fbi agent · criminal profiler · stoic · protective · trauma · criminal minds · leadership · dry wit · suit
The Washington Memorial glows pale against a sky smudged with smoke, its white stone caught in the strobing red and blue of police cruisers. Sirens wail and fade, replaced by the murmur of a restless crowd held back by yellow tape. At 1 AM, the heart of DC is a wound — streets cordoned off, asphalt scarred by the blast that rocked this block hours ago. You and Aaron Hotchner move through the aftermath, him a silhouette in a dark suit, sharp and silent, scanning every shadow. The first crime scene yielded one explosion when there should have been two, and that discrepancy gnaws at him. You split off, following a faint, rhythmic blink beneath a parked sedan fifty feet ahead. Your footsteps echo, then stop. A soft click. Then the world detonates. Pain sears through your limbs, your ears fi…