Innocent Son

Chapter Four

Hotch drove me back to the hotel and stayed for a bit while I got cleaned up.

"Can you bring me my toothbrush out of my go-bag?" I ask from the bathroom. I had finished in the shower and quickly changed into the hotel housecoats that was hung on the back of the door. The room was steamy and the mirror was fogged. I wiped it with the sleeve of the housecoat as Hotch walked in with my toothbrush and toothpaste.

"You're seriously worrying me. Spencer too." His voice was softer than it was at the station. "I'm not letting you back in the field until you tell me something. Anything. " I spat toothpaste into the sink and looked at him through the mirror in front of me. He was leaning against the door frame of the bathroom. He'd shed his jacket off onto the bed when we got there. We made eye contact though the mirror. I looked away and back down at my spit still sitting in the bowl of the sink. I finished up brushing my teeth and turned around to face him.

"Can we go sit then?" I could feel my hands shaking. I had to think of something to say. Surely I couldn't actually tell him the truth but I had to tell him something. A hint of relief washed across his face as he turned around and sat down on the bed closest to the bathroom. I could feel the lump in my throat forming. I didn't know what to tell him.

"Both of you were right." I said once we were seated on the edge of the bed. He was turned towards me. I looked up at him for a moment before returning back down to my lap. "I-um-I have a friend who's trans, and when I was in college he was beat up pretty bad." I lied through my teeth. It wasn't completely wrong. It had really happened. It was just that maybe the friend I was talking about didn't really exist. "It's just been really hard to see all these kids who were his age. I can't stop imagining his face instead of theirs." Surely he'd believe this for now, right?

"I'm so sorry about your friend, Y/N." Hotch carefully placed my hand in his. "You don't need to keep that in. You can always talk to anyone on the team about it, not just Reid and I."

"I know." I couldn't look up at him and the nausea I thought I'd managed to vomit up returned with force, but I knew my stomach was empty and nothing would come up. I hated this feeling. I couldn't keep lying. I wanted to tell him the truth. It was taking everything in me to not just scream. I squeezed the hand that was still holding his. I heard him let out a sigh.

"I've been so worried about you. I just want you to be okay."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." His voice was shaky and tense. I felt so guilty that the lie I had told him was worrying him like this. I dreaded his reaction to the truth. It just made me want to keep it hidden even longer.

"Doesn't the team need you back at the station?" I ask.

"Probably," He paused. "Are you okay if I go?"

"Of course. You don't need to worry about me. I'll be alright." A gave him a small smile. "I'll work on the case from here." He returned the smile, but his lips were tight and it looked sadder than usual. His smiles were few and far between, but they were always bright and filled with joy. Big toothy grins that poked small dimples into his cheeks. It just hurt more knowing he was so messed up because of me. He pushed himself up off the bed and grabbed his jacket.

"Please call me if you need anything."

"I will." He placed a small kiss on the top of my head before leaving the hotel room. I let out the air I didn't realize I was holding, almost immediately beginning to sob. I was sure the other guests could probably hear me through the thin hotel walls, but I didn't care. It was the first time I'd been alone during this case and I needed to release some of what was pent up inside me. I couldn't stop seeing myself, a lifeless, hollow corpse dumped without thought in a ditch or in a dumpster. I grieved for the people who were killed already. They were all so young. They all had their lives ahead of them.

I cried for a good twenty minutes before a headache had begun to throb. Still sniffling, I got up and reached for my go-bag, which was sitting on the edge of the bed. I rummaged through it, hoping I'd remembered to pack some ibuprofen or aspirin. The pain was pulsing. Like someone digging into my brain with a dull spoon. Sharp and achy at the same time. I desperately dumped the contents of my bag onto the bed but to no avail. I dug the heels of my palms into my eyes, rubbing until I saw spots. My clothes were strewn over the bed along with my toiletries. I wasn't going to be able to work with a migraine like this. Just trying to focus on the room around me was making me lightheaded and nauseous. Still in the hotel housecoat, I flopped onto the bed, shoving my face into the soft, white pillows. The sun was setting outside, making the room darker. I closed my eyes, hoping the pain would go away with a quick nap.