X-mas fic
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
A loud ringing of a church-bell made Hotch jump from his sleep and he sat up in his bed. Two more fallowed, each shaking the bed a little. “And then there were three,” Hotch mumbled to himself and looked around the bedroom without seeing anything. He was still a bit shaken after last visit but he was ready to face whatever was coming.
Suddenly the room became ice-cold and Hotch shivered as the chill settled all around him. He watched a shadow figure move slowly toward the bed. It stopped by the foot of the bed and Hotch realized it was dressed in a black monk rope with the hood covering the face.
“Hello,” Hotch said with confident of a man who watched ugliness in the eye every day, “Who are you?”
”The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.” The words weren´t spoken, more like he heard them in his head.
The figure slowly raised his arm and a hand, made from bones, pointed toward the wall. Hotch took a deep breath but followed the ghost as it moved toward the wall.
His office appeared. Hotch stared down at a much older looking self, gray in his hair and stiffness in his shoulders.
A knock on the office door made him close the file before looking up. “Come in,” the older Hotchner said.
A tired looking Reid came in holding a letter. The fine lines on his face finally made him look older than twenty five, his hair was cut short and his glasses hung low on his nose, but his wardrobe had gone from bad to worse. Dressed in a blue sweater-vest with a white shirt and a ridiculously orange tie, made the old worn khakis pants look good. “Yes, Reid,” Hotch said coldly.
Reid held the letter out to Hotch. “My resignation letter, affected immediately” Reid said quietly and pushed his glasses up with his left hand.
Hotch looked at him for a moment before taking the letter with a nod.
“What?” Hotch yelled, “No, don´t take it.” He stepped forward and tried to grab the letter but his hand flew right through it.
Hotch stood up and extended his hand. “I wish you luck.”
Reid´s shoulders dropped and he looked down before taking a deep breath. The younger agent looked up and locked his eyes with Hotch´s, ignoring the extended hand.
“I´m so sorry for everything that has happened to you. I tried to help… to be your friend… but you always push me away. I can´t do this anymore, I don´t know how and... I´m sorry!” Reid set his hand into his pockets, turned around and walked out of the office.
“You idiot,” Hotch screamed at the older version of himself, “Do something, go after him, talk to him.”
Hotch set the letter on the corner of his desk before sitting down and opening a file.
“That is not me,” Hotch told the ghost harshly.
”Time,” the ghost said in his mind and raised his arm pointing through the door where Reid had just disappeared through.
They were at a restaurant, standing by a table of six, four men and two women. Hotch immediately recognized AD Strauss. She looked older, her face had a few extra wrinkles and her white hair was set up in a perfect knot on her head. As Hotch studied the other faces he saw it were the tops of the FBI.
“It´s a real shame loosing an agent like that,” an elderly gentleman said to Strauss.
“Is it really?” Strauss replied taking a sip of her wine, “To me, he was nothing but trouble, a thorn in my book.”
“Erin, we don´t speak ill of the dead,” another man spoke at the table, “He was a good agent.”
“Honestly, Frank, he wasn´t your agent and you shouldn´t speak of something you have no knowledge of. He changed after he lost his wife,” Strauss snapped at the man.
A man in gray suit raised his glass. “To a fallen agent,” he said provocatively and looked at Strauss.
She smirked and raised one eyebrow in mock. “To a fallen agent,” she said as she raised her glass.
Hotch turned to the ghost. “Are they talking about Reid, did he get married and than…?”
”All will be revealed,” rushed through his mind as the figure pointed out the window. Hotch walked next to the ghost toward the window.
Four men sat at a table, playing poker and smoking fat cigars.
”See you and raise you six,” a familiar voice said as poker chips were thrown in the pile in the middle.
“Hey, Rossi, sorry to hear about your friend,” a man said and folded his cards.
“If you can call him that,” Dave said and took a puff of his cigar.
Hotch walked around the table and was face to face to a gray haired Rossi. He still looked handsome but much older. “You bastard,” Hotch mumbled, “Reid was your friend.”
”But you knew him for a long time, right?” Another asked and added coins to the pile, “See you.”
Rossi sighed. “Yes, I did. I knew him for more than twenty years,” he set his cards down and picked up his glass, swirling the ice-cubes inside, “but a tragedy can do many different things to a man.”
The others nodded. “When is the funeral?” one asked.
“Tonight,” Rossi replied. The other three men folded their card. Rossi looked around the table and smirked. “Another game?”
Hotch was frozen, he couldn´t believe his friend was so cold hearted. The ghost raised his arm again and pointed. Hotch gladly walked in the pointed direction.
The bull-pen came into view. Morgan and Garcia were speaking to each other. Garcia looked older, and seemed to have toned down her wardrobe to colorful suits instead of dresses but Morgan had changed very little, still very athletic but his beard bore hint of gray. Hotch moved closer to the pair.
”I think we should go,” Garcia argued.
“If you want to go, baby girl, you go. I can´t so easily put everything that man put us through behind me.” He raised his hand and tenderly stroked her cheek, like a man comforting his lover. “I´m sorry,” he whispered.
“I understand,” Garcia said and smiled, putting her hand over his.
Prentiss walked in through the glass door. “Ohh, you two. Get a room,” she said teasingly and smiled. She looked beautiful in a dark suit and had air of authority about her. She headed toward the stairs.
“Emily, are you going to the funeral?” Garcia asked, turning around and looking at the other woman.
Prentiss stopped at the top of the stairs and turned around. “I don´t know,” she sighed in defeat.
They met halfway between the desks and the stairs.
“It feels wrong to go, I´m not sure if he would have wanted us there,” Prentiss said.
“Reid would have told us to go,” Garcia said out of the blue
Prentiss grabbed Garcia´s hand. “Probable, but Reid never lost faith in him.” Her eyes fell on an empty cubical that was once across from her seat.
“I wish Reid had talked to me… or anyone,” Garcia whispered and leaned against Morgan who set his arms around her. She sniffed at his shoulder, holding back the tears.
“We all do, baby girl, we all do,” Morgan mumbled into her hair.
Hotch looked confused at his travel companion. He knew they were not talking about Reid´s funeral and had an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Who are they talking about? Who died?”
”See,” ran through his mind as the ghost once again pointed. And Hotch walked in the pointed direction.
He walked into a beautiful scene. A house decorated in the holiday spirit. A large Christmas tree with so many presents he couldn´t see the foot of the tree and a welcoming fire burned in the fireplace.
”Honey, did you change her diaper?” A blond woman called as she walked from the kitchen, drying her hands on a dishtowel.
“Just did,” a handsome blond man came down the stairs, holding a newborn in his arms.
Hotch gasped as he recognized a grown up Jack. He looked so much like Haley that it couldn´t be a coincidence, the sparkling brown eyes only confirmed his suspicion.
”Thank you,” the woman said and leaned forward.
The man kissed her tight and wrapped his free arm around her. “Anything for my ladies,” he said and smiled.
The woman took the baby from him, settling her against her shoulder. “Honey,” the woman started hesitantly and gave her husband a cautious look, “Are you sure, you don´t want to go. He was after all you dad.”
Aaron´s breath caught as the finally information was given. They were talking about him… all of them… had been talking about him.
Dave, Strauss, Garcia, Morgan and Prentiss…. and Reid. Hotch fell to his knees.
“God, no,” he whispered in a broken voice. He had pushed Reid away. With his coldness he´d driven the young man to the edge and Reid had jumped.
Jack took his wife´s hand in his and kissed the ring on her finger. “Laura, he walked away from me a long time ago. It was his choice, not mine.” Jack drew in a long breath, “He can only blame himself if I´m not there to see him to the ground. He might have been my father but he certainly wasn´t my dad.”
“Jack, no please,” Hotch silently cried.
”See!,”
“Please, no more,” Hotch begged.
”SEE!”
And Hotch looked up.
A new grave was in front of him. The sky was dark and they were all alone in the cemetery. A thunder sounded above them.
”SEE!” The ghost forced through his brain as it pointed at the headstone. Hotch forced himself to read the words just as a lightning flashed above them.
Here lies
AARON HOTCHNER
May he finally find peace
“I´ve changed. Please, stop,” Hotch said to the creature. Another lightning flashed through the sky and Hotch saw the face of the creature.
It was his own.
Startled, Hotch rolled sideways. And rolled of his bed, his head hit the carpet-covered floor with a small thud.
“Ow,” Hotch growled as his hand flew to back of his head were it had met the floor.
***
Chapter 5