Hotchniss

The Beginning(Him)

"I dont need that," his voice is much steadier than the feet that are supposed to be holding him up.

"I know, sir." Emily, surprisingly is the one to challenges him. "It's hospital protocol. You have to."

He ignores the smug grin Rossi wears and allows Morgan to help him into the wheelchair.

"I'll have to stop you place later, sir." Garcia announces skipping along behind them. "How else will you finish the glorious literary gift that is Sherlock Holmes?"

Hotch can't help but puff just a little. Emily sends him a small smile. It's odd. It doesn't look like any of the smiles he's ever seen her give.

"Emily's taking you home," Rossi announces as they leave through the big hospital doors. "I'll be around tomorrow, with something to keep you busy. Don't be an ass, alright? She's there to make sure you don't kill yourself."

Hotch keeps silent. He doesn't want to admit it but he knows that he's gonna need Emily. He just doesn't want to need help.

Rossi senses Hotch's discomfort and moves on. "Strauss wants you to stop by the breau as soon as you can."

"I can now," Hotch jumps right on the chance to feel normal. The breau would allow him to act as if he's whole. Like he's got someone waiting for him at home.

"Erin would have all of our ass's." Rossi shoots him down gently," however I'm sure Emily won't mind taking you tomorrow."

"Yeah, yeah." Emily says far to quickly, but Hotch's sluggish brain misses it.

Morgan stands a little to close eye. Hotch lets him. He knows they're all just trying to help. He knew what to expect as soon as he woke up for the first time only six day ago. Rossi offered his usual in-charge-ness. Garcia read him the first two Sherlock Holmes books. Morgan offered physical brute. Emily and Reid were silent. Reid, he knows, will be by his house soon with some sort of book or movie. However Emily he's not sure about.

"Take care, man." Morgan puts a hand to his shoulder, he can feel just how gentle he's trying to be, and nods his head.

"Bye boss man." Garcia waves, her Sherlock Holmes book tucked securely under her arms.

"Bye." The word taste like poison on his lips. He's said 'goodbye' far to many times this week.

"Are you-"

"Emily, please, please don't ask if I'm alright." Hotch's voice is harsh, but not sharp. He's tired. He's tired and scared.

"I was going to ask if you're hungry." Emily says trying her best to ignores the hostitly in his body language.

"I'm fine," she notes that his head has drifted to the window.

"If you say so," she turns back to the wheel and keeps her eyes on the road, away from the man falling asleep on the window.

"Did you take any of those-" she glances over but he's out.

Before the blissful warmth that is sleep over took him he realized just how relieved that Emily's taking him home. Emily just feels safer than Morgan or Dave. No matter how ridiculous the thought seems.