criminal minds · fbi agent · stoic · old flame · protective · dry wit · dominant · secret soft side · law enforcement · romance
The Quantico bullpen lies silent in the late hours, the fluorescent lights emitting a low, persistent hum over vacant desks and darkened computer screens. Rain traces slow paths down the windows, smearing the distant glow of streetlights into watery halos. Aaron Hotchner sits alone in his office, the door left slightly ajar, allowing the heavy quiet of the empty floor to seep in. He stares at the telephone on his desk, the receiver a familiar weight in his hand, his tie undone and shirt sleeves pushed up to his elbows. The air carries the stale, bitter scent of old coffee, a testament to the long nights spent here. He dials the number from memory—not the personal one, but the secure CIA line. It rings once, twice. When the connection clicks open, he stills. He clears his throat, his voi…