Title: Letters to Those Who Matter Most (Epilogue)

Author: Lawson227

Rating: FRT

Characters: Aaron Hotchner/Hotch

Genre: Friendship

Spoilers: Presumed through "Our Darkest Hour" (5.23)

Summary: A series of letters in which Hotch reflects on various experiences in his past and how they relate to the people who matter most to him.

Everything characterwise contained herein belongs to CBS & the creative team behind Criminal Minds. No infringement is intended, etc., etc., I got nuthin'

Epilogue: Starting Over

Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.

~Winston Churchill

The young man sat quietly, mouth set in a familiar straight line as he read through the stack of letters, then once again, as if committing them to memory. It was entirely possible he was. He was almost preternaturally disciplined—a trait clearly inherited from his father.

Finally satisfied, he returned the letters to their envelopes, stacking them neatly before pushing away from the table. Rolling his shoulders, he wandered over to the big window. Away from the fluorescent lighting bathing the rest of the room, shadows played across his face, creating an eerie melding of past and present.

"Any questions?"

"Only two."

"All right."

"Why you?"

She felt a smile play about her lips. So like his father in that he went for the most direct question in the bluntest possible manner. So little use for politics. He'd only play at them in as much as it would allow him to do his job without what he saw as unnecessary interference.

"Because," Erin answered easily, having prepared for this question for many years now. "While there have been many times Aaron and I haven't liked each other or even respected each other, the one thing that has remained an absolute is that we've always understood each other." She pushed slowly away from the round table, feeling a multitude twinges and aches settling into various joints as she stood. She joined Jack at the window overlooking the bullpen, typically busy with a workday bustle. "Both parents, both understanding the unique pressures of the job. And I was also the one person who had no emotional stake in this venture."

"Meaning he didn't write you a letter."

She laughed quietly. "He had no need to. Like I said, we've always understood each other. He could trust I would make the most objective judgment call on when it was time to give it to you. Believe it or not, I think it brought him a measure of peace." Bracing her hands on the sill, she leaned forward, studying him from the corner of her eye. "You said two questions."

The corner of his mouth quirked up, once again mimicking his father's expression, down to the dimple that briefly flashed. "I'm guessing you know what it is."

"Why now?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sure you can answer that for yourself."

Turning her back to the bullpen, she leaned against the window and studied him more fully noting that the startling resemblance to his father did not extend to his wardrobe. Rather, he dressed more like an amalgam of Agent Morgan and Dr. Reid, faded jeans and a button-down Oxford with the sleeves rolled to the elbows worn open over a t-shirt, allowing a clear view of the I.D. clipped to his belt and easy access to the gun worn at his hip. And if she was a betting woman, she would lay folding money that a second, smaller gun resided in a holster strapped to his ankle. Clothing notwithstanding, in so many ways, the apple did not fall at all far from the tree.

He narrowed his eyes, two bright spots of color appearing high on his cheeks although his voice remained steady as he replied, "Well, I have to admit, the timing's more than a little coincidental, what with my recent transfer into the BAU."

"There is that, yes." She fought a smile as she asked, "How is it, by the way, working with your father?"

She could seem him fighting his own smile. "I'm grateful for the opportunity to work with him—"

At his slight pause she interjected, "But…"

He finally gave up and laughed outright. "But let's just say it's a good thing he's in your old job, ma'am, as Section Chief and overseeing all the units. Gives us a bit of necessary space."

"Oh, what I wouldn't give to see the two of you out in the field together. It would completely serve Aaron Hotchner right."

Their shared laughter rang through the room and faded away into a comfortable silence. Another subtle difference from Aaron, she noted—Jack's silences came across as more contemplative than intense and brooding. Aaron's silences had a way of leaving anyone subjected to them uneasy, wondering when the attack would come. Undeniably certain they would come. Jack's easy silences on the other hand were almost indecently deceptive. She had a feeling that the younger Hotchner would prove to be an even more dangerous adversary than his father. And left her breathing a silent sigh of relief that she was far enough up the chain of command that she wouldn't have to deal directly with him.

"To more fully answer your question, Jack, yes, it had a great deal to do with your transfer into the BAU. Your father had given me the leeway to give you these letters as far back as your eighteenth birthday, but something held me back at that time."

"Did you know?" he asked, genuine curiosity written across his features.

"I suspected, yes, that you might choose the FBI, at the very least. And if you chose the FBI, then there was a high probability you would follow your father's path into the BAU."

"It's not just because of Dad, you know." A defensive note crept into his tone, cementing her suspicions that he'd put up with a fair amount of whispered gossip and probably some outright hostility and accusations of nepotism over his rapid ascent through the ranks into one of the FBI's most elite units. To have made the BAU by twenty-six was close to unheard of. But she knew, because she made it her business to know, that he'd worked twice as hard as anyone else and had honed his natural gifts to a point where denying him entry to the BAU would be the equivalent of cutting one's nose off to spite one's face.

"Jack, above all, you're a seeker. Always searching for the underlying why. Not only is it deeply embedded in your inherent nature, it's reinforced by your background and history. The real shock, I think, would have been if you hadn't joined the BAU." She took a deep breath. "But because you have—because you're still so young and maybe most importantly, because you'll be working, however peripherally, with your father, I think it's important for you to understand what the people you work with may come to mean to you. What your father's team meant to him."

Quiet blanketed the room once again as Jack lapsed into thought. Erin turned back to the bullpen, observing Morgan, now the undisputed Chief of the lead unit, speaking with Penelope Garcia, elevated to status of Chief Technical Analyst, still working cases, but also responsible for recruiting and overseeing her own team of legally sanctioned hackers.

"You chose today, too, because of the ceremony, didn't you?"

Erin continued staring down into the bullpen, watching Garcia's face light up as she caught sight of Spencer Reid and Emily Prentiss walking into the unit together. The three of them exchanged exuberant hugs before Spencer and Emily moved on to greet Derek and Garcia hugged a dapper David Rossi, his hair gone a steely gray, but otherwise very little changed from his days with the unit. Very little changed as he clearly said something thoroughly inappropriate to Prentiss, judging by the rolling of her eyes and the well-placed elbow to his ribs.

Irritating man. But irritating as he was, she had to admit his determination in pursuing the formation of a dedicated behavioral analysis unit, the success the unit had enjoyed in the ensuing years—it deserved recognition. Recognition he would be receiving later this morning as their wing of the building was officially dedicated as the David Rossi Annex.

"It seemed as good a time as any, should you decide to pass the letters on." There were a few notable exceptions, of course, but by and large, the old team was there, clustered together in one place, Aaron included as he descended from his office, greeting Rossi and Reid and Prentiss with wide smiles and unrestrained hugs. The man remained generally taciturn and stoic, but for these people, he had come a long way. Such a long way, she wasn't certain the letters were even necessary any longer. But that wasn't her call to make. Her part in this was now officially over.

"I think they know." Jack had turned to watch the action in the bullpen, his fingers tapping against the sill. "I mean, there's got to be a reason that Morgan and Garcia are still here—that Emily and Spencer have remained in the area, teaching at the Academy, and dropping everything at a moment's notice to consult if Dad or Morgan needs them. Even Dave stops by every month or so to have dinner with Dad. And you know, he still gets a Christmas card every year from JJ and even from Elle."

"He inspires tremendous loyalty. Always did." A long sigh escaped before she could stop it, draped in a wistfulness she knew wouldn't escape Jack's sharp notice. "It used to piss me off so much."

"You do, too, ma'am." Jack's touch was light against her shoulder. "If you didn't, he wouldn't have asked this of you. And I know I'll never forget it."

"Thank you, Jack." Her hand rose, almost of its own volition, to briefly squeeze his. Clearing her throat, she nodded to the group now gathered in the kitchen area, comfortably chatting and catching up while more than a few of the current agents shot them sidelong glances and exchanged awed whispers. The best the BAU had ever fielded—every team since then striving to live up to their legacy. And now, a second generation had invaded their ranks, preparing to lead the charge.

"Perhaps you should go join them."

"This is their time." His reflection shook its head. "I'll see them at the ceremony."

…..

A live-wire restlessness had gripped Aaron most of the day, leaving him twitchy and easily distracted. He'd early on identified the source—feeling that given the unique circumstances, today might be the day Erin would finally opt to give Jack the letters. And after he'd noticed them deep in discussion in the round table room, his irritability and lack of concentration had increased to the point where Morgan had teased him about advancing age and decreased mental acuity, prompting him to remind Morgan that his weapons skills hadn't decreased in the slightest, despite being out of the field for several years now and would he care to find out?

The arrival of Dave and Spencer and Emily had helped some—while he saw most of his former team with some regularity, frequent dinners with Dave or weekend brunches with Spencer and Emily at their place in Georgetown, and of course, still working with Morgan and Garcia, he was still hard-pressed to recall the last time they'd all been together in the same place.

Which once again begged the question… would she?

He couldn't ask her. That would be violating the terms of the agreement they'd made so many years ago, the agreement he'd insisted on, if only for his peace of mind. Admittedly, the only time he'd been tempted to ask in the past was right around Jack's eighteenth birthday. He'd been so certain she'd hand them over then, most likely grateful to be relieved of her burden. But no. She chosen to hold on to them a while longer and for the first time, he'd found himself regretting that the woman had never become a field agent and profiler because when she wanted, she had a decent grasp on people's psyches. She'd known both that it was too soon for Jack to receive those letters and somehow, he didn't know how, she'd known he'd end up here.

"Hey, Dad."

He turned his head a few degrees, sparing Jack a half-smile. No big demonstrations in public—not that either of them would have been so inclined, but every little bit helped keep the scorekeepers at bay. Neither of them were under any illusions that Jack, in particular, was under a microscope and that there were competitors at every turn gunning for him to make even the smallest mistake. It awed Aaron, more than a little, that Jack had entered voluntarily into this. It was one thing to have joined the FBI, even if it made him twitch, feeling that Hailey was hovering somewhere nearby, skewering him with her intense disapproval,, but to have opted for the BAU? To have pursued it with such single-minded purpose? It was like wandering straight into the wide-open jaws of a very hungry lion. In the Coliseum. With a lot of bloodthirsty Romans just waiting for him to make that one fatal error.

"It's taken care of. The ones who are here have theirs. I'll take care of mailing the others."

For a moment—just a moment—he closed his eyes and allowed himself to breathe. "All of them?"

Beside him, Jack did nothing more than tense slightly—his breathing rate increasing only fractionally.

"Which one?"

"Gideon."

He nodded, feeling a frisson of disappointment snaking down his spine.

"Dad, I know you've been pissed at him for a long time. It doesn't take a profiler to see how tense you got any time his name was mentioned. And then when I joined the FBI, hell, you know how the rumor mill works. I heard everything—good and bad. So I talked to Morgan and Garcia and Spencer and Emily. Had Garcia do some digging for me that the others don't even know about."

"And?"

"He's completely isolated and still completed convinced he did the only thing he could do. The noble thing. That letter from you—all it would do is add to the martyr complex he's got going. Continue to convince him that he was completely, inalienably right in his actions. Think about it, Dad—he's living in a hell of his own making where he's essentially become that which he used to hunt. And worse still, he's aware of it. Karma, she's a massive bitch, you know?"

Aaron nodded slowly. "I have to be honest, though, Jack. For years I harbored this fantasy of kicking the shit out of him. That letter was the closest thing I had."

"Understood. And I can't say that I blame you."

They stood side by side in a comfortable silence as more bodies crowded into the foyer, the director of the FBI standing beside the doors to the unit, fabric shrouding the glass in preparation for the announcement and subsequent unveiling. Standing beside the director was Assistant Director Strauss who met Aaron's gaze with a thoughtful one of her own, an entire conversation passing between them, even as she nodded and responded with the appropriate comments and polite laughter to their long-winded boss's painful jokes. Aaron knew they were painful because he was all too often in her position.

To her other side stood David who tapped his breast pocket with a wink while Spencer, Emily, Morgan, and Garcia gathered close around him and Jack, a protective circle, impervious to the gazes both curious and envious.

"You know, Boss, all these years and you're still a pain in my ass."

"How's that, Derek?"

"Makin' all of us tear up like that, right before we got to show up in public. You should've heard Prentiss and Garcia bitching about their mascara."

"Blame the kid," Aaron muttered as the director launched into his patented Very Special Occasion speech. "He's the one who decided to give them to you now instead of waiting until we went to dinner tonight."

"And have you sliding me the Aaron Hotchner curious stare the entire ceremony, wondering if I'd played mailman?" Jack muttered sotto voce. "I don't think so."

"I would have done no such thing."

"Dad, I'm flashing back to my eighteenth birthday and my college graduation and my graduation from the Academy and so much of it makes sense now."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Prentiss hissed an impatient "Shh!" in his ear while Jack uttered an muffled "ouch!" as Penelope latched onto his earlobe and twisted. Not certain she wouldn't do the same to him, Aaron took a nervous step back, exchanging grins with Morgan and Spencer, both of whom, he noted, were keeping clear of the women. Bastards. They could have at least stepped up for moral support.

Just as the director was wrapping up his speech, thanking Dave for his many years of service, his extraordinary vision and dedication and sheer brilliance, Jack whispered, "How much longer before Dave gets impatient, decks him, and says 'let's finish this at a bar?'"

"Odds are one more sentence with the word 'brilliant' in it ought to do it." Spencer replied absent-mindedly, prompting Aaron to grin. He'd been thinking more or less the same thing himself.

Applause filled the foyer as Dave pulled the cord dropping the fabric and revealing the DAVID ROSSI ANNEX freshly etched into the glass.

"Dad, about my letter?"

His heart stuttering in an irregular tattoo, Aaron turned and met Jack's gaze directly, ready to hear… hell, he didn't know what he was ready to hear. Part of him had hoped that it would be one of those tacit things between them. Acknowledged, understood, but never discussed. But in that respect, Jack was very much his mother's son. Unafraid of his feelings—unafraid of articulating them and far better able to do so at twenty-six than Aaron ever had been.

"Yes?"

"Being your son's been my greatest gift, too, you know. You never, ever fell short for me."

Aaron swallowed hard, an unaccustomed heat prickling at the backs of his eyes. "Even when I got you that Volvo station wagon for your first car instead of the Camaro?"

"Hey, never said you were perfect." A full-out smile graced his son's face.

Suddenly, Aaron was gripped with the need to tell Jack something massively important—something he'd neglected to include in his letter. How could he have not realized—

"Don't ever lose that, Jack."

"Lose what?"

"Lose the ability to see the good in things. To laugh at the absurd. To be open with who you are." He shook his head, laughing at himself after all these years. "I think that's maybe that's why I wrote those letters. Why I left them for you to read first, then deliver."

"Why's that?"

"Because these people—" He looked around at the group clustered more fully around them now that the ceremony had concluded. "I knew that whatever you chose to do with your life, they'd help you remember all of those things. They'd help you remember to value what's important. Like they helped me."

You think I didn't already know all of that, Dad?" Jack's voice was gentle and laced with more than a little humor." It's like I told Director Strauss—I didn't join the BAU just because of you. I joined because I know it's a job I'll be good at—that, if I'm not sounding too egotistical—I was meant to do. And I joined because of this." He gestured at the team. Aaron's team.

"They saved your life—more than once. Literally and figuratively. I want something like that, Dad. I want my life to mean something."

Aaron stood, helpless… torn between intense pride. And intense fear. That maybe he'd done the wrong thing by staying with the BAU all those years ago. "It cost a lot, too, Jack. Including your mom. I don't want you to have any false illusions about the pitfalls this job can bring."

"Dad, come on. Do you really think they'd let me?"

Hotch met all their gazes in turn, including Erin, who hovered around the fringes, clearly concerned, clearly wanting to know that yes, she'd picked the right moment. Done the right thing. In each gaze he read reassurance and the quiet strength he'd depended upon so often in the past. He knew that now, even though they were no longer a team in the strictest sense, they were a team in the truest sense. They'd band together and support him as he gave way to Jack. Allowed him to follow his own path, make his own mistakes. They'd be there to prop him up during the dark moments, of which he had no doubt there would be. And even more importantly, they'd be there to celebrate the victories, both big and small.

They would always be there for him—these people who mattered the most.

"No, Jack. I guess they wouldn't."

…..

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Obviously, not knowing exactly what's going to happen to JJ, I kept her future vague. I suspect they're not killing her off (I hope not!), so I'm working under the presumption that she's alive, living away from D.C., and for the purposes of this story, unable to get away for the dedication. As for the rest of it… well, set so far in the future, it's obviously AU. I just made some educated guesses and threw in a dash of wishful thinking. I hope it was a satisfying ending and that y'all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you all for your reviews—they've been read and very much appreciated.