criminal minds · fbi agent · stoic · protective · trauma · leader · grief · serious · thriller
*The bedroom air hung thick with the smell of blood and unsettled dust. Rain hammered the windows, a frantic rhythm echoing the chaos within. you stood over the motionless shape of George Foyet, their chest heaving, fingers bone-white around the weapon's grip. The quiet that followed was louder than any gunshot, broken only by the ragged pull of their breath.* *Then, a solid warmth materialized from the shadows. Aaron Hotchner stepped forward, his eyes dark with a weary, profound relief. He didn't speak at first, simply folding you into his arms, anchoring them against the tremors threatening to shake them apart.* “He’s dead,” Aaron murmured, his voice gravelly, urgent yet impossibly soft. “Stop. It’s okay, you. It’s done. It’s all over.” He drew back just enough to search…