(1) Welcome Back

Blood. You remember a lot of blood. And darkness. And now you're cold. So cold.

There is a cacophony of noises. Shouting. Sirens. Suddenly you're flying. Are you on a helicopter? It's so loud. Then it goes quiet again. There are a lot of faces in front of you. The shouting returns. Why are they constantly grabbing your neck?

Your eyes keep falling shut, no matter how hard you try to keep them open. You groan. Your thoughts are racing but it feels like they are constantly crashing against a brick wall. Brick wall… Weren't you in a building? Something to do with work?

A sharp pain in your arm interrupts the one second of coherent thoughts you just had. You yell.

"Keep it up, Professor. You're doing good." Someone tells you.

"What?" You try to ask, but even in your confused state you hear yourself slurring the word.

"How far out?" Another voice yells.

"Two minutes, Sir. A trauma unit is waiting for us."

Two minutes until what? Your mind gets more clouded. They probably gave you a sedative or morphine or something.

By now you figured out that you're on the way to a hospital; but you have absolutely no clue why.

"Sir, you need to get go of her."

"Come on, Hotch. Let them do their work."

"Please, just please…" The voice breaks and succumbs to a sob. It fades away in the distance and you feel yourself being lifted and moved around. There is another sharp pain in your arm.

And then everything goes dark.

- - - - - - - - - -

You wake up with the worst headache of your life. Your temples feel like a horse is kicking them constantly. Inhaling deeply, you try to clear your head. When you go to raise your hand to run it over your face, you feel it being tugged on. Hesitantly, you open your eyes. The bright light of the room shoots another lighting strike-like pain through your head. You groan loudly.

As you are able to make out that the reason your hand felt like being tugged on are several vein catheters being connected to it, someone next to you reacts to your groan.

"Oh my god, can you hear me?" An excited female voice asks.

"Yeah…Can you…" Your voice is croaky. You try again: "Can you turn off the lights?"

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." The person keeps repeating as they get up. You hear the clicking of high heels on the floor, and soon after your eyes get to relax as the bright light is replaced with a dimmed one.

You let out a relived sigh: "Thanks."

The woman grabs your hand, and you try to focus your eyes on her. She's tall and blond and wears cute glasses that make you smile.

"Are you the doctor?" You ask her even though it would be weird for a doctor to wear heels at work.

Her face falls: "No- ehm- I…let me call them."

She disappears out of your peripheral. You faintly hear her talking to someone, but you just close your eyes and try to relax your body that feels incredibly sore.

"Professor?" You open your eyes again. "Hi, I'm Dr. Holmes. Can you tell me your full name? Good. Your date of birth? Good. Do you know what year it is? Great. And do you remember why you were brought to the hospital?"

You furrow your eyebrows: "I'm not sure. I remember bleeding, and maybe a helicopter?"

He nods: "You were flown in. You were shot during your last assignment."

"Shot?!" Your eyes widen. "I'm a Professor at NIU. What assignment could have gotten me shot?"

Holmes hesitates before he says: "The FBI, you also work for the FBI."

"Oh." You raise your hand and feel for the bandage on the side of your neck. You flinch; not because it hurts, but because you suddenly hear the shots being fired again. "I was shot in the neck; my carotid was severed." You let your hand sink: "Others were there too, are they okay?"

"Yes." The blonde woman speaks up. "Thanks to you Maeve is okay."

You want to ask who that is, but another person enters the room as the doctor hands you a glass of water. She's limping but smiles: "Hey."

"I remember your face." You blurt out. "Maeve?"

She nods and comes closer: "How are you doing?"

"Awful. Can you tell me what happened?"

Before she can open her mouth, the doctor interrupts: "I think this is enough for now, you need to rest. I will give you another dose of painkillers."

Your eyes dart between the two women in the room with you. You still don't know the name of the blonde one. Maeve looks quite happy. The other one…sad?

"Okay." You sigh. Waving, you say: "See you later."

- - - - - - - - - -

The next time you wake up, the room is even darker than when you fell asleep. A small lamp on the bed side table is on, the monitor on your right beeps quietly. Your headache receded. It enables you to think properly: You were shot during your last assignment. You remember Maeve and someone else being there. Throwing yourself between her and the bullet. How did you get into this mess?

A sound next to your bed causes you to turn your head. Someone's sitting in the chair, head propped up on their hand, breathing shallowly. He's wearing a dark vest over his dress shirt, and cord pants.

"Reid?" You whisper. His head shoots up immediately and he leans towards you, smiling: "Hey! How are you feeling? Penelope said you were confused and didn't recognize her. But you seem to remember me, right? Have the sedatives worn off? Should I call someone?"

Your eyes dart over his face: "Slow down. I can barely focus."

"Sorry." He mumbles and gets up to sit on the side of your bed.

"Can you tell me what happened? The doctor won't."

Reid clears his throat and carefully grabs your hand. The gesture causes you to remember how he did that in the hallway to the apartment.

"You remember that we went to negotiate for Maeve?"

"Yeah." Your voice is still coarse. He hands you water and waits until you emptied the cup before he tells you: "You threw yourself between her and the bullet. It cut your carotid and you almost bled out. Hotch managed to apply enough pressure until the paramedics arrived. They flew you to Bethesda hospital. It's extraordinary that you're alive."

"I'm in Bethesda?"

He nods. You let your head sink back into the cushion: "Hotch?"

"Oh, he's at home. We take turns being with you. I should text him that you're awake. He'll be here soon."

He gets out his phone, but you interrupt him: "No, Reid. You misunderstood."

"You don't want to him to come?" He sounds equally confused and surprised. "I thought you were back together? You kissed…or was that just because-"

"Spencer." You interrupt him again. "Who is Hotch?"

- - - - - - - - - -

Dr. Holmes is conducting tests with you when a handsome tall man enters the room. He looks at the doctor for a second, then his eyes keep lingering on your face. His piercing look irritates you and you don't hear what Holmes says.

"Sorry, what?"

He repeats his question when you manage to look at him again. Luckily, he's done with you shortly after.

The man waits for the doctor to leave. He's wearing a dark brown sweater over a white t-shirt and dark blue jeans. The sleeves of his sweater are rolled up. His hair looks disheveled. Your eyes and on his and you notice the dark circles under them. You know these eyes.

"Hey." He says quietly and sits down in the chair next to the bed, after pulling it closer to you. You swallow hard. You know him. Your heart started beating faster as soon as he entered the room. Which is quite embarrassing because the monitor shows it for everyone to see. He notices as well and smiles lightly. It makes your head hurt and your heart ache that you, for the life of you, cannot remember his first name. So, you say: "Hotch."

"Hey." He repeats. "How do you feel?"

Your eyes dart over his face. You noticed the confused look in his eyes when you used his last name. Closing your eyes for a second, you take a deep breath before you tell him: "Not good."

Hotch leans closer and his hand twitches. He clearly wants to hold yours.

"How long have I been here?" You ask.

"Three days."

"Good god." You breathe out.

"You've been in and out of consciousness. You lost a lot of blood." His voice is dark and soothing, but also really, really sad.

"Reid said you took turns being with me?"

Hotch nods, giving you a small smile: "Reid barely left the hospital. When he's not with Maeve, he's with you. He feels awful."

"Does he think this is his fault?"

Hesitantly, he confirms: "Yeah."

"I'll talk to him about that." You promise. Hoping, he would name other members of your team, you don't add anything to that. But he doesn't. The silence that follows is awkward. Staring at each other, you wait for the other one to talk first.

Then you start at the same time: "Could you-"

"I should-"

Hotch clears his throat: "I should call the doctor."

"Thanks." You nod. As soon as he leaves the room, your tense body relaxes, and you have to try really hard not to cry. You know him. Everything in you yearns for this man. However, there seems to be a black veil over proper memories you have of him. It's like an itch you cannot reach. You know it's there, you feel it, but you cannot get to it.

You give the doctor a thankful smile when he injects you with another dose of painkillers, allowing you to fall asleep.

- - - - - - - - - -

Having spent almost four days in a hospital bed, you now have a week of physical therapy ahead of you. The team keeps up the regular visits. You're thankful for their company. It helps you remember. Prentiss and JJ always bring you food. Morgan flowers. Reid the newspaper. Penelope stuffed animals. Rossi the most expensive coffee in town. And Hotch…Hotch brings you heartache.

The first day of your physical therapy, he brought you fresh clothes. You didn't dare to ask how he got them. But he knows. He knows that you wanted to ask that. His eyes get sadder every time he enters the room. You feel ashamed.

Sometimes, fragments of memories cross your mind: Him in your kitchen; you bringing him coffee to bed; sex in the living room.

He didn't touch you once while visiting you. Maybe he waits for you to touch him? But you're not sure if that's appropriate. He's your boss. Were you merely having an affair? Form what you gathered, he was your boyfriend at one point. However, you also remember how you broke up while you were in Mexico. Mexico…your abduction. Most things have come back to you by now. Sometimes, details get foggy. Like when forget what days of the week you usually hold lectures. Or the numbers on your license plate.

One of the things that haven't come back to you yet, is Hotch's first name. Annoyingly, no one mentions it. By now, it's almost like you avoid thinking about anything that has to do with Hotch. It scares you. Thinking about it also means realizing how big some of the gaps in your memory still are. You know that you could easily look it up on the website of the FBI, but you stubbornly insist that you will remember it yourself. As does Hotch seemingly.

When he's visiting, you're usually talking about cases. It helps you regaining orientation. It also can be quite fun. Furthermore, it steers the conversation away from anything dangerously personal.

Today, however, on the way home, your stubbornness starts to crumble. Of course, he is driving you home. At first, the close proximity of being in the car together makes you nervous. Then his scent and the heat radiating off his body start to arouse you. It's so fucking confusing.

When you go to grab your bag, he beats you to it and carries it to your doorstep.

"Do you want to come inside?" You ask gently.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, come on." You hold the door open for him and he follows you inside.

Being in your own home relaxes you instantly. Palpating the bandage on the side of your neck carefully, you make your way to the kitchen.

"Does it hurt?" Hotch asks worried.

"No." You tell him over your shoulder and walk into the living room. Standing in the center of it, you slowly turn around to take a look at everything. You let out a staggered breath of relieve as everything is familiar to you.

"I was so scared." You whisper.

"What did you say?" Hotch comes closer.

Looking at him, you repeat: "I was so scared that my own home would feel alien to me."

"But it doesn't?"

"No." You smile, blinking quickly not to cry.

Hotch's face is still stern, but his eyes softened a bit. After a quiet moment, he says: "I'll use the bathroom, be right back."

"It's-" You go to tell him where it is but bite your tongue as you remember that he most likely knows where it is. "Do you want a coffee." You try to cover your slip up. Of course, he notices. However, he does you the favor of simply answering: "Yeah, thanks."

As soon as he closes the door to the bathroom, you hurry into the hallway to grab his jacket. Rummaging through the pockets with shaking hands, you try to find his badge. Relieved, you pull it out of the inside pocket.

"Aaron. SSA Aaron Hotchner." You quietly tell yourself.

"You forgot my name, didn't you?"

- - - - - - - - - -

Inhaling sharply in surprise, you let the badge fall to the ground. Bowing down, you scramble to get it to somehow save the situation.

"What? No- I-" You stuff it back into the jacket.

Suddenly, his hands grab yours and you raise your gaze to find his. The look in his eyes disarms you instantly and you start to sob. Pulling your hands out of his grasp, you use them to cover your face. All the tears you managed to hold back since the first time he visited spill out of you.

"Hey…don't cry. It's alright. Come here." Aaron tries to comfort you, but you back away and shake your head.

"I'm sorry. I'm…" You gasp and force yourself to look at him: "I'm so ashamed."

Despite your blurry vision, you notice the tears forming in his eyes.

"Please." He pleads and takes another step towards you. "You died in my arms. Yet somehow…" You rub your eyes to look at him properly. "You survived but you are still gone. I cannot reach you." Aaron takes a deep breath. "Do you know what I mean?"

Slowly, you nod: "I cannot reach myself either."

He lets out a laugh.

"What now?" You ask, even though you are scared of the answer.

Offering you his hand, Aaron says: "Now, I make you some coffee."

You take it: "Sounds great."