Work Text:
Of Innocence and Empathy: Flawed Logic
by Frogg
Satisfied, Hotch watched as the local cops handled the wrap-up. The UnSub had been zipped into a black bodybag and taken away; the injured were being wheeled into waiting ambulances, or treated by paramedics and turned loose.
They'd gotten there in time to keep anyone else from dying.
Anyone besides the UnSub, but that was, after all, somewhat par for the course. Hotch knew he couldn't save everyone; that had been drummed into him too early, too painfully, for him to believe otherwise. At least this time the only one to pay the ultimate price was the one who'd caused the chaos.
Turning, Hotch started back to the car, seeking privacy.
"Hotch?"
Morgan's voice pulled him back, made him frown. Morgan hadn't sought him out outside of official case business for weeks. "Yes?" he answered, carefully keeping his voice neutral.
Morgan slowed, glancing around at the emergency personnel and vehicles slowly vacating the area. "You want to grab a cup of coffee before we head back? There's a shop around the corner." There was something anxious, something desperate in his voice. "I told Gideon to leave a car behind for us."
Gideon knew about the rift between them, Hotch finished silently. Knew and was hoping, praying, that Morgan wanted to rebuild that bridge.
For all their sakes.
Hotch nodded. "Lead the way."
Some of the tension in Morgan's shoulders bled away as he turned, heading out of sight of the crime scene.
A few minutes later, they were tucked into the corner of a local coffee shop, nursing mugs of rich French roast.
"I'm glad we got rid of the kevlar," Morgan muttered. Employees and other customers alike were nervous from the sounds of gunfire and sirens.
"Mmhmm."
Morgan was quiet then, staring into his coffee, shoulders tensing again.
Fully aware that pushing wasn't going to help, Hotch kept his peace.
"I wanted--" Morgan started, throat tight and voice raspy. He stopped, cleared his throat, and tried again. "I know I haven't been the easiest person to work with these last few weeks. Since..." Another pause, this time to take a deep breath and shut his eyes tightly, steeling himself for the stab of pain Hotch knew was coming. "Chicago. I wanted--want to, apologize."
Hotch nodded, taking a sip of his coffee, but didn't reply. Something told him Morgan wasn't finished.
Shaking his head, Morgan sighed, then ran a hand over his scalp. "I've spent so long, so much trying to move past it, ignore it...Every time it gets dragged up again, it's like I have to start all over again."
"Did you ever talk to anyone about it?"
Morgan didn't answer right away, staring instead, weighing the question, probably wondering whether it was just a question, or a thinly veiled offer. Finally, jaw tight, he nodded. "Once."
Hotch waited, giving Morgan the chance to elaborate and debating the wisdom of making the offer Morgan expected.
"Why?"
"Because I've spent a great deal of time since then asking myself how I missed it. Or even," and Hotch paused this time, bracing himself for the brutal truth, "if I didn't miss it and just didn't want to deal with it. If I just didn't know how to help you."
"What? Hotch, you didn't see it 'cause I didn't want you to. My own mother didn't know." Morgan let out a bitter laugh then. "It's one of the reasons I went into profiling, so I could hide it that much better."
"You weren't bluffing then." Hotch didn't bother to explain; it wasn't necessary.
Morgan shook his head. "Not one bit." Regret and self-castigation crossed his face. "It kills me, knowing that I wasn't there to stop it, that I just took what I wanted and walked away. I'll pay for that cowardice for the rest of my life."
"You paid for it already. In spades. Besides," and Hotch risked touching, rested fingertips on Morgan's wrist, "a coward doesn't go back and face down his nightmares."
"Face down my nightmares," Morgan repeated, snorting in derision. "It doesn't work like that, Hotch."
"If it did, you wouldn't have Reid now, would you?"
Morgan froze, coffee halfway to his lips. Then there was a sharp *thock* of mug hitting tabletop. "Whatever you think you know about Reid and me--" he started, his tone dark and angry.
"--is likely true, and if I had any objections to it I would have said so long before now," Hotch finished, keeping his amusement to himself.
The anger faded slowly, Morgan picking up the mug again and settling back in his chair. "So what was Phoenix, matchmaking?"
"No, that was me trying to make sure you and Reid got what you needed without either of you having to ask for it." Hotch raised an eyebrow. "You two seem to be doing quite well on your own."
Morgan laughed, this time less bitter, more heartfelt. A small smile played across his lips. "So you don't care, huh?"
"I care a great deal. The two of you have been supporting each other in ways that I don't think you'd let anyone else. And your performance hasn't suffered for it, either." Hotch shrugged. "It's improved, actually."
"You've got to be kidding me."
Hotch watched Morgan shake his head in disbelief. "No, I'm not."
Morgan slumped forward then, hands wrapped around his mug, staring at the empty chair across the table.
"Morgan?"
Confused, pained eyes turned back towards him. "D'you think..." Morgan broke off, unable to finish.
"I think you should talk to Reid."
Morgan grimaced. "Now that'll be the blind leading the blind."
Hotch laughed ruefully. "Personally, I don't think you have anything to worry about, but it'd be better coming from Reid."
Letting out a noncommital noise, Morgan sighed, his breath ruffling the surface of his coffee. "You know," he started after a long pause, still not looking up from the table, "it's nice, having someone to take care of. Someone who'll take care of me, and still be equals." The confidence was offered tentatively, as if Morgan were unsure whether he were overstepping his bounds.
"Only nice?"
Morgan finally glanced up and met Hotch's gaze. "Nice is about all I'm willing to admit to at this point."
"Ah." Hotch smiled, the expression lighting his eyes. "I'm making an assumption here, but I'm guessing whoever you talked to wasn't Reid."
Morgan froze for a moment. "No, that was back in college. Why?"
"You might want to talk to him, just so he has some idea of what to avoid," Hotch said gently. "I don't mean details, necessarily," he added as Morgan tensed, bowing his head. "But if there's anything in particular that's a problem for you, you might want to let him know."
Breathing too shallow, each inhale choppy and rapid, Morgan glanced up.
Hotch met his gaze squarely, compassion in eyes. "He has his own demons. You know that, you've been helping him with them. Let him help you fight yours."
Morgan closed his eyes, visibly trying to steady himself, before nodding slightly. "Can...can we shelve this topic?"
Hotch nodded; he'd pushed as far as he was going to get. Better not to risk pushing too hard. "We should probably be getting back to the station anyways. I'm kind of surprised Gideon didn't call."
That startled a laugh out of Morgan. "Not likely. Unless we have another case, of course."
"Oh?"
"Reid's stalling the locals."
Hotch groaned, shaking his head. Images of Reid in excited lecture-mode flitted through his mind, sending a shiver down his spine. "They'll never forgive him for that..."
"So? Ask him what the odd are we'll have to come back here."
"The two of you are...I have no words." Hotch shook his head in bewildered amusement.
Morgan just laughed. "You wouldn't have us any other way."
"That's the truth."
end