Desiderium: longing for something that has been lost

Chapter 28

"to exact revenge for yourself or for your friends is not only a right, it's an absolute duty"-- stieg larsson 

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Las Vegas

February  22, 2008

9:08 am

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Emily considered herself a worldly person, her mother's position in the government taking her to several countries and her own job flying her both astonishing and unusual places both domestically and internationally. 

But the world of Las Vegas astonished her. She watched the neon lights flicker advertisements for strip clubs and casinos, and she watched as people happy and lost in their drunken giddiness worshipped under the bright lights. 

She had eaten with aristocrats, seen classical paintings worth millions and heard orchestras play Mozart's Requiem in the D minor, classical old wealth she was familiar with, she had grown up with. But this? This was like a gilded vase, deep foundational cracks hiding behind a flimsy veneer of gold. 

As the gold glinted and shined, the cracks opened and yawned underneath, welcoming more and more into its irretrievable depths. 

Hotch shook her out of her reveries as he turned into the precinct. He pulled into a slotted parking spot and let the car idle, the faded sounds of drunken joy echoing behind them. He rubbed his hands over his face, and stared into the dimly lit building.

"I don't know what to do Emily." He startled her, with his honesty. And then she knew it had gotten this bad, because he was Hotch and he always knew what to do. "I keep telling myself that 'tomorrow, it'll make sense tomorrow,' or 'things will fall into place soon' but it's all just fallen into pieces around me. And I can't pick up the pieces."

She felt uneasy, like she shouldn't be privy to this, and she shifted, not knowing how to respond to him. He undid his sling slowly, and let it fall to his lap, his face coming together in a grimace.

"The team is in shambles, and I have to put them together, but..." He closed his eyes. "God, sometimes?" 

She dropped her eyes to her lap. 

"Sometimes, I just want to walk out of that office and never walk back." He looked at her. "Is that? Am I selfish?" His voice was tired, and she could see the exhaustion that he hid under heavy eyebrows appear in tense lines. 

"It's not selfish." She picked at a short jagged nail. "It's normal, it's called being exhausted, and it's called wanting to go home and see your family. And you deserve a break, we all deserve a break, especially after this." She looked up at him. "But you, Aaron are not selfish, you never have been, especially not for wanting to leave." She nudged his shoulder. "If anything, just makes you a little more human."

He cracked a smile, and she smiled back. 

Reaching out to turn the car off, he slid out of the car and looked back at her. "You ready?"

She climbed out and followed him into the station. 

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At first glance, Ethan Hayes was an average man. He was of average build (5'11), had an average look, (brown hair, brown eyes), and worked a menial job, (mechanic down at a car shop). 

As far as averageness went however, Ethan Hayes excelled at anger. 

At age 5, his mother recalled, him looking into his newly born brother's crib and shaking him out of the crib. She had come into the room to find the newborn screaming and flailing about on the floor, and her oldest son observing from the corner, sucking on his thumb.