The Long, Lonely Road Ahead

The following events take place after Hotch’s divorce but prior to JJ’s giving birth.

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The Long, Lonely Road Ahead

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Lunch was good, but short. The cafeteria closed not at 1, but at 12:30, so we had to hustle through the line to get our food. It was decent enough from what I could tell, although Pen seemed to think it was pretty damn awful. She kept apologizing for not being able to provide a really good lunch.
“We’ve got some great restaurants in the area,” she said over her bowl of cream of mushroom. “Really. This is not how I would normally treat a VIG.”
“VIG?”
“Very important guest, of course. I just wish Hotch would let you roam a bit more freely.”
“I told you. I’ve done a number of things that should, by all rights, have me roaming even less freely,” I said, biting into a cracker. “So this is just fine by me.”
“I know, I know,” she said. “I checked into it.”
“I knew you would.”
“Of course, ma chere.”
“I’m getting a list of questions and stuff to answer not tomorrow, but the day after,” I told her.
“And then you’re off the hook?”
“Only if they like what they see.”
“That hardly seems fair.”
“It’s not caveat emptor, Pen. They have a right to make sure that they’re getting what they pay for.” I sighed and pushed my empty soup bowl away from me.
“I just think that if you give them what you know, they could still back out of the deal, even if the info is good enough,” she said, finishing up her soup.
“I don’t think they would bargain in bad faith,” I said with a frown.
“Oh, Sweetie, you’re so naïve, it’s bizarre,” she said, patting my hand. “Come on. We’ve got to get back upstairs. It’s almost pumpkin hour.”
“The offices shut down at 1?”
“They do today. And we’re not supposed to stay here doing work after that. It’s like, recreation by royal proclamation,” she said with a smirk.
“You will relax or you will be punished,” I intoned.
“Exactly,” she said.

We walked through the bullpen towards Aaron’s office, where the door was still open. She knocked. “Sir?”
“Come in,” Aaron said. He was sitting at his desk, surrounded by file folders and bits of paper, writing on a legal pad. “I just have to finish this and then we can leave.”
“Sure,” I said, looking at Pen. She shrugged.
“Just have a seat,” Aaron said distractedly, pointing with his pen at a chair in front of his desk.
“Okay. I’ll see you later, Pen,” I told my cousin. We hugged. “Say hi to Kevin for me!”
“Sure. Happy New Year, Sir!” she said.
“Happy New Year, Penelope,” Aaron said, looking up at her for a second before going back to his writing. Pen winked at me (?) and then she left for the day. I sat and looked around Aaron’s office while he worked. His head was down as he concentrated on whatever he was writing. It was interesting to watch him work; he was so intent. He finished quickly, though, so I didn’t have to wait long. He began to clean up his desk, stuffing pictures and forms back into files and piling the files on a corner of his desk.


“What did you think of the information Pen found about Darrel?” I asked him when he stood up.
“I haven’t had a chance to look at it yet,” he admitted. “I’ll get to it on Wednesday.”
“Sure,” I said, as we left his office.
“How was lunch?” he asked conversationally, as we headed down to the parking garage.
“Uh… fine, I suppose. It was nice to get a chance to chat with Pen,” I told him. “Did you have lunch?”
“I don’t usually eat lunch,” he said. “I have some power bars in my desk.”
“See? Food sometimes doesn’t matter. It’s just a question of sustenance sometimes,” I said. He raised an eyebrow.
“True,” he agreed, as we got into his car. “But you have to agree that sometimes food does matter. That one cannot live on power bars alone.”
“I probably could, but sure, whatever you like,” I said with a shrug. He laughed.
“I know you like steak, if nothing else,” he said, pulling out of the garage.
“Well, sure. Who doesn’t like a nice piece of cow every so often? I mean, aside from vegetarians… never could quite wrap my head around that,” I said, shaking my head.
“I understand it’s a healthy way to live,” he said.
“So I’ve been told,” I agreed.
“Speaking of healthy,” he began, “did you want to go for a run this afternoon?”
“A run? I didn’t know you ran,” I said, looking at him curiously.
“I usually do, when I’m home. I don’t always have the time and circumstances haven’t been in my favour recently,” he admitted.
“I’d prefer a workout at the gym,” I said. “Or even both, if you’re up to it.”
“Both? Seriously?”
“Sure. We could start with a bit of a warm-up, some sparring maybe, then go onto some weights, and finish up with a long run. Good cardio after doing weights,” I said enthusiastically.
“Sounds like a lot of exercise.”
“I’ll be too tired to even consider taking off tonight.”
“That could be a double-edged sword.”
“Hmmmm, true. Don’t want to be too tired to have fun.”
“We’ll try it your way and see how far we get. Okay?” he said, pulling in to his driveway.
“Sounds good to me.”

We ended up at a gym near him to which he belonged via work. The place was full of police officers, firefighters, and government agents. It was a bit scary. We found a small studio with mats and stretched in preparation for our workout.
“I should warn you, this is really Morgan’s area of expertise,” Aaron said, stretching his shoulders.
“I won’t hurt you too much,” I said with a grin.
“Thanks,” he said, his mouth a thin line. “Just remember, I’m older than you.”
“I know, I know.” We started by circling each other. “What did you want to do? Anything specific or anything goes?”
“I hadn’t thought that far,” he said. “What do you normally do?”
“This is going to be more difficult than I thought. How long has it been since you’ve done something like this?”
“I carry two guns,” he said. “I don’t usually need to work on my hand-to-hand.”
“Let me take the lead then, and you defend yourself,” I said.
“You’re the expert.”
“Yes, I am.” I suddenly kicked out, aiming for his middle. He blocked me, but just barely. I pushed him backwards with a series of kicks and punches, all of which he blocked, until he finally gained enough confidence to attack me back, at which point I flipped him over on his back. He groaned for a moment, getting his breath back and then scissor kicked my legs out from under me. Suddenly he was on top of me, my hands pinned above my head, a knee between my legs.
“I think it’s coming back to me,” he said.
“It looks like it, yes,” I said with a grin. “Good for you.”
“I also think it’s a good thing I’ve never sparred with someone I’m sleeping with before,” he murmured in my ear. “There’s a fine line between sparring and sex.”
“Mmmm, I know,” I said. I raised my legs and hips, locking him between my thighs and with great effort, rolled us over. He was now underneath me, my knees on his hands, my hands on his shoulders. He looked surprised and then he started laughing.
“I can’t believe you did that!”
“You didn’t seriously think I would let you keep the upper hand, did you?”
“I have no idea how you got out of that hold,” he said, trying to move his hands.
“Let’s try again,” I said, getting up and holding out my hand to him. He took it, and pulled on it, flipping me over with the use of his feet. I landed hard on my back, winded, and he was up on his feet again.
“Sure, let’s try again.”

We sparred for about twenty minutes until we were both drenched in sweat. Then we worked a circuit of weights (3 sets, 15 reps) before we headed to a large park near his house.
“Still want to run?” I asked.
“Maybe a short one,” he said. “I’m pretty tired.”
“Me too. Let’s just see where it takes us.”
“There’s a good path here,” he said, pointing ahead of us into the park. “If you do the whole thing, it’s about 10 miles, but you can cut through it about a third of the way in to shorten your run by about half.”
“Looks good to me.” So we took off, jogging at a matched pace. “So you try and run every day?”
“I try.” He looked at his watch. “It usually takes me about 40 minutes to run 5 miles. If I can run more often, I can get my speed up and do it in less.”
“Makes sense,” I said. “I’ll let you set the pace then. I don’t run outside unless I’m hunting in the woods.”
“Hunting what?” he asked, a worried tone in his voice.
“Animals, of course. I stalk, but I don’t usually kill.”
“Are you going to continue that practice now that there’s no real reason to?”
“I hadn’t thought about it, actually.”

We ran in silence for a bit, our breath the only thing I could hear. The park was pretty quiet for the middle of the day on the last day of the year. It was cold, but cloudy. The weather service over the radio had predicted heavy snow beginning later on in the afternoon. We passed a few people walking their dogs and one mother jogging with her baby in a carriage. I glanced at Aaron every now and again, watching how he faced forward, looking so serious, taking this run as seriously as he did everything else in his life. He needed to succeed, obviously and was determined that no matter what he did, he would be the best he possibly could be. I felt a bit sorry for him once again; he obviously loved his wife and son, and had wanted desperately to be the best husband and father he could be. But his job… he needed to help every single person who needed his help too, and you can’t be the best at both things. It just doesn’t go together.

We turned at the marker to take us back to the parking lot, and headed back for the last part of our workout.
“It’s colder outside than I thought it would be,” I said, conversationally. He just nodded. “Are you okay? Did you want to walk the rest of the way?”
“No. I’m fine.”
“Well, I want to walk the rest of the way. I’m going to slow down,” I said, feigning a cramp in my side. He slowed as well, breathing hard.
“Are you okay?” he asked solicitously.
“I’m fine. It’s just a cramp. I told you, I don’t run much and especially not in such cold weather.”
“You’re not even breathing hard, Terra. Don’t lie to me,” he said, his breath beginning to come under control.
“I am too breathing hard,” I said, holding onto my side. “You just can’t hear it through your own breathing.”
“Whatever you say,” he replied, walking beside me. “Whenever you’re ready, we can start running again.”
“Sure. Let me just catch my breath,” I said. He shook his head, a small smile on his lips. “You look good in a sweat suit. You should wear them more often.”
“Terra…”
“No, seriously. I’ll bet the others would be relieved to see you more relaxed. That suit you always wear… It’s so uptight.”
“I’m uptight.”
“I know.” I gave him a small smile. His breathing seemed to have settled down a bit. “I think I’m ready to start running again. Did you want to pick up the pace?”
“We can try,” he said, and we took off. He increased the pace a bit, and I matched him.
“So, what are we doing tonight? Is there another game on?” I asked, as we jogged along.
“It’s New Year’s Eve,” he said. “There are no games on tonight.”
“We could watch the party in Times Square,” I suggested. “I’ve heard it’s fun.”
“You’ve never seen it?”
“I don’t watch a lot of TV,” I admitted.
“I don’t have the time to, usually.” He looked at this watch. “We’ve made good time today.”
“Are we there yet?” I asked in a whiny voice and he laughed.
“We are,” he said, as the parking lot came back into view. We finished off our run with a bit of stretching in the parking lot. I was freezing and sweating at the same time.
“I’m dying for a really hot shower,” I said, as we drove back to his house.
“Me too,” he agreed.
“Good workout.”
“Mmm.”
“Aaron?”
“Yes?”
“I didn’t mean to… uh… exhaust you.”
“You didn’t.”
“Oh, good.” We were silent for a moment. “Keeping me at your house under house arrest seems to me like it must get a bit tiring for you. I mean, don’t you want some time to yourself?”
“I’ve had a lot of time to myself in the last few months,” he said, pulling into his driveway. “I don’t mind this as much as you might think.”
“Well,” I said, as we headed into the house, “I like playing house as much as the next person, but I’m sure you’ll get tired of it sooner or later.”
“You’re not very good at commitment, are you?” he asked, obviously amused.
“And you are,” I countered. I shrugged. “The longest I’ve been with anyone was Jesse, my last boyfriend, and that lasted… uh… almost three years. We lived together for the last year of that. I don’t have pets. I don’t even have plants.”
“There might come a time when you want to stay with someone for longer,” Aaron suggested, as we headed up to the shower.
“There might,” I said. “But I’m not good at it, as you’ve already pointed out. I’ve told you, I’m not domestic at all and I have no desire to be. I don’t even have a job at the moment.”
“What are you going to do about that?” he asked, stripping off his sweatshirt and tossing it in the laundry. “Did you want to shower first?”
“No, you can go ahead and shower,” I said, sitting on the bed and taking my sneakers off. He peeled off his track pants and stood in his t-shirt and boxers. “I have no idea. I guess I need to wait and see what the DA says. For all I know, I’ll be in jail.”
“I highly doubt that,” he said, pulling his t-shirt over his head. He shucked his boxers and headed into the bathroom. I walked over to the window and peeked out. A police cruiser was just parking in the driveway. I assumed the two officers were setting up for their watch, now that we were back. I sighed. I heard the water running and headed down the stairs to the kitchen for some water. As I stood at the counter, gulping cold water, I heard my cell phone ring from the front hallway where I’d left it. I walked over to answer it. Unavailable name and number. Hunh. Might be Pen. I answered.
“Hello?”
“Terra Wintersmith.” It wasn’t a question. The voice was low, gravelly.
“Yes.”
“If you say anything at all to the DA, you will die.”
“Who is this? How’d you get this number?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m just one of many, watching everything you do.” There was a pause. “You understand? Do not say anything or you will die. You’ve been warned.” He hung up. I put down the phone, my heart racing. Holy shit. I turned my phone off and left it on the front hall table.
“Terra?” Aaron called from upstairs. “Where are you?”
“Down in the kitchen,” I called up. “I just wanted some water.” I took my glass and walked upstairs, willing myself to calm down. Aaron was drying his hair, a towel wrapped around his waist.
“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” he demanded and I cursed the fact once again that he was a behavioural analyst.
“I’m fine. I was just dehydrated,” I said, holding up my water and downing the last of it. “My turn for the shower?”
“Are you sure you’re all right? You’re white,” he said, putting a hand on my shoulder.
“I’m fine. Just tired, I guess. Maybe I should cut back on my workouts,” I said, pulling off my clothes. I left them in a heap on the bedroom floor and practically ran into the shower. I took longer in the shower than usual, taking the time to shave my legs and armpits, standing under the hot water until I thought I was calm enough to really pretend the phone call had never happened. When I finally got out, Aaron was already dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, his feet bare. He looked amazing. I wrapped a towel around me and searched through my stuff for my skin cream.
“I was beginning to think you’d drowned,” he said lightly, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“I just needed hot water on my back and shoulders,” I said. “I’m going to feel that workout tomorrow.”
“Me too,” he agreed. “Something else is going on, though. Did you want to talk about it?” “Nothing’s going on,” I said, applying lotion to my legs. “And even if it was, it’s just the same shit, y’know? It’s been one hell of a week.”
“True. I’m amazed you’re doing as well as you are,” he said. He stood. “I need to put in a load of laundry. Do you want anything washed?”
“Uh, sure. How very domestic of you,” I said, heaping my dirty clothes into the basket he’d put by the door.
“I enjoy playing house,” he said, picking up the basket. “Come downstairs when you’re done.”
“Sure.” I finished getting dressed in jeans and a scoop-necked t-shirt. Then I dried my hair, and brushed my teeth, which felt furry. I looked at myself in the mirror. The bruises looked awful and I wondered how long they were going to last. I wondered if the internal pain was ever going to go away. I didn’t have a clue how to deal with any of this. I wasn’t prepared for another fight, but I didn’t really want to go to jail either. Maybe I should just answer all the questions and then let them kill me. It would at least do some good in this world. I sighed and turned away, heading downstairs in my bare feet.