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Flashing blue and red, pulsing in and out, the swirling scream of sirens. Aaron held tight to the door handle as they skidded down alleys and out into busy intersections, squeezing his eyes closed when he knew he should be keeping them open. Hazarding a glance at the detective behind the wheel, a young man with a square set jaw and angry eyes, he tried to breathe through the agony of not being in control. They were in pursuit of their unsub, heading for the highway at dangerous speeds, and on a good day he'd be the one behind the wheel but this was not a good day. This was a bad day, and it was getting worse by the second.
“They've got road blocks set up!” Aaron shouted, hoping the detective would slow his pace, ease up just a little though he knew in his heart, his thundering wild heart that he wouldn't have slowed down either. Not when they were so close. Sure, their job was to corral the unsub, box him in, but the detective clearly had vengeance and glory on his mind.
“We're almost on him!”
They were, he wasn't wrong, but it was all wrong anyway. Maybe the unsub saw the road blocks, maybe he just decided to give it up, no one would know because his brains were about to be splattered all over the interior of his vehicle in the middle of Main Street, and the police car in hot pursuit was going to be up close and personal with his car very quickly. So quickly that Aaron didn't have a chance to react, he tensed up and shouted at the detective to pull off, to stop, he was screaming but he knew there wasn't time to react. They watched in slow motion as the unsub's car spun on its axis, their nose clipped it gently at first and on the second spin the cars seemed to wrap around each other like the red and white swirls on a candy cane.
The scene flooded quickly with emergency vehicles, all three men involved in the collision requiring immediate medical attention though they would soon find that the unsub had put a bullet through his head and wouldn't be requiring nearly as much attention in the long run. Dave and Spencer were the first to arrive at the wreck, flashing their credentials at anyone in their way until they were up close, watching in a state of horror as Aaron was extracted from the vehicle unconscious. Alive, they assured him. His pulse was thready and weak but he was alive and he wasn't impacted directly so they appeared hopeful, at least Spencer thought so. Dave had other ideas as he jumped into the ambulance without being asked, insisting that while Aaron was unconscious his proxy had to be involved if at all possible. The EMTs hadn't dealt with FBI Agents before and didn't bother to question him, it sounded legitimate enough and they weren't about to stop performing life saving procedures on account of a man who jumped into an ambulance uninvited waving his credentials around like a man gone wild. Dave sat back, wringing his hands, desperately pleading with God and anyone else on another astral plane who might be listening to let Aaron be okay, to let his Aaron pull through because God he'd been here too many times and he held himself personally responsible for every single scar, every single ambulance ride. Aaron hadn't ever, not one time, blamed him for one – they were all on him, his actions, his responsibility, but Dave wouldn't ever forgive himself for any of them.
“He's stable,” one of the EMTs said to Dave, breaking him from his trance. “He'll have to undergo some tests at the hospital but right now, he's stable. That's something.” Dave nodded, as if he trusted anything they said. He'd been down this road too often with Aaron, he would present as stable one moment and then throw you into a tailspin the next by his sheer power of will or stubborn pride. Pick your poison, he loved them both equally.
As the doors swung wide open, Dave braced himself for the barricade, the nurses who would stop his approach, tell him he had to wait with everyone else while his closest friend was poked and prodded entirely against his will. He was pulled in the opposite direction of the stretcher, told he needed to sign papers and answer questions if he would just follow them, called sweetheart as nurses tugged at his elbows. The waiting room was packed but there were no familiar faces, they'd be on their way he was sure, no way they wouldn't come. And when they came they would be a force to be reckoned with, making their way through the automatic doors in an unbreakable pack like hounds of hell, sniffing out one of their own. There would be no stopping their approach, no way to deter them, and so he waited patiently for his reinforcements.
“Derek Morgan?” The nurse approached Dave, calling that name, as if he'd answer to it. As if it belonged to him. She tapped him on the shoulder and he swung around, narrowed his eyes and she said the name again, like she truly believed it was his.
“No...” he drug it out, like the letters just wouldn't get off of his tongue. Brow furrowed, he stared at her in confusion.
“Will Derek Morgan be coming?” she asked, peering at her paper curiously. Dave glanced at the doors, expecting them to barge in just then, like a scene from a movie. It didn't happen, but he knew it would be soon.
“Yes,” he replied with a nod, an understanding. “I'm David Rossi. Am I in there?”
“You're listed as a secondary, in case the primary is unable to present in person.”
“Gotcha,” his voice was dripping with sarcasm, he fought not to roll his eyes at her and the flippant way she spoke to him, as if she wasn't tearing his heart wide open and letting him bleed out right there. “He'll be here.”
He found himself hoping that Derek wouldn't show. He couldn't tell you why, really, he just hoped traffic or maybe engine trouble, something that would keep him away and Dave would be allowed back to see Aaron. He'd never been secondary, not once, not even when Aaron was married to Haley. He'd been top billing or not at all, and during those years he was racked with guilt at not being there, not being on that paper. He wondered if Gideon had taken his spot at first, was sure of it for a while but now, now he thought maybe Derek had always been there waiting in the wings. Silly thoughts of a desperate old man who couldn't stand the idea of losing his closest friend, he figured, but he couldn't shake them.
“Where is he?!” Derek shouted, stalking toward Dave like a lion on the hunt. “Rossi, where's Hotch?” His voice betrayed him, the terror scarcely cloaked by his gruff demeanor, as if he'd behave that way for just anyone. Dave pursed his lips and nodded his head, indicating for Derek to follow him toward the desk, intending to be present until he was told he couldn't any longer. He wouldn't give up without a fight.
“Apparently,” Dave began, his voice clipped as they walked. “You're his proxy now. They need to speak to you.” Derek felt his breath hitch in his chest, felt his lungs seize up and his eyes went wide and darkened by a few shades.
“No. No, what do you mean? You're his proxy,” he stammered, and Dave wasn't sure what to make of that response. He'd been a profiler long enough to know a genuine reaction when he saw one, and it didn't get more genuine than this. “You've always been his...you mean he's just been alone back there this whole time because of me? Dammit Aaron. Fuck.” He muttered the word a few more times as he sped up, making his way for the desk and Dave hung back with a sudden clarity, watched as Derek signed papers and asked with a genuine look of sadness and fear all the questions that a man in love might ask, and Dave understood it. He glanced at the team, the confused looks being shared between them, and he thought for a moment he might be able to do something for Aaron, to safeguard this thing that was about to be blown wide open by his error in judgment, by his own naive desire to show his love for another person in the best way he knew how. Aaron didn't slip up often, but when he did, it left wreckage of epic proportions in its wake.
“They're going to have Morgan go back with him, he was stable when we got here,” he announced, ushering the group toward a small bunch of seats together near a window. “Any word on when we can leave?”
“The jet is ready,” JJ offered, holding up her phone, its black screen glinting under the bright lights. “Just got a text from the pilot. Whenever Hotch is out of here...”
“Why don't the rest of you go back to the station and pack us up? That way we can get the hell out of here as soon as he's discharged,” Dave said, and he said it with such authority that the remaining team members were certain that Aaron was okay. He had to be, because Dave was planning their escape and they wouldn't leave without Aaron.
“Derek?” Aaron mumbled, eyes fluttering open and closed, eyelashes dancing on his cheeks like frantic broken butterfly wings. He winced at the bright light, squeezed his eyes shut tight but could feel Derek's warmth come up beside him, minty breath and soft hands. He pressed his cheek into Derek's hand, into the warmth. “What happened?”
“You were in an accident,” Derek replied, lips so close Aaron could feel the air move between them. “You're in the hospital. They're running tests now. Took a lot of pretty pictures. You know the drill. We're just waiting now.”
“Detective Ralley,” Aaron rasped, and Derek let his thumb trail down his cheekbone to his jaw, tracing the harsh lines and the soft curves, dancing nimbly over the swollen bruised places. His face was a mess, stitches above his eyebrow and along his jaw line, a deep red and angry purple bruise spreading down along his exposed collar bone where the seatbelt had snapped tight against his neck. They had him in a soft neck brace, it hid enough but he knew what he would find beneath it. His right arm was pinned to his chest in a sling, pillowy gauze covering much of his forearm.
“He's in surgery,” he replied. Aaron nodded, swallowing hard against the dry, thick feeling in his throat. With his new knowledge, he let his mind wander, assess what damage he thought he could feel but they'd pumped him full of enough medication that the world felt fuzzy and warm and he couldn't move. He floated there in barely reality beside very real Derek until the doctors came in with their big metal charts and he tried to focus though the odd throbbing in his head that wasn't exactly painful but he knew, somehow, that it should be.
“He's very lucky, Agent Morgan,” the doctor said softly, speaking around Aaron as if he weren't really there. In truth, he was in and out, there and gone. The list was rattled off, and Derek thought to himself that he'd heard worse, much worse, and when they told him they just needed to keep him for observation due to his concussion and then they could leave, he felt his lungs fill to capacity with air for the first time since he'd heard the metal smashing against metal. He'd only been moments behind, two blocks back, saw it happen through the shield of downtown traffic but didn't get through the barricades before the ambulance made off with his precious cargo.
“You hear that?” Derek asked, pulling his chair closer to Aaron now, watching the languid blinking and the soft, silly smile. “You're going to be okay. Some bumps and bruises, nothin' to worry about. Nothin' we can't manage.”
Aaron hummed his approval, attempting to nod his understanding as well but his neck was immobilized, he realized, and so he settled for just the hum. Derek noticed but didn't say a word.
“So what's the deal with me being your proxy? Rossi's out there ready to knock my block off. You coulda warned me.”
“Didn't...” Aaron started, swallowing hard against the grinding pain in his throat. “Didn't think it was a big deal.”
“Well, Rossi might have me sleepin' with the fishes if you don't fix this, man,” Derek said, but he kept his tone soft and sweet, he wasn't really upset. In fact, he understood that this was, in Aaron's emotionally stunted and distant way, a very very big gesture. It was Aaron saying I love you and my life is in your hands. It was bordering on a display of affection, a public one, and Derek wasn't sure Aaron really understood the gravity of the situation. He did, however, and he was going to eat it up as long as he could.
“My decision,” he rasped. “I'll handle it.”
While Aaron slept to the sounds of ESPN on the mounted television, a trick Derek had figured out a long time ago, he slipped out to the waiting area and found Dave sitting alone with his PDA. He glanced up as Derek approached and shut off the screen, rolling the stiffness from his shoulders.
"How is he?"
"Sleeping now. We'll be here another hour or two for observation, he's got a concussion they want to watch and a few other minor injuries they're treating. He's responsive and able to follow conversations so I guess they don't mind if he sleeps...I don't know. They said he was really lucky. Look, Rossi," he started but Dave shook his head. He'd had time to think, time to consider the implications of this information and the last thing he wanted was to take something good away from either of them.
"Not here, kid."
"Okay. But we need to talk, on the jet then. In the meantime, can you go clear out our hotel rooms? I'll get someone from the local field office to drive us to the air strip from here." He slipped Dave two key cards and with them a whole lot of trust, because they both knew one of those rooms would be pristine and the other would be filled with both his things and Aaron's.
On the jet, JJ and Spencer were already asleep while Alex and Dave visited over their second glass of scotch by the time Derek helped Aaron on unsteady legs, limping up the steps and through the door. Dave looked up first, caught sight of his bruised and patched up friend, and gestured toward the couch they'd already made up for him with blankets and pillows, attention Aaron would have loathed if he wasn't in tremendous pain and simultaneously very high on painkillers that only managed to help him disassociate from the pain. Aaron made eye contact with Dave, apologetic and soft, blinking a little slower than usual and Dave nodded, a small knowing smile turning up the corners of his lips. Aaron knew they'd have to talk later, he owed his friend an apology at the very least, but he was ready to sleep all the way from California to Virginia. He didn't have conversation in him. Derek helped settle him in, cover him up and he pressed a soft kiss to Aaron's temple, hardly caring who might have seen it. In his mind, the proxy change had been all the bright flashing lights anyone might need to know their secret and he was right. He sat beside Aaron, hand on his head, fingers dancing their way through his hair while the plane took off. Once Aaron was asleep, Derek moved and took a seat beside Blake, across the small table from Rossi who handed him a drink with a knowing and sad smile.
“I'm not upset,” he said softly, peering over at the prone form of his sleeping friend. “He's okay, that's all I care about.”
“I didn't know, Rossi,” Derek offered and Dave waved his hand in the air, trying to halt Derek's explanation. He didn't need it, he wasn't owed anything. His heartache wasn't Derek's fault. “Honest.”
“Doesn't matter. It was inevitable, and for what it's worth...I'm glad it's you.”
"Nah, don't lie to me, you don't trust me, you don't trust anyone...I get it," Derek sipped his scotch, winced at the burn as it moved through his throat, warming him from the inside out. "I would feel the same if I were you. I'm gonna ask him to change it back, though, it makes more sense for it to be you - I'm not in the field with him enough anymore. He was alone when you coulda been back there with him, man. Doesn't sit right with me."
"Kid, don't you dare," Rossi replied, settling back into his chair, glancing at Aaron. "You and I both know why he changed it. You deserve to be happy and if this was the way he chose to tell us, however asinine and misguided it may have been, so be it."
"I'll drink to that," Derek said, and Alex and Dave raised their glasses, took another sip, and prepared themselves for a long flight back home.