Since You've Been Gone

Love Overpowers It

"Falling in love and having a relationship are two different things."

-Keanu Reeves

Thick, heavy fogginess surrounds his usually high functioning brain and does not falter as he manages to open his eyes. The lethargy of surgery is not an uncommon feeling for his body and the sensation of extreme sleep deprivation hits him harder than what he is used to. Yet trying to draw strings as to when he fell asleep or where he is... is just not happening.

He can recall this feeling throughout his entire life. As a child who spent most nights kept up by the drunken threats of an abusive father he grew used to falling asleep at half past twelve and rising at five o'clock the next morning. Perhaps that is why he was so good at pulling all-nighters at Harvard. It still comes in handy as a single father and early rising Federal Agent. Such a familiar sensation brings up questions that he realizes he should really know that answer too. How did he get home? Where is Jack at?

His brain is racing to work through the haze that is threatening to close his eyes and force him back under the cozy warmth of the morphine. He can only rationalize one thing, something has happened and the only thing, the only name he can think of is Foyett. Yet at the forefront of his mind, he can still recall Emily seating with him as she bandaged his wounded hands. He killed Foyett with his bare hands. The fear that he will be attacked is still present.

With the drugs finally winning this internal battle he lets it drift him back to a safe place where his mind can not remind him of how cool Haley's skin was when he held her for the last time.

Then, piercing through the deep drugs is one name: Emily.

He can feel his body jerk as he attempts to fight his way back to the surface. Clawing his way up he can smell the scent of lavenders, honey, and hospital disinfectant. It makes his stomach churn.

"Agent Hotchner."

He fights to open his eyes and is rewarded with half of half of a sliver of an opening. Whoever is calling his name seems happy with this accomplishment but he is not.

"That's a lad," the voice belongs to a man that is older than him and most likely Dave too.

Dave. Where's Dave?

"Can you tell me where you are? Maybe, who you are?" The man is becoming increasingly annoying as a sudden pain makes it's way up the back of his head.

He tries to zone in on answering at least one of the question and somehow his lips manage to form one syllable. " 'otch."

There is a giggle near his left ear and he has half a notion to see who it is but his eyes are sliding shut again and the older man speaks up once more. "Alrighty, thank you for your time, Aaron. Get some rest now."

The man comes into his view and his theory was correct. An older man with kind eyes and the mustache of a grandfather walks past the end of his bed and out the door.

The person to his left shifts and he wants to turn but his eyes slide shut once again and he lets sleep overtake him.

******

"Go."

The nurse leads her back to the room labeled 'recovery' and the young woman offers a reassuring shoulder squeeze before leaving Emily to her own demise.

'He's missed you.'

Jack, so young and yet providing her with comfort as the other's insisted that she go back first. She could see how upset Jack was but he simply shrugged," I'm too young. I have to wait for Dad to get to a private room."

So, here she stands with half asscess to the man that she loved for years and in the end left.

'Don't go, stay.' He had begged her. Pleaded and in the end, he had cried. It had felt so wrong to hold him through those tears when she knew that she was the reason that they were welling up in his eyes.

She inhales shakily before pushing the door open the rest of the way. The man that lays before her is familiar. The pale body lying motionless on the white sheets is the same one that she had curled into many times before. The hands that lay limp at both his sides now had once wreaked havoc on her own body as they touched and squeezed in their most passionate moments. The eyes that are now closed in sleep had once peered upon with a curiosity and love. The man on the sheets is more than a body that she loved. He is Aaron. Her Aaron.

His head is cradled by the pillows around his head and she marvels at the youth that his face holds when he is asleep. The lines of worry around his eyes are gone and the eternal grimace is not present but pleasantly replaced by a slack jaw that makes him snore lightly.

She smiles fondly at the familiar sound. He only snored when he was completely exhausted.

Making her way to his bedside she lifts his left hand into her own and kisses the cold digits. She waits there with anticipation for him to wake. She knows the process. First, a soft moan and movements that would suggest he's trying to escape someone's unwanted hold. Then his eyes will flutter open for just a moment before his arms move about where he lays, trying to scope out his surroundings. Then his eyes open and he grins sleepily and in a husky voice he whispers 'hey'.

At least, that's what he used to do.

Back before they had their falling out. Before she left.

It haunts her. Mocks her.

Before she left.

"Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, if not always in the ways we expect."

-J.K. Rowling