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The man holding the gun paced leisurely in front of Hotch, waving the weapon slowly between the heads of his two teammates.
Rossi was as impassive as ever, hardly seeming to register the Berreta pointed dangerously close to his head. His face may have been expressionless, but the crease in his brow told of the negotiation strategy he was no doubt building in his head.
Reid was another story. He was putting up an impressive display of stoicism, but his eyes, fixed on the cement floor of the cellar, couldn’t hide a glint of fear. He couldn’t see his hands, but Hotch guessed that Reid was twiddling his fingers the way he often did when under stress.
And God knows he was under stress.
He was kneeling on the floor with his hands zip tied behind his back while an armed psychopath stalked around behind him. Rossi was to his left and Hotch was facing them both, each of the men restrained in the same way as Reid.
The positioning concerned Hotch. He had a full view of both of his teammates, while they had to turn to see each other. The unsub obviously wanted him to have a good view of whatever he was about to do.
“Mind telling us why we’re here?” Rossi spoke up, tone conversational.
The unsub stopped his pacing with a sigh, as if he’d been inconvenienced in some way, and pressed the barrel of his gun into the meat of Reid’s shoulder. Reid tensed at the contact and his colleagues bristled.
“Agent Rossi, please, I’m about to have a conversation with Agent Hotchner, and I don’t appreciate the interruption.”
Rossi’s eyes flicked from his young teammate’s anxious face to the silent threat of the gun and fell silent. Their captor nodded in mock-appreciation and lowered the gun. Hotch took that as his cue to speak.
“What do you want?”
The unsub smirked at him, eyes flashing with a sadistic light.
“All I want is for you to make a choice, Agent Hotchner.”
Hotch frowned, uneasiness building in his gut.
“A choice?”
“That’s right.” The unsub’s smirk turned to a smile that more resembled a predator bearing its teeth. “You see, we have your mentor and your mentee.” He indicated Rossi with the gun, then Reid. “You get to decide who walks out of here and who’s brains get spread out on the floor.”
The uneasiness in Hotch’s gut hardened into a stone of dread. Reid lost all trace of color and Rossi’s eyes widened.
“No.” Hotch cursed how unsteady his voice sounded in that moment.
“Our team is looking for us,” Reid hurriedly piped up as their captor’s face darkened in anger. “They’re gonna find us.”
Hotch froze, expecting his young teammate to get a bullet for his interruption. Instead, the unsub leaned down to speak into his ear.
“Oh, I’m counting on it. The question is, whose blood will they be stepping in when they do?”
Reid shuddered and the unsub straightened with a cruel grin.
“Well, Agent Hotchner, do you need a minute to think or do you already have an answer for me?”
Hotch didn’t need to think about his answer. He cleared his throat, willing his voice to be steady.
“Kill me.”
“Aaron!” Rossi rebuked, sharply.
“No!” Reid protested, his voice wavering.
Their captor sighed again, rolling his eyes, dramatically.
“Agent, I gave you two options: Option A,” he nudged Reid’s temple with the barrel of the gun, “or Option B,” he nudged Rossi in the same way, “and that wasn’t one of them. Try again.”
“I’m not choosing between them!” Hotch stated, plainly.
Any trace of sadistic glee disappeared from the unsub’s face and was replaced with rage.
“You know what, agent? I was wrong. There is a third option. I have enough bullets in this gun for all of you. I think I’ll shoot Dr. Reid first, then Agent Rossi. Maybe I’ll shoot them in the gut, let them bleed out in front of you. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure to save you for last.”
The sadistic man pulled back the hammer of the gun and leveled it at Reid’s stomach.
“Now choose.”
Reid recoiled slightly from the weapon, shutting his eyes in an effort to hold back the terrified tears brimming in his eyes. Rossi gritted his teeth, no doubt tugging fiercely at his bound wrists while he glared murderously at the unsub.
Hotch looked at both of them. The closest thing he had to a father and the man who saw him as one. There was no way he could choose between them. Even with Reid at gunpoint, there was no way Hotch could ever condemn one of them to death. But if he didn’t...
The team was coming, but unless they burst through the door at that exact moment, all they would find were three corpses.
Hotch was harshly pulled from his thoughts when a bullet slammed into the floor in front of Reid. The young man yelped at the sound, tears finally spilling over.
“I’m loosing my patience, Agent Hotchner,” the unsub said. “If I don’t hear an answer in the next ten seconds, the next bullet goes in Dr. Reid.”
The unsub pulled back the hammer again and pointed the gun back at Reid’s stomach.
“Ten.”
Hotch felt tears pricking at his eyes. He couldn’t choose.
“Nine.”
He couldn’t choose!
“Eight.”
He couldn’t–
“Aaron.”
Hotch looked to find Rossi watching him. He was strangely calm for the situation, almost resigned. But there was something about his face. The way he was looking at him, almost like he was silently imploring him to...
No.
Hotch shook his head as the tears finally fell down his cheeks.
“Aaron, it’s the only way.”
The unsub had stopped his countdown and was watching them with interest.
“What’s this?” The sadistic smile was back in place. “Are we coming to a decision, agents?”
“No!” Hotch snapped.
“Aaron–“
“No.” His voice came out in a strangled whisper that time.
“Aaron, look at me.”
Hotch met Rossi’s eyes with his own tearful ones. The older man gave him a weak smile.
“It’s okay.”
Those two words were enough to make the dam break and Hotch fought to hold in a sob.
“What?” Reid breathed anxiously, eyes darting between his colleagues.
“I hope you have an answer for me, Agent Hotchner,” the unsub prompted, eagerly.
It took everything in Hotch to force the single word out.
“Dave.” The name was barely audible.
The unsub leaned forward, making a show of putting his hand up to his ear.
“What was that?”
Hotch knew full well that he’d heard him. Telling him to repeat himself was just more psychological torture.
“Dave,” he said again, just loud enough for his voice to crack with emotion.
“Hotch, no!” Reid cried.
The unsub feigned shock.
“That’s pretty harsh. Are you sure that’s your decision?”
“Go to hell,” Rossi spat.
“Agent?” the unsub continued as if Rossi hadn’t spoken.
“No!” Reid shouted.
“It’s okay, Spencer,” Rossi tried to soothe, but Reid wasn’t finished.
“Hotch, I chose you when I was with Hankel, please just do the same for me!” he begged, tears streaking his face.
Hotch forced himself to block out his young teammate’s desperate pleas.
“That’s my decision.”
Reid sobbed, broken and pitifully. Rossi caught Hotch’s eye and mouthed a ‘thank you.’ The simple movement sent a whole new wave of tears down his face.
The unsub laughed, callously.
“Well, guys, this has been fun.” He moved the gun away from Reid and raised it toward Rossi. “But unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.”
“Both of you, close your eyes,” Rossi ordered, hurriedly.
Reid turned his head away and Hotch squeezed his eyes shut.
The shot rang out a split second later.
The sound Reid made was like a wounded animal, or more accurately, a orphaned cub crying out for it’s parent. Hotch choked out a gut-wrenching sob but he didn’t open his eyes. He couldn’t.
His best friend and father figure’s body was lying three feet from him and he couldn’t bring himself to look at it.
Silence reigned for a few agonizing seconds before a voice spoke from somewhere to Hotch’s right.
“Guys, I got ‘em. They’re okay.”
Morgan. The team was here. What did he mean they were okay? Couldn’t he see that Rossi was–
“Nice timing, Morgan.”
That was Rossi’s voice. Hotch snapped his eyes open.
Morgan was crouched behind a very much alive Rossi, cutting his hands free. Reid was staring at the pair, slack-jawed and unmoving. The unsub’s body was lying between them with a bullet hole in its head.
“You got another knife?” Rossi asked, his hands now free.
Morgan handed him a small pocket knife and went to free Reid. Rossi moved to Hotch.
“You alright?” he questioned gently as he cut the zip tie around his wrists.
When Hotch didn’t answer, Rossi came back around to his front.
“Aaron?”
Without a word, Hotch threw himself into the older man’s arms. Rossi held him back just as hard as he held on.
“It’s okay,” he murmured. “It’s over.”
In his peripheral vision, Hotch saw JJ and Prentiss descend the stairs to the cellar, each sagging in relief at the sight of their teammates.
Reid was waiting when the men separated. Rossi took one look at his tearstained face before he wrapped his arms around him. Reid returned the embrace, hands clutching at the material of Rossi’s shirt.
Hotch noticed he was shaking, but he wasn’t actively crying like he had been just moments ago. He just stared blankly into space with his head tucked against Rossi’s shoulder. He was obviously in shock.
He couldn’t help but think back to Morgan’s words.
‘They’re okay.’
He was wrong.
‘They’re alive,’ would have been more accurate.
Because if there was one thing they all knew far too well, it was that alive rarely equaled okay.
•••
Reid was curled up on the jet’s couch in an almost-fetal position with his head in Rossi’s lap. The older agent was absentmindedly running his fingers though the sleeping young man’s hair.
“How’s he doing?” Hotch asked softly as he took a seat next to the pair.
“He’s finally asleep.” Rossi kept his eyes on Reid when he spoke. “I don’t know for how much longer.”
“Any nightmares?”
Rossi looked troubled.
“Not yet. But, I’m gonna take him home with me tonight. He won’t be alone.”
Hotch nodded.
“That’s good.”
Rossi smiled slightly.
“He’d probably try to stow away in my car if I didn’t invite him over.”
The comment was meant to be lighthearted, but Hotch’s face fell at the context.
“He almost lost you today.”
Rossi’s hand paused in Reid’s hair for the briefest of moments.
“Yeah.”
It was barely an acknowledgement, more a statement of fact. A clear message that Rossi didn’t want to talk about it.
But they were going to, because Hotch had to get this off his chest.
“Dave–“
“Aaron, I swear to God, if you apologize–“
“I told him to kill you, Dave.”
Rossi looked at Hotch, incredulously.
“I told you to choose me,” he said, seriously. “That was my choice, not yours.”
Hotch looked at the floor as a pang of emotion hit him.
“Why did you do it?”
Rossi looked down at Reid, then back to Hotch.
“If you had to choose whether you or Jack died, who would you choose?”
Hotch didn’t have to think for a second.
“Me.”
“There’s your answer.”
Hotch looked at the floor again. He of all people could understand that.
“You never would have chosen Reid,” Rossi continued. “I think we can both agree on that. But, if you didn’t choose, we’d all be dead. So, from what I understood, there was only one way both of you were making it out alive. You two are like my sons, and parents are always willing to die for their kids.”
Hotch couldn’t hold back a smile at Rossi’s words. He had always thought of the older man as a father and he knew his feelings were reciprocated, but to hear that straight from Rossi himself warmed his heart.
“You know, you should get some sleep too,” Rossi told him. “Reid’s not the only one who went through a lot today.”
Hotch smirked as he shifted into a more comfortable position.
“I can get plenty of sleep when the brass forces us to take time off.”
Hotch closed his eyes to Rossi’s groan.
•••
“In any moment of decision, the best thing you can do is the right thing. The worst thing you can do is nothing.” - Theodore Roosevelt