bibliothekara

Disclaimers: I don’t own Aaron Hotchner, Jason Gideon, David Rossi, or Derek Morgan. They belong to Eddie Bernero and Mark Gordon. But SSA Jenna Plancini, SSA Alex Sheridan, and the various denizens of my fictional version of Waverly, Iowa do belong to me.
Rating: FRT, due to it being case-fic
Spoilers: 1.17, “A Real Rain” in particular, up to season 4 in background
Genre: General/Pre-Series/Case-Fic/Ep-Related
Characters: Hotch, Gideon, Rossi; one OMC, one OFC, and various townsfolk.
Pairings: None
Notes: a) This is a completed fic, written back in the fall of 2008 and archived originally at FF.net. My crop of WIPs is kicking my ass. And I suddenly recalled I had never reposted this to LJ! So, thus, a chapter a day, until it's finished.
b) Waverly, Iowa does exist, and I have tried for accuracy in detail, but this version is fictional, and any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental. Especially since I have never been to Iowa.
c) I am completely ignoring the various timeline weirdness and decided to have Rossi, Gideon and Hotch on the team at the same time. If that or the dates bother you, just stop thinking about them. :)

Summary: “Waverly, Iowa, 1999, a man kills two boys, only to walk away free and kill another one.”- Hotch, A Real Rain. Every agent has their own ghosts.
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Hotch and Gideon lowered their sidearms. While Hotch headed for the pitiful Martin, carrying handcuffs, Gideon grabbed his radio, exiting to the backyard for better reception.

“PD, this is Agent Gideon. Agent Hotchner and I are bringing in Martin Therkorian.”

He heard the radio being handed to someone: “Gideon, this is Rossi, I thought we were just interviewing him.”

“Well, that was before he pointed a shotgun at Hotch’s head.”

Silence.

“Are you both all right?”

“We’re fine, Dave, Hotch talked him down. The kid’s got some real talent, though I kind of wish I hadn’t had to see it like this.”

“We’ll talk about this later, I think.”

“Yeah, I think so.”

A moment later, Hotch and Therkorian emerged into the Iowa sunlight. All three were silent on the walk back to the Crown Vic. Hotch put the still weeping man in the back seat, and he and Gideon leaned against the car door.

Jason had no idea what to say, really. As usual, the first thing that came to mind was a joke.

“You know, it’s usually not company policy to goad a suspect into shooting you.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“What were you thinking back there? I know you’re going to have to tell Rossi later, but I honestly want to know.”

“What was I thinking?”

“Yes.”

“That suicide was too easy a way out. He took all choice away from those boys. Letting him choose his own punishment, die by his own hand… it seemed too gentle for him. Now Mark and Ricky have their day in court.”

“He could have shot you instead, Aaron. That was the third option.”

“He wouldn’t have. He’s too much of a coward to have done that.”

‘You didn’t know that at the time.”

Hotch didn’t answer that, as they got back into the car for the drive back to PD.

August 18^th, 2000 – FBI Headquarters, Quantico, Virginia

“Get me a sandwich, and cola, you will.”

“Alex. Seriously. It is too hot for me to take much more of your dubious Yoda impression."

“ * pakoosh* Give in, young Hotchner. Yield to the power of the Force.”

“Oh no. Not you too, Jenna.”

“Feel your power. Only your annoyance can destroy me.”

“Get sandwich, or do not get sandwich. There is no salad.”

Gideon watched from his office - well, they called it an office, while really it was a cubicle with a roof and some drywall. He watched from his office, as Hotch, despite his best efforts, broke down laughing. As his team made the most of the midday downtime. He had been taught, and he hoped had taught others, to enjoy these rare lulls, as they did not come too often. In fact, it seemed that there had been categorically fewer of them since he had taken over the unit 6 months ago. He sincerely hoped Dave was enjoying the fishing and the traveling; somehow, the man had also found time to write a book, a draft of which he had sent to Gideon last week. If he had been a paranoid man, Jason would have believed it possible that the psychopaths out there kept track of such things, and ramped up their activities when Rossi retired. But he knew it was more likely just the summer months; heat tended to bring out irrationality in the sanest of men.

The phone chirped; he answered to find the sweet voice of Ramona Kelly, the office’s receptionist, on the other end.

“SSA Gideon? You have a call from the Bremer County D.A. on line 2? “

“Put it through…thank you, Ramona.”

Bremer County? Bremer County, Iowa. Ricky and Mark. Martin Therkorian. They should be around the grand jury stage by now. Why were they calling him? This couldn’t be good.

*********

Gideon stepped out of his office into the bullpen, feeling more than a little numb.

An alibi. An alibi. The wife stays away for months after Therkorian’s arrest, and reappears…with an alibi for both murders. Allowing her husband to recant his confession, claiming mental instability. Certainly, Martin’s mental state, then and now, had not been the most stable, but he had been deemed competent by the court-appointed psychiatrist.

But that was it, then. An alibi was worth its weight in gold, compared to all the weight of profiling evidence his team could come up with. That was it.

How was he going to tell his team? How was he going to tell Hotch, in particular, that Ricky and Mark’s day in court would never happen? That the faith which lead him to place his life in front of the hands of a lunatic with a double barreled shotgun… was misplaced.

“Gideon? What is it?”

Sheridan had noticed their boss standing silently at the edge of the room, and had known immediately something was off. Jason flattered himself that not many people could read him like a book, but Alex happened to be one of the few.

“That was Iowa on the phone. The Bremer County D.A.’s office.”

Jenna, a cop for so many years, knew the timing of homicide proceedings down to the day. All color immediately drained from her face. She looked over at her other colleague, who had turned similarly pale.

Hotch stood up, and as he spoke, his voice was deathly quiet.

“Something’s wrong with the Therkorian case.”

“His wife. She alibied him for both murders. He recanted. They don’t have enough physical evidence, so the case is being dismissed.”

Hotch looked up at the ceiling, and then down at his feet. He sat down heavily at his desk; he was silent. Alex and Jenna looked at him with sympathy, and then went back to their work. Gideon decided it would probably be the better part of valor not to say anything at all. He retreated to his office, but watched the young profiler as he attempted to return his attention to the file at hand.

Hotch was listed in his file at 6 feet, two inches; but at that moment, curled in upon himself like Martin Therkorian? Gideon had never seen the man look so fragile in his entire life.

*************