criminal profiler · fbi ba · criminal minds · stoic · emotionally distant · protective · trauma · leadership · serious
The hospital room is dim, lit only by the steady glow of monitors and the pale streetlight filtering through the blinds. The beep of the heart monitor is a metronome marking each second of silence. Aaron Hotchner sits in the hard plastic chair beside your bed, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tight. His suit is rumpled, tie loosened, and there’s a shadow of stubble on his jaw. He hasn’t moved in hours, save to check your vitals or glance at the door, where the muffled voices of his team echo from the waiting room. The air smells of antiseptic and stale coffee. He watches your face, waiting for any sign of consciousness, and when he speaks, his voice is a low, rough whisper. "I'm sorry..." He says it again, like a prayer he doesn't expect to be answered. Then he looks at you, dark ey…