CM Fic: Symbiosis (PG) (1/2)
Title: Symbiosis
Author: Divine Joker
Rating: PG
Pairing: Hotch/Prentiss
Spoilers: Nothing specific, but JJ’s had Henry.
Summary: They fed off of each other, he knew; a kind of symbiosis that worked for the benefit of everyone, rather than just two.
A/N: So, I’ve written some Morgan/Garcia CM fics, but this is my first foray into Hotch. He’s intense and I was hoping that this would reflect that emotion. Many undying thanks to triciabyrne1978 for being my sounding board and encouragement. Minus the fact that she lit the flame under this obsession to start with.
The dissatisfied groan of the un-rested leaked from his lungs as he rolled over and slapped off the incessant blaring of his alarm clock. Despite a liberal dosing of whiskey, heavily covered windows and every single light in the apartment being extinguished, Aaron Hotchner had had no more than two hours of sleep in between waking up in cold sweats.
It was the children’s cases that crippled him. Despite being able to separate Jack from the smiling reminders of lives cut short, whenever his eyes closed, it wasn’t someone else’s child that he was searching for. There were times at the beginning of his dreams where he thought that maybe it wasn’t going to be different, but inevitably, it was Jack that was ruthlessly disposed of. Sometimes it was in his room, sometimes in cold, shallow graves; always it was him who found Jack and him whose screams of agony woke him up.
Time wasn’t going to cure this one.
It was making it worse.
Steeling himself, Hotch lurched up in bed, lowering his feet to the thickly carpeted floor and pausing to rub his face with both hands. He froze, the weight of his dreams and fears forcing his elbows to his knees and his faces into the palms of his hands. He took thirty seconds to center himself, ten more to get to his feet and then the soothing beat of his shower head worked to help with the tension knotting his shoulders.
He knew that his team would notice his look this morning; it was happening with more frequency than he was willing to admit, but so far they’d restrained themselves from commenting and trying to help.
As much as the team was a family, there was very little any of them could do to take away nightmares, no matter how much they would like to try.
Most of the time, it was just the presence of the team that granted him some relief; seeing their fight, their tenacity and their ruthless pursuit of justice and revenge gave Hotch a sense of rightness and purpose that eased some of the never-ending doubts and crippling fears. They fed off of each other, he knew; a kind of symbiosis that worked for the benefit of everyone, rather than just two. His guardianship of these minds was heavy, draining, but more than worth the sacrifices, some of which had cost him nearly everything. Nut, they were there for him and he was there for them and every combination in between.
Regardless of dreams and hidden fears, he could take them on with the look of understanding and moments of support that were scattered throughout his day.
Some days just needed more coffee than others.
“Here,” Prentiss’ voice was light against the darkness of his mood; yet another perk of working with the symbiosis of dependence. Along with her voice, a cup of coffee lightened with the smallest amount of creamer appeared in the waiting circle of his fingers. “JJ’s still in her office from last night; can you send her home please?”
One of Hotch’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Of course.”
Ever since Henry had popped into their small corner of the world, JJ had restricted herself to the simple 9 to 5 schedule that was generally demanded of the FBI. Of course, her dedication and understanding still kept her on the road with them, she was, however, the first one to leave the office in the evenings, and no one was willing to begrudge it of her.
The heavenly rush of caffeine and awareness washed over him as he turned to his office with an over-the-shoulder thanks to Prentiss.
He could understand JJ, could feel the worry coming off of her in waves. Even as she poured over folders of rapes, murders and abductions she was bright, vibrant and dependable. But here, after loss and confusion, she wasn’t ready to wash herself in the goodness of her life, unwilling to submit Henry to the harsh reality of her daily work.
He had to try.
“You need to go home, JJ.”
She looked up at him silently, her eyes hooded with exhaustion and closed with pain. “I’ve gotta say, Hotch, that even though you went home last night, I still think I’m looking better than you.”
He flashed her an indulgent smile but shook his head. “You need to go home, JJ. Now. You need this break even if only for a day.” He kept her eyes locked with his for a few more moments and then threw another factor into the ring, “Go home and give Henry a hug. For all of us.”
There was little doing with Henry that would prevent her from going home to him, but by insinuating the teams welfare into it, she was put in a position that made it not just for her own good, but for everyone’s well-being as well. She couldn’t refuse him that.
She did, however point a finger at him as she stood up, “Don’t think that that will work on me every time, Hotch.”
He smiled knowingly. “Yes, it will.”
Hotch left her then, knowing that she wouldn’t renege on her deal, she’d be out of the building in ten minutes; he’d bet his job on it.
Prentiss caught up with him again as he made his way back through the bullpen. “We’re in the conference room finishing off our reports.”
It was an invitation, one that he’d received time and time again. Laptops were the name of the game when it came to working on the road, and for them, the closer they were with the privacy of the conference room, the easier they were and Hotch couldn’t stop himself from referring to the habits as ‘circling the wagons’. He shook his head, regardless.
“But be sure to come grab me for lunch.”
Prentiss stopped in her tracks and took a deep breath.
For a moment, he thought she was going to mad at him, but something else crossed her face before she could stop it. He refused to allow himself to read her - the moratorium on profiling team members still stood - but he couldn’t stop himself from feeling a small sense of wonder at what he was refusing to allow himself to see.
He settled himself behind his desk, the heavy, dark coloured wood steadying his composure: just as it was designed to do. He felt stronger, more solidly focused when he sat at this desk. He knew that the team thought that he was distancing himself from them by not joining them in their huddles, and to an extent he knew that he was, but working in his space was a good way to re-balance him without any outside influences.
Glancing out of the open blinds, Hotch watched the Morgan, Reid and Prentiss shuffle papers together and head up towards the conference room. A flush of pride, ownership and affection stumbled over his heart as laughter and smiles still blossomed on their faces. Despite common devastations, they could share more about life than atrocities.
This was their time.
Feeling much steadier with his thoughts than in the dark hours of the morning when there was no one around to remind him of the good in his life, Hotch knew that the rest of his day would smooth over the roughest of edges in his continuously battered psyche.
He felt good.
Words flowed from his fingers as he went over the case in his head, not for the first time. He could tell that the day was continuing, that the clock on his wall was slipping the seconds by, and he was accomplishing what he knew needed to be done without falling into a dark mood.
On rule of his office was the way that he always kept his door open a sliver. While some might have found the constant ringing of phones, incessant murmurs of conversations to be somewhat distracting, when he couldn’t hear them, the overwhelming realities of their dealings with death played some horrible tricks on his mind. He’d rather deal with a little white noise common to living, breathing, working humans, that the deathly silence that he encountered at every single crime scene he visited. Morgan, Reid and Prentiss found it in each other, Rossi had reached a balance that blended team mates and solitude and Hotch enjoyed the anonymity of his co-workers doing their jobs.
There was a bit of a downside to having his door open, however. This became readily apparent when Prentiss slipped into his office without a knock, settled on the couch opposite him and silently continued to work.
He watched her for a moment and quirked an eyebrow, requesting an explanation.
“They were getting a little off topic with their conversation; it was distracting.” She was silent for a moment and then added, “I won’t make a peep.”
He nodded his understanding and then turned back to his computer. Behind him, the unsteady tapping of fingers on a keypad began, paused, started again and then stopped. Hotch smiled to himself as he focused on the screen in front of him and continued with his work. He could feel something different sitting inside of him; the nearness of another person, the sensation of their presence even more relaxing than he would have thought.
And he’d tell himself that it had nothing to do with the fact that the person in question was Emily Prentiss.
Before he checked the time again, Morgan was standing at the door. “Food?”
“Thai.” Emily demanded.
Morgan shook his head. “Italian.”
From the bullpen, all three of them caught Reid’s, “Mexican.”
Hotch quirked an eyebrow in amusement and added his own, “Japanese?” He’d never really been party to their dynamic before and felt a little odd for putting in his own thoughts. Rossi approached his door and gave him a surreptitious thumb up through his open blinds, nodding at Morgan in agreement.
“Hmmmmm,” Prentiss agreed with a hum, closing her laptop on the coffee table in front of her and standing.
Morgan pursed his lips and nodded. He turned and jumped the steps three at a time to reach the bull pen. Prentiss followed and Hotch descended the stairs just as Emily was reaching around to put on her coat. Casually, he reached over and held up the shoulder for her, accepting her wordless thanks with a nod of his head.
The weather didn’t really match his mood for once. He was lighter than that morning, rough edges smoothed down and ruffled feathers tucked neatly under his armour; but the clouds above them were weeping gently to the pavement, stopping occasionally to catch on the heavy fibres of their coats. No, he wasn’t as sad as the sky today, and it was a rare event for that.
The sushi was exactly what he had needed. His dark mood from the morning was completely gone, replaced with the steady characters of his team mates and surrogate family. He regretted emerging from the Bureau every evening, knowing that heading home to an empty room and empty bed hollowed him out inside and left room for waking with the dull heart and cloudy vision. To his left, Morgan was nudging Prentiss with his elbow - chopsticks pointing across the table at Reid who was vigorously defending himself against some outrageous accusation. Prentiss laughed at him and then turned her sparkling eyes to Hotch, her laughter making him smile, even though he didn’t know the reason.
Hotch was more than content to allow their moods to infect him - he’d rather be infected with comfort and camaraderie than fear and despair. His eyes dropped to his plate again and then Prentiss kicked him in the shin. He frowned at her.
“What?”
“What what?” she echoed, pointing over to the tempura and wasabi off to his right. “You weren’t listening. You sit there and absorb, Hotch. You can at least sit there and interact.”
Looking up, Hotch found that Reid had dragged Morgan and Rossi into a quasi-philosophical discussion on Star Wars and smiled to himself. “I’m content to watch.”
Prentiss snorted indelicately, holding the back of her hand to her mouth and Hotch’s jaw-dropped at the way she’d perceived his comment. Shaking his head at her juvenile response, he still couldn’t help himself from smiling at her immediate response regardless.
“So,” she started through her swallowed laughter, “would this observation involve more than one other person?”
Rolling his eyes, he hoped that she would have let the subject drop, but she focused intently on him, her eyes narrowing as a playful grin blossomed on her lips. Then she leaned forward a little, coming to just that place between in friendly and inappropriate and whispered, “You need to loosen up a little, Hotch.”
He couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t forget her advice nor could he seem to resist the urge to see if he could make her as uncomfortable as she just had to him. “Is that an offer?” he asked, with a sly tilt of his head.
But her reaction was much different than he was expecting and so much better. She tilted her head back and burst out laughing, her eyes closed in enjoyment of the moment. He smiled at her, a free, joyful grin that reflected the carefree reactions of happiness.
All three of their dining companions turned wide eyes at them, smiling at the laughter bubbling up from her. They didn’t ask what it was or why, just accepted a moment of delight for what it was and what it did. They’d had enough moments together to know that the reality of joy and laughter had to be lived, not explained.
Hotch took a deep satisfied breath and leaned back in his chair; the cold water refreshing and clean. It rinsed his darkened soul almost as much as the laughter.
Part II
Author: Divine Joker
Rating: PG
Pairing: Hotch/Prentiss
Spoilers: Nothing specific, but JJ’s had Henry.
Summary: They fed off of each other, he knew; a kind of symbiosis that worked for the benefit of everyone, rather than just two.
A/N: So, I’ve written some Morgan/Garcia CM fics, but this is my first foray into Hotch. He’s intense and I was hoping that this would reflect that emotion. Many undying thanks to triciabyrne1978 for being my sounding board and encouragement. Minus the fact that she lit the flame under this obsession to start with.
The dissatisfied groan of the un-rested leaked from his lungs as he rolled over and slapped off the incessant blaring of his alarm clock. Despite a liberal dosing of whiskey, heavily covered windows and every single light in the apartment being extinguished, Aaron Hotchner had had no more than two hours of sleep in between waking up in cold sweats.
It was the children’s cases that crippled him. Despite being able to separate Jack from the smiling reminders of lives cut short, whenever his eyes closed, it wasn’t someone else’s child that he was searching for. There were times at the beginning of his dreams where he thought that maybe it wasn’t going to be different, but inevitably, it was Jack that was ruthlessly disposed of. Sometimes it was in his room, sometimes in cold, shallow graves; always it was him who found Jack and him whose screams of agony woke him up.
Time wasn’t going to cure this one.
It was making it worse.
Steeling himself, Hotch lurched up in bed, lowering his feet to the thickly carpeted floor and pausing to rub his face with both hands. He froze, the weight of his dreams and fears forcing his elbows to his knees and his faces into the palms of his hands. He took thirty seconds to center himself, ten more to get to his feet and then the soothing beat of his shower head worked to help with the tension knotting his shoulders.
He knew that his team would notice his look this morning; it was happening with more frequency than he was willing to admit, but so far they’d restrained themselves from commenting and trying to help.
As much as the team was a family, there was very little any of them could do to take away nightmares, no matter how much they would like to try.
Most of the time, it was just the presence of the team that granted him some relief; seeing their fight, their tenacity and their ruthless pursuit of justice and revenge gave Hotch a sense of rightness and purpose that eased some of the never-ending doubts and crippling fears. They fed off of each other, he knew; a kind of symbiosis that worked for the benefit of everyone, rather than just two. His guardianship of these minds was heavy, draining, but more than worth the sacrifices, some of which had cost him nearly everything. Nut, they were there for him and he was there for them and every combination in between.
Regardless of dreams and hidden fears, he could take them on with the look of understanding and moments of support that were scattered throughout his day.
Some days just needed more coffee than others.
“Here,” Prentiss’ voice was light against the darkness of his mood; yet another perk of working with the symbiosis of dependence. Along with her voice, a cup of coffee lightened with the smallest amount of creamer appeared in the waiting circle of his fingers. “JJ’s still in her office from last night; can you send her home please?”
One of Hotch’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Of course.”
Ever since Henry had popped into their small corner of the world, JJ had restricted herself to the simple 9 to 5 schedule that was generally demanded of the FBI. Of course, her dedication and understanding still kept her on the road with them, she was, however, the first one to leave the office in the evenings, and no one was willing to begrudge it of her.
The heavenly rush of caffeine and awareness washed over him as he turned to his office with an over-the-shoulder thanks to Prentiss.
He could understand JJ, could feel the worry coming off of her in waves. Even as she poured over folders of rapes, murders and abductions she was bright, vibrant and dependable. But here, after loss and confusion, she wasn’t ready to wash herself in the goodness of her life, unwilling to submit Henry to the harsh reality of her daily work.
He had to try.
“You need to go home, JJ.”
She looked up at him silently, her eyes hooded with exhaustion and closed with pain. “I’ve gotta say, Hotch, that even though you went home last night, I still think I’m looking better than you.”
He flashed her an indulgent smile but shook his head. “You need to go home, JJ. Now. You need this break even if only for a day.” He kept her eyes locked with his for a few more moments and then threw another factor into the ring, “Go home and give Henry a hug. For all of us.”
There was little doing with Henry that would prevent her from going home to him, but by insinuating the teams welfare into it, she was put in a position that made it not just for her own good, but for everyone’s well-being as well. She couldn’t refuse him that.
She did, however point a finger at him as she stood up, “Don’t think that that will work on me every time, Hotch.”
He smiled knowingly. “Yes, it will.”
Hotch left her then, knowing that she wouldn’t renege on her deal, she’d be out of the building in ten minutes; he’d bet his job on it.
Prentiss caught up with him again as he made his way back through the bullpen. “We’re in the conference room finishing off our reports.”
It was an invitation, one that he’d received time and time again. Laptops were the name of the game when it came to working on the road, and for them, the closer they were with the privacy of the conference room, the easier they were and Hotch couldn’t stop himself from referring to the habits as ‘circling the wagons’. He shook his head, regardless.
“But be sure to come grab me for lunch.”
Prentiss stopped in her tracks and took a deep breath.
For a moment, he thought she was going to mad at him, but something else crossed her face before she could stop it. He refused to allow himself to read her - the moratorium on profiling team members still stood - but he couldn’t stop himself from feeling a small sense of wonder at what he was refusing to allow himself to see.
He settled himself behind his desk, the heavy, dark coloured wood steadying his composure: just as it was designed to do. He felt stronger, more solidly focused when he sat at this desk. He knew that the team thought that he was distancing himself from them by not joining them in their huddles, and to an extent he knew that he was, but working in his space was a good way to re-balance him without any outside influences.
Glancing out of the open blinds, Hotch watched the Morgan, Reid and Prentiss shuffle papers together and head up towards the conference room. A flush of pride, ownership and affection stumbled over his heart as laughter and smiles still blossomed on their faces. Despite common devastations, they could share more about life than atrocities.
This was their time.
Feeling much steadier with his thoughts than in the dark hours of the morning when there was no one around to remind him of the good in his life, Hotch knew that the rest of his day would smooth over the roughest of edges in his continuously battered psyche.
He felt good.
Words flowed from his fingers as he went over the case in his head, not for the first time. He could tell that the day was continuing, that the clock on his wall was slipping the seconds by, and he was accomplishing what he knew needed to be done without falling into a dark mood.
On rule of his office was the way that he always kept his door open a sliver. While some might have found the constant ringing of phones, incessant murmurs of conversations to be somewhat distracting, when he couldn’t hear them, the overwhelming realities of their dealings with death played some horrible tricks on his mind. He’d rather deal with a little white noise common to living, breathing, working humans, that the deathly silence that he encountered at every single crime scene he visited. Morgan, Reid and Prentiss found it in each other, Rossi had reached a balance that blended team mates and solitude and Hotch enjoyed the anonymity of his co-workers doing their jobs.
There was a bit of a downside to having his door open, however. This became readily apparent when Prentiss slipped into his office without a knock, settled on the couch opposite him and silently continued to work.
He watched her for a moment and quirked an eyebrow, requesting an explanation.
“They were getting a little off topic with their conversation; it was distracting.” She was silent for a moment and then added, “I won’t make a peep.”
He nodded his understanding and then turned back to his computer. Behind him, the unsteady tapping of fingers on a keypad began, paused, started again and then stopped. Hotch smiled to himself as he focused on the screen in front of him and continued with his work. He could feel something different sitting inside of him; the nearness of another person, the sensation of their presence even more relaxing than he would have thought.
And he’d tell himself that it had nothing to do with the fact that the person in question was Emily Prentiss.
Before he checked the time again, Morgan was standing at the door. “Food?”
“Thai.” Emily demanded.
Morgan shook his head. “Italian.”
From the bullpen, all three of them caught Reid’s, “Mexican.”
Hotch quirked an eyebrow in amusement and added his own, “Japanese?” He’d never really been party to their dynamic before and felt a little odd for putting in his own thoughts. Rossi approached his door and gave him a surreptitious thumb up through his open blinds, nodding at Morgan in agreement.
“Hmmmmm,” Prentiss agreed with a hum, closing her laptop on the coffee table in front of her and standing.
Morgan pursed his lips and nodded. He turned and jumped the steps three at a time to reach the bull pen. Prentiss followed and Hotch descended the stairs just as Emily was reaching around to put on her coat. Casually, he reached over and held up the shoulder for her, accepting her wordless thanks with a nod of his head.
The weather didn’t really match his mood for once. He was lighter than that morning, rough edges smoothed down and ruffled feathers tucked neatly under his armour; but the clouds above them were weeping gently to the pavement, stopping occasionally to catch on the heavy fibres of their coats. No, he wasn’t as sad as the sky today, and it was a rare event for that.
The sushi was exactly what he had needed. His dark mood from the morning was completely gone, replaced with the steady characters of his team mates and surrogate family. He regretted emerging from the Bureau every evening, knowing that heading home to an empty room and empty bed hollowed him out inside and left room for waking with the dull heart and cloudy vision. To his left, Morgan was nudging Prentiss with his elbow - chopsticks pointing across the table at Reid who was vigorously defending himself against some outrageous accusation. Prentiss laughed at him and then turned her sparkling eyes to Hotch, her laughter making him smile, even though he didn’t know the reason.
Hotch was more than content to allow their moods to infect him - he’d rather be infected with comfort and camaraderie than fear and despair. His eyes dropped to his plate again and then Prentiss kicked him in the shin. He frowned at her.
“What?”
“What what?” she echoed, pointing over to the tempura and wasabi off to his right. “You weren’t listening. You sit there and absorb, Hotch. You can at least sit there and interact.”
Looking up, Hotch found that Reid had dragged Morgan and Rossi into a quasi-philosophical discussion on Star Wars and smiled to himself. “I’m content to watch.”
Prentiss snorted indelicately, holding the back of her hand to her mouth and Hotch’s jaw-dropped at the way she’d perceived his comment. Shaking his head at her juvenile response, he still couldn’t help himself from smiling at her immediate response regardless.
“So,” she started through her swallowed laughter, “would this observation involve more than one other person?”
Rolling his eyes, he hoped that she would have let the subject drop, but she focused intently on him, her eyes narrowing as a playful grin blossomed on her lips. Then she leaned forward a little, coming to just that place between in friendly and inappropriate and whispered, “You need to loosen up a little, Hotch.”
He couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t forget her advice nor could he seem to resist the urge to see if he could make her as uncomfortable as she just had to him. “Is that an offer?” he asked, with a sly tilt of his head.
But her reaction was much different than he was expecting and so much better. She tilted her head back and burst out laughing, her eyes closed in enjoyment of the moment. He smiled at her, a free, joyful grin that reflected the carefree reactions of happiness.
All three of their dining companions turned wide eyes at them, smiling at the laughter bubbling up from her. They didn’t ask what it was or why, just accepted a moment of delight for what it was and what it did. They’d had enough moments together to know that the reality of joy and laughter had to be lived, not explained.
Hotch took a deep satisfied breath and leaned back in his chair; the cold water refreshing and clean. It rinsed his darkened soul almost as much as the laughter.
Part II