Chapter 7: Mighty Wings
Chapter 7: Mighty Wings
I walk by her side, and darkness lifts from my soul. I walk with her, and I hear the gentle beating of mighty wings…
-Neil Gaiman, Sandman #8, “The Sound of Her Wings”
Hotch didn’t bother to wander the streets in search of Clarence. He knew the strange man would eventually show up if he just stayed put and waited. So that’s what he did. He went back into the Starbucks and found a comfortable chair; grabbed an old copy of the paper from a nearby basket; and settled in to wait.
He’d just finished the sports page (pretty much the same as in his reality - he supposed his existence had no effect on major sporting events) when he looked up to see the very man he’d been waiting for sitting opposite him. His ageless face was creased in a patient smile. Hotch wondered how long he’d been there as he carefully folded the paper and set it aside. “I knew you’d show up eventually,” he said.
Clarence raised his hands; shrugged a little. “I did tell you, after all. How was your conversation with the elegant Ms. Prentiss?”
“Enlightening,” he replied succinctly.
“I’d hoped so,” he said, eyes twinkling.
Hotch cleared his throat. Crossed one leg over the other. Uncrossed it again and set his feet on the floor. “I want to know who you are,” he finally said.
Clarence went very still, impossibly still, as though he were carved from incredibly lifelike marble. “I don’t think you do, my serious friend.”
Hotch sighed in frustration; slumped back into the chair. “Could you at least tell me what you did to me? Was it some form of hypnosis?”
His face fell into lines that Hotch couldn’t read. Disappointment, perhaps? As deep and endless as the sea. “I had hoped you would understand by now,” he said in a low voice like the mournful elegy of old bells. “I did you the type of favor I give…” He waved a hand, as though the span of time were inexpressible.
“Favor?! What favor have you done me, Clarence?” Hotch fired back, struggling to keep his voice quiet so as not to be overheard by the coffee shop’s evening patrons.
“Dear Aaron. Beloved friend. Do you not see? You were ready to give up. You thought you had nothing to live for. Now you know that the opposite is true; your life has touched the lives of so many others. You are the linchpin that holds your world together.”
Hotch buried his face in his hands a moment. “I wouldn’t have done it,” he muttered, voice muffled. “I would never have left Jack.”
Clarence reached out; touched the other man’s shoulder with untold gentleness. “Yes, my disheartened friend, you would have. Trust me on that point if nothing else.” His voice was soft, and filled with that same exquisite compassion Hotch had seen in his face earlier that day. It still burned like a brand against his heart.
“Maybe you’re right,” he murmured. “I don’t know. I felt so…lost. Gone.”
“And now?”
“Now I…” His face scrunched thoughtfully. “I loved Haley.”
“Of course you did,” Clarence replied quietly.
“I can’t bring her back. All I can do for her now is be the best father I can be to Jack. It’s all I have left.”
“For Haley, yes. But for you? My friend, your entire life is at your fingertips. All you have to do is reach out and grasp it.”
Hotch stared at him with keen dark eyes. “I should have told them what they meant to me. I should have told all of them, especially after…after Haley. They were just there, without words or questions. Just there.”
“Some things don’t need words. Your team is your family, and they would do anything for you. What would you do for them, young Aaron?”
He looked away; shook his head; met Clarence’s impossibly deep blue gaze again. “I would live,” he answered simply.
The man’s smile was blinding, like looking into the noonday sun. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
“Wait,” Hotch said, reaching out as the man stood to leave. “Wait. You’re going?”
Clarence’s face softened. “We’ll meet again, my friend. I meet everyone again, in the end.”
“What do you mean, in the-” Hotch broke off abruptly as he realized he was sitting in his apartment talking into the barrel of his gun. “Fuck!” he cried in outraged surprise as he checked the safety and hastily set the weapon aside. He scrambled up from the couch and whirled around in a circle. He was alone; the apartment was empty.
He fumbled for his phone. “Jessica!” he cried when the woman answered. “It’s Aaron. No, everything’s…I just…I wanted to check on Jack.”
His entire body went limp with relief when he heard his son’s voice over the phone. “Hi, Daddy!”
“Hey, buddy. How are you?”
“I’m ok. I miss you. Are you coming to get me soon?”
“Yeah, Jack. I’m on my way right now.”
“Ok, Daddy. I love you.”
He staggered; clutched his chest. “I love you too, buddy. Be good for your Aunt Jessica, ok? I’ll be there soon.” They said goodbye and hung up. Hotch collapsed onto the sofa and drew deep, gasping breaths. He was still shaking when the phone in his hand rang. He answered it warily.
“Aaron? Er, Hotch. Um. It’s Emily. Prentiss. I mean…it’s Prentiss.” He heard her sigh, and he felt his mouth twitching with the urge to smile. “I’m just calling to see if you or Jack need anything. I can make a run to the market for you? Or just pick up a pizza or something?”
“I was actually just on my way to pick him up at his aunt’s,” he told her.
“Oh,” she replied. “Um. Well, listen, you know if you need anything I’m just a phone call away.”
“I…” He hesitated. “You know what, Prentiss? Emily. I think Jack and I could use some company for dinner. If you’re up to it.”
There was a small pause, and he could hear the smile in her voice as she said, “That sounds great. You haven’t lived until you’ve experienced my legendary take out ordering skills.”
He almost laughed. “I look forward to it. See you in an hour?”
“An hour it is.”
He was smiling as he hung up. He wasn’t sure if the events of the past several hours had happened, or were merely the products of his weary, grieving mind. Either way, he had been given a great gift, and he had no intention of wasting it.
Aaron Hotchner was alive, and he intended to live.
[A]t times the fact of her absence will hit you like a blow to the chest, and you will weep. But this will happen less and less as time goes on…
She is dead. You are alive. So live.
So live…
-Neil Gaiman, Sandman #48, “Brief Lives: 9”
In case you couldn't tell by the quotes, dear readers, as this story went on I found myself more and more inspired by Neil Gaiman's Sandman and the fabulous characters who inhabit that world. I once again encourage you to go read it. You won't regret it, and you'll probably even thank me. :)
PS: I wouldn't normally do this, because I like to keep you guys guessing, but the quote at the beginning is about Death. Not an angel. ;)