Chapter 51. A Night at Millie's

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When David Rossi arrived at the hospital, he was ready to flash his badge and bristle and demand to see Hotch, regardless of visiting hours.

It was late in the evening. The nurse on duty wasn’t prepared to handle the man who threatened to invade every room until he found his friend. She called the doctor at home, apologizing for interrupting his dinner, but unsure how to deal with the intruder. Rossi had been considering demanding Hotch be air-lifted to a larger, more modern facility. But when the old physician had walked the two blocks from his home back to his workplace, Rossi changed his mind. This rural facility wasn’t so bad after all. Not with a doctor who was so adept at defusing worry and placating the tyrannical behavior Rossi knew he was exhibiting.

Without his standard uniform of white lab coat, without a stethoscope hanging around his neck, Rossi didn’t recognize the older gentleman who approached him as anything other than someone’s grandfather. And if he’s here to visit someone, there’s no reason I can’t see Aaron. But when a hand was extended and he introduced himself as the doctor on-call, Rossi felt a little ashamed of throwing his weight around.

“I understand, Mr. Rossi. Please believe your friend’s life is as precious to me as it is to you. And I guarantee he’ll be fine…as long as his entourage lets him rest, that is.” The way he peered over his half-moon glasses gave his admonishment a touch of humor. But Rossi was still worried. And the doctor could see that. This simple man considered it his duty to treat not only patients, but everyone who entered his hospital on their behalf, trailing along in the wake of someone’s illness or accident.

“I’ve given your…Aaron, is it?” Rossi nodded. “…something to make him sleep. I didn’t let your colleagues disturb him earlier when they said they had to ‘run something by him,’ and I won’t let you wake him either.”

“But…” Rossi’s objection was cut short as the doctor continued.

“However…” He held up a cautioning finger. “…I’ll take you to him and you can sit with him for a few minutes. But then I’m sending you down the road to Millie’s B&B. That’s where your friends are staying.” He raised his head, now studying Rossi through the lower portion of his glasses. “You look as though you could use some rest, too. So, if you’ll agree to get some, I’ll let you have ten minutes with your Aaron. Deal?”

Rossi expelled all his worry and frustration in a long, deflating breath. “Deal.”

As the doctor escorted Rossi through the halls, he decided he might as well deliver the disappointing news he’d been saving for the morning, when the others had said they would return.

“We did the blood analysis.”

Rossi’s head snapped up, interest and energy somewhat revived. “And?”

“And it’s as I feared. Anything he might have been given is no longer detectable. The combination of his metabolism and the medication with which we’ve been treating him have destroyed any…evidence?...you were hoping for. I’m sorry.”

“Damn.”

They stopped at the door of a darkened room. The doctor motioned for Rossi to enter. Lowering his voice, he reminded the visitor to keep things in perspective. “I know you’re disappointed, but I imagine in your line of business you figured out long ago that outcome is more important than evidence.” He smiled at the peaceful figure in the bed, one arm flung upward in the abandon of sleep. “And here’s what’s most important to you.”

Rossi moved to the bedside. He noted the immobilized leg, the glistening patches of ointment covering scrapes and scratches. But most of all he saw easy, restful sleep. He turned back to his escort. “Thank you, Doctor. May I stay? I won’t wake him.”

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