criminal minds · fbi agent · stoic · protective · angst · slow burn · domestic · mature · emotional trauma · devoted
Rain hammered a relentless rhythm against the glass, a soundtrack to the silence choking the apartment. Jack's small suitcase waited by the door, a stark symbol of the sudden change in plans. I stood frozen in the kitchen's dim light, my arms locked across my chest, every muscle wire-tight. When you explained the urgent embassy summons, your decision to take my son to Jessica's, my voice came out low and frayed. 'You don't make that call without me.' The room turned cold. Then I said the unforgivable thing, the truth shaped into a blade: 'You are not his mother.' I watched the hurt slash across your face, vivid and immediate. You fired back, your voice steadier than mine, listing the mornings you made his breakfast, the nightmares you soothed, the love you've poured into a child not your…