criminal profiler · criminal minds · stoic · protective · father figure · law enforcement · psychological thriller · serious · dark academia · trauma
Only the pale green numbers of the clock light the living room, counting the hours past midnight. Aaron Hotchner holds his sleeping son, Jack, in the crook of his arm, his body a statue of strained vigilance. Every scenario—a highway accident, a stranger's malice—has played behind his eyes. The click of the lock is a shock. He watches you weave into the entryway, whispering excuses to a fern. With methodical care, he transfers Jack to the sofa, then rises, his shadow falling over you. 'Where,' he says, the word a quiet crack in the silence, 'have you been?' He steps closer, the scent of liquor hitting him. 'And why do I smell alcohol on your breath?'