Desiderium: longing for something that has been lost

Chapter 33

"no one ever told me that grief felt so like fear" --- c. s. lewis 

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Quantico, Rossi's House

February  26, 2008

1:08 pm

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Hotch stood at the door, staring into the dark grained wood. Hailey had begged him to stay home today, to stay and hold his baby, to let his son know who his father was. He felt a pain in his stomach, god, he was turning into his own father. 

But this. 

He'd never get to rest if this was left unresolved. 

Feeling sick to his stomach, he opened the heavy door, and stepped inside. It was quiet, quieter than he ever remembered it being at Rossi's before. He heard a murmur of voices from a rooms away, and he wandered off in search of them.

Rossi was sitting on a couch, one arm stretched out over the back, watching Morgan pace back and forth in front of him. Both of them turned around as Hotch entered the room. He looked at the two of them, head cocked as he closed the door.

"Is everything alright?"

Morgan shook his head and began pacing again. 

Rossi uncrossed his legs and stood up from the couch. "It seems we're at a crossroads, me and him, concerning a few things."

"Why don't you just come out and say it Rossi?" 

Rossi turned back towards Morgan. "Alright, I was suggesting to Derek, that he should go see someone, to talk things out, and process some things, and he--"

"I'm fine, I don't need that." He walked over to Hotch. "I've processed plenty." 

Hotch shifted, uncomfortable with the position he found himself in.  "Yes, but, maybe if--"

"I've processed it, Hotch, ok? I'm done, I don't want to talk about that again, I don't want to see them dying again, or hear their screams again." He took in deep breath. "Can you understand me?" 

Hotch nodded. "Ok." There was a pause as he sat down. "Where's Spencer at?"

"He had a rough morning, been in his room ever since."

Hotch glanced up at Rossi. "Rough?" 

Rossi cleared his throat. "Well, yeah that's another thing." Morgan rolled his eyes, and started pacing again. "Spencer needs help, Aaron, more than I can offer, more than I'm capable of offering."

Morgan stopped in front of them. "And as I said, he can't go to a rehabilitation home, not with the history he has with those places."

Rossi passed a hand through his hair. "Never did I suggest that." His voice was strained. "But, he's going to need constant supervision and help for a while, and--" He shrugged. "I'd be happy to help, but--" 

Hotch nodded. A feeling of overwhelming hit him. "What do you think we need to do?"

"He needs to see a professional, get evaluated, and then we can move on from there." Rossi sank down next to him. "If I can get a basic understanding of how to better understand all of this, then I would feel more comfortable doing all of this."

"What happened this morning?" 

"Flashback. Pretty violent one."

They all sat in silence, contemplating Rossi's worn carpet. There was a thump above him, and Hotch jumped.