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geekystudmuffin2009-09-19 08:39 pm
innerslytherin) wrote in geekystudmuffin2009-09-19 08:39 pm
The Last Best Days, Hotch/Rossi, NC-17 (20/21)
Title: The Last Best Days
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
innerslytherin and severity_softly
Artist:tli
Pairing: Hotch/Rossi
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 147,800
Summary: Futurefic--Shortly before Dave turns sixty, he is diagnosed with a grade III brain tumor. He and Aaron have to come to terms with what this means for their relationship. Eventually the team has to help Aaron say goodbye.
Notes: Heavy angst. Lots of medical detail. Character death. This fic would not exist without the extensive help, support, encouragement, and hand-holding fromresolucidity, who served as our medical consultant throughout.
Master post
Chapter Twenty
Aaron didn't have enough room in the house for all the members of Dave's family who were coming in to town for the vigil. More than that, he didn't really have room in his head or his heart to do anything about it.
He knew, in a vague sort of way, that he was blessed to have JJ sitting by the phone. She'd reserved a block of rooms at a hotel midway between the funeral home and the church, and she was even taking care of transportation. It occurred to him, once, to wonder what was happening in the BAU, but he couldn't be bothered to ask.
The vigil was scheduled for two days after Dave's death. JJ had informed him that Spencer and Emily were going to complete their consultation before coming back, since they were already in New York. Aaron found himself almost dreading having Spencer and Emily come back.
Jack spent a lot of the next day sitting in out-of-the-way places with Fuzzy clutched on his lap. One time when Aaron went to look for him he found Jack curled up on Morgan's lap. Aaron had backed away before they saw him.
Eventually Aaron retreated to Dave's study, where he sat at Dave's desk and closed his eyes and breathed in Dave's scent. God, he wasn't going to make it through this.
That was where Spencer found him early in the evening when he got to the house.
Spencer's eyes were red and he looked tired. He was hovering in the doorway like he was afraid to come in. "Hotch," he said, his voice small.
Aaron sighed. "Spencer." He had no idea what to say. He didn't really want to say anything. But he didn't really want Spencer to leave, either.
Spencer didn't move. "Are you... ah... busy?"
Aaron shrugged. "If being miserable counts."
Spencer nodded. "I suppose the more succinct way to put it would be 'do you mind me coming in?'"
"I'm not very good company," Aaron said. "But I don't mind."
Spencer nodded again, and stepped inside, sitting on the couch across the room, just inside the door. He didn't say anything for a long time, and Aaron was starting to wonder if Spencer just wanted the company of someone else who wasn't going to try to snap him out of being depressed.
Eventually, Spencer shifted onto his side, staring at the carpet. "I told him not to say goodbye to me."
"When?" Aaron would have given a lot for Dave to have said goodbye to him. Just to have had any indication that Dave could hear what Aaron was saying to him in those last moments...
"The night you gave me my kilt," Spencer said. "I told him not to say goodbye. That it was too soon. And now..." He huffed a breath and stopped talking.
"He didn't say goodbye to anyone last night," Aaron said. He looked down at the desk. "He said my name. I think. And I think he said he loved me." He didn't know why he was saying this. He always had said things to Spencer that he wouldn't have told anyone else on the team, though. "He wasn't awake most of the time."
"But I'd been gone a few days. He could have... Or I could have said it to..." Spencer stopped and sighed. "I'm sorry."
Aaron shrugged. He was sorry too. But he didn't think being sorry had much value these days. "Yeah." He sighed and rubbed his face. "He knew, Spencer."
"Knew what?" Spencer said quietly, then looked up at Aaron.
"That you wanted to be there. I told him." Aaron pressed his lips together, telling himself not to break down in front of Spencer. "He just couldn't hold on any more," he whispered, and looked down.
Spencer sighed. "I should be making you feel better, not the other way around."
Aaron huffed an unhappy laugh. "That isn't possible, so don't waste your effort."
Spencer sighed again and rubbed a hand over his face. "Do you want me to leave?"
"No." The thought of being alone was worse than having Spencer there. "Just don't feel like you have to make me feel better, because nothing could." Unless I could wake up and this could all have been a horrible dream.
"Okay," Spencer said, curling his arm under his head. "I don't mind lying here and not making each other feel better."
Aaron nodded. "That's fine. Misery loves company, right?" His eyes were stinging again. Don't, he told himself.
"It's true," Spencer agreed, and closed his eyes. "He was... I... I don't know."
A noise that was too much like a sob escaped Aaron. He tried to cover it with a cough. "Yeah," he whispered, and clenched his jaw.
He heard Spencer suck in a breath, then Spencer lifted his head to look at Aaron. A moment later, he sat up. "It's, ah... You... you can if you need to."
Aaron shook his head and didn't look up. He didn't need to lose control in front of coworkers, even if they were his friends as well.
Spencer stared at him for a moment, and then Aaron saw Spencer nod in his peripheral vision. When Aaron looked up, Spencer had tears in his eyes and was staring at the carpet. It made him feel obscurely guilty, but he wasn't sure why.
After a moment Aaron murmured, "When I woke up this morning..." He licked his lips and fought the tears again. "I didn't remember at first. And then it...hit me..." A tear slid down his cheek. "All over again."
"At least you managed to sleep," Spencer murmured.
Aaron let out a shuddery breath. "I didn't really sleep much for two days beforehand." Another tear slipped out. He'd been afraid to sleep, in case Dave died alone. He'd tried so hard to take care of Dave, but he'd let him die. "Oh, God," he whispered.
He saw Spencer lift a hand and wipe his own cheek, and somehow that made Aaron's control slip more. He pressed his hand to his face, his fingers pressing into his eyes and tried to breathe.
"I don't know," Aaron managed. He couldn't seem to get his breathing under control. I don't know how to do this without him, he'd meant to say, but he couldn't get anything else out.
Spencer seemed to realize, though. "Don't know what?" he asked.
Aaron just shook his head, then finally quit fighting. "How to go on without him," he managed, and sobbed in a breath. But it was too much, and he put his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking.
Spencer didn't say anything at all, and Aaron wasn't sure he would. He supposed the beauty of talking to Spencer was that you knew he could be both honest and completely nonjudgmental at the same time. On top of that, he listened. After a few moments, in which Aaron wondered if he was going to be able to control himself at all, Spencer inhaled deeply.
"I've never been in love. Dave said that he wanted that for me, but I can't imagine ever having to go through what you are. I never want to."
Aaron took another breath, shuddering. "It's worth it," he whispered. "God, I hate this, but it was worth it." He shook his head, knowing it was true, even if it didn't feel like it right now.
"I'll take your word for it," Spencer said. After a moment, he got up and moved closer, settling in a chair a few feet away from Aaron instead of across the room.
"He knew me," Aaron whispered. "He just knew. And..." He shook his head. "He can't be gone. He just can't."
"I know," Spencer said. After a moment, he huffed a sad laugh. "Somehow it was easy to decide that if it took a partial lobotomy to fix Dave, I'd do it, but this... there's nothing I can give you."
Oddly, the idea made Aaron laugh through his tears. "God. We'd end up with a Frankenstein creation who was half you and half Dave," he said, and laughed for another minute before the tears won again.
Spencer was smiling sadly. "What's so frightening about that?"
Aaron shook his head. "I would have taken all his pain if I could have," he whispered.
"I know," Spencer said, his smile fading.
God, I don't know how to do this, Aaron thought for the hundredth time. He pressed his hands against his eyes, wishing he could just not feel for a while.
Spencer was quiet for a moment, then his gaze dropped to the floor. "Is this where we go back to not trying to make each other feel better, or can I do anything?"
Aaron made a miserable noise. "If you really feel like sitting here while I lose it..." He shook his head and lost his breath to the grief for a moment, then straightened a little. "I know if I had loved him less, this wouldn't hurt so much," he murmured. "But that's not comforting either."
Spencer drew in a breath, his eyes welling up again. He lifted his hand, hesitated, then rested it over Aaron's. It looked completely awkward, but Aaron knew Spencer wouldn't touch him like this unless he really wanted to, unless he thought Aaron needed it.
It made Aaron's chest ache and destroyed whatever shreds of control he had left, but he appreciated it too, as odd as it felt. He clutched at Spencer's hand and sobbed.
Spencer watched him for a moment, then lowered his gaze to the table and scooted forward a little. Aaron saw one of Spencer's tears hit the wood near him, but Spencer was silent. It struck Aaron that Spencer might be trying to be strong for him, and when Aaron felt Spencer's other hand on his arm, he fell apart a little more.
He didn't know how long he wept, but when he was finished, he felt entirely empty. He didn't know if he'd even cried this hard when they found out the cancer was back and Dave had yelled at him. He couldn't seem to catch his breath, and even when he thought he'd finished, he kept having to suck in long breaths. And as soon as he started pulling himself together, of course, he felt a horrible rush of embarrassment.
Spencer was still sniffling a little, though, and when Aaron's breathing started to calm down a little, Spencer moved his hand from Aaron's shoulder to wipe at his face.
Finally Aaron let out a long sigh. He felt like he ought to apologize, but if he apologized, Spencer might apologize, and it didn't really bother Aaron when other people lost control. It was just when he did that it felt like weakness. "I miss him," he murmured. It was obvious and stupid, but it was all he could think to say.
"You probably won't ever stop," Spencer whimpered.
Aaron thought of the way Dave brought him fresh tea 'just because' and the way he held Aaron at night. "I know."
Spencer was looking miserably at the desktop. "Sorry."
"Don't apologize," Aaron murmured. He paused. "Thank you. I...don't feel better. But maybe I needed to do that."
Spencer just sighed and nodded. "If you don't feel even the slightest bit better, then you either didn't need to do it, or you didn't do it hard enough," he whispered, wiping his face again. Then he shook his head. "Sorry."
Aaron sighed. "The last time I did this was when we found out it was back." He stared down at the desk. "I think this brought me some relief, but I'm not sure that I didn't want to be miserable." He paused. "Does that make any sense?"
"It would be unnatural if you didn't," Spencer said, and shrugged. "I guess I shouldn't hope to help you when I'm completely unwilling to stop sulking too." He gave a miserable, self-deprecating laugh.
"Grieving and sulking are two different things, and there's no right way to grieve," Aaron said automatically. Then he snorted. "That sounds like something you would say." And that had sounded like something Dave would say.
Spencer's lips pulled to the side, and he lifted a finger to make a point. "Perhaps grief has lead you to take on a second personality as a coping mechanism."
Aaron snorted again. "That explanation is right up there with evil and eviler twins," he said. And abruptly he felt less heavy. He felt more able to breathe. Not easily, not happily, but better than before.
When Spencer looked at him, it seemed plain that had been the intent, even if Spencer was trying to hide it. Spencer really would not last long as a guilty witness. "Stranger things have happened," he said mildly.
Aaron shook his head, but he leaned over and hugged Spencer briefly. "Thank you," he said quietly.
"Thank you," Spencer mumbled.
Aaron pulled back and watched him for a moment. "Do you think you could go snag a bottle of scotch from the drinks cabinet without getting the third degree? I really don't feel like seeing anyone else right now. They might try to cheer me up."
Spencer's lips curled a little. "I can try."
***
The vigil and the funeral passed in a sort of blur for Aaron. There were moments that stood out, like the sight of Rosa fingering her rosary as they prayed before the funeral--It's more for Mama than for me, Dave had said when he planned the very traditional Catholic funeral. The sight of Dave's casket being carried in by his brothers, Georgie, and Morgan. The eulogy, which Georgie gave because Aaron would shatter if he had to get up in front of all these people. Felicia clinging to Andrea in a storm of tears.
Then there was the ride to the cemetery, with Jack draped over Aaron's lap sobbing uncontrollably. Aaron fought to hold himself together, trying to comfort his son and calm him a little. There were a few words said at the graveside, and then everyone was going. Aaron couldn't make himself leave. Even when Haley and Sean took Jack and said they would wait for him at the car. Aaron couldn't imagine walking away and going on with his life.
"I still can't believe you're doing this to me," he muttered, once everyone was gone. "We should have kept fighting. You would have still been alive. What if you'd even beat it, Dave? Stranger things have happened." He was staring into a hole in the ground, he realized, and there would be six feet of dirt between him and his lover too soon. He had the horrible impulse to jump in and let them bury him too.
He closed his eyes. Dave had bought adjoining plots so Aaron would have one if he wanted to be buried next to Dave. They wouldn't have to use it, Aaron thought crazily. But what would happen to Fuzzy and Jack? Aaron sighed and knelt in the grass, ignoring the way it would stain his suit. "I hate you so much," he whispered.
That was what triggered the tears. He was going to regret saying that, and he knew it, but right now there seemed to be nothing else to say, nothing else to feel but this anger that was coursing through him. It was a defeated sort of anger, but it still burned. "We said forever. We said forever so many times. Liar. Look what you've done to our son."
Look what you've done to me. This was all he had left. A grave that didn't even have a headstone yet and all this useless anger. "This isn't forever, Dave," Aaron choked out.
He drew in a shaky breath, just letting the tears roll down his cheeks. He wasn't sure what else to say, or if there was anything left to say at all. So he just cried until the tears dried up, not caring how long it took.
Afterwards, when he was feeling empty and lost and too damn tired to get up, Sean came back. He reminded Aaron that there was a funeral dinner being given back at the church. Aaron knew he ought to go, but he didn't care. He just didn't have the energy to try to make other people happy.
He sighed. "Do you think anyone would care if I sat it out?" he asked, realizing he just wasn't in the right headspace to even be objective about it.
Sean shrugged. "Don't know. I don't think anyone has the right to tell you what to do right now." After a moment he shrugged and sat on the ground next to Aaron.
"I think I'm going to go home," Aaron said. "Go to bed." And maybe drink until I can't fucking feel. He stared at the grave. Bastard.
Sean nodded. "I can drop you off. Or I can stay if you want company." He wasn't looking at Aaron either.
"I think I'd rather be alone," Aaron said, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. The air smelled like fresh, damp earth.
"Okay." Sean hesitated for a long time, then stood. He didn't leave, though.
It was time to go. Sean would pull him out of the grave if he jumped in, and that would just be embarrassing, he thought stupidly. He heaved a deep breath, then stood too.
Sean gripped his shoulder for a moment, then turned and headed back to the car.
They took the hearse back to the church, and then Sean drove Aaron home. Aaron waited until Sean drove off and left him to take the bottle of Dave's scotch to bed with him. He didn't bother to change out of his suit or pull back the covers. He just turned on the TV for background noise and drank, trying to toe the line between hammered and sick. There was no one there to take care of him if he got sick.
The last thing he remembered before he passed out was cursing at Dave's side of the bed.
***
The next week settled into a kind of pattern. He woke up miserable and hung over. He thought about showering and couldn't find a reason to bother. He ate when he had to. He fed the cat and scooped its litter and lavished attention on it because Dave had absolutely doted on the little animal. Then he started drinking early in the afternoon and kept drinking until he passed out.
The day after the funeral Haley and Jack moved to a hotel. He hoped she'd told Jack it was to give him some time alone, and not because his father was turning into a filthy drunk.
He was afraid the latter might be true.
Sean was there sometimes. Sometimes he wasn't. He always watched Aaron with a combination of anxiety and reluctance. They didn't talk much.
Six days after the funeral, Aaron woke up with Dave's smell in his nostrils. He smiled and rolled over--into the empty space in his bed. As he lay there, eyes dry and burning, he knew Dave would kick his ass if he could see what Aaron had been doing.
"God," he groaned, barely audible to his own ears. The sheets were starting to smell like sweat and whiskey, but Dave's side still smelled a little like Dave. So did the closet; it smelled like detergent mixed with Dave on Dave's side. There is no Dave's side anymore. Just my closet filled with a dead man's clothes and my empty bed, he thought. "God, I'm sorry," he choked out, not sure why.
You should be, Dave would say. Lying around feeling sorry for yourself. And you always called me a drama queen. Except maybe he wouldn't say that. Maybe he'd just push Aaron out of bed and drag him into the shower to get him cleaned up. I'll never know, Aaron thought miserably.
He let out a small sob, but no tears came, and he wondered vaguely if he'd drunk away all his tears. When he and Haley had split, this had been easier. He buried himself in work, and that had helped. But now? Now if he went to work, everyone and everything would remind him of Dave. He wondered if he would ever go back sometimes.
The front door opened and closed, and Aaron didn't move. It was either Sean or Haley, Aaron knew. He didn't need to get up. They'd leave him alone until he got out of bed. If he got out of bed at all.
There was a firm knock on the door. Aaron lay there for a few heartbeats; if he ignored it, the person would go away. He'd almost convinced himself of that when the second knock came. He sighed, debating whether to answer it or not. After the third knock was a voice.
"If you don't open the door, I'll just come in, and that'll embarrass us both if you're naked."
Fuck. It was Emily.
He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out, so he cleared his throat. "I'm not in the mood for company," he said, just barely loud enough to be heard through the door to save his own throbbing head, praying now that she would leave. He dragged himself out of bed and went for Dave's robe, though, just in case.
"That's sort of why I'm here," she said. "Really, Hotch, I'm going to count to ten, and then I'm opening the door whether you like it or not."
Aaron sighed and rubbed his eyes as she started to count, wishing it would rub away the redness and puffiness he knew was there, and thought ridiculously about locking himself in the bathroom. But then he remembered that if he did go back to work, hiding from her wouldn't really do much for his continued authority.
When she got to two, he opened the door.
"God," she said when she saw him. She stared at him for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. Here's what I'm not going to do. I'm not going to ask how you feel; I know. I'm not going to try to cheer you up; I can't. I'm also not going to point out things you already know, because it doesn't change anything." She reached out and took his arm, pulling him out of the bedroom. "Here's what I am going to do. I'm going to fix you breakfast and make you eat it. I'm going to make you shower if I have to drag you in there myself. Shaving is optional. I'm going to take you for a drive. Then I'm going to bring you home and set you free."
She tilted her head, looking at him for a moment. "You can resist and make this difficult, you can let me push you around because it's easier not to fight, or you can be an active participant, which makes it a little easier on both of us."
Aaron stared at her. He didn't feel like doing any of what she was suggesting, especially leaving the house. So he considered her options. Resisting would only end in embarrassment later. He sighed. "You're hoping for too much on the last one." Though he wasn't planning on making her literally push him. "But I'm not really hungry and I don't really want to leave, so how about a compromise. I'll shower and come out of the room," he said, his voice flat.
"And eat," she replied, folding her arms across her chest. Her voice was flat too, and he could tell she wasn't going to compromise on that. But maybe it meant he would get out of leaving the house.
"Tylenol and coffee," he returned, then scrubbed a hand over his face and went to get clothes to change into after the shower.
"And protein," she called after him. He ignored it and got in the shower. To his surprise, once he'd made the effort, the hot water felt good hitting his skin and trickling through his hair. He closed his eyes and turned his face to it. You could drown yourself in the shower if you really tried, he thought. But he suspected Emily would come into the bathroom if she thought he was taking too long, so he scrubbed his hair and washed quickly.
When he came back out to the bedroom, he saw that Emily had opened the curtains. He scowled and headed out to the front room, where he found her reading. She put her finger in the book to keep her place and looked up at him.
"Well, you look a little more human," she observed.
"Wish I felt it," he lied; he wasn't ready to feel better. He was wearing Dave's shirt, and she probably realized that, but now that he was clean, it was easier to smell Dave on it. He slumped into Dave's recliner and crossed his arms over himself, staring at the floor.
"No you don't," she said. "My guess is you've been alternating between wallowing in misery and drinking whatever you can to kill the pain. Meanwhile you're scaring your son and trying to alienate your ex-wife and brother." Her voice was matter-of-fact, no judgment. "Haley and Andrew needed to go back to Georgia. Jack's staying with me right now. He likes my dog. I thought about inviting Sean to stay too, but I thought he might get the wrong idea."
She stood up. "Do you want Italian food or do you want to avoid Italian food?"
Aaron looked at her, feeling guilty about Jack, and somewhat shocked that Haley had left him here with Emily. The next thought that crossed his mind, however, was that shooting himself would be easier than drowning, and it would make all their lives easier not to have to worry about him. "I don't want food at all."
"I know you don't. But you have responsibilities, and one of them is to eat." Emily shrugged. "I was trying to give you some input, but if you're not going to help, then you get spaghetti and meatballs. I know Mama Rossi's recipe."
That caused a sudden spark of anger, and he turned to glare at her. "Don't."
She shrugged again. "You need to eat something," she said, her voice flat. "I'm giving you a choice."
"Anything but Italian," Aaron finally said, because that covered not only Mama Rossi's food, but Dave's favorite dishes too.
She stood. "Fine. Bacon and pancakes it is." She handed him her book and went out to the kitchen.
He tossed it onto the sofa without looking at it, and rubbed at his throbbing head. What time was it? She was talking about breakfast and Italian food. He sighed and squinted at the clock across the room to see it was getting close to noon, then looked longingly at the bottle of bourbon he'd left on the drinks cabinet the night before. Maybe he could drink her away too. Of course, doing that right in front of her wasn't really an option.
He was still sitting there when she came back. She was carrying two plates. "Want to eat in here or in the kitchen?"
He took it from her without speaking and started eating, not moving from his seat. She watched him, then sat on the couch to eat. They didn't say anything for a while, and Aaron pushed his food around on his plate a lot. He had a feeling the bacon would upset his stomach (more than the sudden mass intake of alcohol over the last few days already had), and the pancakes were too sweet. Though he probably could have found fault in anything she made. He forced down what he hoped was enough to make her shut up and put the plate on the coffee table.
She eyed his plate but didn't say anything for a long moment. "Greasy food helps a hangover," she said finally, then took one of the pieces of bacon that he hadn't eaten. She left him a long silence, maybe waiting for him to say something. He didn't oblige her.
When she was finished eating, she set her plate on the coffee table next to his and sat quietly for a while longer.
"You know, getting out of the house might actually help a little."
He shrugged. "Maybe."
"The house might smell better if you at least opened the windows."
He gave her a look. "I'm really not bothered."
"Right, but I think we can take it as read that you're spending half your time in a drunken haze and the other half trying to catch whatever's left of Dave's scent in your bed." Emily's expression was sympathetic, but her gaze didn't flinch away from his. "You're not in a position to be bothered about anything."
"I've done what you want. You're more than welcome to leave if you're bothered," he told her.
"I'm not bothered," Emily said. "Not by the smell, anyway. And not really by the beard. It's not a bad look for you." She stretched out on the couch, her languid position relaxing him a little just before she said, in a hard voice, "What bothers me is the fact that you think a kick-ass, take-charge guy like David Rossi would want you drinking yourself stupid over him every night."
Aaron scowled, another wave of anger making him bristle. "Dave is dead. I'm not so concerned with what he wants at the moment," he bit out.
"Yeah, I get that. But Jack isn't dead. Jack's still here, and he's a little boy who's hurting pretty badly, and he didn't want to leave his dad, whom he seems to realize is hurting even more than he is." Emily wasn't looking at him. She was just staring up at the ceiling. "But I'm not really the person he wants to be hanging out with at the moment."
Aaron clenched his jaw and stared at the floor. How dare she? He pressed his lips together and rubbed his hand over his eyes. "How did you get in?"
"Sean gave me a key. He's a little worried about you." Emily's tone of voice made it clear that was a deliberate understatement.
"He's barely said anything to me," Aaron said. There Sean went again, trying to run away from the ugly truth.
That's what you're doing too, a nasty voice in the back of his mind said.
"He's tried on several occasions," Emily said. "But he's scared of you when you're a grief-stricken zombie, and apparently you aren't very nice when you're drinking."
Aaron drew in a slow breath, telling himself not to scream at her as her words sent a thrill of... something through him. Scaring his son, and his brother. Not very nice when he's drinking. She was accusing him of turning into his father without even knowing it. He leaned forward and dropped his head into his hands. "Dave never said I wasn't nice when I drank," he muttered.
He heard her sigh. "I don't imagine you ever drank this much or for this reason," she said. "Hotch...I've done that. I got really messed up when...after...after. I know how tempting it is to just...blot out everything with some sort of chemical relief. But it never makes it go away for good." She sounded terribly unhappy. "I know how much this--okay, I don't know. But I know this hurts like hell. This just...is a destructive way to deal with it."
He lifted his head and glared at her. "I thought you said you weren't going to tell me things I already knew."
"Sorry." She sat up and cleared the coffee table, then carried the dishes into the kitchen.
Aaron watched after her for a minute, a frown forming on his face at the way she was dealing with him. Then he sighed and slumped farther into his chair when he heard the water turn on. A few minutes later, he glanced up when Emily walked back in the room, and watched her sit.
Finally, he sighed and closed his eyes. "Why did Haley just leave him here?"
"Because he wanted to be close to you." Emily's voice was neutral again. "None of us--and by us I mean Sean and Haley and me--thought you needed to try to take care of him by yourself. Sean...didn't think it was a good idea for him to see you drinking so much." She sighed. "I'm sorry, Hotch. No one denies you the right to feel horrible. I know I sound like an uptight, judgmental bitch right now." She snorted. "Sorry, that was something you already know." She sighed. "We just want to see you get through this...without being destroyed." The neutrality had faded and he could hear unshed tears in her voice. Thankfully she got control of them. "Not undamaged, I know. But not destroyed."
Aaron didn't look at her. He was still staring at the opposite wall. "I don't know if I can go back to the BAU."
She was quiet for a moment. "I can imagine. He built that unit."
"I never saw him that way. He was just... the guy I worked my first case with, and when he came back, the first thing he did was hug me. And now everyone I work with knows him, knows about us, and loves him," Aaron said, then paused and added, "Loved him."
"We still love him," she said quietly. "Love doesn't die, Hotch." She made a quickly stifled noise, and he knew she was close to tears. "Not even his. He's still looking out for you. I promised him I'd help however I could."
Aaron laughed. "And what if he isn't watching out for me? What if he's just gone?" He shook his head and promptly wanted a few too many swigs from the bottle across the room. "Don't answer that."
She snorted. "You're asking the wrong person, anyway. I think I've got more Catholic left in me than he did."
Aaron shook his head. "Who's with Jack right now?"
"Your brother." She laughed. "He's more comfortable in my place than the last two guys I dated. I guess that stuff they say about foxhole friendships is true." She sighed. "Sorry. You could ride over to my place with me and then get a ride home with Sean, if you want."
Aaron scrubbed a hand over the beard he'd let grow, wondering if he should shave. But he just didn't have the energy, and he couldn't bring himself to care. He just wanted to hold Jack. I'm scaring my son, he thought. He'd never wanted that, even indirectly. After a moment, he nodded slowly.
She leaned over and touched his shoulder. "He knows you're sad. He's just not sure how to help, and...I think he's just afraid he'll make you sadder."
Aaron huffed a miserable laugh. "That's not even possible."
"I know that," she said. "But he'd take it better coming from you." She stood up and held out a hand. "Come on, Hotch," she murmured. "Let's go see your son."
Aaron nodded and stood, then went and stuck the mostly empty bottle of bourbon back in the drinks cabinet. If Jack came back with him, he didn't want bottles sitting out. God, he should probably clean. He told himself firmly that how clean his house was wouldn't matter to Jack, though. What would matter to Jack was seeing that Aaron was okay.
Not okay. But alive and functioning, at least. He wondered how long the latter would last.
She didn't make him talk on the way to her place, which was a relief. She didn't try to uphold a conversation, either. For all that he resented the way she had barged in and taken over, he was starting to relax around her. She had loved Dave too, he reminded himself. And she'd been important to Dave. Plus she'd been through this herself, with her mother. She might not know the soul-crushing pain of losing the love of your life, but she did know pain.
When they arrived, she inspected him for a moment, then honked the horn twice before they got out. Sean opened the door, and then Jack was pushing past him and running towards Aaron.
The force with which Jack launched himself at Aaron was enough to knock Aaron's breath away, and he immediately wrapped his arms around Jack as Jack clung to him and started to cry. He ducked his head and pressed his face to the top of Jack's head. Feeling Jack against him was more grounding than even Emily's words had been. God, what had he done to his son?
"I'm sorry," he murmured, lifting a hand to stroke Jack's hair, his eyes stinging.
"I love you, Daddy," Jack said, still crying. He was holding on to him with all the force in his body. "I'm sorry you're sad."
"You don't need to be sorry about anything, Jack," Aaron replied, rocking Jack a little.
"I didn't mean to make you sadder," Jack whispered. "I don't--I--I miss Dave. And I missed you."
"You didn't make me sadder," Aaron said, and he sort of wanted to be angry at Haley for taking Jack away. Surely that made Jack think that Aaron didn't want him. Of course, Aaron was also glad Jack hadn't seen him like he had been.
"Do I have to keep staying with Emily?" Jack asked. "I like her, but I want to come back home. I miss you."
"I miss you too," Aaron said, then glanced up awkwardly at Sean. Sean looked a little wary, and Aaron had to look away. "Of course you can come back."
"Will Uncle Sean come or is he going to stay with Emily?" Jack looked at Sean, then leaned in to whisper--not quietly enough--in Aaron's ear, "I think Sean likes Emily."
That surprised a tiny laugh out of Aaron; it seemed to hurt a little. "That's up to Emily and Uncle Sean."
Jack bit his lip and looked up at Aaron. "Are you mad at Uncle Sean?" he asked.
Aaron shook his head. "No."
"You grew a beard," Jack pointed out.
"Not intentionally," Aaron admitted.
"Are you going to keep it?"
Aaron's lips quirked just a little before they fell again. "I don't know. Do you like it?"
Jack made a thoughtful face. "Not really."
Aaron laughed softly again. "All right, then. Probably not. We'll see."
"I love you, Daddy." Jack seemed to need to repeat that. It made Aaron's chest ache.
"I love you too, Jacks," he whispered, pulling him closer. He cradled the back of Jack's head, bending to kiss his hair. "I'm so sorry I let you down, buddy."
"You didn't let me down," Jack said. Aaron wondered if Jack understood what he meant.
Aaron sighed and kissed Jack again, then saw Sean coming over from the corner of his eye. He glanced up, giving Sean an uncertain look. "Hey," he said quietly.
"Hey," Sean said. He was silent for a long moment, then he put a hand on Aaron's shoulder. "Em says you need a ride home."
Aaron nodded, his hand still rubbing Jack's back. "You're welcome to take your things and come back, if you want to."
Sean nodded. "Emily probably wants her space back," he said. He squeezed Aaron's shoulder gently. "I'll be right back. You want me to bring you a Coke or anything?"
Aaron shook his head. "Jack, why don't you get your things first, and we can load the car while Sean gets his," he said, watching his brother and hoping he understood that Aaron wanted to talk to him alone.
Sean nodded and waited while Jack pulled back. He sniffled and wiped his face. "I'll hurry," he promised, and went up to where Emily was waiting at the front door. Sean stuck his hands in his pockets and watched Aaron.
Aaron pressed his lips together and looked away. After a moment, he sighed. "I don't remember what I said to you, but I'm sorry," he said, looking back.
Sean shrugged. "I don't remember either," he said, and it was obvious he was lying. "You don't owe me any apologies, Aaron. I... I can't imagine what you're going through right now."
Aaron shook his head. "I do owe you one, so just let me, okay?" he said. Apparently being a mean drunk is genetic, he thought bitterly.
Sean sighed. "Then you're forgiven," he said. He moved closer, then hugged Aaron. "I just want to be here for you," he murmured. "I don't know how. I don't know what you need from me. But I want to give you that."
"I don't even know what I need, Sean," Aaron said. The truth was that he was utterly lost, but he didn't know how to say that without sounding weak... as if there was any question of that now.
"Yeah." Sean pulled back, but gripped Aaron's shoulders. "Then we just take it a day at a time, huh? And hopefully we'll figure something out."
"I'm not really counting on that," Aaron said, and the door opened. Emily was helping Jack with his things. "Don't you have a job to go back to?" Aaron asked, looking back at Sean.
"Eventually," Sean said. "I took a leave of absence. I hadn't really used much vacation until last year." He made a wry face. "You and I have a few things in common."
Aaron nodded. "A few."
"Daddy, Emily said I could drive!" Jack announced, coming back. Aaron gave her a look, but Emily's expression said clearly that she hadn't said that.
"Right," Aaron said, and took Jack's bag. He glanced at Sean. "Go get your things."
***
The next several weeks were the hardest Aaron could ever remember living through. Some days he had to force himself to get out of bed, and the only thing that really did it was reminding himself that Jack needed him. Even after Jack went back to Georgia to get ready for the school year, Aaron told himself Jack was a good reason to get out of bed in the morning.
When Aaron's leave ran up, he made himself go back to the BAU. It was just as hard as he'd expected at first. He found himself assaulted by memories everywhere he turned. But everyone on the team had loved Dave too, and they quickly learned to recognize when Aaron was feeling overwhelmed. And after a while it started getting easier. He remembered how important the BAU had been to Dave. He remembered how much Dave had cared about the victims they represented. And eventually he came to feel as though he was continuing Dave's legacy and honoring his memory with the work they did.
As the year wound down, the weather turning colder and the days growing shorter, Aaron found himself missing Dave more again. There had been so many good nights spent in front of the fireplace with a glass of brandy. One night, while sitting at Dave's desk--which was still the way Dave had left it--Aaron found the thick, leather-bound notebook and remembered what Dave had been doing with it.
He closed his eyes and drew in a long breath. He wasn't really sure he wanted to open it. He just ran his fingers over the spine, trying not to remember that night he'd found Dave writing it and had seen one of his seizures for the first time.
"God, Dave," he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face when he remembered there was a recorder somewhere too that Dave had used to finish his thoughts after he lost his vision.
He found the edge of the book and opened it to the first page, running his fingertips over the writing, feeling its impressions on the page and trying to decide if he wanted to open his eyes and look.
Aaron, it began. It was in Dave's small, tidy script, written in brown ink. Obviously he'd used his expensive fountain pen, which Aaron remembered meant that the words were important or the recipient held special significance to Dave. I guess it's true that when you really become aware of your own mortality, what's important really shines through. Lately I've been thinking about a lot of things I want to make sure you know. And when you find out what this book is for, you'll probably yell at me, if I'm still around. But I'm not starting this book because I think death is lurking around the next corner. I'm starting this because life is uncertain, and you are the most important person in my life. Right now I have a clean MRI, I feel better than I have in half a year, and I'm back at work. But there are things I want you to know forever. Foremost, of course, is that I love you more than I ever thought possible.
Aaron's lips curled into a small, sad smile at the memory of the night Dave told him he was healthy again, the overwhelming happiness and passion he'd felt, so much that he'd abandoned himself to it in the kitchen, of all places.
Having you in my life has been hands-down the biggest blessing I've ever experienced. Time spent with you brings me contentment and joy, passion and companionship. You are the best partner I could ever have imagined, and you never fail to turn me on and hear me out. You fascinate me, body, mind and soul. Never let anyone make you feel unworthy or inferior or undeserving. I still remember the struggle I had getting you to accept love. You are worthy of all the love I can give you, and much much more.
Aaron closed his eyes again against the emotion he was feeling. "It's a shame I didn't get to have it nearly long enough," he whispered. He sighed heavily, and when he thought he could, he looked back down at the book.
More than that, you've brought Jack into my life as well. I guess you know I never thought I'd be a father. It wasn't that I didn't want kids, but that was never in the cards I was dealt. And I was scared shitless to tell Jack that you and I were in love. It didn't matter that he was four at the time; what I knew was that he was the most important person in your life, and that if your relationship with me threatened your relationship with your son, I knew I would be the one to go. I've always been grateful that it worked out the way it did, that I have this amazing little person in my life who looks to me as some kind of role model. And I have you to thank for that too.
Aaron really smiled this time. "He was lucky to have you too." He sighed. "I'm talking to a book. You've made me a crazy man," he said, looking up at nothing with a put out look.
Dave would say something snide to that, Aaron thought. Probably something about how Aaron was already a crazy man, and having Dave for comparison just made it obvious.
Aaron laughed quietly to himself, then flipped through the rest of the pages, noting the entire pages addressed to Jack and the way Dave's handwriting got worse and worse near the end. That made his chest ache, and he closed the book. He had as long as he wanted to read it, and not only was he not sure he could handle too much at once, he also wanted to savor what Dave had left him. Maybe he'd have his wine in front of the fireplace with the book one night.
He would have to decide how to share it with Jack, as well. He would want to read through it before he shared any of it with Jack, because as much as he loved Dave, he wasn't sure how much self-censoring Dave would have done
Aaron sighed and dropped his head back against the chair. "I miss you," he whispered. It didn't hurt as badly as it had before, but it still hurt. The house was too big and quiet, but he couldn't move. He couldn't bring himself to even move Dave's things within the house. Dave's clothes still took up half the closet.
He was able to experience the grief but still function these days, though. He'd gotten past being paralyzed with it. He lived with the sadness now. And some days, when the sadness was lightest, he could believe he would remember how to be happy again.
When Thanksgiving rolled around, Garcia suggested having a team dinner on the weekend after the holiday. Aaron was quick to offer to have it at his house. If this had been two years before, he suspected the team would have been surprised at that, but no one seemed to be now. Aaron was looking forward to having his house full again. He just hoped it wasn't going to make it seem even lonelier after everyone went home.
Emily got there ahead of the others, since she'd agreed to take charge of the turkey. As she wrestled with the bird, elbow deep in poultry, she made a wry remark about missing Dave the most right now. "He'd have insisted on killing a bird for us, and then we could have made him do all the work," she joked.
"His guns are still locked up in the study. Maybe JJ would be willing to do it," Aaron said, trying to smile. It was difficult, but he was still getting used to trying to actually talk about Dave to everyone but Jack.
Emily snorted. "I'll let you suggest that." She glanced over at him. "I thought you were supposed to be mashing potatoes."
Aaron lifted an eyebrow. "Because I won't have time to do that in the several hours that's cooking?"
Emily heaved a mock sigh. "Fine, fine." She glanced at him. "Have you talked to Jack recently?"
"Yeah," Aaron said. "I think he's coming over after Christmas."
She nodded. "That'll be good. I think we all got used to having him around for a while. It was nice." She paused, then said, "How's he doing?"
Aaron shrugged. "Fine. You know how kids are. They bounce back. He has a lot of friends, and they keep him busy. Plus I think it's easier for people that don't live here. Your normal daily life isn't as disrupted." He sighed. "He talks about Dave sometimes, though."
"Yeah." Emily smiled faintly. "He'll always be influenced by Dave, I'm sure." She laughed. "Hard not to be, really. Dave was...unforgettable."
"That's one way of putting it," Aaron said. "Do you want a glass of wine?"
"Sure." Emily smiled at him. "You don't really have to keep me company if you'd rather not."
"Are you trying to tell me the turkey is more entertaining?" Aaron asked, pouring a glass for her.
She laughed. "Not at all. I'm admitting that the turkey's pretty boring, so I'll understand if you don't stick around." She took a hand out of the turkey and he realized she was using evidence gloves to stuff it. She pulled the glove off and took a healthy sip of the wine, then paused. "Oh, that's very good," she said quietly.
"Bartolo," Aaron said, then wondered vaguely if the Rossis would want to see him for Christmas. And if he'd be able to do it.
Emily nodded in understanding and went back to work on the turkey. Their conversation turned to less painful subjects eventually, and they were laughing together when Spencer, Derek, and Penelope arrived. Before long the entire team was there. Aaron caught several of them in moments of melancholy, but in general the mood was warm and comfortable.
Just as they were getting ready to eat, Garcia straightened up. "Oh! Spence, go get that thing out of Esther." She prodded him on the arm.
"That thing?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow.
"You know, the THING," she said. He snorted and left. Garcia turned and gave everyone an innocent look. "What?"
When Spencer returned, he was carrying a large box. He handed it to Garcia, who came around and presented it to Aaron. "Open it," she ordered. "It's a Thanksgiving present. Or a late birthday present."
He gave her a look that said she shouldn't have, and felt slightly guilty that he was getting a gift and no one else was. But he pulled the box open anyway, his fingers closing over a wooden frame. When he pulled the framed photograph out of the box, he sucked in a slow breath at what it was.
It was him and Dave sitting on the couch, Dave's head freshly shaved. The love in their expressions as they looked at each other, unaware that Garcia was there with a camera, was unmistakable. Aaron's eyes burned, but he took another deep breath and it slowly faded. "Thank you," he said quietly, not looking up from it.
He could hear the smile in her voice. "I have some other pictures you'll probably want too," she said. "But this one needed to be framed."
JJ and Emily leaned over his shoulders to look, and Spencer did too, though he seemed to already know what the picture was. He made a strangled noise, but he didn't sound really unhappy when he murmured, "He loved you so much."
Aaron closed his eyes. "I know." He gripped the frame for a moment, fighting emotion, then got it under control again.
Morgan came over to look at it, then closed his fingers on Aaron's shoulder comfortingly. "Come on," he said quietly. "Let's get some Thanksgiving dinner."
The others quit crowding around Aaron and started setting things up at the table. It gave him a few minutes to collect himself.
JJ hadn't killed the bird, but she had done a wonderful job carving it, and Aaron came out of his daze when someone started to load his plate. He held up a hand to let Emily know he could do it, and the plates started making their way around the table.
The meal was delicious, and it struck Aaron, as it often did, how like a family his team was. These people had been there for him and Dave through thick and thin, and he knew he wouldn't have made it through the past two years without them. He really did have a lot to be thankful for.
Afterwards he and Spencer did the dishes while Morgan cleared the table. JJ kicked back in front of the TV watching football and periodically turning up the volume to make Morgan groan. When they were done cleaning up, they claimed seats in the living room.
I wish you were here, Aaron thought, looking at the picture of them that Garcia had propped up on the TV. He closed his eyes. I miss you. He flinched when something hit his arm, but relaxed when it immediately started purring. Fuzzy. Opening his eyes, Aaron scratched behind the cat's ears and smiled.
The cat climbed into his lap and curled up as Garcia suggested dessert. Morgan groaned. "Too soon."
Aaron's lips curled a little more at her put out expression, then looked around, taking in the way that his house was full of people he cared about so much.
It wasn't okay that Dave wasn't around, but it was getting easier.
Author:
innerslytherin and severity_softlyArtist:
tliPairing: Hotch/Rossi
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 147,800
Summary: Futurefic--Shortly before Dave turns sixty, he is diagnosed with a grade III brain tumor. He and Aaron have to come to terms with what this means for their relationship. Eventually the team has to help Aaron say goodbye.
Notes: Heavy angst. Lots of medical detail. Character death. This fic would not exist without the extensive help, support, encouragement, and hand-holding from
resolucidity, who served as our medical consultant throughout.Master post
Chapter Twenty
Aaron didn't have enough room in the house for all the members of Dave's family who were coming in to town for the vigil. More than that, he didn't really have room in his head or his heart to do anything about it.
He knew, in a vague sort of way, that he was blessed to have JJ sitting by the phone. She'd reserved a block of rooms at a hotel midway between the funeral home and the church, and she was even taking care of transportation. It occurred to him, once, to wonder what was happening in the BAU, but he couldn't be bothered to ask.
The vigil was scheduled for two days after Dave's death. JJ had informed him that Spencer and Emily were going to complete their consultation before coming back, since they were already in New York. Aaron found himself almost dreading having Spencer and Emily come back.
Jack spent a lot of the next day sitting in out-of-the-way places with Fuzzy clutched on his lap. One time when Aaron went to look for him he found Jack curled up on Morgan's lap. Aaron had backed away before they saw him.
Eventually Aaron retreated to Dave's study, where he sat at Dave's desk and closed his eyes and breathed in Dave's scent. God, he wasn't going to make it through this.
That was where Spencer found him early in the evening when he got to the house.
Spencer's eyes were red and he looked tired. He was hovering in the doorway like he was afraid to come in. "Hotch," he said, his voice small.
Aaron sighed. "Spencer." He had no idea what to say. He didn't really want to say anything. But he didn't really want Spencer to leave, either.
Spencer didn't move. "Are you... ah... busy?"
Aaron shrugged. "If being miserable counts."
Spencer nodded. "I suppose the more succinct way to put it would be 'do you mind me coming in?'"
"I'm not very good company," Aaron said. "But I don't mind."
Spencer nodded again, and stepped inside, sitting on the couch across the room, just inside the door. He didn't say anything for a long time, and Aaron was starting to wonder if Spencer just wanted the company of someone else who wasn't going to try to snap him out of being depressed.
Eventually, Spencer shifted onto his side, staring at the carpet. "I told him not to say goodbye to me."
"When?" Aaron would have given a lot for Dave to have said goodbye to him. Just to have had any indication that Dave could hear what Aaron was saying to him in those last moments...
"The night you gave me my kilt," Spencer said. "I told him not to say goodbye. That it was too soon. And now..." He huffed a breath and stopped talking.
"He didn't say goodbye to anyone last night," Aaron said. He looked down at the desk. "He said my name. I think. And I think he said he loved me." He didn't know why he was saying this. He always had said things to Spencer that he wouldn't have told anyone else on the team, though. "He wasn't awake most of the time."
"But I'd been gone a few days. He could have... Or I could have said it to..." Spencer stopped and sighed. "I'm sorry."
Aaron shrugged. He was sorry too. But he didn't think being sorry had much value these days. "Yeah." He sighed and rubbed his face. "He knew, Spencer."
"Knew what?" Spencer said quietly, then looked up at Aaron.
"That you wanted to be there. I told him." Aaron pressed his lips together, telling himself not to break down in front of Spencer. "He just couldn't hold on any more," he whispered, and looked down.
Spencer sighed. "I should be making you feel better, not the other way around."
Aaron huffed an unhappy laugh. "That isn't possible, so don't waste your effort."
Spencer sighed again and rubbed a hand over his face. "Do you want me to leave?"
"No." The thought of being alone was worse than having Spencer there. "Just don't feel like you have to make me feel better, because nothing could." Unless I could wake up and this could all have been a horrible dream.
"Okay," Spencer said, curling his arm under his head. "I don't mind lying here and not making each other feel better."
Aaron nodded. "That's fine. Misery loves company, right?" His eyes were stinging again. Don't, he told himself.
"It's true," Spencer agreed, and closed his eyes. "He was... I... I don't know."
A noise that was too much like a sob escaped Aaron. He tried to cover it with a cough. "Yeah," he whispered, and clenched his jaw.
He heard Spencer suck in a breath, then Spencer lifted his head to look at Aaron. A moment later, he sat up. "It's, ah... You... you can if you need to."
Aaron shook his head and didn't look up. He didn't need to lose control in front of coworkers, even if they were his friends as well.
Spencer stared at him for a moment, and then Aaron saw Spencer nod in his peripheral vision. When Aaron looked up, Spencer had tears in his eyes and was staring at the carpet. It made him feel obscurely guilty, but he wasn't sure why.
After a moment Aaron murmured, "When I woke up this morning..." He licked his lips and fought the tears again. "I didn't remember at first. And then it...hit me..." A tear slid down his cheek. "All over again."
"At least you managed to sleep," Spencer murmured.
Aaron let out a shuddery breath. "I didn't really sleep much for two days beforehand." Another tear slipped out. He'd been afraid to sleep, in case Dave died alone. He'd tried so hard to take care of Dave, but he'd let him die. "Oh, God," he whispered.
He saw Spencer lift a hand and wipe his own cheek, and somehow that made Aaron's control slip more. He pressed his hand to his face, his fingers pressing into his eyes and tried to breathe.
"I don't know," Aaron managed. He couldn't seem to get his breathing under control. I don't know how to do this without him, he'd meant to say, but he couldn't get anything else out.
Spencer seemed to realize, though. "Don't know what?" he asked.
Aaron just shook his head, then finally quit fighting. "How to go on without him," he managed, and sobbed in a breath. But it was too much, and he put his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking.
Spencer didn't say anything at all, and Aaron wasn't sure he would. He supposed the beauty of talking to Spencer was that you knew he could be both honest and completely nonjudgmental at the same time. On top of that, he listened. After a few moments, in which Aaron wondered if he was going to be able to control himself at all, Spencer inhaled deeply.
"I've never been in love. Dave said that he wanted that for me, but I can't imagine ever having to go through what you are. I never want to."
Aaron took another breath, shuddering. "It's worth it," he whispered. "God, I hate this, but it was worth it." He shook his head, knowing it was true, even if it didn't feel like it right now.
"I'll take your word for it," Spencer said. After a moment, he got up and moved closer, settling in a chair a few feet away from Aaron instead of across the room.
"He knew me," Aaron whispered. "He just knew. And..." He shook his head. "He can't be gone. He just can't."
"I know," Spencer said. After a moment, he huffed a sad laugh. "Somehow it was easy to decide that if it took a partial lobotomy to fix Dave, I'd do it, but this... there's nothing I can give you."
Oddly, the idea made Aaron laugh through his tears. "God. We'd end up with a Frankenstein creation who was half you and half Dave," he said, and laughed for another minute before the tears won again.
Spencer was smiling sadly. "What's so frightening about that?"
Aaron shook his head. "I would have taken all his pain if I could have," he whispered.
"I know," Spencer said, his smile fading.
God, I don't know how to do this, Aaron thought for the hundredth time. He pressed his hands against his eyes, wishing he could just not feel for a while.
Spencer was quiet for a moment, then his gaze dropped to the floor. "Is this where we go back to not trying to make each other feel better, or can I do anything?"
Aaron made a miserable noise. "If you really feel like sitting here while I lose it..." He shook his head and lost his breath to the grief for a moment, then straightened a little. "I know if I had loved him less, this wouldn't hurt so much," he murmured. "But that's not comforting either."
Spencer drew in a breath, his eyes welling up again. He lifted his hand, hesitated, then rested it over Aaron's. It looked completely awkward, but Aaron knew Spencer wouldn't touch him like this unless he really wanted to, unless he thought Aaron needed it.
It made Aaron's chest ache and destroyed whatever shreds of control he had left, but he appreciated it too, as odd as it felt. He clutched at Spencer's hand and sobbed.
Spencer watched him for a moment, then lowered his gaze to the table and scooted forward a little. Aaron saw one of Spencer's tears hit the wood near him, but Spencer was silent. It struck Aaron that Spencer might be trying to be strong for him, and when Aaron felt Spencer's other hand on his arm, he fell apart a little more.
He didn't know how long he wept, but when he was finished, he felt entirely empty. He didn't know if he'd even cried this hard when they found out the cancer was back and Dave had yelled at him. He couldn't seem to catch his breath, and even when he thought he'd finished, he kept having to suck in long breaths. And as soon as he started pulling himself together, of course, he felt a horrible rush of embarrassment.
Spencer was still sniffling a little, though, and when Aaron's breathing started to calm down a little, Spencer moved his hand from Aaron's shoulder to wipe at his face.
Finally Aaron let out a long sigh. He felt like he ought to apologize, but if he apologized, Spencer might apologize, and it didn't really bother Aaron when other people lost control. It was just when he did that it felt like weakness. "I miss him," he murmured. It was obvious and stupid, but it was all he could think to say.
"You probably won't ever stop," Spencer whimpered.
Aaron thought of the way Dave brought him fresh tea 'just because' and the way he held Aaron at night. "I know."
Spencer was looking miserably at the desktop. "Sorry."
"Don't apologize," Aaron murmured. He paused. "Thank you. I...don't feel better. But maybe I needed to do that."
Spencer just sighed and nodded. "If you don't feel even the slightest bit better, then you either didn't need to do it, or you didn't do it hard enough," he whispered, wiping his face again. Then he shook his head. "Sorry."
Aaron sighed. "The last time I did this was when we found out it was back." He stared down at the desk. "I think this brought me some relief, but I'm not sure that I didn't want to be miserable." He paused. "Does that make any sense?"
"It would be unnatural if you didn't," Spencer said, and shrugged. "I guess I shouldn't hope to help you when I'm completely unwilling to stop sulking too." He gave a miserable, self-deprecating laugh.
"Grieving and sulking are two different things, and there's no right way to grieve," Aaron said automatically. Then he snorted. "That sounds like something you would say." And that had sounded like something Dave would say.
Spencer's lips pulled to the side, and he lifted a finger to make a point. "Perhaps grief has lead you to take on a second personality as a coping mechanism."
Aaron snorted again. "That explanation is right up there with evil and eviler twins," he said. And abruptly he felt less heavy. He felt more able to breathe. Not easily, not happily, but better than before.
When Spencer looked at him, it seemed plain that had been the intent, even if Spencer was trying to hide it. Spencer really would not last long as a guilty witness. "Stranger things have happened," he said mildly.
Aaron shook his head, but he leaned over and hugged Spencer briefly. "Thank you," he said quietly.
"Thank you," Spencer mumbled.
Aaron pulled back and watched him for a moment. "Do you think you could go snag a bottle of scotch from the drinks cabinet without getting the third degree? I really don't feel like seeing anyone else right now. They might try to cheer me up."
Spencer's lips curled a little. "I can try."
***
The vigil and the funeral passed in a sort of blur for Aaron. There were moments that stood out, like the sight of Rosa fingering her rosary as they prayed before the funeral--It's more for Mama than for me, Dave had said when he planned the very traditional Catholic funeral. The sight of Dave's casket being carried in by his brothers, Georgie, and Morgan. The eulogy, which Georgie gave because Aaron would shatter if he had to get up in front of all these people. Felicia clinging to Andrea in a storm of tears.
Then there was the ride to the cemetery, with Jack draped over Aaron's lap sobbing uncontrollably. Aaron fought to hold himself together, trying to comfort his son and calm him a little. There were a few words said at the graveside, and then everyone was going. Aaron couldn't make himself leave. Even when Haley and Sean took Jack and said they would wait for him at the car. Aaron couldn't imagine walking away and going on with his life.
"I still can't believe you're doing this to me," he muttered, once everyone was gone. "We should have kept fighting. You would have still been alive. What if you'd even beat it, Dave? Stranger things have happened." He was staring into a hole in the ground, he realized, and there would be six feet of dirt between him and his lover too soon. He had the horrible impulse to jump in and let them bury him too.
He closed his eyes. Dave had bought adjoining plots so Aaron would have one if he wanted to be buried next to Dave. They wouldn't have to use it, Aaron thought crazily. But what would happen to Fuzzy and Jack? Aaron sighed and knelt in the grass, ignoring the way it would stain his suit. "I hate you so much," he whispered.
That was what triggered the tears. He was going to regret saying that, and he knew it, but right now there seemed to be nothing else to say, nothing else to feel but this anger that was coursing through him. It was a defeated sort of anger, but it still burned. "We said forever. We said forever so many times. Liar. Look what you've done to our son."
Look what you've done to me. This was all he had left. A grave that didn't even have a headstone yet and all this useless anger. "This isn't forever, Dave," Aaron choked out.
He drew in a shaky breath, just letting the tears roll down his cheeks. He wasn't sure what else to say, or if there was anything left to say at all. So he just cried until the tears dried up, not caring how long it took.
Afterwards, when he was feeling empty and lost and too damn tired to get up, Sean came back. He reminded Aaron that there was a funeral dinner being given back at the church. Aaron knew he ought to go, but he didn't care. He just didn't have the energy to try to make other people happy.
He sighed. "Do you think anyone would care if I sat it out?" he asked, realizing he just wasn't in the right headspace to even be objective about it.
Sean shrugged. "Don't know. I don't think anyone has the right to tell you what to do right now." After a moment he shrugged and sat on the ground next to Aaron.
"I think I'm going to go home," Aaron said. "Go to bed." And maybe drink until I can't fucking feel. He stared at the grave. Bastard.
Sean nodded. "I can drop you off. Or I can stay if you want company." He wasn't looking at Aaron either.
"I think I'd rather be alone," Aaron said, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. The air smelled like fresh, damp earth.
"Okay." Sean hesitated for a long time, then stood. He didn't leave, though.
It was time to go. Sean would pull him out of the grave if he jumped in, and that would just be embarrassing, he thought stupidly. He heaved a deep breath, then stood too.
Sean gripped his shoulder for a moment, then turned and headed back to the car.
They took the hearse back to the church, and then Sean drove Aaron home. Aaron waited until Sean drove off and left him to take the bottle of Dave's scotch to bed with him. He didn't bother to change out of his suit or pull back the covers. He just turned on the TV for background noise and drank, trying to toe the line between hammered and sick. There was no one there to take care of him if he got sick.
The last thing he remembered before he passed out was cursing at Dave's side of the bed.
***
The next week settled into a kind of pattern. He woke up miserable and hung over. He thought about showering and couldn't find a reason to bother. He ate when he had to. He fed the cat and scooped its litter and lavished attention on it because Dave had absolutely doted on the little animal. Then he started drinking early in the afternoon and kept drinking until he passed out.
The day after the funeral Haley and Jack moved to a hotel. He hoped she'd told Jack it was to give him some time alone, and not because his father was turning into a filthy drunk.
He was afraid the latter might be true.
Sean was there sometimes. Sometimes he wasn't. He always watched Aaron with a combination of anxiety and reluctance. They didn't talk much.
Six days after the funeral, Aaron woke up with Dave's smell in his nostrils. He smiled and rolled over--into the empty space in his bed. As he lay there, eyes dry and burning, he knew Dave would kick his ass if he could see what Aaron had been doing.
"God," he groaned, barely audible to his own ears. The sheets were starting to smell like sweat and whiskey, but Dave's side still smelled a little like Dave. So did the closet; it smelled like detergent mixed with Dave on Dave's side. There is no Dave's side anymore. Just my closet filled with a dead man's clothes and my empty bed, he thought. "God, I'm sorry," he choked out, not sure why.
You should be, Dave would say. Lying around feeling sorry for yourself. And you always called me a drama queen. Except maybe he wouldn't say that. Maybe he'd just push Aaron out of bed and drag him into the shower to get him cleaned up. I'll never know, Aaron thought miserably.
He let out a small sob, but no tears came, and he wondered vaguely if he'd drunk away all his tears. When he and Haley had split, this had been easier. He buried himself in work, and that had helped. But now? Now if he went to work, everyone and everything would remind him of Dave. He wondered if he would ever go back sometimes.
The front door opened and closed, and Aaron didn't move. It was either Sean or Haley, Aaron knew. He didn't need to get up. They'd leave him alone until he got out of bed. If he got out of bed at all.
There was a firm knock on the door. Aaron lay there for a few heartbeats; if he ignored it, the person would go away. He'd almost convinced himself of that when the second knock came. He sighed, debating whether to answer it or not. After the third knock was a voice.
"If you don't open the door, I'll just come in, and that'll embarrass us both if you're naked."
Fuck. It was Emily.
He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out, so he cleared his throat. "I'm not in the mood for company," he said, just barely loud enough to be heard through the door to save his own throbbing head, praying now that she would leave. He dragged himself out of bed and went for Dave's robe, though, just in case.
"That's sort of why I'm here," she said. "Really, Hotch, I'm going to count to ten, and then I'm opening the door whether you like it or not."
Aaron sighed and rubbed his eyes as she started to count, wishing it would rub away the redness and puffiness he knew was there, and thought ridiculously about locking himself in the bathroom. But then he remembered that if he did go back to work, hiding from her wouldn't really do much for his continued authority.
When she got to two, he opened the door.
"God," she said when she saw him. She stared at him for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. Here's what I'm not going to do. I'm not going to ask how you feel; I know. I'm not going to try to cheer you up; I can't. I'm also not going to point out things you already know, because it doesn't change anything." She reached out and took his arm, pulling him out of the bedroom. "Here's what I am going to do. I'm going to fix you breakfast and make you eat it. I'm going to make you shower if I have to drag you in there myself. Shaving is optional. I'm going to take you for a drive. Then I'm going to bring you home and set you free."
She tilted her head, looking at him for a moment. "You can resist and make this difficult, you can let me push you around because it's easier not to fight, or you can be an active participant, which makes it a little easier on both of us."
Aaron stared at her. He didn't feel like doing any of what she was suggesting, especially leaving the house. So he considered her options. Resisting would only end in embarrassment later. He sighed. "You're hoping for too much on the last one." Though he wasn't planning on making her literally push him. "But I'm not really hungry and I don't really want to leave, so how about a compromise. I'll shower and come out of the room," he said, his voice flat.
"And eat," she replied, folding her arms across her chest. Her voice was flat too, and he could tell she wasn't going to compromise on that. But maybe it meant he would get out of leaving the house.
"Tylenol and coffee," he returned, then scrubbed a hand over his face and went to get clothes to change into after the shower.
"And protein," she called after him. He ignored it and got in the shower. To his surprise, once he'd made the effort, the hot water felt good hitting his skin and trickling through his hair. He closed his eyes and turned his face to it. You could drown yourself in the shower if you really tried, he thought. But he suspected Emily would come into the bathroom if she thought he was taking too long, so he scrubbed his hair and washed quickly.
When he came back out to the bedroom, he saw that Emily had opened the curtains. He scowled and headed out to the front room, where he found her reading. She put her finger in the book to keep her place and looked up at him.
"Well, you look a little more human," she observed.
"Wish I felt it," he lied; he wasn't ready to feel better. He was wearing Dave's shirt, and she probably realized that, but now that he was clean, it was easier to smell Dave on it. He slumped into Dave's recliner and crossed his arms over himself, staring at the floor.
"No you don't," she said. "My guess is you've been alternating between wallowing in misery and drinking whatever you can to kill the pain. Meanwhile you're scaring your son and trying to alienate your ex-wife and brother." Her voice was matter-of-fact, no judgment. "Haley and Andrew needed to go back to Georgia. Jack's staying with me right now. He likes my dog. I thought about inviting Sean to stay too, but I thought he might get the wrong idea."
She stood up. "Do you want Italian food or do you want to avoid Italian food?"
Aaron looked at her, feeling guilty about Jack, and somewhat shocked that Haley had left him here with Emily. The next thought that crossed his mind, however, was that shooting himself would be easier than drowning, and it would make all their lives easier not to have to worry about him. "I don't want food at all."
"I know you don't. But you have responsibilities, and one of them is to eat." Emily shrugged. "I was trying to give you some input, but if you're not going to help, then you get spaghetti and meatballs. I know Mama Rossi's recipe."
That caused a sudden spark of anger, and he turned to glare at her. "Don't."
She shrugged again. "You need to eat something," she said, her voice flat. "I'm giving you a choice."
"Anything but Italian," Aaron finally said, because that covered not only Mama Rossi's food, but Dave's favorite dishes too.
She stood. "Fine. Bacon and pancakes it is." She handed him her book and went out to the kitchen.
He tossed it onto the sofa without looking at it, and rubbed at his throbbing head. What time was it? She was talking about breakfast and Italian food. He sighed and squinted at the clock across the room to see it was getting close to noon, then looked longingly at the bottle of bourbon he'd left on the drinks cabinet the night before. Maybe he could drink her away too. Of course, doing that right in front of her wasn't really an option.
He was still sitting there when she came back. She was carrying two plates. "Want to eat in here or in the kitchen?"
He took it from her without speaking and started eating, not moving from his seat. She watched him, then sat on the couch to eat. They didn't say anything for a while, and Aaron pushed his food around on his plate a lot. He had a feeling the bacon would upset his stomach (more than the sudden mass intake of alcohol over the last few days already had), and the pancakes were too sweet. Though he probably could have found fault in anything she made. He forced down what he hoped was enough to make her shut up and put the plate on the coffee table.
She eyed his plate but didn't say anything for a long moment. "Greasy food helps a hangover," she said finally, then took one of the pieces of bacon that he hadn't eaten. She left him a long silence, maybe waiting for him to say something. He didn't oblige her.
When she was finished eating, she set her plate on the coffee table next to his and sat quietly for a while longer.
"You know, getting out of the house might actually help a little."
He shrugged. "Maybe."
"The house might smell better if you at least opened the windows."
He gave her a look. "I'm really not bothered."
"Right, but I think we can take it as read that you're spending half your time in a drunken haze and the other half trying to catch whatever's left of Dave's scent in your bed." Emily's expression was sympathetic, but her gaze didn't flinch away from his. "You're not in a position to be bothered about anything."
"I've done what you want. You're more than welcome to leave if you're bothered," he told her.
"I'm not bothered," Emily said. "Not by the smell, anyway. And not really by the beard. It's not a bad look for you." She stretched out on the couch, her languid position relaxing him a little just before she said, in a hard voice, "What bothers me is the fact that you think a kick-ass, take-charge guy like David Rossi would want you drinking yourself stupid over him every night."
Aaron scowled, another wave of anger making him bristle. "Dave is dead. I'm not so concerned with what he wants at the moment," he bit out.
"Yeah, I get that. But Jack isn't dead. Jack's still here, and he's a little boy who's hurting pretty badly, and he didn't want to leave his dad, whom he seems to realize is hurting even more than he is." Emily wasn't looking at him. She was just staring up at the ceiling. "But I'm not really the person he wants to be hanging out with at the moment."
Aaron clenched his jaw and stared at the floor. How dare she? He pressed his lips together and rubbed his hand over his eyes. "How did you get in?"
"Sean gave me a key. He's a little worried about you." Emily's tone of voice made it clear that was a deliberate understatement.
"He's barely said anything to me," Aaron said. There Sean went again, trying to run away from the ugly truth.
That's what you're doing too, a nasty voice in the back of his mind said.
"He's tried on several occasions," Emily said. "But he's scared of you when you're a grief-stricken zombie, and apparently you aren't very nice when you're drinking."
Aaron drew in a slow breath, telling himself not to scream at her as her words sent a thrill of... something through him. Scaring his son, and his brother. Not very nice when he's drinking. She was accusing him of turning into his father without even knowing it. He leaned forward and dropped his head into his hands. "Dave never said I wasn't nice when I drank," he muttered.
He heard her sigh. "I don't imagine you ever drank this much or for this reason," she said. "Hotch...I've done that. I got really messed up when...after...after. I know how tempting it is to just...blot out everything with some sort of chemical relief. But it never makes it go away for good." She sounded terribly unhappy. "I know how much this--okay, I don't know. But I know this hurts like hell. This just...is a destructive way to deal with it."
He lifted his head and glared at her. "I thought you said you weren't going to tell me things I already knew."
"Sorry." She sat up and cleared the coffee table, then carried the dishes into the kitchen.
Aaron watched after her for a minute, a frown forming on his face at the way she was dealing with him. Then he sighed and slumped farther into his chair when he heard the water turn on. A few minutes later, he glanced up when Emily walked back in the room, and watched her sit.
Finally, he sighed and closed his eyes. "Why did Haley just leave him here?"
"Because he wanted to be close to you." Emily's voice was neutral again. "None of us--and by us I mean Sean and Haley and me--thought you needed to try to take care of him by yourself. Sean...didn't think it was a good idea for him to see you drinking so much." She sighed. "I'm sorry, Hotch. No one denies you the right to feel horrible. I know I sound like an uptight, judgmental bitch right now." She snorted. "Sorry, that was something you already know." She sighed. "We just want to see you get through this...without being destroyed." The neutrality had faded and he could hear unshed tears in her voice. Thankfully she got control of them. "Not undamaged, I know. But not destroyed."
Aaron didn't look at her. He was still staring at the opposite wall. "I don't know if I can go back to the BAU."
She was quiet for a moment. "I can imagine. He built that unit."
"I never saw him that way. He was just... the guy I worked my first case with, and when he came back, the first thing he did was hug me. And now everyone I work with knows him, knows about us, and loves him," Aaron said, then paused and added, "Loved him."
"We still love him," she said quietly. "Love doesn't die, Hotch." She made a quickly stifled noise, and he knew she was close to tears. "Not even his. He's still looking out for you. I promised him I'd help however I could."
Aaron laughed. "And what if he isn't watching out for me? What if he's just gone?" He shook his head and promptly wanted a few too many swigs from the bottle across the room. "Don't answer that."
She snorted. "You're asking the wrong person, anyway. I think I've got more Catholic left in me than he did."
Aaron shook his head. "Who's with Jack right now?"
"Your brother." She laughed. "He's more comfortable in my place than the last two guys I dated. I guess that stuff they say about foxhole friendships is true." She sighed. "Sorry. You could ride over to my place with me and then get a ride home with Sean, if you want."
Aaron scrubbed a hand over the beard he'd let grow, wondering if he should shave. But he just didn't have the energy, and he couldn't bring himself to care. He just wanted to hold Jack. I'm scaring my son, he thought. He'd never wanted that, even indirectly. After a moment, he nodded slowly.
She leaned over and touched his shoulder. "He knows you're sad. He's just not sure how to help, and...I think he's just afraid he'll make you sadder."
Aaron huffed a miserable laugh. "That's not even possible."
"I know that," she said. "But he'd take it better coming from you." She stood up and held out a hand. "Come on, Hotch," she murmured. "Let's go see your son."
Aaron nodded and stood, then went and stuck the mostly empty bottle of bourbon back in the drinks cabinet. If Jack came back with him, he didn't want bottles sitting out. God, he should probably clean. He told himself firmly that how clean his house was wouldn't matter to Jack, though. What would matter to Jack was seeing that Aaron was okay.
Not okay. But alive and functioning, at least. He wondered how long the latter would last.
She didn't make him talk on the way to her place, which was a relief. She didn't try to uphold a conversation, either. For all that he resented the way she had barged in and taken over, he was starting to relax around her. She had loved Dave too, he reminded himself. And she'd been important to Dave. Plus she'd been through this herself, with her mother. She might not know the soul-crushing pain of losing the love of your life, but she did know pain.
When they arrived, she inspected him for a moment, then honked the horn twice before they got out. Sean opened the door, and then Jack was pushing past him and running towards Aaron.
The force with which Jack launched himself at Aaron was enough to knock Aaron's breath away, and he immediately wrapped his arms around Jack as Jack clung to him and started to cry. He ducked his head and pressed his face to the top of Jack's head. Feeling Jack against him was more grounding than even Emily's words had been. God, what had he done to his son?
"I'm sorry," he murmured, lifting a hand to stroke Jack's hair, his eyes stinging.
"I love you, Daddy," Jack said, still crying. He was holding on to him with all the force in his body. "I'm sorry you're sad."
"You don't need to be sorry about anything, Jack," Aaron replied, rocking Jack a little.
"I didn't mean to make you sadder," Jack whispered. "I don't--I--I miss Dave. And I missed you."
"You didn't make me sadder," Aaron said, and he sort of wanted to be angry at Haley for taking Jack away. Surely that made Jack think that Aaron didn't want him. Of course, Aaron was also glad Jack hadn't seen him like he had been.
"Do I have to keep staying with Emily?" Jack asked. "I like her, but I want to come back home. I miss you."
"I miss you too," Aaron said, then glanced up awkwardly at Sean. Sean looked a little wary, and Aaron had to look away. "Of course you can come back."
"Will Uncle Sean come or is he going to stay with Emily?" Jack looked at Sean, then leaned in to whisper--not quietly enough--in Aaron's ear, "I think Sean likes Emily."
That surprised a tiny laugh out of Aaron; it seemed to hurt a little. "That's up to Emily and Uncle Sean."
Jack bit his lip and looked up at Aaron. "Are you mad at Uncle Sean?" he asked.
Aaron shook his head. "No."
"You grew a beard," Jack pointed out.
"Not intentionally," Aaron admitted.
"Are you going to keep it?"
Aaron's lips quirked just a little before they fell again. "I don't know. Do you like it?"
Jack made a thoughtful face. "Not really."
Aaron laughed softly again. "All right, then. Probably not. We'll see."
"I love you, Daddy." Jack seemed to need to repeat that. It made Aaron's chest ache.
"I love you too, Jacks," he whispered, pulling him closer. He cradled the back of Jack's head, bending to kiss his hair. "I'm so sorry I let you down, buddy."
"You didn't let me down," Jack said. Aaron wondered if Jack understood what he meant.
Aaron sighed and kissed Jack again, then saw Sean coming over from the corner of his eye. He glanced up, giving Sean an uncertain look. "Hey," he said quietly.
"Hey," Sean said. He was silent for a long moment, then he put a hand on Aaron's shoulder. "Em says you need a ride home."
Aaron nodded, his hand still rubbing Jack's back. "You're welcome to take your things and come back, if you want to."
Sean nodded. "Emily probably wants her space back," he said. He squeezed Aaron's shoulder gently. "I'll be right back. You want me to bring you a Coke or anything?"
Aaron shook his head. "Jack, why don't you get your things first, and we can load the car while Sean gets his," he said, watching his brother and hoping he understood that Aaron wanted to talk to him alone.
Sean nodded and waited while Jack pulled back. He sniffled and wiped his face. "I'll hurry," he promised, and went up to where Emily was waiting at the front door. Sean stuck his hands in his pockets and watched Aaron.
Aaron pressed his lips together and looked away. After a moment, he sighed. "I don't remember what I said to you, but I'm sorry," he said, looking back.
Sean shrugged. "I don't remember either," he said, and it was obvious he was lying. "You don't owe me any apologies, Aaron. I... I can't imagine what you're going through right now."
Aaron shook his head. "I do owe you one, so just let me, okay?" he said. Apparently being a mean drunk is genetic, he thought bitterly.
Sean sighed. "Then you're forgiven," he said. He moved closer, then hugged Aaron. "I just want to be here for you," he murmured. "I don't know how. I don't know what you need from me. But I want to give you that."
"I don't even know what I need, Sean," Aaron said. The truth was that he was utterly lost, but he didn't know how to say that without sounding weak... as if there was any question of that now.
"Yeah." Sean pulled back, but gripped Aaron's shoulders. "Then we just take it a day at a time, huh? And hopefully we'll figure something out."
"I'm not really counting on that," Aaron said, and the door opened. Emily was helping Jack with his things. "Don't you have a job to go back to?" Aaron asked, looking back at Sean.
"Eventually," Sean said. "I took a leave of absence. I hadn't really used much vacation until last year." He made a wry face. "You and I have a few things in common."
Aaron nodded. "A few."
"Daddy, Emily said I could drive!" Jack announced, coming back. Aaron gave her a look, but Emily's expression said clearly that she hadn't said that.
"Right," Aaron said, and took Jack's bag. He glanced at Sean. "Go get your things."
***
The next several weeks were the hardest Aaron could ever remember living through. Some days he had to force himself to get out of bed, and the only thing that really did it was reminding himself that Jack needed him. Even after Jack went back to Georgia to get ready for the school year, Aaron told himself Jack was a good reason to get out of bed in the morning.
When Aaron's leave ran up, he made himself go back to the BAU. It was just as hard as he'd expected at first. He found himself assaulted by memories everywhere he turned. But everyone on the team had loved Dave too, and they quickly learned to recognize when Aaron was feeling overwhelmed. And after a while it started getting easier. He remembered how important the BAU had been to Dave. He remembered how much Dave had cared about the victims they represented. And eventually he came to feel as though he was continuing Dave's legacy and honoring his memory with the work they did.
As the year wound down, the weather turning colder and the days growing shorter, Aaron found himself missing Dave more again. There had been so many good nights spent in front of the fireplace with a glass of brandy. One night, while sitting at Dave's desk--which was still the way Dave had left it--Aaron found the thick, leather-bound notebook and remembered what Dave had been doing with it.
He closed his eyes and drew in a long breath. He wasn't really sure he wanted to open it. He just ran his fingers over the spine, trying not to remember that night he'd found Dave writing it and had seen one of his seizures for the first time.
"God, Dave," he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face when he remembered there was a recorder somewhere too that Dave had used to finish his thoughts after he lost his vision.
He found the edge of the book and opened it to the first page, running his fingertips over the writing, feeling its impressions on the page and trying to decide if he wanted to open his eyes and look.
Aaron, it began. It was in Dave's small, tidy script, written in brown ink. Obviously he'd used his expensive fountain pen, which Aaron remembered meant that the words were important or the recipient held special significance to Dave. I guess it's true that when you really become aware of your own mortality, what's important really shines through. Lately I've been thinking about a lot of things I want to make sure you know. And when you find out what this book is for, you'll probably yell at me, if I'm still around. But I'm not starting this book because I think death is lurking around the next corner. I'm starting this because life is uncertain, and you are the most important person in my life. Right now I have a clean MRI, I feel better than I have in half a year, and I'm back at work. But there are things I want you to know forever. Foremost, of course, is that I love you more than I ever thought possible.
Aaron's lips curled into a small, sad smile at the memory of the night Dave told him he was healthy again, the overwhelming happiness and passion he'd felt, so much that he'd abandoned himself to it in the kitchen, of all places.
Having you in my life has been hands-down the biggest blessing I've ever experienced. Time spent with you brings me contentment and joy, passion and companionship. You are the best partner I could ever have imagined, and you never fail to turn me on and hear me out. You fascinate me, body, mind and soul. Never let anyone make you feel unworthy or inferior or undeserving. I still remember the struggle I had getting you to accept love. You are worthy of all the love I can give you, and much much more.
Aaron closed his eyes again against the emotion he was feeling. "It's a shame I didn't get to have it nearly long enough," he whispered. He sighed heavily, and when he thought he could, he looked back down at the book.
More than that, you've brought Jack into my life as well. I guess you know I never thought I'd be a father. It wasn't that I didn't want kids, but that was never in the cards I was dealt. And I was scared shitless to tell Jack that you and I were in love. It didn't matter that he was four at the time; what I knew was that he was the most important person in your life, and that if your relationship with me threatened your relationship with your son, I knew I would be the one to go. I've always been grateful that it worked out the way it did, that I have this amazing little person in my life who looks to me as some kind of role model. And I have you to thank for that too.
Aaron really smiled this time. "He was lucky to have you too." He sighed. "I'm talking to a book. You've made me a crazy man," he said, looking up at nothing with a put out look.
Dave would say something snide to that, Aaron thought. Probably something about how Aaron was already a crazy man, and having Dave for comparison just made it obvious.
Aaron laughed quietly to himself, then flipped through the rest of the pages, noting the entire pages addressed to Jack and the way Dave's handwriting got worse and worse near the end. That made his chest ache, and he closed the book. He had as long as he wanted to read it, and not only was he not sure he could handle too much at once, he also wanted to savor what Dave had left him. Maybe he'd have his wine in front of the fireplace with the book one night.
He would have to decide how to share it with Jack, as well. He would want to read through it before he shared any of it with Jack, because as much as he loved Dave, he wasn't sure how much self-censoring Dave would have done
Aaron sighed and dropped his head back against the chair. "I miss you," he whispered. It didn't hurt as badly as it had before, but it still hurt. The house was too big and quiet, but he couldn't move. He couldn't bring himself to even move Dave's things within the house. Dave's clothes still took up half the closet.
He was able to experience the grief but still function these days, though. He'd gotten past being paralyzed with it. He lived with the sadness now. And some days, when the sadness was lightest, he could believe he would remember how to be happy again.
When Thanksgiving rolled around, Garcia suggested having a team dinner on the weekend after the holiday. Aaron was quick to offer to have it at his house. If this had been two years before, he suspected the team would have been surprised at that, but no one seemed to be now. Aaron was looking forward to having his house full again. He just hoped it wasn't going to make it seem even lonelier after everyone went home.
Emily got there ahead of the others, since she'd agreed to take charge of the turkey. As she wrestled with the bird, elbow deep in poultry, she made a wry remark about missing Dave the most right now. "He'd have insisted on killing a bird for us, and then we could have made him do all the work," she joked.
"His guns are still locked up in the study. Maybe JJ would be willing to do it," Aaron said, trying to smile. It was difficult, but he was still getting used to trying to actually talk about Dave to everyone but Jack.
Emily snorted. "I'll let you suggest that." She glanced over at him. "I thought you were supposed to be mashing potatoes."
Aaron lifted an eyebrow. "Because I won't have time to do that in the several hours that's cooking?"
Emily heaved a mock sigh. "Fine, fine." She glanced at him. "Have you talked to Jack recently?"
"Yeah," Aaron said. "I think he's coming over after Christmas."
She nodded. "That'll be good. I think we all got used to having him around for a while. It was nice." She paused, then said, "How's he doing?"
Aaron shrugged. "Fine. You know how kids are. They bounce back. He has a lot of friends, and they keep him busy. Plus I think it's easier for people that don't live here. Your normal daily life isn't as disrupted." He sighed. "He talks about Dave sometimes, though."
"Yeah." Emily smiled faintly. "He'll always be influenced by Dave, I'm sure." She laughed. "Hard not to be, really. Dave was...unforgettable."
"That's one way of putting it," Aaron said. "Do you want a glass of wine?"
"Sure." Emily smiled at him. "You don't really have to keep me company if you'd rather not."
"Are you trying to tell me the turkey is more entertaining?" Aaron asked, pouring a glass for her.
She laughed. "Not at all. I'm admitting that the turkey's pretty boring, so I'll understand if you don't stick around." She took a hand out of the turkey and he realized she was using evidence gloves to stuff it. She pulled the glove off and took a healthy sip of the wine, then paused. "Oh, that's very good," she said quietly.
"Bartolo," Aaron said, then wondered vaguely if the Rossis would want to see him for Christmas. And if he'd be able to do it.
Emily nodded in understanding and went back to work on the turkey. Their conversation turned to less painful subjects eventually, and they were laughing together when Spencer, Derek, and Penelope arrived. Before long the entire team was there. Aaron caught several of them in moments of melancholy, but in general the mood was warm and comfortable.
Just as they were getting ready to eat, Garcia straightened up. "Oh! Spence, go get that thing out of Esther." She prodded him on the arm.
"That thing?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow.
"You know, the THING," she said. He snorted and left. Garcia turned and gave everyone an innocent look. "What?"
When Spencer returned, he was carrying a large box. He handed it to Garcia, who came around and presented it to Aaron. "Open it," she ordered. "It's a Thanksgiving present. Or a late birthday present."
He gave her a look that said she shouldn't have, and felt slightly guilty that he was getting a gift and no one else was. But he pulled the box open anyway, his fingers closing over a wooden frame. When he pulled the framed photograph out of the box, he sucked in a slow breath at what it was.
It was him and Dave sitting on the couch, Dave's head freshly shaved. The love in their expressions as they looked at each other, unaware that Garcia was there with a camera, was unmistakable. Aaron's eyes burned, but he took another deep breath and it slowly faded. "Thank you," he said quietly, not looking up from it.
He could hear the smile in her voice. "I have some other pictures you'll probably want too," she said. "But this one needed to be framed."
JJ and Emily leaned over his shoulders to look, and Spencer did too, though he seemed to already know what the picture was. He made a strangled noise, but he didn't sound really unhappy when he murmured, "He loved you so much."
Aaron closed his eyes. "I know." He gripped the frame for a moment, fighting emotion, then got it under control again.
Morgan came over to look at it, then closed his fingers on Aaron's shoulder comfortingly. "Come on," he said quietly. "Let's get some Thanksgiving dinner."
The others quit crowding around Aaron and started setting things up at the table. It gave him a few minutes to collect himself.
JJ hadn't killed the bird, but she had done a wonderful job carving it, and Aaron came out of his daze when someone started to load his plate. He held up a hand to let Emily know he could do it, and the plates started making their way around the table.
The meal was delicious, and it struck Aaron, as it often did, how like a family his team was. These people had been there for him and Dave through thick and thin, and he knew he wouldn't have made it through the past two years without them. He really did have a lot to be thankful for.
Afterwards he and Spencer did the dishes while Morgan cleared the table. JJ kicked back in front of the TV watching football and periodically turning up the volume to make Morgan groan. When they were done cleaning up, they claimed seats in the living room.
I wish you were here, Aaron thought, looking at the picture of them that Garcia had propped up on the TV. He closed his eyes. I miss you. He flinched when something hit his arm, but relaxed when it immediately started purring. Fuzzy. Opening his eyes, Aaron scratched behind the cat's ears and smiled.
The cat climbed into his lap and curled up as Garcia suggested dessert. Morgan groaned. "Too soon."
Aaron's lips curled a little more at her put out expression, then looked around, taking in the way that his house was full of people he cared about so much.
It wasn't okay that Dave wasn't around, but it was getting easier.
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1.) Ngggggggggggggggggggg (scene at the grave)
2.) *wibble* Can Dave please live on as a voice in Hotch's head. At least it would be better than nothing.
3.) Thank God for Em.
4.) *shallow* I bet Hotch would look hot all hung over and with a beard...
5.) When Aaron's leave ran up, he made himself go back to the BAU. It was just as hard as he'd expected at first. He found himself assaulted by memories everywhere he turned. But everyone on the team had loved Dave too, and they quickly learned to recognize when Aaron was feeling overwhelmed. And after a while it started getting easier. He remembered how important the BAU had been to Dave. He remembered how much Dave had cared about the victims they represented. And eventually he came to feel as though he was continuing Dave's legacy and honoring his memory with the work they did.
*Oh BAU*
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(I think Hotch would look hot that way too. heh)
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