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The Courage to Destroy - Criminal Minds - Gen (Aaron Hotchner) - Words: 2,336
Written for Angst Bingo; Prompts: Rape, Lost, Fallen Angels, and Moments Lost.
Summary: Precious few could past the test that Hotch has devised, fewer still would try.
Content Notes: Threats of rape, torture, violence, and murder, written from the point of view of the aggressor. R.
Author Notes: Takes place in an Alternate Universe where the main characters are serial killers. Second in the The Silent War Series.
On AO3: The Courage to Destroy
Hotch waited inside Erin Strauss's house, in the basement because even he had a certain amount of respect for the way things were done. He could have just as easily waited upstairs inside one of the bedrooms that Strauss's children only see for a few weeks during the summer months, but it's easier to sit in the half-finished room in her husband's much abused recliner and listen to the clatter of her footsteps overhead in the kitchen.
Strauss was alone that night, Hotch had waited until her children had returned to their universities and boarding schools, and her husband was gone on a business trip to New York. She hadn't arrived until after ten at night, but Hotch hadn't worried in the slightest that she might not return home. She was in the BAU, the Unit Chief of one of their teams, and she had been pulling long hours on the DC Date Killer case ever since it had made a splash in the headlines two months ago. The politics in the FBI were tense at the best of times and right now they were reduced to conducting an all out man-hunt for a man Hotch had identified only a week after the murders showed up in the newspaper. It was pathetic, really, and Hotch was once again reminded of why he had come to the realization he could do more good without being hampered by petty politics that made up the country's law enforcement system.
The sound of Strauss's shoes came to a stop at the edge of the kitchen, next to the sink, and Hotch knew she was eating a meal of whatever she'd found at hand in the cabinets and the refrigerator. Hotch was slightly disgusted by the fact that Strauss's husband was away, not just on business but taking the time away from the city to indulge in the comfort of another woman's body, even though it worked to Hotch's advantage. He would have a lot less leverage if he'd had to do this outside of Strauss's home. It still rankled that the person who was supposed to support Strauss was so conspicuously absent, leaving her to piece together a meal in her broken home that was so carefully concealed from those who might watch. From what Hotch could tell no one suspected that Strauss's husband was unfaithful, it would be a huge blow to both of their careers, but if Strauss didn't know she was operating under a carefully constructed self-delusion.
It didn't take long for Strauss's footsteps to move to the staircase and then disappear completely as she went to the next floor. Hotch waited, planning on giving her at least two hours to fall into a deep sleep. He didn't need the extra time to put together his plan, he'd had the details swimming in his mind ever since he located the DC Date Killer and the simple brilliance of the idea came to life with a single breath. He wasn't worried that his plan would fail in any aspect. Two weeks ago he'd sent out the cards to let his crew know when to be in Virginia and once those cards were sent there was no backing out. This was a job that would need all of them to be absolutely sure of its success, and when tangling with the FBI it was only common sense to move flawlessly.
When nearly two hours had passed - like they'd never been at all - with no sounds in the house Hotch pulled on his gloves. The gloves were like a second skin, a thin black leather that molded to his fingers and palms and moved like it wasn't even there. He got to his feet and walked silently up the steps into the main part of the house. He would have to go back downstairs in order to turn off the breakers, but he wanted to check that Strauss was actually asleep before he pitched the house into complete darkness. The second flight of stairs was smoother than the first, covered in thick carpet, and Hotch moved soundlessly though the house like a phantom. He'd already explored the house earlier, knew where the floor creaked in the hallways, knew where Strauss kept her gun safe, and knew the small places where he could slip against the wall and be hidden from view. His stealth was unnecessary; when he peered into Strauss's room she was asleep, her back rising and falling as she slept on her stomach. Hotch considered her position for a moment. It would work well for his purposes but he'd never thought that Strauss would be trusting enough to sleep so exposed.
The trip to the basement and back up to Strauss's bedroom was effortless. He had taken Strauss's cellphone from her nightstand before he'd left and turned it off. He left it on the kitchen counter next to her purse on his way back upstairs and put away the dirty dishes she'd left out next to an open case file. The file was on the DC Date Killer and Hotch leafed through, taking a few sheets of paper just to make her wonder what was so important about the pages he'd taken.
In Strauss's bedroom he walked over to the windows and opened the blinds. It was a clear September night and the moon was nearly full. He wasn't wearing a mask to hide his features and the light from the moon threw his reflection in the vanity mirror into stark relief. Caution would have suggested that he made an effort to hide his face, just like he was wearing gloves to make sure his finger-prints weren't left behind. Caution was only necessary when the outcome was uncertain and Hotch knew that the test he'd devised for Strauss could only be passed by those whose commitment for justice burned as bright as God. Strauss had lost her way a long time ago, before the BAU even, and this would be the proof Hotch needed to bring his judgement to pass.
Hotch walked to the end of the bed and considered the woman sleeping in front of him. There was another reason he didn't wear a mask; the DC Date Killer didn't wear a mask and his goal tonight was to emulate the DC Date Killer as far as it was necessary. He was prepared to carry the ruse through up until the point where the DC Date Killer actually killed his target; if Strauss hadn't acquiesced by then he would know that he had been wrong. He wasn't wrong. Though he found the act of rape and torture distasteful, acts that would usually place someone in his crosshairs, Hotch wasn't above using fear of those acts to do his job. He had to know that he was willing to carry through on those threats or the entire plan would fall apart. He was willing, he had a condom in his pants pocket and a knife on his belt, but he was almost completely certain that he wouldn't have to draw blood tonight. It wasn't time for blood just yet.
Unsheathing his knife was like completing a circuit in his body. It wasn't his usual knife, this was shorter and more intimate - a replica of what the DC Date Killer used. Hotch moved smoothly, pulling the blankets off Strauss's sleeping form and straddling her body in one motion. He had his left hand gripping her hair at her scalp and his right hand resting the blade of the knife against Strauss's neck before she'd even woken all the way. He used his thighs to encourage the short night gown up Strauss's thighs a little further and then settled his weight directly on her lower back.
Breaking into a home wasn't off-script for the DC Date Killer, but attacking someone unfamiliar was. This was going to be the trickiest part of the entire night - if Strauss didn't believe he was the DC Date Killer the test would be invalid.
"What do you want?" Strauss asked, her voice lost somewhere between commanding and fearful. She was doing what anyone would do in her situation; weighing the possibilities and trying to decide what would get her out alive and with the least amount of damage.
Hotch pushed Strauss's face down and ground his weight against her back. He wanted it to be clear from the start that she was outmatched physically and that attempting to fight would be useless. Strauss was smart, he wouldn't deny that, but she wasn't well-versed in hand-to-hand combat. "You will listen," Hotch said, closing his throat a little to modulate his voice lower.
"My purse is downstairs, I will give you the combination to the safe. We have no prescription drugs in the house," Strauss continued valiantly.
"I said you will listen. You will have your turn to speak," Hotch said. He took the knife from her throat and used it to start to slit the fabric down the back of her night gown, allowing the tip of the knife to trace along her skin but not to draw blood. That would make it clear that he wasn't after money, jewelry, or drugs.
Strauss let out a strangled noise and lowered her face to the pillow, her chest heaving a few times as she gasped for control of her breathing.
Hotch waited until she'd stopped panting, though her body was trembling underneath his weight. "You've been looking for me. Wanting me. I thought I'd do you a favor and come to you. Do you know who I am? You may answer the question," he said. The DC Date Killer was controlled by his need for control. It was one aspect where Hotch thought he related quite well.
"I don't know you," Strauss said, her voice shaking. "I don't recognize your voice."
"You know me. You came close, stared right at me and didn't even realize it," Hotch said. He knew full well that Strauss and her team had never once met the DC Date Killer but that should shake her from his trail entirely.
"You're the..." Strauss trailed off, clearly uncertain whether or not she should use the newspaper moniker that was so common. "You're the unknown subject we've been seeking connected to the murders in the DC area."
"I think I prefer DC Date Killer to that," Hotch said. "It has a ring to it, even if it's less accurate than I could have hoped. It doesn't quite convey what I want, what I need."
"And what's that?" Strauss asked, gaining a little more confidence now that they were engaged in a conversation.
Hotch slipped his hips further down her back until he was resting his pelvis against her upper thighs. "I need someone who will satisfy me. And yet in the end, none of them do. Not one."
Strauss's breathing was uneven again and her muscles twitched like she was searching for the strength to attempt to roll over.
Hotch moved his knife back to Strauss's throat, resting it directly on her artery. "I came to you for a reason. I have a proposal, a mutually beneficial arrangement that should suit you quite nicely."
"I'm listening," Strauss said, her voice shaking ever so slightly.
This was where Hotch had to guess right. He could try again to gain leverage, but his first guess would be the one that meant the most. He weighed the possibilities in his mind once more and came back to the same answer he had every time before; Strauss cared for herself before her team, her husband, or her children. Threatening her directly would yield better results than threatening to hunt down her family or her team.
"You will stop looking for me. You will redirect your investigation and allow it to taper off," Hotch demanded. "In return I'll walk from this house and never come back. Eventually, when I'm finished in DC, I will relocate and I won't be your problem anymore."
Strauss had gone completely still beneath him as she considered the deal.
"This deal is between you and me alone. If you speak of it to anyone the deal is void and I will come back and there will be no conversation. I will stay all night, just you and me, and it won't be until the morning light fills the room that I will let you die. That is what you didn't understand before; killing them when I was done was a mercy. I am merciful," Hotch said, his hand tightening reflexively on the handle of the knife. "You may answer me now."
"I accept," Strauss said, her head bowing with defeat.
Hotch had to pull the knife away from her neck in order to prevent her movement from cutting into her skin. The taste of his victory, of her response being exactly what he'd predicted, was bittersweet and overwhelming. He had expected this, had even known she would cave quickly under the right leverage, but he hadn't wanted it. He had wanted to be wrong, just once.
"Remember what fate awaits you if you renege. Do not move from this position for a count of five hundred. I will know if you attempt to call for help. Pray you never see me again," Hotch said, his words tapering off into a whisper as he sheathed his knife. He assessed her once more before he released her hair and climbed off the bed. He walked away without looking back, knowing she would do everything he had instructed.
Walking out her front door and to where he had parked his car, a street away in the driveway of a family that was out of town on vacation, was simple. It was just as a job should be done, even though Hotch was mired in disgust for Strauss and for himself. Sometimes this job was distasteful, sickening even, but he was one of the last people standing between the darkness and the light. Everyone else had lost their way.
Written for Angst Bingo; Prompts: Rape, Lost, Fallen Angels, and Moments Lost.
Summary: Precious few could past the test that Hotch has devised, fewer still would try.
Content Notes: Threats of rape, torture, violence, and murder, written from the point of view of the aggressor. R.
Author Notes: Takes place in an Alternate Universe where the main characters are serial killers. Second in the The Silent War Series.
On AO3: The Courage to Destroy
Hotch waited inside Erin Strauss's house, in the basement because even he had a certain amount of respect for the way things were done. He could have just as easily waited upstairs inside one of the bedrooms that Strauss's children only see for a few weeks during the summer months, but it's easier to sit in the half-finished room in her husband's much abused recliner and listen to the clatter of her footsteps overhead in the kitchen.
Strauss was alone that night, Hotch had waited until her children had returned to their universities and boarding schools, and her husband was gone on a business trip to New York. She hadn't arrived until after ten at night, but Hotch hadn't worried in the slightest that she might not return home. She was in the BAU, the Unit Chief of one of their teams, and she had been pulling long hours on the DC Date Killer case ever since it had made a splash in the headlines two months ago. The politics in the FBI were tense at the best of times and right now they were reduced to conducting an all out man-hunt for a man Hotch had identified only a week after the murders showed up in the newspaper. It was pathetic, really, and Hotch was once again reminded of why he had come to the realization he could do more good without being hampered by petty politics that made up the country's law enforcement system.
The sound of Strauss's shoes came to a stop at the edge of the kitchen, next to the sink, and Hotch knew she was eating a meal of whatever she'd found at hand in the cabinets and the refrigerator. Hotch was slightly disgusted by the fact that Strauss's husband was away, not just on business but taking the time away from the city to indulge in the comfort of another woman's body, even though it worked to Hotch's advantage. He would have a lot less leverage if he'd had to do this outside of Strauss's home. It still rankled that the person who was supposed to support Strauss was so conspicuously absent, leaving her to piece together a meal in her broken home that was so carefully concealed from those who might watch. From what Hotch could tell no one suspected that Strauss's husband was unfaithful, it would be a huge blow to both of their careers, but if Strauss didn't know she was operating under a carefully constructed self-delusion.
It didn't take long for Strauss's footsteps to move to the staircase and then disappear completely as she went to the next floor. Hotch waited, planning on giving her at least two hours to fall into a deep sleep. He didn't need the extra time to put together his plan, he'd had the details swimming in his mind ever since he located the DC Date Killer and the simple brilliance of the idea came to life with a single breath. He wasn't worried that his plan would fail in any aspect. Two weeks ago he'd sent out the cards to let his crew know when to be in Virginia and once those cards were sent there was no backing out. This was a job that would need all of them to be absolutely sure of its success, and when tangling with the FBI it was only common sense to move flawlessly.
When nearly two hours had passed - like they'd never been at all - with no sounds in the house Hotch pulled on his gloves. The gloves were like a second skin, a thin black leather that molded to his fingers and palms and moved like it wasn't even there. He got to his feet and walked silently up the steps into the main part of the house. He would have to go back downstairs in order to turn off the breakers, but he wanted to check that Strauss was actually asleep before he pitched the house into complete darkness. The second flight of stairs was smoother than the first, covered in thick carpet, and Hotch moved soundlessly though the house like a phantom. He'd already explored the house earlier, knew where the floor creaked in the hallways, knew where Strauss kept her gun safe, and knew the small places where he could slip against the wall and be hidden from view. His stealth was unnecessary; when he peered into Strauss's room she was asleep, her back rising and falling as she slept on her stomach. Hotch considered her position for a moment. It would work well for his purposes but he'd never thought that Strauss would be trusting enough to sleep so exposed.
The trip to the basement and back up to Strauss's bedroom was effortless. He had taken Strauss's cellphone from her nightstand before he'd left and turned it off. He left it on the kitchen counter next to her purse on his way back upstairs and put away the dirty dishes she'd left out next to an open case file. The file was on the DC Date Killer and Hotch leafed through, taking a few sheets of paper just to make her wonder what was so important about the pages he'd taken.
In Strauss's bedroom he walked over to the windows and opened the blinds. It was a clear September night and the moon was nearly full. He wasn't wearing a mask to hide his features and the light from the moon threw his reflection in the vanity mirror into stark relief. Caution would have suggested that he made an effort to hide his face, just like he was wearing gloves to make sure his finger-prints weren't left behind. Caution was only necessary when the outcome was uncertain and Hotch knew that the test he'd devised for Strauss could only be passed by those whose commitment for justice burned as bright as God. Strauss had lost her way a long time ago, before the BAU even, and this would be the proof Hotch needed to bring his judgement to pass.
Hotch walked to the end of the bed and considered the woman sleeping in front of him. There was another reason he didn't wear a mask; the DC Date Killer didn't wear a mask and his goal tonight was to emulate the DC Date Killer as far as it was necessary. He was prepared to carry the ruse through up until the point where the DC Date Killer actually killed his target; if Strauss hadn't acquiesced by then he would know that he had been wrong. He wasn't wrong. Though he found the act of rape and torture distasteful, acts that would usually place someone in his crosshairs, Hotch wasn't above using fear of those acts to do his job. He had to know that he was willing to carry through on those threats or the entire plan would fall apart. He was willing, he had a condom in his pants pocket and a knife on his belt, but he was almost completely certain that he wouldn't have to draw blood tonight. It wasn't time for blood just yet.
Unsheathing his knife was like completing a circuit in his body. It wasn't his usual knife, this was shorter and more intimate - a replica of what the DC Date Killer used. Hotch moved smoothly, pulling the blankets off Strauss's sleeping form and straddling her body in one motion. He had his left hand gripping her hair at her scalp and his right hand resting the blade of the knife against Strauss's neck before she'd even woken all the way. He used his thighs to encourage the short night gown up Strauss's thighs a little further and then settled his weight directly on her lower back.
Breaking into a home wasn't off-script for the DC Date Killer, but attacking someone unfamiliar was. This was going to be the trickiest part of the entire night - if Strauss didn't believe he was the DC Date Killer the test would be invalid.
"What do you want?" Strauss asked, her voice lost somewhere between commanding and fearful. She was doing what anyone would do in her situation; weighing the possibilities and trying to decide what would get her out alive and with the least amount of damage.
Hotch pushed Strauss's face down and ground his weight against her back. He wanted it to be clear from the start that she was outmatched physically and that attempting to fight would be useless. Strauss was smart, he wouldn't deny that, but she wasn't well-versed in hand-to-hand combat. "You will listen," Hotch said, closing his throat a little to modulate his voice lower.
"My purse is downstairs, I will give you the combination to the safe. We have no prescription drugs in the house," Strauss continued valiantly.
"I said you will listen. You will have your turn to speak," Hotch said. He took the knife from her throat and used it to start to slit the fabric down the back of her night gown, allowing the tip of the knife to trace along her skin but not to draw blood. That would make it clear that he wasn't after money, jewelry, or drugs.
Strauss let out a strangled noise and lowered her face to the pillow, her chest heaving a few times as she gasped for control of her breathing.
Hotch waited until she'd stopped panting, though her body was trembling underneath his weight. "You've been looking for me. Wanting me. I thought I'd do you a favor and come to you. Do you know who I am? You may answer the question," he said. The DC Date Killer was controlled by his need for control. It was one aspect where Hotch thought he related quite well.
"I don't know you," Strauss said, her voice shaking. "I don't recognize your voice."
"You know me. You came close, stared right at me and didn't even realize it," Hotch said. He knew full well that Strauss and her team had never once met the DC Date Killer but that should shake her from his trail entirely.
"You're the..." Strauss trailed off, clearly uncertain whether or not she should use the newspaper moniker that was so common. "You're the unknown subject we've been seeking connected to the murders in the DC area."
"I think I prefer DC Date Killer to that," Hotch said. "It has a ring to it, even if it's less accurate than I could have hoped. It doesn't quite convey what I want, what I need."
"And what's that?" Strauss asked, gaining a little more confidence now that they were engaged in a conversation.
Hotch slipped his hips further down her back until he was resting his pelvis against her upper thighs. "I need someone who will satisfy me. And yet in the end, none of them do. Not one."
Strauss's breathing was uneven again and her muscles twitched like she was searching for the strength to attempt to roll over.
Hotch moved his knife back to Strauss's throat, resting it directly on her artery. "I came to you for a reason. I have a proposal, a mutually beneficial arrangement that should suit you quite nicely."
"I'm listening," Strauss said, her voice shaking ever so slightly.
This was where Hotch had to guess right. He could try again to gain leverage, but his first guess would be the one that meant the most. He weighed the possibilities in his mind once more and came back to the same answer he had every time before; Strauss cared for herself before her team, her husband, or her children. Threatening her directly would yield better results than threatening to hunt down her family or her team.
"You will stop looking for me. You will redirect your investigation and allow it to taper off," Hotch demanded. "In return I'll walk from this house and never come back. Eventually, when I'm finished in DC, I will relocate and I won't be your problem anymore."
Strauss had gone completely still beneath him as she considered the deal.
"This deal is between you and me alone. If you speak of it to anyone the deal is void and I will come back and there will be no conversation. I will stay all night, just you and me, and it won't be until the morning light fills the room that I will let you die. That is what you didn't understand before; killing them when I was done was a mercy. I am merciful," Hotch said, his hand tightening reflexively on the handle of the knife. "You may answer me now."
"I accept," Strauss said, her head bowing with defeat.
Hotch had to pull the knife away from her neck in order to prevent her movement from cutting into her skin. The taste of his victory, of her response being exactly what he'd predicted, was bittersweet and overwhelming. He had expected this, had even known she would cave quickly under the right leverage, but he hadn't wanted it. He had wanted to be wrong, just once.
"Remember what fate awaits you if you renege. Do not move from this position for a count of five hundred. I will know if you attempt to call for help. Pray you never see me again," Hotch said, his words tapering off into a whisper as he sheathed his knife. He assessed her once more before he released her hair and climbed off the bed. He walked away without looking back, knowing she would do everything he had instructed.
Walking out her front door and to where he had parked his car, a street away in the driveway of a family that was out of town on vacation, was simple. It was just as a job should be done, even though Hotch was mired in disgust for Strauss and for himself. Sometimes this job was distasteful, sickening even, but he was one of the last people standing between the darkness and the light. Everyone else had lost their way.
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