𝗗𝗢𝗡'𝗧 𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗠𝗘 | 𝘼. 𝙃𝙊𝙏𝘾𝙃𝙉𝙀𝙍

fourteen

Beside you, his touch was soft and delicate. The cat was curled up at the foot of the bed as you slept. Him. He was with you and the morning was quiet and perfect. Feeling him shift about and get up, you turned over to watch him walk towards the bathroom and how grateful you were to have him. His steps were near silent; he saw that you were awake, jumping back and leaning close to you. You admired him. His dark, straight hair that fell across his forehead, those eyes- those small earths were still trapped in there.

Hands were rough and wandering across the bed such as lost travellers do. He stared right at you. You stared back. It was something else, something you couldn't quite describe. Home, maybe? Home clearly wasn't meant to last as you scared yourself awake, that lingering touch of his hand still rested on you, even though you knew he was gone, you looked around regardless- no, he was still lost.

'We've got something,' JJ called into the office and you grabbed your files.

'In the collision, I tracked down all of them on that day and yours did come up, however no deaths on were recorded on his behalf,' Garcia recalled looking away as not to mention your parents, 'But once I checked for any accidents on the same date so many years earlier and there was one in that particular area,' she pointed towards the screen.

Extremely old and grainy, a newspaper article appeared and showed a family photo. A woman who had auburn hair and fair skin was stood with an older boy and child with brown hair and a beaming smile, but the father was an odd sort of man. His hair receded in white with tufts of grey, and his moustache was the same; he looked oily, like he was always a little too hot and would complain about it often. Not the type of man you thought would be a father.

'Three years prior on that date, our unsub, or 'Smiler' was in a similar head on collision but then lost his wife in the accident,' Spencer added.

'And then about six months after that, his son stole a gun from his dad's store unit and committed suicide. He couldn't cope with the loss of his mother,' JJ said. Creating a mental jigsaw, you placed every piece on the clear board ahead of you and attempted to link them together. From his first collision which caused the death of his wife, you saw the link in his behaviour change when his son died too. Smiler then wanted to cause that pain on another family.

'He wanted that pain on someone else,' you stated after a silent, processive five minutes, 'I think I know why he targeted my family,' you recounted, calling your aunt into the room.

'Angie, do you remember that case my father worked on? The one with the family where that man's wife died, and he was accusing the other person of driving recklessly?'

'Yes, like it was yesterday- it was one of his last cases,' she recalled.

'And then he lost the case because they found no evidence from the crash that the other driver was guilty,' you stopped, wondering how you missed it all along, 'He resented my dad for losing the case. All he wanted was closure,' you said with no sympathy, despite the words of realisation coming out of your mouth.

'That was that weird man, he constantly rang up your dad and told him how to do his job as a prosecutor and every single time I saw Callum he had a new strange story to tell. I knew something wasn't right- it just didn't seem relevant,' Angie concluded.

'He's not scared to show his face, it's as if he thinks we won't catch him, so he doesn't need to hide, but where is he hiding?' you questioned.

'The only thing I can get from this image in the video is a strobe of light through a squared frame of some sort,' Garcia apologised.

'We just need to find out where,' Morgan entered the conversation.

'Garcia, can you get any details such as last known location on Smiler?' Prentiss suggested.

'Anything,' she typed, 'It's on your handhelds now,' and you decided to move in.

               Water was quenching that dryness in his throat just as much as it suffocated him- being poured continuously through a towel with no release for what seemed like hours was excruciating- but Hotchner didn't say a word. Not once did he break a word of you or any of the team- he was resilient and determined to stay that way. Fidelity to you was the only thing keeping him alive, just enough to stay alive. Aaron held onto that small, burning hope that you were out there searching for him, that you were going to find him.

Blinded as the towel was pulled away, the father-turned-psychopath smiled and laughed over and over, nearly drawing the agent to throw up. His insides felt twisted and deprived, his head was still spinning the room like a carousel and his hands and feet were completely numb. After Smiler walked in circles for the best part of five minutes, Hotch had to talk.

'Why are you doing this?'

'Because you failed me, people like you- Aaron Hotchner- let my family die in vain. And you're paying for it; plus, it gives me the utmost pleasure knowing that you expect your little wife to come and find you. She's so pathetic,' he smiled.

'I swear to god once I'm out of this chair-'

'What? You'll tear me to the ground? Oh, sure you will. You know why? Because I'm hitting every single nerve,' he sang, pausing just enough to cause annoyance.

'Either I, or she will kill you,' Hotch spoke, completely monotone.

'She, you mean, Genie Beckett? Please,' he chorused.

'Don't call her that.'

'Or what?'

'The questions- you're unsure of yourself and what you're doing- really it's all just because you're sad and deep down you know that. Showing your face to a team of behavioural analysists? You've must be joking,' Hotch teased- a good time to be humorous.

'Enough,' Smiler pushed, placing the damp towel back over Hotchner's face, 'Hush now,' and he began pouring the water.

                Shallow and empty, the shrill apartment where Smiler lived was his only known place of inhabitancy and you made the call to infiltrate it- knowing full well Hotch wasn't there, you tried anyway. Clues were still available. Questions, what if Hotch is in there? Will he remember what happened? Does he know he's being looked for? You hoped so. Morgan nearly took the door from its hinges and entered the dark place. It smelled of must and hadn't been vented in months.

'He wanted us to come here,' you looked around, seeing only a packet on a kitchen table. Heading over, you flashed your torch for any tripwires but found nothing and picked up the envelope.

'Beck, we don't know what's in there,' Morgan hesitated for once.

'I've got to find him,' you pronounced, clearly taking guilt for the issue at hand. Clumps and sheets of paper emptied from the packet and you nearly dropped them. With a darkish blue tinge, they were pixelated images of the night you first came home from the hospital, images of you and Hotch in bed, images where you thought you felt safe.

'We found that camera, Beck,' Emily took one image and you nearly snatched it back.

'Excuse me,' you left the apartment and stood outside, Rossi close behind.

'You shouldn't be embarrassed,' he said, without looking at you directly.

'Rossi, there's pictures of me and Hotch sleeping together for everyone to see. How am I not supposed to be embarrassed?' you snapped.

'Because it's what you both wanted, and I think everyone knew that,' he assured and stopped you genuinely in your tracks.

'You think he knows we're looking for him?' you said, eyes welling.

'I think he knows you won't stop until you find him'

'That's it!' it clicked. Smiler has only ever wanted closure all along, and where will he find that? By heading back to the place it happened. His family died at that one intersection as well as yours, so by taking Hotch to that place, yes- he could finish his work where the lawyers, prosecutors and defendants failed him before.

'He's going back.'