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Recognition - Criminal Minds - Gen (Aaron Hotchner) - Words: 1,344
Summary: After the events of LDSK, Hotch reminds himself who he really is. Episode tag to S01E06 LDSK, with references to information about Hotch learned in S01E08 Natural Born Killer.
Written for Angst Bingo; Prompt: Manipulation and Control
Content Notes: descriptions of violence, references to child abuse. T.
On AO3: Recognition
As soon as he was able, Hotch made a strategic retreat to his office, sitting behind his desk and holding onto it like it was a life preserver. In a way, it was; it helped remind him who he was, the same way his badge did. But he didn't need to cling to his own badge anymore, like a rookie still so surprised that he'd actually made it that he still needed the proof right under his fingertips.
He'd seen that the rest of the team had taken off; JJ pausing in her own office to go over a few things before she disappeared and Gideon keeping a discreet, watchful eye over Reid as he got ready to go home. Everyone else left quickly, all tired and glad to be back home.
Reid didn't have any broken ribs, Hotch had known that immediately, knew that he knew how hard he had to kick to make it look realistic without really hurting him. That didn't stop him from hovering outside the ER curtain and listening with a sense of sickness that had only been growing since they'd both knelt there in front of Dowd. He didn't have to see the marks his shoes had left to know that they were there, that Reid was probably laying in his apartment wide awake with his hands ghosting over swollen areas and wishing he didn't have to breath.
Hotch shook his head, reminding himself that Reid was an adult despite his appearance, that he'd been trained like the rest of them and had kept his cool with guns held to his head before. Reid would be fine. Hotch himself, he wasn't as sure about. He had vowed to himself, for as long as he'd been able to put the thoughts into words, that he would never hurt someone out of anger. Never lose control.
And he hadn't lost control. Not for a second in there had he not been thinking about his body language, his facial expression, his word choice. Especially his word choice because he knew that saying the wrong thing in that moment could cripple any self-confidence Reid might have using a gun. That was always the same, the words were so much more damning than any physical damage inflicted. The words would stay forever. Which was why he'd been so careful, scripting in his mind as quickly as possible, and eventually allowing that tiniest bit of frustration with Reid to bleed through to add that necessary hint of realism.
For a single, absolutely terrifying, moment when he'd asked to kick Reid he was almost sure that Dowd would say no, that he wouldn't believe him despite the bitter disappointed inflection he'd managed to copy so exactly from his memory. Judging from the ashamed and fearful duck of Reid's head, that he only barely caught out of the corner of his eye, Hotch had done a good job. Reid struggled with the acting and the subterfuge that came as part of the job, but there his reaction had been perfectly believable.
Hotch grimaced as he remembered Reid's expression, head bowed with shame and eyes fearful, but didn't push it away from his mind. That was important to remember, both that he could channel that nightmare of evil and torment if he had to and that he could not lose himself to it even when he had to let genuine emotion out along with it. But knowing what it was like to have someone look up at him when he held all the power and that person was helpless to whatever struck his mind, that was an important lesson. An important reminder of what he could be if he lost himself.
He'd taken care of Reid until Gideon had arrived, keeping enough distance that Reid wouldn't feel the need to pull away from him and make things awkward between the two of them, and had checked in later to make sure Reid was alright. Reid had waved it off and assured him that he was just fine, as Hotch remembered Reid's hands scrambling against his ankle, and the relief when he felt the weight of the gun removed from his ankle. Letting Reid keep the gun had been his own way of trying to assure Reid that he knew that he could shoot when he needed to, hoping that it would be enough to overpower all the things he'd said in that room. And Gideon, in his ever efficient and observant way, had taken care of the rest on the plane ride home.
Of course, he was long past the days when he needed the senior agent to sit down with him and talk out whatever awful mess had gone down. In fact, he was often the person to go give one of his agents a gentle nudge out of whatever had twisted up their mind. But the things that he'd told them, how they did what they could or what was necessary, depending on the situation, were much harder to tell himself. Most of the time he managed it, but there were sneaking little things that wormed into the psyche, and sometimes Hotch thought he could understand how people got stuck on the little things that drove them to psychosis.
A knock on his door caused him to look up, noticing that Gideon entered without waiting for an invitation and took a brief assessing look before taking a seat across from him.
Hotch forced himself to let go of the desk, knowing that there was no point in putting up his FBI agent mask with Gideon. For the most part, they all let each other conceal what they could, but when Gideon wanted to know something he would know and there was no real reason to fight him on it.
"You did good. I'll admit that I was a little concerned that you wouldn't be able to take out Dowd before the cops stormed in there," Gideon raised an eyebrow as he settled in, leaving the ball in Hotch's court.
Hotch barely managed to stop himself from shaking his head, knowing that Gideon caught the aborted movement anyway. "I did what I had to to get him to trust me."
Gideon shook his head. "But you wonder if you could have done it differently, if you could have tackled him before he shot anyone. Or what if you'd been looking in the right direction when Dowd came storming in the ER?"
Hotch shifted, feeling frustrated but knowing what Gideon was trying to do. "It was the best course of action, most likely to succeed in the time we had. I wasn't close enough to tackle him without it getting everyone killed."
"But you wonder anyway," Gideon stated just as firmly.
"Yes, I wonder. Don't you?" Hotch asked, keeping his voice and hands entirely steady and leaning back in his chair. He was in control, calm, and relaxed; he could even force the muscles in his shoulders to be loose and his facial expression as blank and passive as Gideon's.
"No. I don't wonder. I know that what happened is what happened, there's no way to change that. There's no way to go back and know what you know now in order to fix things. The sooner you accept that, and live with it, the better off you'll be." Gideon stood up, apparently considering the conversation closed.
"Gideon?" Hotch asked, because he had to know; he had to hear it from Gideon.
"Reid's fine. He went home and he's sleeping," Gideon turned and looked at Hotch. "You can go home too. Be with your family."
As Gideon walked away, Hotch got up and gathered up the things he took home with him. If Gideon said Reid was at home asleep, then he was. It took the entire drive back to his house before he managed to convince himself that the mental picture of the person curled up with his arms wrapped around him, nearly crying whenever he coughed or tried to move, was not Reid at all.
Summary: After the events of LDSK, Hotch reminds himself who he really is. Episode tag to S01E06 LDSK, with references to information about Hotch learned in S01E08 Natural Born Killer.
Written for Angst Bingo; Prompt: Manipulation and Control
Content Notes: descriptions of violence, references to child abuse. T.
On AO3: Recognition
As soon as he was able, Hotch made a strategic retreat to his office, sitting behind his desk and holding onto it like it was a life preserver. In a way, it was; it helped remind him who he was, the same way his badge did. But he didn't need to cling to his own badge anymore, like a rookie still so surprised that he'd actually made it that he still needed the proof right under his fingertips.
He'd seen that the rest of the team had taken off; JJ pausing in her own office to go over a few things before she disappeared and Gideon keeping a discreet, watchful eye over Reid as he got ready to go home. Everyone else left quickly, all tired and glad to be back home.
Reid didn't have any broken ribs, Hotch had known that immediately, knew that he knew how hard he had to kick to make it look realistic without really hurting him. That didn't stop him from hovering outside the ER curtain and listening with a sense of sickness that had only been growing since they'd both knelt there in front of Dowd. He didn't have to see the marks his shoes had left to know that they were there, that Reid was probably laying in his apartment wide awake with his hands ghosting over swollen areas and wishing he didn't have to breath.
Hotch shook his head, reminding himself that Reid was an adult despite his appearance, that he'd been trained like the rest of them and had kept his cool with guns held to his head before. Reid would be fine. Hotch himself, he wasn't as sure about. He had vowed to himself, for as long as he'd been able to put the thoughts into words, that he would never hurt someone out of anger. Never lose control.
And he hadn't lost control. Not for a second in there had he not been thinking about his body language, his facial expression, his word choice. Especially his word choice because he knew that saying the wrong thing in that moment could cripple any self-confidence Reid might have using a gun. That was always the same, the words were so much more damning than any physical damage inflicted. The words would stay forever. Which was why he'd been so careful, scripting in his mind as quickly as possible, and eventually allowing that tiniest bit of frustration with Reid to bleed through to add that necessary hint of realism.
For a single, absolutely terrifying, moment when he'd asked to kick Reid he was almost sure that Dowd would say no, that he wouldn't believe him despite the bitter disappointed inflection he'd managed to copy so exactly from his memory. Judging from the ashamed and fearful duck of Reid's head, that he only barely caught out of the corner of his eye, Hotch had done a good job. Reid struggled with the acting and the subterfuge that came as part of the job, but there his reaction had been perfectly believable.
Hotch grimaced as he remembered Reid's expression, head bowed with shame and eyes fearful, but didn't push it away from his mind. That was important to remember, both that he could channel that nightmare of evil and torment if he had to and that he could not lose himself to it even when he had to let genuine emotion out along with it. But knowing what it was like to have someone look up at him when he held all the power and that person was helpless to whatever struck his mind, that was an important lesson. An important reminder of what he could be if he lost himself.
He'd taken care of Reid until Gideon had arrived, keeping enough distance that Reid wouldn't feel the need to pull away from him and make things awkward between the two of them, and had checked in later to make sure Reid was alright. Reid had waved it off and assured him that he was just fine, as Hotch remembered Reid's hands scrambling against his ankle, and the relief when he felt the weight of the gun removed from his ankle. Letting Reid keep the gun had been his own way of trying to assure Reid that he knew that he could shoot when he needed to, hoping that it would be enough to overpower all the things he'd said in that room. And Gideon, in his ever efficient and observant way, had taken care of the rest on the plane ride home.
Of course, he was long past the days when he needed the senior agent to sit down with him and talk out whatever awful mess had gone down. In fact, he was often the person to go give one of his agents a gentle nudge out of whatever had twisted up their mind. But the things that he'd told them, how they did what they could or what was necessary, depending on the situation, were much harder to tell himself. Most of the time he managed it, but there were sneaking little things that wormed into the psyche, and sometimes Hotch thought he could understand how people got stuck on the little things that drove them to psychosis.
A knock on his door caused him to look up, noticing that Gideon entered without waiting for an invitation and took a brief assessing look before taking a seat across from him.
Hotch forced himself to let go of the desk, knowing that there was no point in putting up his FBI agent mask with Gideon. For the most part, they all let each other conceal what they could, but when Gideon wanted to know something he would know and there was no real reason to fight him on it.
"You did good. I'll admit that I was a little concerned that you wouldn't be able to take out Dowd before the cops stormed in there," Gideon raised an eyebrow as he settled in, leaving the ball in Hotch's court.
Hotch barely managed to stop himself from shaking his head, knowing that Gideon caught the aborted movement anyway. "I did what I had to to get him to trust me."
Gideon shook his head. "But you wonder if you could have done it differently, if you could have tackled him before he shot anyone. Or what if you'd been looking in the right direction when Dowd came storming in the ER?"
Hotch shifted, feeling frustrated but knowing what Gideon was trying to do. "It was the best course of action, most likely to succeed in the time we had. I wasn't close enough to tackle him without it getting everyone killed."
"But you wonder anyway," Gideon stated just as firmly.
"Yes, I wonder. Don't you?" Hotch asked, keeping his voice and hands entirely steady and leaning back in his chair. He was in control, calm, and relaxed; he could even force the muscles in his shoulders to be loose and his facial expression as blank and passive as Gideon's.
"No. I don't wonder. I know that what happened is what happened, there's no way to change that. There's no way to go back and know what you know now in order to fix things. The sooner you accept that, and live with it, the better off you'll be." Gideon stood up, apparently considering the conversation closed.
"Gideon?" Hotch asked, because he had to know; he had to hear it from Gideon.
"Reid's fine. He went home and he's sleeping," Gideon turned and looked at Hotch. "You can go home too. Be with your family."
As Gideon walked away, Hotch got up and gathered up the things he took home with him. If Gideon said Reid was at home asleep, then he was. It took the entire drive back to his house before he managed to convince himself that the mental picture of the person curled up with his arms wrapped around him, nearly crying whenever he coughed or tried to move, was not Reid at all.
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