#dedicated to sumayyah lmao

[sodone-withlife]

let's play, my love

for @yourlocalheartbreaker , who posted this painful idea, i really hope you enjoy this! also, apologies in advance for the pain that this might cause you?

characters may seem a bit OOC. as per usual, this had little to no proofreading, so apologies for any mistakes. i might also post a commentary later since there are parts i kind of want to explain (or clarify)

warnings: substances, gun violence, canon-typical violence, abuse, suicide, character death

word count: 3.2k words

They were always good at acting.

He might have forgotten practically all of his lines up on that stage as the Fourth Pirate, but even that fiasco did not detract from his carefully cultivated image as the lone wolf, injured and bleeding but strong enough to rip anyone approaching to pieces.

The fact that she had single-handedly created the drama department in their small school that accommodated all of the children and teens in that little backwater town was enough to demonstrate just how good she was at both acting and standing tall in the chaos.

They were just as good as seeing through bullshit and picking apart facades, no matter how well-layered it might seem to be.

They were also just as good as ignoring what they didn’t want to see, and while that might have done well to keep them together, there was only so much they both could take.

So when he started feeling woozy in his home office hours before he normally hit his limit and two weeks into a local serial investigation, he felt something inside him shatter, giving way to an awakened creature crawling out of its sleep before he finally blacked out.

A gentle light was filtering through the curtains when he came to with a pounding headache. The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted over him, and he slowly opened his eyes, only to flinch at the bright light that suddenly flooded the room when the curtains were jerked open.

Hotch blinked the stars away, looked back in front of him, and froze as he was faced with the evidence of his complicity, his weakness, spread all over the table.

The old birthday card.

A single faux feather that he had recognized to have been ripped off from that old costume hat.

An old ticket stub for the opening night of Rent.

A wedding ring.

Even though they were sealed inside plastic evidence bags, he could still smell the perfume he had bought her as a wedding gift, that she had sprayed on all of those keepsakes that she had left behind as taunts.

His breath caught in his throat when cold metal momentarily pressed against the back of his neck, but he forced himself to remain still.

This is the endgame. You have to play now. You can't avoid it like you have been, with your evidence pilfering and self-imposed isolation from the team.

“Don’t bother trying to move. Your handcuffs have been put to good use.”

Haley walked around the table, helping Jack up onto his chair before settling down across from him with a revolver deliberately placed on top of the table. She met his eyes unflinchingly, a cold sort of amusement on her face at the stone facade he was wearing that was quickly falling to pieces.

“It’s about time you are here for breakfast, instead of in the middle of nowhere doing God knows what.”

Hotch couldn’t help his flinch at the sharp jab, knowing all too well how true it was. He tried to force himself together, just so he could gauge the situation with a profiler’s eye, but there was only so much he could do as the once-hibernating creature tried to rear its head.

He focused back on his wife, who was still staring at him, anger simmering underneath an oddly genial expression. “When did you realize?”

It was genuine curiosity, he realized with some faint surprise as he cleared his throat. “I knew something was off two weeks ago, after the first murder,” he said, trying to sound offhand. “The pieces fell together with the third murder.”

“Was it a shock?”

His swallow was convulsive as he attempted to keep the bile down. “No,” he finally forced out, looking away as he thought about why.

My fault. I knew exactly why you did what you did within minutes of figuring out it was you.

“Look at me.”

Hotch flinched at the tone that was so unfamiliar and so strange, and forced his eyes over to Haley after flicking a brief glance at Jack, who was playing with his cereal on the other side of the table. “I know the others,” she spat the word, beautiful features suddenly twisting harshly in hatred, “don’t know that you have had a full profile ready for days.”

“Haley, I know you—”

“Do you?”

The ringing question struck him straight in his core, sending the creature in his chest skittering back as he swallowed convulsively, unsure how to answer. She scoffed derisively. “Well, we’ll find out then, won’t we?” she asked rhetorically, fixing him with a cold stare, rage simmering underneath. “Tell me your profile.”

It was an order.

And with a revolver clenched in her hand and their son only a few feet away, he could only agree.

“The unsub is a woman—”

“Wait.”

Hotch stopped, attention drawn to Haley’s hands, which were fiddling with the barrel of the revolver. Dread pooled in his stomach when he saw her empty the cylinder of all but one bullet.

Russian roulette

“You know what this is, so let's play, my love,” she said mockingly, closing the cylinder and spinning it. She looked him square in the eyes, steely resolve barely masking an anger that was becoming more and more clear. “I read your notes. You get something wrong in your delivery, and we play a round.”

He took in her clenched jaw and trembling hand and tried to summon up his years of expertise only to find himself at a complete loss, the storm in his mind frozen for the first time in years as he was faced with a situation he never could have anticipated. Haley tilted her head mockingly when he didn’t start speaking.

“Show me what you keep leaving me behind for,” she sent towards him tauntingly, hand twitching on the revolver as she lifted it up and let it linger as it was aimed towards his chest, only to bring it to her temple.

She lifted it up and let it linger as it was aimed towards his chest, only to bring it to her temple.

No—

She knows all of your pressure points, of course she would use them.

Use that brain of yours and think.

Eyes unable to leave the weapon, he forced himself to verbalize the stream of consciousness he remembered going through his head as he was writing notes three nights ago.

“The unsub is a woman in her mid-30s to mid-40s and exhibits traits of both an organized and disorganized killer. The killing of the first couple was spontaneous and unplanned, as shown by the messy crime scene. But it triggered something within her, and she killed again within a few days.”

How is it that, out of the two of us, she snapped first?

“This time, the scene was markedly cleaner and demonstrated rather high organization, which helped us narrow the age range. While the wife was killed quickly and efficiently, she loses all control when it comes to the husbands, evidenced by the immense overkill and the destruction of the mens’ belongings.”

How does someone so good snap before someone who didn’t even know love until they were a young adult?

Hotch abruptly came back to the present—you're not at a precinct, dammit, focus—as he swallowed, throat dry. He sent a quick look to Haley who seemed to have turned her attention to Jack, but the gun was slightly lowered and he could tell she was listening. He continued, now choosing his words carefully. “Victimology suggests she was inserting herself as the wife of- of absent husbands. She projects her rage at her own husband towards the male victims and her self-hatred towards the wives—”

“Stop,” Haley suddenly ordered, voice trembling in suppressed rage, and for a brief moment, Hotch wondered how far she had devolved since the last killing.

Look around you. Jack is just feet away.

She took a few deep breaths, trying and failing to return to the level of composure she was at before. In frustration, she slammed the revolver back onto the table, the noise startling both him and Jack, who only looked around in confusion.

She's losing control.

Well done for stating the obvious.

Didn't I tell you long ago not to listen to your heart?

The malicious voice of his father echoed through his head, an oft-ignored presence in his head louder, more present than it had ever been.

And look where that's gotten you.

“I'm surprised at how good your memory is, especially since you forgot about Jack's school performance two weeks ago,” Haley's scornful voice jerked him out of the storm that was once again gathering in his head. “No matter, there is another way we can do this,” she continued, pulling what he recognized to be his phone out of a pocket and dialing a number.

“I'm calling your team right now,” Haley said to him lightly, her tone a stark contrast to the manic anger that remained in her expression. “It takes about forty minutes to get here from Quantico. During that time let's tell them about all the secrets you've been keeping.”

The malice in her voice was like a blow to the chest, forcing all the air out from his lungs.

Haley…

Old lessons from the Academy profiling classes floated back into his consciousness—

Once someone devolves too far…

Years of working in the field, and faced with the woman he helped turn into a killer, he could only turn to the basics of profiling he had learned ten years ago.

Did I do this to you?

He flicked another look towards his son at the side, who was still happily entertaining himself and blissfully unaware of the sheer danger he was in.

… there’s no telling what they could do.

“Hello, Agent Gideon,” Haley suddenly greeted, voice still in a strange calm.

The team—

“Don’t talk, just listen..."

They'll kill her—

"I have a revolver on the table and we're about to play a little game of Russian roulette..."

They wouldn't—

“You would do well to start heading over here.” She sent Hotch a derisive look over, then turned back to the phone. “There are some things I'd like you and your team to find out about Aaron that I think you should know.”

Would they?

She placed the phone on the middle of the table and looked back at Hotch. “Here are the rules, husband. You cannot flinch, you cannot react, you cannot break eye contact with me, otherwise, we go through a round,” she began, her stare boring into him as she carelessly swung the revolver around. “Do you know why I'm doing this?” she asked, making her voice sound saccharine sweet and grating to the ear.

Hotch remained silent, all too aware of the team that was probably listening to him through the phone. Suddenly, his head snapped to the side as a sharp pain bloomed across his face, and the creature in his chest snarled.

“Say it, Aaron Hotchner,” Haley brought the revolver up. ready to hit him again. “Answer the question, or take the gun.”

Finish this.

His traitorous brain superimposed an old memory over her, his father's pose fitting perfectly, and something in him snapped.

A weight disappeared from his chest, it suddenly became much easier to meet her stare with his own dark look, the one he vowed never to bring home, to leave at work with all of the darkness that trailed after him.

Finish this before they get here.

Play the game.

“Uncuff me,” he requested simply.

The creature purred in satisfaction at the surprise that came across her face, but all he could think about how easily he was breaking his promises, ripping through them like they were tissue paper, why was it so easy—

“Try to leave, and I’ll kill everyone in this room,” she hissed into his ear, pressing the revolver up underneath his chin as she slowly freed his hands.

And there’s the threat.

He glanced towards Jack again, reassuring himself and the creature that the child, so innocent and so ignorant of what was happening, was still safe, and then at the revolver that had been placed in front of him.

To be a coward, or to lose everything. That is the question.

“You know I don’t want Jack to go through what went through, a vow I had made years ago. You’re doing this to punish me because in a way, this is worse than what I went through.”

The answer easily flowed from his lips, much easier than he ever would have expected, especially knowing that the team was listening in. The creature in his chest was strangely settled, and he vaguely wondered what that meant when his attention was pulled back towards Haley, who had sat back down across from him.

He looked closely at her, and the high that was in her expression was easily recognizable to him.

How many times had he seen that in unsubs desperate for control, no matter how temporary?

Hadn’t he recognized it in himself for weeks after that night, twenty years ago? When he finally reclaimed control from the alcohol-induced monster that prowled his childhood home?

Taking a gamble, he decided to ask a question. “Haley, you’re entirely in control, and you can choose what to do to me,” the familiar buzzwords fell from his lips, tinged with desperation while trying to be coaxing.

He couldn’t help but flinch at the loud smack that sounded when she slammed her hands onto the table and leaned over towards him, the sound bringing up too many old and unpleasant memories that easily broke through the odd veil of calm that had set over him.

“That’s right,” she began, an odd note to her tone. “I’m entirely in control, so here’s what I’m going to do,” she said, snatching the revolver from his side of the table and opening the chamber again to rearrange the bullet so that it was in the next cartridge.

Haley walked back over and pressed the gun into his right hand so that she was controlling his finger over the trigger. Slowly, she shifted the chair he was sitting in so that it was facing Jack in his chair and brought the revolver to his temple. Hotch could only freeze, mind rapidly moving through scenarios that accounted for his miscalculation, and—

“Game over, Aaron,” she said quietly. “It’s been lovely playing with you, my love.”

He felt the warm blood splattering across his face before he registered the gunshot and the body dropping to the floor behind him.

Slowly with his ears ringing, he stood up, turned around, and stared.

And stared.

The image shifted, and suddenly he was in the doorway of his parent's old bedroom, smelling the sharp tang of blood that was diffuse in the air.

He blinked, and he was back in his house in Alexandria, staring at his wife’s cooling body on the ground with an apathy he thought was left behind in his youth.

But reality suddenly crashed over him in a wave, and all of the emotions he had cycled through in the past two weeks sent him crashing to his knees and the creature in his chest fell silent and still when he realized—

Haley killed all those people.

She killed all those people because of me.

All of those people are dead because of me.

She forced me to pull the trigger

I killed her.

…

And Jack—

He whirled around to pick up his son who was crying his heart out in fear of the loud bangs and wanting comfort from his parents, but he saw that a few droplets of blood had made their way onto his face.

And as quickly as the grief had cascaded over him, an inferno of rage was suddenly ignited within him, burning through his grief.

Stronger and more wild than he had ever felt in his life, it scorched its way through the remnants of his person, burning him from inside out with all of the passionate emotion and hatred and anger he had suppressed over the years until all he could hear was the roaring of the creature inside his chest and all could see was the child that had been the catalyst to a series of events that got his mother killed—

she protected me and he beat her to death

—had gotten the woman he had loved so much killed

she showed me what kindness was, she was a mother of two

–killed because of the one who should have loved her with all his being—

she was too good for this world, and even the darkness of their home couldn’t dampen her spirit, so she had to be killed—

The front door burst open just as another shot was fired.

And then silence.

Silence.

…

Aaron? Is Mama okay? I heard loud noises.

Mama’s fine, Sean She's just sleeping. The noises were my fault, I’m just making sure I didn’t wake her up.

Oh. Okay.

Go with your friends, I know they’re waiting for you.

He knew they were looking at him in horror.

Why wouldn’t they?

He was, after all, standing above the bodies of the two people he was supposed to love and cherish until his dying day.

But they only saw the obvious. They didn’t see that it was his own fault this happened, they didn't see the masks fall and they didn't see the creature prowling about, preparing to rip anyone approaching to pieces.

They didn’t see that this was the only way to make things right, to make sure his cold, ravenous darkness didn't swallow everything now that it was free after twenty years of waiting.

The cold metal tasted of bitter victory.

He smiled.

His father remarried within months, and Sean grew close to their stepmother.

But his little brother was forgetting their biological mother, and soon, he would be the only one in the family who thought about her.

That revelation had hurt more than he could bear.

Over the years, though, he had hardened, and the creature in his chest that was born when he saw his mother take her last painful breaths had learned to bide its time.

He knew of his father’s plans already.

He knew where the note was, where the will was, where the gun safe was.

He was supposed to be on the way to college for his freshman year, and Sean was over at a friend’s place for a sleepover.

It was a warm night, and his father hadn’t raided his stash of alcohol yet, hadn’t turned into a creature of rage.

Which meant they were both fully aware and cognizant when he shoved the metal into the man’s mouth with an ease and apathy that shouldn't be seen in a healthy, well-adjusted teenager—

His smile had always been too sharp, his eyes too dark.

His love was twisted and broken.

Hidden, it lay in wait, ready to destroy everything that posed a threat.

…

He tilted the gun upward, pressing into the roof of the man’s mouth.

He pulled the trigger.

#dedicated to sumayyah lmao #aaron hotchner #haley hotchner #sodone let's play #criminal minds #bau #tw character death #tw guns #tw violence #tw suicide #tw substances #tw abuse #tw murder