Retribution, A Spencer Reid/Criminal Minds Fanfic

Chapter 77. Flawed

When Hotch woke, he found Rossi had been true to his word.

The older man hadn’t left. He was still sitting in the chair pulled close to Hotch’s bedside; slumped low in the seat, head fallen forward, chin on chest, as he dozed. One hand rested on the edge of the mattress, close to Hotch’s own.

He was holding my hand until he fell asleep. The thought was tinged with surprise. No one had ever done that for Hotch. When he was growing up, his mother had soon learned that if she comforted her son, or showed him any kindness, her husband would make sure she regretted it. She would have endured the punishment, but she wasn’t the only target. Once the one offering comfort was suitably reprimanded with fists and kicks, the one needing comfort was beaten, too.

Hotch had learned long ago the art of repression when it came to his formative years. As a child, when the nightmares woke him, he’d lie still, ignore the tears, and chant to himself don’t think about it…don’t think about it…don’t think about it… Now as the memories surfaced, he felt the familiar welling up of fear and quiet horror. Almost reflexively, he tamped his feelings down, breathing deeply and letting his head fall back onto the pillow. It was harder than usual to retain mastery over his emotions this time.

It’s just because I’m a little vulnerable to them right now. All this ‘family’ stuff and seeing Reid being such a good dad. He closed his eyes. Yeah, that’s it. That’s why it hit so suddenly, so hard, just now.

He was still lost in his silent battle for control, when something touched the hand that had known so little friendly contact. Hotch flinched and half-gasped, his first instinct being to snatch the hand away and curl in on himself in a protective, little ball. But he was very good at masking his reactions, even sudden ones. He’d had a lifetime to practice. It had been the primary focus, a necessary survival skill, of his childhood. So the only signs that managed to escape his iron will were the slight flexing of his fingers and the small intake of air.

Hotch opened his eyes.

Rossi was leaning over him, firmly gripping his hand. The older man’s concern was written in every line of his face. “Bad dream?”

“No.” Hotch studied his friend’s eyes, not sure what he was looking for. After a moment, he decided he was checking to see if he could get away with hiding his feelings one more time. He couldn’t.

Rossi’s understanding sigh was sad. He gripped Hotch’s hand more tightly, using his other to smooth the dark hair back from his friend’s brow. “Give it time, Aaron. As old as that doctor says our connection is, it’s still new to us.” He gave a crooked smile. “Now, if it wasn’t a bad dream…what was it?”

“Surprise. That’s all.” When Rossi clearly was waiting for more, Hotch added, “I just didn’t expect you to be here.”

The older man frowned. “Why not? I said I would be when you woke up.”

“I just figured you’d have other things to take care of. It’s not a big deal, Dave.”

Another sigh as Rossi read, with a profiler’s skill, the deeper meaning in the words. “Too many people in your life that you should have been able to rely on have let you down, Aaron. Isn’t that right?”

Uneasy silence was the only response.

“You should’ve been able to rely on love and support from your parents, but you couldn’t. You should’ve been able to rely on Haley sticking with you ‘for better or worse.’ But she didn’t. Hell, you should’ve been able to count on unequivocal support at work, but Strauss blind-sided you several times.” Rossi could see his words hitting their target. Hotch’s eyes were adopting their trademark don’t-push-me glare, but within their depths, they were more bruised and defensive than challenging.