Work Text:
"Aaron," Rossi says quietly. They're on the plane, because they're always on the plane. "When's the last time you slept?"
Hotch looks up from the case file, the lines of his face sharp-edged and severe. "She's eight years old, Dave."
"Weren't you always telling Gideon the best way to help people is to stay sharp?"
Hotch's smile is tiny and close-lipped. He says, "Things have changed since then."
"You're telling me," Rossi drawls. He settles back in his seat, tapping a finger on his knee. “Gideon made his choices the same way we did. You have me. I’m still here.”