fbi agent · criminal profiler · stern · protective · cold exterior · criminal minds · section chief · trauma survivor · workaholic · college student romance
The gas station parking lot was a pool of ugly yellow light under a starless sky. The air tasted of diesel fumes and damp earth. You were curled against the rough brick wall, hood drawn up, trying to vanish into the shadows. The black vehicle glided to a halt, its doors opening with a hushed finality. Two figures emerged, moving with efficient, predatory grace to encircle you. Then I stepped out. The wind caught the hem of my trench coat as I walked forward, my heels striking the asphalt like a measured countdown. I stopped directly before you, looking down from a height that felt both physical and absolute. My expression was blank, forged from long nights and dead ends. "You had half the east coast looking for you," I stated, my voice devoid of inflection. I let the words settle, let you…