Retribution, A Spencer Reid/Criminal Minds Fanfic

Chapter 52. Graveside Manner

The trip to Hotchner senior’s burial site was planned for the following weekend.

Born and bred in Virginia, Hotch had escaped the state for a time, first to further his education, then to pay his dues at the FBI offices in Seattle. But eventually Virginia reclaimed its native son. He’d come full circle to the place where he’d survived far worse as a small boy than he’d ever admit to. It was also the place where his parents had been laid to rest.

It was a three hour drive from Quantico to Monterey, where the elder Hotchner’s remains waited. Rossi drove, keeping one eye on Hotch. The quieter the Unit Chief became as they neared their destination, the more Rossi seethed. He’d thought his rage might have cooled during the intervening days, but it returned full force as he saw the bruised darkness in Aaron’s eyes grow with each mile they traveled.

There was no question of stopping for flowers or any other kind of tribute. That was a gesture reserved for loved ones. Sadly, not all members of Hotch’s blood family could claim that status.

They arrived at Griffin Cemetery midmorning, pulling into the parking lot in front of the main office. Rossi had searched for the plot online, sparing them the necessity of asking for its location. The two men exited Rossi’s BMW and stood at the edge of the monument-dotted grounds.

Hotch was very still and quiet, eyes shifting as he took in the manicured perfection before him. In an unsettling way it reminded him of the pretty yard and well-kept house in which he’d been raised…the prim and proper façade successfully concealing the violent abuse within.

Rossi studied his friend. Pain fairly radiated from him. His respiration had become shallow and rapid, but he was struggling to hide it; to get it under control. It looked like a fight-or-flight moment in the making.

Poor kid’s got PTSD.

Rossi reached out and placed a hand on the back of Hotch’s neck, intending to give the younger man a comforting squeeze. When the body beneath his hand jumped, Rossi again felt the peculiar combination of fury and pity that he was beginning to identify with his paternal instincts. On the one hand, he wanted to pummel the man responsible for Aaron’s inner turmoil into a pulpy mass. At the same time, he wanted to hold his friend close enough and tight enough to leech the bone-deep memories of being hurt out of him.

Despite the startled reaction, Rossi moved closer, rubbing the nape of Hotch’s neck and resting the palm of his other hand in the center of the too-rapidly moving chest.

“How’re you doing, Aaron?”

“I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.”

Damn. More than anything else, that means he’s not.

“You know you don’t have to do this. I’m going to tear that bastard’s ghost a new one, but you don’t have to come with me. You can stay here.”

Hotch chewed on his bottom lip for an indecisive moment. Then he drew himself up to his full height and looked Rossi directly in the eye.

“No. I’ll go with you.” He looked out at the field of headstones again. “I know I should have done this at some point, but I…” The voice faded. Hotch swallowed. “I’m glad you’re here with me.” The eyes dark with sorrow and remembered fear turned back to Rossi. “I do appreciate this, Dave.” Hotch’s voice softened. “I think I like it when you act like a father.”

The older man gave his friend one more pat before releasing him.

“It’s not an act, Aaron.”

xxxxxxx

It took a short walk and a few minutes of searching to find the grave of Samuel Hotchner.