After All This Time || Chapter Six

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Word Count: 1,086

CHAPTER WARNINGS: angst i suppose, mention of the injury but nothing really bad i don’t think.

A/N: I don’t know if anyone actually reads the author’s notes on this story, but I’M SO SORRY. I didn’t mean to be gone for so long and I kept seeing new notifications about people liking this or wanting to be added to the taglist and ugh. I’m sorry, please forgive me. but here’s chapter six!

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As always!! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

* * * * *

The next few days went by slowly, and though Hotchner had made an effort when he had the team stay, he never once sat with you in the hospital room. Once you were cleared to fly, the team piled back into the jet to go back to Virginia. Derek had taken your bag for you since you weren’t supposed to lift anything over ten pounds.

“Thanks, Derek. I could have carried it you know.” You tell him with a small smile as you sit down on the bench, holding a hand against the bandage on your hip as you did.

He sets the bag beside your feet and winks, “I know, Mamas. Hang tight.”

You nod as JJ comes to sit beside you and she says, “You look terrible, Y/N.”

Letting out a soft laugh, you reply, “Well, gee, thanks for the warm greeting.” You look at her and she smiles nervously. “I’m so tired.” You admit to her, blushing slightly.

She pats your thigh and says, “I bet. Get some rest. And for the record, I would have done the same thing at the barn.”

Nodding, you smile slightly and close your eyes, realizing as you did that the only spot for Hotch to sit would be across from you. Sighing to yourself, you close your eyes and lean your head back against the wall of the plane behind you. You fall asleep in minutes, not even registering that he had sat down across from you.

About twenty minutes into the flight, there is some turbulence and Hotch looks up at you, wanting to make sure you weren’t being jostled too much. Your position had shifted though, and he could tell by looking at your face that it was subconsciously hurting you.

“Oh, L/N.” He whispered to himself as she stood up and crossed the short distance to where you were sitting. He moves you slowly, being careful not to wake you up as he sits you up against the side of the couch, not wanting your bullet wound to be aggravated.

Emily sends a knowing look towards you, despite you not being able to notice it, and Derek’s eyes harden as he watches carefully. The team all exchanges looks as Hotch tucks a piece of hair behind your ear before sitting back down and going back through the case files for the fifth time.

When the jet lands about two hours after that, JJ wakes you up and grabs your bag, walking in with you.

“You know…” she starts carefully, “Hotch seems to be a lot softer with you than the rest of us.”

“What?!” You would choke on your water if you were drinking any. “What the hell are you talking about?” You ask her, clearly thinking she’d snapped and gone crazy.

JJ smiles slightly to herself and says casually, “You were leaning in your sleep and your face pinched like you were uncomfortable. Hotch straightened you out and brushed hair behind your ear.” She looks over at you with a contained smile and shrugs, “He hasn’t ever done that to me or Emily is all I’m saying.”

As you walked with JJ, you saw Hotch hanging back and frowned. Replaying the conversation from the hospital in your head, it makes you angry. He hadn’t ever apologized. Stopping where you were walking, you waited for him to be beside you before limping quickly to try and keep pace with him.

“Hotchner. I have a question.” You tell him, internally grateful that he slows down a bit to meet your normal pace.

“Speak.”

“Why?” You say to him, that being the beginning of your question.

Hotch turns and gives you a look, “Agent, do you need to be re-admitted? Speak because-”

“No.Why,do you hate me? I’ve been thinking about it since I got shot because honestly, that’s where I think you are, isn’t it? You hate me, and I want to know why.”You think for a moment and then say, “Why were you so adamant that I did the wrong thing on the case? You have a child, a young boy, so shouldn’t that have been your very first instinct?”

Hotch’s glare hardens and he opens his mouth to speak, but you say, “Wait,” and then keep going. “It was my first instinct and I don’t have a kid. "Why did you ever think the debrief should go right when it did? Just, why?!You would have done the same thing if you were that close and could!”

You were getting emotional at this point and you had just made it into the bullpen.

Hotch had had enough of your back-talk and your attitude and said, “You’re being a brat, Agent L/N.”

“Excuse m-”

“No, now YOU shut up and listen. You don’t know anything about my family and I suggest you stop pretending that you know anything about me.” His glare is like steel that stabs right through you.

Holding your composure as much as you could, you turn and walk away, limping heavily as every step sent pain through your abdomen. You slid into your seat and slammed your hand on your desk, burying your head in your arms as you cried overwhelmed tears.

Hotch stands where he was, his glare following you as you collapsed into the desk and even still watching as your shoulders shook with silent tears. He felt a stab of something. Guilt maybe? But it was closer to sadness or regret. Hewas the reason you were crying. He rubbed a hand across his face and sighed as he let his expression soften just a bit.

He walks over to your desk area and says, “Agent. Look up.”

You wipe at your eyes and look up with fire in them, “What? You wanna see me cry too? Was it-”

“You’re too emotional right now to be active. Go home. Take tomorrow and Sunday off, be back in on Monday.”

“No-”

“Go, Y/N.”

You were a bit thrown off by the use of your first name, so you nod and stand up, grabbing your go bag which didn’t have much since your bloody clothes had been thrown away. Walking out the door you look down to shield your eyes from your watching teammates.

You look in Penelope’s office on your way and sigh in relief that she isn’t there. Popping in, you look half-heartedly for the paper you’d been searching for.

You find it and walk out with a resignation form.