Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
haunted
JANE SHIFTS THE WEIGHT OF THE CONTAINER OF TAKEOUT TO HER OTHER HAND, DIGGING INTO HER POCKET TO GET HER KEY RING OUT. She rapped her knuckles against the door, tilting her head to see if she could hear any movement in the apartment.
"Hotch, it's me! Open up, I brought breakfast for you,"
There's no answer, and Jane sighs, sticking the key into the doorknob. "I'm coming in– you better be decent,"
She twists the knob and pushes the door open with her hip, immediately turning to set the keys down on the table right inside the door.
Twisting the other direction, Jane's eyes fall to the floor, catching on Hotch's discarded phone lying there. A frown instantly twitches at her lips, and she bends down to pick it, lighting the screen up to see her unread text messages, and plenty of missed calls from his team.
"Aaron?" Her voice calls out into the apartment, and she takes a step past the small entryway into the living room. A gasp spills from her lips and his phone clatters back to the floor out of her hand, the box of food falling from her other one.
The puddle of blood soaked into the once-pristine carpet makes her stomach twist and turn with nausea and she scrambles to get her phone out of her pocket, already dialing 911. "Aaron?! Are you here?"
She walks through the apartment quickly, seeing a shattered glass on the kitchen floor, and a large hole in the wall.
"911, what's your emergency?"
"This is– this is Dr. Jane Donovan, I'm with the FBI's Forensics team. I need police and– and FBI techs sent to the Meridian Apartment Complex on 3rd Street– it's unit 121, it's the first floor,"
"Ma'am, are you injured? Or is someone else on the premises in danger?"
"No, no, my– it's my father's apartment, and he's missing. There's blood and there's signs of a struggle, and all of his personal items are still here. I need police here as fast as possible, and I need the FBI alerted, and an APB put out. He's an agent, too, I–"
"Alright, ma'am, what's his name?"
"Aaron Hotchner. His name is Aaron Hotchner."
"May I have your badge number, ma'am?"
"Yes, it's, uh, it's 34288."
There's a small pause on the line as the dispatch takes in her information, and Jane presses her lips together as a lump forms in her throat, her chest heaving with panicked breaths. "Doctor? The FBI has been alerted and is on the way, with police units following. Are you sure you're uninjured?"
