𝘉𝘓𝘐𝘕𝘋𝘚𝘐𝘋𝘌𝘋 | 𝘈.𝘏. ✔️

• Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen: I Still Remember The Third Of December

Three days later and the team was done with the case. Hotch still insisted on staying behind even though you had already visited the mansion. You had just got done saying goodbyes to the team. They all insisted you relax the next few days. You assured them that's the only plan and Hotch would look out for you. You were eating a muffin for the breakfast section of the hotel you were staying at while Hotch typed in his laptop.

"You know you don't have to work anymore," you mumbled, "Technically you're off, Rossi is filling in. Your brain is going to fry you know."

"My brain isn't going to fry and I still have an obligation to the team which includes you. It's just paperwork."

"You're like a working machine. I sometimes wonder if you run in gasoline," you laugh. "Wait- you don't, right?" You asked, suddenly becoming serious.

His straight face doesn't fathom, "No I do not. What do you think about coming back to work? The team misses seeing you everyday and you've proven you can handle it."

You huffed and sunk back into the chair, setting the muffin wrapped in the table next to you. Truthfully, you didn't know the answer. Even if you've proven yourself, you didn't know if you could handle the case load this soon. Weirdly enough, you helped with nearly every single case that came through the BAU, whether it was from the team or another division.

During those days, you were so busy that you used to stay the night in your office. It was the most exciting thing about your life but it was up there. Even with working there for three months, you didn't pick up on everything. You are still new to the programs and way things run there.

"I haven't decided yet. I really want to, I just don't know if I'm fully ready, mentally I mean. The cases are long and hard excluding the time in court I have to deal with. I thought arguing with people would make me more relaxed."

"That's what I thought too, the satisfaction wasn't enough," he pauses as though he has something else to say but is scared.

You sit up straight in your seat now, "What is it?"

He clears his throat and closes his laptop. You could tell he was about to ask something serious from the way he readjusts his tie. He looked as though he was about to talk to a victim's family member. You didn't have the feeling that washed over you because of his posture.

"When I worked in prosecution, it gave me closure but I always felt like I could've done more. I continued because Haley liked the hours and it was more flexible to work for," he paused and gulped, "Watching criminals be put behind bars and be convicted was exhilarating but I wanted- I needed more."

You tilted your head to the side in confusion. What was this man getting in about? This was the most you've heard him talk at once, he usually would break things up into small pieces and allow you to process. Soft, chipped sighs pooled out of your mouth like a never ending thread. If he wanted you to come back to work, what is the point of this?

"Aaron, I don't follow," you say.

He places a finger up to signal you to just listen. You went quiet and looked him in the eye. You waited for him to continue on, but he didn't for a moment. Deciding to run a hand down his face, he looked stressed about this- almost fearful.

"When I would lose a case, it was the worst feeling because I knew that there was nothing else I could do, I didn't have that power. After the police did what they could and I did what I could- I felt hopeless."

Despite still being confused in the direction of the conversation, you attempted to process the underlying motive of his words. They seem to bring him hope, you can see it in his eyes that he wants you to comprehend what he is saying. You nearly do, but you're afraid that you will think rationally rather than thinking it through. Taking into consideration the feeling he describes of disappointment is so pure. There isn't a better way to understand how it felt to see people walk free because you failed at your job.