Hotch emerged from his shower feeling much more relaxed than he had in years.

It puzzled him. The stress and mind-games related to Peter Lewis had begun a little over a week ago. What he felt now made him think whatever Rossi and the team had done to him had been like a total house-cleaning of his psyche.

He frowned as he toweled off, wincing at his damaged shoulder. The injury reminded him that he had a long recuperation ahead even if his mental and emotional states were back on track.

It took him longer than usual to shave and dress. Working with one good arm made it necessary to re-choreograph activities that used to be unthinking habit. When he was almost done, he heard rustling noises in the bedroom. He opened the door and smelled the aroma of fresh coffee.

A steaming cup sat on the nightstand; a gift from his host.

Hotch felt pampered. I could get used to this. But then, I'd get bored with it. People are weird that way. They can adapt to almost anything. He sighed. So I wonder how the team feels about me after all this. I wonder if they can adapt to having seen some pretty unpleasant things surface.

He sipped the coffee as his gaze strayed to the bed where the camera and Rossi's note were still camped out in the center. Hotch didn't know it, but a trace of sorrow crept back into his eyes. They left me video of Lewis losing it, which means they have a reasonable expectation that I'll watch it. He sat down on the edge of the mattress. Which means the recording of me losing it disturbed them enough to set them on a course for revenge. So what they did…what's on here…isn't just about repairing me. It's about punishing an unsub. For me.

Hotch stared at the camera, lost in thought; unsure of how he felt about the vengeance aspect of what he was certain was an otherwise exemplary demonstration of professional skills on Reid's part. But the desire to hurt Lewis in reparation bothered him. His youngest agent wasn't like that. His youngest agent had an unusual lack of bitterness and cruelty. It was a rare facet of Spencer's character that his Unit Chief treasured.

And that's what I told Dave I've been afraid all along would be endangered if Reid was pitted against Lewis.

"Aaron?" The softly questioning sound of his name pulled Hotch back to his immediate surroundings. Rossi stood in the doorway, studying him.

"Dave." Hotch gave the camera a last, thoughtful look.

"Did you watch it?"

"No. Did you?" He looked up at the older man's grave expression.

"I did."

"And…?"

"And I think it's important for you to know that Reid didn't watch it."

"Reid lived it."

"But he didn't want to re-live it." Rossi lowered his chin, regarding Hotch from beneath dark brows. "Do you understand the difference?"

The younger man nodded. "I do…yes…"

"Good. Now…" Dave glanced back over his shoulder as his doorbell's rich tones chimed through the mansion. "…that'll be Morgan and the kid. How are you feeling? Up to coming down and sharing a meal? Letting them nose around you so they can stop worrying?"

Hotch's sigh was achingly deep. "I made my team worry. That's not good."

"It's a two-way street, Aaron, so get over it. You've been worried sick about Reid going up against Lewis. I know you have."

The Unit Chief nodded. "Yeah. And that's why I'll have to watch that video at some point. So I can know what he went through. Even if I don't really want to."

A glimmer of a grin came through Rossi's reply. "Well, if it's any consolation, when I watched it, I was proud of Reid. And I don't think what happened to Lewis was cruel and unusual punishment. Come on, Aaron. Let's go downstairs, have a nice dinner, a couple glasses of wine...?" He saw the still green-about-the-gills look Hotch gave him. "…Okay. No wine for you or Reid; he tied one on, too…night before last…"

"Night before last?! How long have I been out?"

Dave glanced at his watch. "A little over 24 hours. So you must be hungry. And talking to your teammates is the best way to realize that they came through this just fine." He raised one brow. "And they're wondering the same thing about you, ya know."

Hotch nodded, one corner of his lips quirking upward. "I came through this better than okay. Whatever you guys did, I feel better…calmer…than I have in a while." He gave Rossi a searching look. "I don't suppose anyone thought to record that process, did they?"

" 'Fraid not. And just so you know…" A smug expression came over the older man's features. "…any recordings in which you were the star player have been destroyed. Garcia's been busy infiltrating and erasing while you've been out."

"Huh." Hotch returned his regard to the camera. "You know, it might have made good material for some of the psychological training seminars. You sure there's nothing left? Anywhere?"

Rossi watched his friend through narrowed lids. "Nice try. The only video you get…" He pointed at the camera with his chin. "…is that one." He turned as the doorbell rang again, muttering in a disgusted tone. "Sneaky, little weasel…must be feeling better to try getting tricky…"

Standing, Hotch chuckled to himself. He gave the camera one more lingering look. His stomach growled. He could hear voices downstairs. And none of them were Peter Lewis's.

It was time to go down and thank his team.

XXXXXXXXXXX

"What the hell's gotten into Creep-Boy?"

The night guard at the Garrett County jail dumped the inmate's untouched dinner tray in the trash, grimacing at the image his least favorite prisoner had emblazoned on his mind.

"Dunno." His partner shrugged. "He's been like that for two days now. I heard his attorney cut him loose, which is kinda funny considering I heard he was gonna shoot for an insanity plea. I always thought that was a big, 'ol cop-out for a nasty piece of work."

"Well, what's gonna happen? We can't keep him here. Not like that."

"They'll probably transfer him to Potomac Hills."

"The mental institution?"

"Only place he belongs now…"

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Peter Lewis had a brilliant mind.

So brilliant, it could create its own endless reality out of voices and faces and guilt and horror.

It was a pity the only one who might have understood was an FBI agent. It was also a pity that Peter didn't have friends who would risk everything, try everything, and never give up until they'd rescued him from such a scary place.

Yes…a pity Peter didn't have friends like that.

The agent did.

~The End~