Private Emotion

Rossi was right. Hotch was Mudgie's favorite. The dog was constantly underfoot and snuffling for handouts.

"Quit giving the dog your food," Rossi said at least six times a day.

Which Hotch pretended not to hear.

"He'll get fat and have to be rolled when you walk him," Rossi added.

It never did any good. And when the team had a case overnight somewhere, Rossi found himself calling home like a worried husband five times a day, and calling Garcia another five to go check on his guest and his dog. Then she would call him back and report, and he'd call Hotch again.

Plus, he had no idea what Hotch was feeding the dog. One time he'd come home and found an entire box of glazed donuts empty and unusually clean. Along with a licked bowl of popcorn.

The miscreants had fallen asleep during an I Love Lucy marathon and were still out when Rossi came home at the three that morning, finding evidence of the pig-out. He considered moving Hotch to an actual bed, but Mudgie's reproachful look stopped that thought.

It was Saturday, and Rossi was hip-deep in alligator-shaped paperwork from their last case. Mudgie and Hotch were sprawled on the rug, absorbing sunshine from the window.

"I'll be fit for duty in a couple weeks," Hotch announced, eyes closed. Mudgie gave him and affectionate lick.

"You have to pass the psych eval," Rossi didn't look up either.

"Which you and Morgan get to do."

"We do."

"And?"

Rossi looked up. Hotch was watching him, an hand on Mudgie's flank.

"And what?"

"Dave, I need to be at work."

Rossi waited.

"I'm going crazy like this."

There was a question in there someplace…

"Will you clear me?"

That was it.

Rossi put down his paperwork.

"Aaron, you have been through hell. The only way you seem to sleep is with Mudgie crawling all over you. You're tensed up, waiting for Foyet to jump from behind a wall. I know for a fact you don't leave this apartment without somebody with you. Why on earth would I clear you?"

Mudgie reacted to Hotch, and it was more telling then Hotch's poker face. He turned so his head was on Hotch's shoulder. Good dog, for picking up the signals.

"Because I can't do a thing like this," Hotch began in measured tones. "Everyone is expecting me to break into pieces except the dog. And leaving the apartment is what I do when you're gone, Dave, and not hovering over me. Ask the neighbors."

"So, you think you're ready to go back to leading this team, even after all that?"

"I know I am. But if you and Morgan aren't going to give me a fair chance, I'll ask Strauss to have someone else do my eval."

"If you don't think Morgan and I can do our job objectively-"

"I trust you to do your job. But does it extend inside this family?"

"Yes."

Hotch nodded, scratching Mudgie behind the ears. Rossi reopened his paperwork.

He was back. Maybe not completely, but there was Hotch, and he was playing hardball. He'd adjust, work around whatever was in his head, and be okay.

Author's Note: I was really surprised by the requests I got for another chapter of this. So I sat in my corner and thought for awhile, and this was what came out. Thoughts? Reviews? Cake?