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geekystudmuffinTitle: Looking With New Eyes (1/3)
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
innerslytherin and severity_softly
Pairing: Hotch/Rossi
Rating: NC-17
WARNINGS: SPOILERS for "To Hell...and Back"
WC: ~21,100
The summary has spoilers for the Season Four finale, so it's behind the cut.
Summary: A coincidence brings Dave to Aaron's apartment in time to save his life. In the aftermath, Dave realizes he has to tell Aaron things he's been leaving unsaid.
Dave knew it was wrong of him to take such savage satisfaction in the fact that Hightower had shot Mason Turner. He'd wanted to do it himself, after hearing the man talk about how worthless all of his victims had been until he used them for science. Dave didn't blame Sergeant Hightower. He just wished the man had been more subtle. If there had been no witnesses, if the ventilator had mysteriously stopped...
Stop it, Davey, he told himself, pulling out his keys and glancing around the nearly-empty bullpen. You're not judge and jury. You're just a profiler. He couldn't help it. He'd seen too many lives destroyed. Sometimes he had to let himself indulge in the desire for revenge.
Aaron was still in his office, he saw. Somehow he had seemed even more defeated at the end of this case than Morgan. Dave had watched him on the jet, but he had only approached him once, to bring him a cup of hot tea. Whatever demons Aaron was wrestling with, he hadn't invited Dave to share them, and Dave knew he would do more harm than good, with the frame of mind he was in tonight.
Sighing, Dave shouldered his ready bag and poked his head into Aaron's office. "Go home, Aaron," he said quietly. "Get some rest." His friend just made a non-committal noise. "Aaron," Dave repeated, and finally the other man looked up.
"Soon, Dave," he said quietly.
Dave held his gaze for a long moment, wishing there were some way to take some of the burden off Aaron's shoulders. Finally he nodded. "Get some rest," he said again, gentling his voice.
There had been nights he'd physically pulled Aaron out of the building. After the Foyet case in Boston they'd sat in Aaron's office drinking tea for three hours, saying virtually nothing, but taking comfort in each other's company. Tonight, though, Aaron was closed off, communicating nothing of what he might need from Dave. With a sigh, Dave left the building.
He jabbed his key in the ignition and headed for home. Sometimes he just wanted to shake Aaron and make him understand that when the team failed, it wasn't Aaron's fault. Sometimes they did the best they could, and it just wasn't enough. They couldn't control everything. Other times, Dave just wanted to hug Aaron and promise him that everything was going to be all right.
By the time he got home, his stomach was churning and he could tell he was going to need his heartburn pills again. He was planning an irresponsible cocktail of Tylenol, heartburn pills, blood pressure meds, and scotch. He went inside and dropped his ready bag on the couch to fish out his prescription bottles.
That was when he realized he'd picked up Aaron's bag.
He stared at it for a minute, annoyed, but relieved as well. At least he would have an excuse to seek Aaron out, and maybe once he'd gone to all the trouble of going back for his bag, Aaron would take pity on him and talk to him.
He headed back to Quantico, only to find out Aaron had already left. He muttered a few curse words out of habit, but he wasn't bothered. After all, if he stopped by Aaron's apartment, he might get offered a drink.
As he climbed the stairs to the apartment he'd seen only a handful of times since Aaron's divorce, he realized that he really didn't want to be alone tonight, anyway. Hell, he'd rather sleep on Aaron's couch than just about anywhere, except maybe Aaron's bed, which he had already figured would never happen.
Then he heard the sound that sent a shock all through his body. A gunshot. And there was no question it had come from Aaron's apartment.
Oh, God, he wouldn't--
Dave dropped the bag and took the rest of the steps two at a time, reaching for his cell phone with one hand and his gun with the other. As he got closer to the apartment door, he could hear something crashing, and then muffled grunts. The relief that washed through him made him sick, but for those few horrible moments he'd been afraid Aaron had put his gun in his mouth.
He dialed 911 and gave the address tersely, then dropped the phone on the floor. No warning, just a well-placed kick just next to the doorknob and pray to God Aaron hadn't bolted the door behind him.
The doorjamb gave and Dave went through the door at a crouch, his heart thudding hard against his ribs. There was a Glock 17 in the middle of the floor. Aaron had a whiskey bottle in his hand, wielding it like a weapon against a figure in a black hooded sweatshirt and a mask.
"FBI!" Dave announced, but he couldn't get a clean shot at the figure.
Aaron said something to the other man, but Dave didn't hear what it was through the pounding of his heart. He started to move around the two men, trying to get in a better position, and then he saw the knife, and the blood running down Aaron's left arm, puddling on the floor. Aaron was holding the bottle right handed, and Dave wondered if the attacker knew Aaron, or if he'd just gotten lucky.
"If you have the shot, take it," Aaron growled, then the masked figure lunged. Aaron shifted to try to catch the knife hand, but he missed, and doubled for a moment, a sickening groan coming from him. Then he swung, and made contact with the attacker's head.
It wasn't hard enough to knock him unconscious, but the attacker staggered back, and Aaron dropped to his knees, providing Dave the shot he needed.
He took it without hesitation. He would have even without Aaron's order, but it was good to know Aaron would support his decision. It was a clean shot to the heart, and the attacker dropped, the knife falling from his hand. Dave covered Aaron as he bent to check for a pulse, then nodded.
Dave let out an explosive breath. "My God, Aaron."
Aaron was clutching his side, and blood was soaking his shirt. He was white, and breathing hard. He coughed, then made another noise of pain before he managed a strangled, "Why're you here?"
"Had a premonition you'd have a psychopath attack you tonight," Dave said, then jerked his head back toward the stairs, where he'd dropped Aaron's bag. "I picked up your bag when I left the jet, instead of mine. Needed my blood pressure pills." He crossed the room and touched Aaron's cheek, trying to get Aaron to focus on him. "You're hurt. Sit down, will you? I called 911 before coming through the door."
Aaron slumped back to the floor and stared at Dave. "God," he gasped. "Dave... he got me twice. I'm... the ambulance won't get here fast enough." He swallowed hard, then muttered something Dave didn't understand.
"Don't you fucking do that to me," Dave said, a cold thrill going through him. He dropped to his knees and pushed Aaron's hands away from his shirt. "Let me see," he ordered, then scrabbled behind him, searching for something to staunch the flow of blood. After a moment he spit out a curse and ran to the kitchen for dish towels, then back to Aaron. "You hang on," he ordered, pressing a towel against the wound in Aaron's side. "Hang on. I need you to talk to me."
"Dave," Aaron complained, and Dave felt a sick jolt that Aaron sounded a little like he was willing to just give up. "Foyet. I didn't take his deal." He closed his eyes and breathed slowly, then he smiled. "Fuck, this hurts," he said, then laughed faintly.
"That sonofabitch I just shot is Foyet?" Dave asked, glancing over at the body. Where the fuck were the EMTs? He looked back at Aaron and moved one hand to wrap another towel around Aaron's arm. "Stay with me," he ordered savagely. "I need you, Aaron. You can't just give up."
"I've lost a lot of blood." Aaron opened his eyes and held Dave's gaze steadily, then closed his eyes again. He had told Dave once about Kate, about how she'd tried to convince him she was going to die after the car bomb, and Dave wondered if he was thinking about that now. "Let me lie down."
Dave ran through his first aid knowledge and nodded, lowering Aaron carefully to the floor and dragging a blanket off the couch to keep him warm. "Listen to me, you stubborn jackass," he said. "If you die on me, I'll walk away from the damn FBI and keep walking." He wasn't sure it was true, but he would say whatever it took to give Aaron a reason to keep fighting. "They need you. I need you." Inspiration hit. "How do you think Jack will feel if he loses his dad this way? Hang on, damn you!"
Finally he could hear sirens approaching. It sent another rush of relief through him. They would get here in time. They had to get here in time.
Aaron sucked in a sharp breath and opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling. "He's only three," he gasped, and he lifted a hand slowly, just enough to grip Dave's arm. It was weak, but reassuring.
"You know how losing a father at that age can affect a boy," Dave said. God, it felt ruthless, but Aaron was scaring him. "Jack needs you." He heard screeching tires, and then footsteps rushing up the stairs outside the apartment. "Here!" he shouted. "God, here!"
Aaron groaned as the EMTs rushed through the open door and immediately huddled around him. It felt like it would kill Dave to pull away, but he did, and watched as they assessed Aaron quickly, and got him on a gurney. He followed and climbed into the ambulance without waiting for invitation. At the expression on his face, none of the EMTs bothered to argue.
He watched Aaron's face as they worked, working to stop the bleeding and set up a blood transfusion. Just hang on, he pleaded silently. God, don't let me lose him. Don't let any of us lose him. Please.
Once they got to the hospital, they wouldn't let Dave in with Aaron. He staggered over to a seat in the waiting room and stared down at his hands, still covered in Aaron's blood. "Please," he whispered, closing his eyes.
He was still sitting there when Morgan arrived. He heard Morgan exclaiming his name and dragged his eyes open.
"What happened? We got a call from the local PD about a break-in at Hotch's place." JJ was right behind Morgan, looking like she'd been in bed twenty minutes ago.
Dave explained tersely, then shook his head. "All because I got the wrong bag. If I hadn't showed up just then..." He took a shaky breath.
"We've got Emily and Reid at the--at Hotch's apartment," Morgan said. JJ rested a hand on Dave's shoulder, squeezing gently.
That was when the ER doctor came out. "Aaron Hotchner?"
Dave shot to his feet, knowing his control was fraying. JJ's hand slid down his arm and curled tightly around his. He wondered if she was trying to give comfort or get it.
The doctor glanced between the group. "He lost a lot of blood, but we were able to repair his injuries. He's still critical, but we have hope that he's going to pull through." He went on and explained the extent of Aaron's injuries. Dave just focused on trying not to be sick.
They have hope, he kept telling himself, and a few minutes after the doctor left, Emily and Spencer came rushing in. They stopped dead, staring at the blood covering Dave's hands.
"My God, what happened?" Emily managed.
Dave shook his head. "Foyet," he said, not moving from where he had slumped back into his seat. He stared at the floor and took deep breaths while Derek filled them in on Aaron's condition and repeated the explanation Dave had given.
"I want to know how he did this," Dave said quietly. "I want to know if anyone was helping him."
Morgan nodded. "We're gonna find out, man. Don't worry."
"I'll clear our schedules until we solve this," JJ said.
"Right now, you just need to focus on Hotch," Morgan added. His voice was gentle. "Get cleaned up, then go make them let you see him."
Dave nodded, and Emily squeezed his shoulder, then took his arm and pulled him towards the bathroom. "He's going to be fine," she murmured, once they were away from the group. "I don't think a freight train could kill him." She still looked worried, though, and she wasn't smiling.
"Ask Morgan," Dave mumbled. "He's the one who tested that theory." He stared down at his hands as she turned on the hot water, watching the blood--Aaron's blood--tinge the water pink before spiraling down the drain. "When I was walking up to his apartment," he said suddenly, "when I heard the gunshot, I thought he'd done it." He didn't look at Emily. He shouldn't be saying this. The team didn't need to know how God-damned tired Aaron was. "I thought he'd eaten his gun. That was the first fucking thing I thought."
Emily stared at him, her lips parting in surprise. She looked like she had no idea what to say for a moment, but then she shook her head, almost carefully. "He wouldn't," she said gently. "You know he wouldn't." She watched him a moment longer, her eyes glassy, then got a paper towel. She wetted it, then cupped his jaw and wiped at a smear of blood on his face.
He took a deep breath. The Aaron he'd known for over a decade wouldn't. But the Aaron who had tried to give up on him tonight? The Aaron who had gone home looking so defeated? Dave wasn't as sure. "He can't," he said. He ought to resent the way she was coddling him, but he didn't have the energy. He felt like it had all drained out of him when they'd wheeled Aaron into the emergency room and away from him.
She nodded, watching him, then she lifted her other hand. She seemed to rethink it halfway through, though, and brought both hands to his shoulders. "I think you need to tell him how you feel," she said, her gaze steady on his.
He opened his mouth but just blinked at her, trying to process her words. "Tell him," he repeated. He'd toyed with the idea from time to time, when he was drunk and lonelier than usual. He'd always decided it wasn't worth ruining the best friendship he had when Aaron turned him down.
She nodded again. "Tell him."
He shrugged, wondering how long she'd known, or if she'd just figured it out. "I don't think so."
She sighed and dropped her arms. "If he'd died, you would have had to live with him never knowing," she told him quietly.
Dave glanced away. "You think I don't know that?" he asked, matching her tone. "But I'd rather keep what I've got than drive him away entirely." He made a wry face. "I don't exactly have a good track record, in case you'd forgotten."
She shook her head. "You have a good track record with him." She dragged her fingers through her hair. "Now's not really the time to argue the point, but I think... it would be good for both of you."
Dave looked sideways at her. "Does everyone know, or are you just the most perceptive woman in the world?"
She smiled faintly and watched him for a moment. But she didn't answer. She just looped her arm with his and started to move him toward Aaron's room.
Dave scowled, but he couldn't deny she'd prodded him into feeling a little more balanced, even if he still thought his heart was never going to settle back down into a normal rhythm again. He hesitated when they got to the doorway, closing his eyes and taking a breath. Aaron would be all right. He had to.
She let go of him, brushing her hand over his shoulder, and then dropping it completely. When he opened his eyes and looked at her, she just inclined her head toward the room. He drew a deep breath and left her in the doorway, listening to the steady beeping of machines as he went around the little curtain pulled around Aaron.
God. Aaron was a big man, tall and broad-shouldered, but somehow he looked smaller with an IV and monitors attached to him. His eyes were closed, and Dave couldn't tell if he were asleep. Probably. Dave blinked hard against eyes that were suddenly burning. Don't give up, he thought fiercely at Aaron. He went to stand by the bed and reached out, resting a hand lightly on one sheet-covered foot.
For a long time he just stood there. Aaron hadn't responded. The doctor hadn't said if Aaron was awake, he realized. Aaron was probably drugged, and his body was weak. He needed the rest, but Dave still felt a ridiculous urge to wake him just to know Aaron could wake from this.
Finally he lifted the guest chair and set it as quietly as possible next to Aaron's bed, close enough that he could curl his fingers gently around the hand not hooked up to the IV. At the feel of Aaron's fingers, cool and limp, he took a shaky breath and closed his eyes.
Time didn't really mean anything in a hospital. Minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like days. Dave had no idea how long he'd been sitting there for before Aaron groaned. Then he sucked in a sharp breath. "Jack?" His voice was weak, thready, and his eyes were still closed.
Dave exhaled gustily and squeezed Aaron's hand gently. "Dave, actually. Jack's fine. How are you feeling?"
"Like I've been stabbed." Aaron's face twisted in pain. "Where am I?"
"In the hospital," Dave said, leaning in. "Do you remember what happened?"
"He fired... I... he had a knife." Aaron shook his head, obviously realizing he wasn't getting it right, then opened his eyes and squinted over at Dave. "'m'sorry."
"What're you sorry for?" Dave forced a smile. "You're hanging in there. That's what I asked you to do." He ought to let go of Aaron's hand, but he couldn't bring himself to do it, and Aaron didn't seem to have noticed anyway. "He missed you, thank God, and you managed to brain him with your whiskey bottle so I could shoot him."
"Meant I'm sorry that I don't think 'm making much sense." Aaron closed his eyes again.
"Hey, you lost a lot of blood, and they probably have you on a morphine drip," Dave said. His smile strengthened. "I'm just happy as hell to hear your voice at all right now." He licked his lips. "The team's out in the waiting room, if you want to see them."
Aaron hesitated, then shook his head slowly. "Not now," he murmured. "'r'you okay?"
"I am now." Dave was silent for a moment, then said, "Do you...want me to go?"
"No," Aaron said. "Why can't I move m' arm?"
Dave felt his face get hot. "My fault," he admitted, glancing down at their hands, then finally letting go. He cleared his throat. "Sorry."
"Mmm?" Aaron hummed, and looked over at Dave again, seeming confused.
"I was holding onto you," Dave admitted. He looked down at their hands again, not wanting to meet Aaron's gaze. He was lucky Aaron was drugged, because the emotional state Dave was in right now, he obviously wasn't hiding anything.
"Oh," Aaron said. He flexed his fingers a little, but didn't otherwise move. "Okay." He cleared his throat and closed his eyes again. "I was sure I was going to die."
Dave's throat tightened just at the sound of Aaron saying those words. "I wasn't going to let you," he whispered.
"Mmm," Aaron acknowledged. "I didn't care. About dying."
Dave let out a shaky breath. "I know," he admitted. He curled his fingers around Aaron's hand again, then closed his eyes. God, it hurt to hear Aaron say that. How could Aaron have gotten so bad without Dave seeing it? Because you didn't want to, whispered a voice in the back of his mind. You've never seen him as anything but a hero.
"I don't know," Aaron whispered, sounding as though he was answering some internal question no one had voiced. "Sorry."
"You don't have to apologize to me, Aaron," Dave said. He brought his other hand up to cradle Aaron's. What the hell, Aaron was drugged to the gills anyway. "You never have to apologize to me."
"I was being selfish," Aaron breathed. "I didn't realize 'til... until you mentioned Jack."
"I'm just sorry you thought you didn't have a reason to care," Dave whispered. God, his chest ached.
"It might've been a relief," Aaron murmured. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, and the beeping of his pulse sped a little.
"I know," Dave said. "I'm sorry."
Aaron sucked in a shaky breath, but didn't say anything. A moment later he lifted his hand to his face, and Dave noticed the wetness he was wiping from his cheek. Aaron's other hand squeezed Dave's weakly.
Dave pressed his lips together and lifted his hand to brush a thumb against Aaron's cheek. "I'm here," he said quietly. "I don't know if it's any help, but I'm sure as hell not going anywhere." He'd never wanted so much to take Aaron in his arms and just hold him. He felt utterly helpless.
Aaron nodded, and another tear fell. The beeping of his machine was faster still, but not enough to be alarming. It still made Dave ache for all that Aaron was trying to hold inside.
"You saved my life."
"I was being selfish," Dave admitted. "I need you." He knew Aaron hated showing his emotions like this, but he couldn't help being grateful that Aaron trusted him this much. "I couldn't let you go."
Aaron managed a small laugh, but then just squeezed Dave's hand again.
Dave took a breath and brushed his hand over Aaron's hair, then pulled back. "You know that, don't you, Aaron?" he murmured. "I treasure our friendship. I treasure you. You're the best man I know." He took a ragged breath and pressed his lips together again to keep from admitting more.
Aaron smiled and opened his eyes, his gaze on Dave's warm. "It's okay. 'm going to live."
"Thank God," Dave said, smiling back at him. "That doesn't make it any less true."
Aaron watched him for a moment, then his gaze fell to their joined hands. "How long do I have to stay here?"
"I don't know," Dave admitted. "The ER doctor said you were critical, so I'd guess overnight, anyway." He tried to make it sound like a joke, but he knew it fell horribly flat.
Aaron laughed quietly anyway. "Don't feel critical," he mumbled.
"Maybe you're getting better," Dave said. He studied Aaron's face. "Do you want me to get the doctor?"
"I want to be left alone," Aaron said, but his hand tightened on Dave's.
Dave's lips curled in a half-smile. "You're going to have to let people in at some point," he said, but he brushed his fingers against Aaron's hair and then settled back a little in his chair. "I wouldn't tell them," he said after a moment, and hoped Aaron understood that his emotions were held in confidence.
Aaron grinned weakly. "I'm high, not stupid."
Somehow the grin hit Dave harder than Aaron's tears had. He had almost lost Aaron tonight. Dave stared at him for a moment, then let out a shuddery breath and put his forehead down on the bed, squeezing his eyes shut. "God," he whispered.
He heard Aaron sigh. "Dave." He paused for a moment, then said, "I'm sorry."
Dave shook his head. "I was so fucking scared," he admitted. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down again.
"So was I," Aaron said, then sighed. "No I wasn't." He sighed again. "I'm sorry."
"Goddammit, don't apologize to me," Dave growled. He sat up and scowled at Aaron. "I already told you that's unnecessary."
"I don't know what else I can say," Aaron said quietly.
Dave shook his head. "This is me, Aaron. You don't have to say anything." He squeezed Aaron's hand and held his gaze. "It's not like I'm going anywhere regardless."
Aaron looked at their hands again. "Are you okay?"
Dave looked down and reluctantly let go. "Mostly," he said. "I will be."
"Dave," Aaron said, then closed his eyes again. He drew a long steadying breath, but didn't say anything else.
There didn't seem to be anything left to say right then. Dave resisted the urge to touch Aaron again. Instead he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms loosely. He thought of Emily urging him to tell Aaron how he felt, and tried to imagine it. He couldn't. He had no idea what he could possibly say.
After a while, Aaron shifted and groaned. He swallowed another noise of pain, then said, "I might need more for pain. But maybe I should see everyone first so they can go get some rest."
Dave nodded and reached out to rest a hand on Aaron's shoulder. "I'll go send Reid in while I get you the good drugs, okay?" He waited until he got a flicker of a smile from Aaron, then went to send in the team one at a time. He had pulled himself together enough to give stern instructions to them about five minutes each, and then went to get a nurse.
He held a sigh when he felt someone behind him. It was Emily. He knew that without turning around. "How is he?" she asked. It wasn't what she wanted to ask, he knew.
He had no idea how to answer that. "He's not alone," he told her after a moment. She could interpret that however she wanted.
She sighed and kept up with him. When they rounded the corner, she touched his arm. "How are you?" She paused. "And how much time do I have left before you start cursing at me?"
He glowered at her. "I always thought Garcia was the mother hen," he grumbled, but he knew there was no heat to it. After a moment he sighed. "I'll be fine. And no, I'm not leaving the hospital tonight. I've always wanted to spend a mostly sleepless night in an uncomfortable chair and wake up with a crick in my neck when I finally do drop off. Now go get in line to talk to Hotch, or you'll forfeit your five minutes."
"You wouldn't do that to me," she said. "I'll just go in last." She paused. "You know, when they let him go, he should probably be staying with someone while he's recovering."
"Don't be so damn sure I wouldn't," Dave growled, and turned to walk away. He wasn't interested in finishing this conversation.
He hear her sigh, but she didn't follow him. "Fine." When he glanced over his shoulder, she was heading back towards the room.
He didn't want to go back to the waiting room while the rest of the team was still there, mostly because he wasn't sure he could meet Emily's gaze again tonight. But he didn't feel right about wasting time while Aaron was in pain, so he forced himself to find the nurse and go back to the waiting room. Fortunately Emily was in with Aaron and everyone else just seemed to want to pretend things were normal. Morgan gripped his shoulder briefly before he and Garcia and Spencer left, and JJ touched his arm, smiling faintly at him. When Emily came out, Dave forced himself to stop her with an outstretched hand.
"Emily, I'm sorry," he said quietly. "And...thank you."
She smiled and nodded. "Yeah," she said, then left.
He went back into the room and stayed out of the way as the nurse checked Aaron's vitals and looked at his chart, then gave him a pill and a glass of water. She glanced at Dave as if she were going to remind him of visiting hours, then visibly changed her mind and smiled faintly at him.
Dave settled back into the chair by Aaron's bed. "Wasn't too bad, was it?" he asked quietly.
"Mmm, what wasn't?" Aaron asked.
"Finding out how much everyone loves you," Dave said, his lips quirking.
Aaron huffed a laugh. "Love might be a strong word, but it wasn't so bad."
Dave shook his head. "This team is our family, Aaron. I'm pretty sure love is exactly the word." Of course, the words meant more from Dave than Aaron knew, but that didn't really matter right now.
Aaron hummed, staring at one of the machines hooked up to him. "You can go home and rest, you know. I'm not going anywhere."
"Neither am I," Dave said calmly. "Not until you do."
"Dave--" Aaron started to protest.
"No arguments," Dave interrupted. "What are you gonna do, get up and throw me out? If you try to get an orderly to make me leave, I'll just tell them you're under federal protection." He gave Aaron a small smile.
"God," Aaron muttered, but he was smiling faintly. "I'd offer to share, but I'm afraid there's only room for one of us. You're not going to be very comfortable." His speech was starting to slow as the drugs kicked in.
"Eh, I'll live." As soon as he said it, Dave realized what a flippant phrase it was, and how damn lucky he was that it was true for both of them tonight. His smile widened briefly and he reached out to brush his fingers against Aaron's wrist. "Anyway, there's nowhere else I'd rather be."
Aaron gave him a lopsided smile. "That's sad," he murmured, his tone warm.
Part Two
Authors:
innerslytherin and severity_softlyPairing: Hotch/Rossi
Rating: NC-17
WARNINGS: SPOILERS for "To Hell...and Back"
WC: ~21,100
The summary has spoilers for the Season Four finale, so it's behind the cut.
Summary: A coincidence brings Dave to Aaron's apartment in time to save his life. In the aftermath, Dave realizes he has to tell Aaron things he's been leaving unsaid.
Dave knew it was wrong of him to take such savage satisfaction in the fact that Hightower had shot Mason Turner. He'd wanted to do it himself, after hearing the man talk about how worthless all of his victims had been until he used them for science. Dave didn't blame Sergeant Hightower. He just wished the man had been more subtle. If there had been no witnesses, if the ventilator had mysteriously stopped...
Stop it, Davey, he told himself, pulling out his keys and glancing around the nearly-empty bullpen. You're not judge and jury. You're just a profiler. He couldn't help it. He'd seen too many lives destroyed. Sometimes he had to let himself indulge in the desire for revenge.
Aaron was still in his office, he saw. Somehow he had seemed even more defeated at the end of this case than Morgan. Dave had watched him on the jet, but he had only approached him once, to bring him a cup of hot tea. Whatever demons Aaron was wrestling with, he hadn't invited Dave to share them, and Dave knew he would do more harm than good, with the frame of mind he was in tonight.
Sighing, Dave shouldered his ready bag and poked his head into Aaron's office. "Go home, Aaron," he said quietly. "Get some rest." His friend just made a non-committal noise. "Aaron," Dave repeated, and finally the other man looked up.
"Soon, Dave," he said quietly.
Dave held his gaze for a long moment, wishing there were some way to take some of the burden off Aaron's shoulders. Finally he nodded. "Get some rest," he said again, gentling his voice.
There had been nights he'd physically pulled Aaron out of the building. After the Foyet case in Boston they'd sat in Aaron's office drinking tea for three hours, saying virtually nothing, but taking comfort in each other's company. Tonight, though, Aaron was closed off, communicating nothing of what he might need from Dave. With a sigh, Dave left the building.
He jabbed his key in the ignition and headed for home. Sometimes he just wanted to shake Aaron and make him understand that when the team failed, it wasn't Aaron's fault. Sometimes they did the best they could, and it just wasn't enough. They couldn't control everything. Other times, Dave just wanted to hug Aaron and promise him that everything was going to be all right.
By the time he got home, his stomach was churning and he could tell he was going to need his heartburn pills again. He was planning an irresponsible cocktail of Tylenol, heartburn pills, blood pressure meds, and scotch. He went inside and dropped his ready bag on the couch to fish out his prescription bottles.
That was when he realized he'd picked up Aaron's bag.
He stared at it for a minute, annoyed, but relieved as well. At least he would have an excuse to seek Aaron out, and maybe once he'd gone to all the trouble of going back for his bag, Aaron would take pity on him and talk to him.
He headed back to Quantico, only to find out Aaron had already left. He muttered a few curse words out of habit, but he wasn't bothered. After all, if he stopped by Aaron's apartment, he might get offered a drink.
As he climbed the stairs to the apartment he'd seen only a handful of times since Aaron's divorce, he realized that he really didn't want to be alone tonight, anyway. Hell, he'd rather sleep on Aaron's couch than just about anywhere, except maybe Aaron's bed, which he had already figured would never happen.
Then he heard the sound that sent a shock all through his body. A gunshot. And there was no question it had come from Aaron's apartment.
Oh, God, he wouldn't--
Dave dropped the bag and took the rest of the steps two at a time, reaching for his cell phone with one hand and his gun with the other. As he got closer to the apartment door, he could hear something crashing, and then muffled grunts. The relief that washed through him made him sick, but for those few horrible moments he'd been afraid Aaron had put his gun in his mouth.
He dialed 911 and gave the address tersely, then dropped the phone on the floor. No warning, just a well-placed kick just next to the doorknob and pray to God Aaron hadn't bolted the door behind him.
The doorjamb gave and Dave went through the door at a crouch, his heart thudding hard against his ribs. There was a Glock 17 in the middle of the floor. Aaron had a whiskey bottle in his hand, wielding it like a weapon against a figure in a black hooded sweatshirt and a mask.
"FBI!" Dave announced, but he couldn't get a clean shot at the figure.
Aaron said something to the other man, but Dave didn't hear what it was through the pounding of his heart. He started to move around the two men, trying to get in a better position, and then he saw the knife, and the blood running down Aaron's left arm, puddling on the floor. Aaron was holding the bottle right handed, and Dave wondered if the attacker knew Aaron, or if he'd just gotten lucky.
"If you have the shot, take it," Aaron growled, then the masked figure lunged. Aaron shifted to try to catch the knife hand, but he missed, and doubled for a moment, a sickening groan coming from him. Then he swung, and made contact with the attacker's head.
It wasn't hard enough to knock him unconscious, but the attacker staggered back, and Aaron dropped to his knees, providing Dave the shot he needed.
He took it without hesitation. He would have even without Aaron's order, but it was good to know Aaron would support his decision. It was a clean shot to the heart, and the attacker dropped, the knife falling from his hand. Dave covered Aaron as he bent to check for a pulse, then nodded.
Dave let out an explosive breath. "My God, Aaron."
Aaron was clutching his side, and blood was soaking his shirt. He was white, and breathing hard. He coughed, then made another noise of pain before he managed a strangled, "Why're you here?"
"Had a premonition you'd have a psychopath attack you tonight," Dave said, then jerked his head back toward the stairs, where he'd dropped Aaron's bag. "I picked up your bag when I left the jet, instead of mine. Needed my blood pressure pills." He crossed the room and touched Aaron's cheek, trying to get Aaron to focus on him. "You're hurt. Sit down, will you? I called 911 before coming through the door."
Aaron slumped back to the floor and stared at Dave. "God," he gasped. "Dave... he got me twice. I'm... the ambulance won't get here fast enough." He swallowed hard, then muttered something Dave didn't understand.
"Don't you fucking do that to me," Dave said, a cold thrill going through him. He dropped to his knees and pushed Aaron's hands away from his shirt. "Let me see," he ordered, then scrabbled behind him, searching for something to staunch the flow of blood. After a moment he spit out a curse and ran to the kitchen for dish towels, then back to Aaron. "You hang on," he ordered, pressing a towel against the wound in Aaron's side. "Hang on. I need you to talk to me."
"Dave," Aaron complained, and Dave felt a sick jolt that Aaron sounded a little like he was willing to just give up. "Foyet. I didn't take his deal." He closed his eyes and breathed slowly, then he smiled. "Fuck, this hurts," he said, then laughed faintly.
"That sonofabitch I just shot is Foyet?" Dave asked, glancing over at the body. Where the fuck were the EMTs? He looked back at Aaron and moved one hand to wrap another towel around Aaron's arm. "Stay with me," he ordered savagely. "I need you, Aaron. You can't just give up."
"I've lost a lot of blood." Aaron opened his eyes and held Dave's gaze steadily, then closed his eyes again. He had told Dave once about Kate, about how she'd tried to convince him she was going to die after the car bomb, and Dave wondered if he was thinking about that now. "Let me lie down."
Dave ran through his first aid knowledge and nodded, lowering Aaron carefully to the floor and dragging a blanket off the couch to keep him warm. "Listen to me, you stubborn jackass," he said. "If you die on me, I'll walk away from the damn FBI and keep walking." He wasn't sure it was true, but he would say whatever it took to give Aaron a reason to keep fighting. "They need you. I need you." Inspiration hit. "How do you think Jack will feel if he loses his dad this way? Hang on, damn you!"
Finally he could hear sirens approaching. It sent another rush of relief through him. They would get here in time. They had to get here in time.
Aaron sucked in a sharp breath and opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling. "He's only three," he gasped, and he lifted a hand slowly, just enough to grip Dave's arm. It was weak, but reassuring.
"You know how losing a father at that age can affect a boy," Dave said. God, it felt ruthless, but Aaron was scaring him. "Jack needs you." He heard screeching tires, and then footsteps rushing up the stairs outside the apartment. "Here!" he shouted. "God, here!"
Aaron groaned as the EMTs rushed through the open door and immediately huddled around him. It felt like it would kill Dave to pull away, but he did, and watched as they assessed Aaron quickly, and got him on a gurney. He followed and climbed into the ambulance without waiting for invitation. At the expression on his face, none of the EMTs bothered to argue.
He watched Aaron's face as they worked, working to stop the bleeding and set up a blood transfusion. Just hang on, he pleaded silently. God, don't let me lose him. Don't let any of us lose him. Please.
Once they got to the hospital, they wouldn't let Dave in with Aaron. He staggered over to a seat in the waiting room and stared down at his hands, still covered in Aaron's blood. "Please," he whispered, closing his eyes.
He was still sitting there when Morgan arrived. He heard Morgan exclaiming his name and dragged his eyes open.
"What happened? We got a call from the local PD about a break-in at Hotch's place." JJ was right behind Morgan, looking like she'd been in bed twenty minutes ago.
Dave explained tersely, then shook his head. "All because I got the wrong bag. If I hadn't showed up just then..." He took a shaky breath.
"We've got Emily and Reid at the--at Hotch's apartment," Morgan said. JJ rested a hand on Dave's shoulder, squeezing gently.
That was when the ER doctor came out. "Aaron Hotchner?"
Dave shot to his feet, knowing his control was fraying. JJ's hand slid down his arm and curled tightly around his. He wondered if she was trying to give comfort or get it.
The doctor glanced between the group. "He lost a lot of blood, but we were able to repair his injuries. He's still critical, but we have hope that he's going to pull through." He went on and explained the extent of Aaron's injuries. Dave just focused on trying not to be sick.
They have hope, he kept telling himself, and a few minutes after the doctor left, Emily and Spencer came rushing in. They stopped dead, staring at the blood covering Dave's hands.
"My God, what happened?" Emily managed.
Dave shook his head. "Foyet," he said, not moving from where he had slumped back into his seat. He stared at the floor and took deep breaths while Derek filled them in on Aaron's condition and repeated the explanation Dave had given.
"I want to know how he did this," Dave said quietly. "I want to know if anyone was helping him."
Morgan nodded. "We're gonna find out, man. Don't worry."
"I'll clear our schedules until we solve this," JJ said.
"Right now, you just need to focus on Hotch," Morgan added. His voice was gentle. "Get cleaned up, then go make them let you see him."
Dave nodded, and Emily squeezed his shoulder, then took his arm and pulled him towards the bathroom. "He's going to be fine," she murmured, once they were away from the group. "I don't think a freight train could kill him." She still looked worried, though, and she wasn't smiling.
"Ask Morgan," Dave mumbled. "He's the one who tested that theory." He stared down at his hands as she turned on the hot water, watching the blood--Aaron's blood--tinge the water pink before spiraling down the drain. "When I was walking up to his apartment," he said suddenly, "when I heard the gunshot, I thought he'd done it." He didn't look at Emily. He shouldn't be saying this. The team didn't need to know how God-damned tired Aaron was. "I thought he'd eaten his gun. That was the first fucking thing I thought."
Emily stared at him, her lips parting in surprise. She looked like she had no idea what to say for a moment, but then she shook her head, almost carefully. "He wouldn't," she said gently. "You know he wouldn't." She watched him a moment longer, her eyes glassy, then got a paper towel. She wetted it, then cupped his jaw and wiped at a smear of blood on his face.
He took a deep breath. The Aaron he'd known for over a decade wouldn't. But the Aaron who had tried to give up on him tonight? The Aaron who had gone home looking so defeated? Dave wasn't as sure. "He can't," he said. He ought to resent the way she was coddling him, but he didn't have the energy. He felt like it had all drained out of him when they'd wheeled Aaron into the emergency room and away from him.
She nodded, watching him, then she lifted her other hand. She seemed to rethink it halfway through, though, and brought both hands to his shoulders. "I think you need to tell him how you feel," she said, her gaze steady on his.
He opened his mouth but just blinked at her, trying to process her words. "Tell him," he repeated. He'd toyed with the idea from time to time, when he was drunk and lonelier than usual. He'd always decided it wasn't worth ruining the best friendship he had when Aaron turned him down.
She nodded again. "Tell him."
He shrugged, wondering how long she'd known, or if she'd just figured it out. "I don't think so."
She sighed and dropped her arms. "If he'd died, you would have had to live with him never knowing," she told him quietly.
Dave glanced away. "You think I don't know that?" he asked, matching her tone. "But I'd rather keep what I've got than drive him away entirely." He made a wry face. "I don't exactly have a good track record, in case you'd forgotten."
She shook her head. "You have a good track record with him." She dragged her fingers through her hair. "Now's not really the time to argue the point, but I think... it would be good for both of you."
Dave looked sideways at her. "Does everyone know, or are you just the most perceptive woman in the world?"
She smiled faintly and watched him for a moment. But she didn't answer. She just looped her arm with his and started to move him toward Aaron's room.
Dave scowled, but he couldn't deny she'd prodded him into feeling a little more balanced, even if he still thought his heart was never going to settle back down into a normal rhythm again. He hesitated when they got to the doorway, closing his eyes and taking a breath. Aaron would be all right. He had to.
She let go of him, brushing her hand over his shoulder, and then dropping it completely. When he opened his eyes and looked at her, she just inclined her head toward the room. He drew a deep breath and left her in the doorway, listening to the steady beeping of machines as he went around the little curtain pulled around Aaron.
God. Aaron was a big man, tall and broad-shouldered, but somehow he looked smaller with an IV and monitors attached to him. His eyes were closed, and Dave couldn't tell if he were asleep. Probably. Dave blinked hard against eyes that were suddenly burning. Don't give up, he thought fiercely at Aaron. He went to stand by the bed and reached out, resting a hand lightly on one sheet-covered foot.
For a long time he just stood there. Aaron hadn't responded. The doctor hadn't said if Aaron was awake, he realized. Aaron was probably drugged, and his body was weak. He needed the rest, but Dave still felt a ridiculous urge to wake him just to know Aaron could wake from this.
Finally he lifted the guest chair and set it as quietly as possible next to Aaron's bed, close enough that he could curl his fingers gently around the hand not hooked up to the IV. At the feel of Aaron's fingers, cool and limp, he took a shaky breath and closed his eyes.
Time didn't really mean anything in a hospital. Minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like days. Dave had no idea how long he'd been sitting there for before Aaron groaned. Then he sucked in a sharp breath. "Jack?" His voice was weak, thready, and his eyes were still closed.
Dave exhaled gustily and squeezed Aaron's hand gently. "Dave, actually. Jack's fine. How are you feeling?"
"Like I've been stabbed." Aaron's face twisted in pain. "Where am I?"
"In the hospital," Dave said, leaning in. "Do you remember what happened?"
"He fired... I... he had a knife." Aaron shook his head, obviously realizing he wasn't getting it right, then opened his eyes and squinted over at Dave. "'m'sorry."
"What're you sorry for?" Dave forced a smile. "You're hanging in there. That's what I asked you to do." He ought to let go of Aaron's hand, but he couldn't bring himself to do it, and Aaron didn't seem to have noticed anyway. "He missed you, thank God, and you managed to brain him with your whiskey bottle so I could shoot him."
"Meant I'm sorry that I don't think 'm making much sense." Aaron closed his eyes again.
"Hey, you lost a lot of blood, and they probably have you on a morphine drip," Dave said. His smile strengthened. "I'm just happy as hell to hear your voice at all right now." He licked his lips. "The team's out in the waiting room, if you want to see them."
Aaron hesitated, then shook his head slowly. "Not now," he murmured. "'r'you okay?"
"I am now." Dave was silent for a moment, then said, "Do you...want me to go?"
"No," Aaron said. "Why can't I move m' arm?"
Dave felt his face get hot. "My fault," he admitted, glancing down at their hands, then finally letting go. He cleared his throat. "Sorry."
"Mmm?" Aaron hummed, and looked over at Dave again, seeming confused.
"I was holding onto you," Dave admitted. He looked down at their hands again, not wanting to meet Aaron's gaze. He was lucky Aaron was drugged, because the emotional state Dave was in right now, he obviously wasn't hiding anything.
"Oh," Aaron said. He flexed his fingers a little, but didn't otherwise move. "Okay." He cleared his throat and closed his eyes again. "I was sure I was going to die."
Dave's throat tightened just at the sound of Aaron saying those words. "I wasn't going to let you," he whispered.
"Mmm," Aaron acknowledged. "I didn't care. About dying."
Dave let out a shaky breath. "I know," he admitted. He curled his fingers around Aaron's hand again, then closed his eyes. God, it hurt to hear Aaron say that. How could Aaron have gotten so bad without Dave seeing it? Because you didn't want to, whispered a voice in the back of his mind. You've never seen him as anything but a hero.
"I don't know," Aaron whispered, sounding as though he was answering some internal question no one had voiced. "Sorry."
"You don't have to apologize to me, Aaron," Dave said. He brought his other hand up to cradle Aaron's. What the hell, Aaron was drugged to the gills anyway. "You never have to apologize to me."
"I was being selfish," Aaron breathed. "I didn't realize 'til... until you mentioned Jack."
"I'm just sorry you thought you didn't have a reason to care," Dave whispered. God, his chest ached.
"It might've been a relief," Aaron murmured. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, and the beeping of his pulse sped a little.
"I know," Dave said. "I'm sorry."
Aaron sucked in a shaky breath, but didn't say anything. A moment later he lifted his hand to his face, and Dave noticed the wetness he was wiping from his cheek. Aaron's other hand squeezed Dave's weakly.
Dave pressed his lips together and lifted his hand to brush a thumb against Aaron's cheek. "I'm here," he said quietly. "I don't know if it's any help, but I'm sure as hell not going anywhere." He'd never wanted so much to take Aaron in his arms and just hold him. He felt utterly helpless.
Aaron nodded, and another tear fell. The beeping of his machine was faster still, but not enough to be alarming. It still made Dave ache for all that Aaron was trying to hold inside.
"You saved my life."
"I was being selfish," Dave admitted. "I need you." He knew Aaron hated showing his emotions like this, but he couldn't help being grateful that Aaron trusted him this much. "I couldn't let you go."
Aaron managed a small laugh, but then just squeezed Dave's hand again.
Dave took a breath and brushed his hand over Aaron's hair, then pulled back. "You know that, don't you, Aaron?" he murmured. "I treasure our friendship. I treasure you. You're the best man I know." He took a ragged breath and pressed his lips together again to keep from admitting more.
Aaron smiled and opened his eyes, his gaze on Dave's warm. "It's okay. 'm going to live."
"Thank God," Dave said, smiling back at him. "That doesn't make it any less true."
Aaron watched him for a moment, then his gaze fell to their joined hands. "How long do I have to stay here?"
"I don't know," Dave admitted. "The ER doctor said you were critical, so I'd guess overnight, anyway." He tried to make it sound like a joke, but he knew it fell horribly flat.
Aaron laughed quietly anyway. "Don't feel critical," he mumbled.
"Maybe you're getting better," Dave said. He studied Aaron's face. "Do you want me to get the doctor?"
"I want to be left alone," Aaron said, but his hand tightened on Dave's.
Dave's lips curled in a half-smile. "You're going to have to let people in at some point," he said, but he brushed his fingers against Aaron's hair and then settled back a little in his chair. "I wouldn't tell them," he said after a moment, and hoped Aaron understood that his emotions were held in confidence.
Aaron grinned weakly. "I'm high, not stupid."
Somehow the grin hit Dave harder than Aaron's tears had. He had almost lost Aaron tonight. Dave stared at him for a moment, then let out a shuddery breath and put his forehead down on the bed, squeezing his eyes shut. "God," he whispered.
He heard Aaron sigh. "Dave." He paused for a moment, then said, "I'm sorry."
Dave shook his head. "I was so fucking scared," he admitted. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down again.
"So was I," Aaron said, then sighed. "No I wasn't." He sighed again. "I'm sorry."
"Goddammit, don't apologize to me," Dave growled. He sat up and scowled at Aaron. "I already told you that's unnecessary."
"I don't know what else I can say," Aaron said quietly.
Dave shook his head. "This is me, Aaron. You don't have to say anything." He squeezed Aaron's hand and held his gaze. "It's not like I'm going anywhere regardless."
Aaron looked at their hands again. "Are you okay?"
Dave looked down and reluctantly let go. "Mostly," he said. "I will be."
"Dave," Aaron said, then closed his eyes again. He drew a long steadying breath, but didn't say anything else.
There didn't seem to be anything left to say right then. Dave resisted the urge to touch Aaron again. Instead he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms loosely. He thought of Emily urging him to tell Aaron how he felt, and tried to imagine it. He couldn't. He had no idea what he could possibly say.
After a while, Aaron shifted and groaned. He swallowed another noise of pain, then said, "I might need more for pain. But maybe I should see everyone first so they can go get some rest."
Dave nodded and reached out to rest a hand on Aaron's shoulder. "I'll go send Reid in while I get you the good drugs, okay?" He waited until he got a flicker of a smile from Aaron, then went to send in the team one at a time. He had pulled himself together enough to give stern instructions to them about five minutes each, and then went to get a nurse.
He held a sigh when he felt someone behind him. It was Emily. He knew that without turning around. "How is he?" she asked. It wasn't what she wanted to ask, he knew.
He had no idea how to answer that. "He's not alone," he told her after a moment. She could interpret that however she wanted.
She sighed and kept up with him. When they rounded the corner, she touched his arm. "How are you?" She paused. "And how much time do I have left before you start cursing at me?"
He glowered at her. "I always thought Garcia was the mother hen," he grumbled, but he knew there was no heat to it. After a moment he sighed. "I'll be fine. And no, I'm not leaving the hospital tonight. I've always wanted to spend a mostly sleepless night in an uncomfortable chair and wake up with a crick in my neck when I finally do drop off. Now go get in line to talk to Hotch, or you'll forfeit your five minutes."
"You wouldn't do that to me," she said. "I'll just go in last." She paused. "You know, when they let him go, he should probably be staying with someone while he's recovering."
"Don't be so damn sure I wouldn't," Dave growled, and turned to walk away. He wasn't interested in finishing this conversation.
He hear her sigh, but she didn't follow him. "Fine." When he glanced over his shoulder, she was heading back towards the room.
He didn't want to go back to the waiting room while the rest of the team was still there, mostly because he wasn't sure he could meet Emily's gaze again tonight. But he didn't feel right about wasting time while Aaron was in pain, so he forced himself to find the nurse and go back to the waiting room. Fortunately Emily was in with Aaron and everyone else just seemed to want to pretend things were normal. Morgan gripped his shoulder briefly before he and Garcia and Spencer left, and JJ touched his arm, smiling faintly at him. When Emily came out, Dave forced himself to stop her with an outstretched hand.
"Emily, I'm sorry," he said quietly. "And...thank you."
She smiled and nodded. "Yeah," she said, then left.
He went back into the room and stayed out of the way as the nurse checked Aaron's vitals and looked at his chart, then gave him a pill and a glass of water. She glanced at Dave as if she were going to remind him of visiting hours, then visibly changed her mind and smiled faintly at him.
Dave settled back into the chair by Aaron's bed. "Wasn't too bad, was it?" he asked quietly.
"Mmm, what wasn't?" Aaron asked.
"Finding out how much everyone loves you," Dave said, his lips quirking.
Aaron huffed a laugh. "Love might be a strong word, but it wasn't so bad."
Dave shook his head. "This team is our family, Aaron. I'm pretty sure love is exactly the word." Of course, the words meant more from Dave than Aaron knew, but that didn't really matter right now.
Aaron hummed, staring at one of the machines hooked up to him. "You can go home and rest, you know. I'm not going anywhere."
"Neither am I," Dave said calmly. "Not until you do."
"Dave--" Aaron started to protest.
"No arguments," Dave interrupted. "What are you gonna do, get up and throw me out? If you try to get an orderly to make me leave, I'll just tell them you're under federal protection." He gave Aaron a small smile.
"God," Aaron muttered, but he was smiling faintly. "I'd offer to share, but I'm afraid there's only room for one of us. You're not going to be very comfortable." His speech was starting to slow as the drugs kicked in.
"Eh, I'll live." As soon as he said it, Dave realized what a flippant phrase it was, and how damn lucky he was that it was true for both of them tonight. His smile widened briefly and he reached out to brush his fingers against Aaron's wrist. "Anyway, there's nowhere else I'd rather be."
Aaron gave him a lopsided smile. "That's sad," he murmured, his tone warm.
Part Two
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-11-21 05:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-25 04:55 pm (UTC)If only...
Now onto part 2 :O)
Thanks for sharing.
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Date: 2010-11-26 02:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-26 06:21 pm (UTC)