that joy had bled into everything and everyone around him. But since that phone call, the one that had told them everything had gone horribly wrong, he’d retreated into himself. Become sullen and often moody. Spencer hadn’t been worried about the drinking, it wasn’t enough to be considered a habit, but the amount Hotch drank those times he did had changed exponentially.
Hotch stared at his shoes. He didn’t know how to shake the pressing feeling of emptiness that overwhelmed him much of the time. He felt more than saw Spencer cross the small space and kneel beside his seat.
“Aaron. Let’s go home. We’ll pack up Jack and take him on a trip. Something special, a good memory? Then we will save pictures and things we pick up in a special box and it will be Ryan’s special box. Then one day, when it doesn’t hurt so much we can pull the box out and remember how happy we were waiting for him to be born? We can add the letters from Annie about how she felt carrying him and the coming home outfit and other the other things that we bought for him.” He leaned in to press a kiss to Aaron’s lips, “One day this won’t hurt. One day we will wake up and might even want to try again.”