Against Protocol (Aaron Hotchner X Reader)

chapter fourteen: pleasant distractions

"What's the point of leaving Hotch and Y/N out of the equation?" JJ asks, combing through the folders again. 

"Considering this unsub is pretending to be a reincarnation of Foyet, it makes sense. Hotch is the ultimate target, and Y/N wasn't around when Foyet's case was active. The unsub doesn't need to involve Y/N as it won't play out his fantasy," Reid elaborates, giving you a gentle smile in return.

"No," Rossi states resolutely, looking over at you with a raised eyebrow. "The unsub wouldn't spare a member of this team if his goal was to inflict as much harm as possible."

There's more to the story than you're letting on, like every word in that note was a direct stab at your relationship with Hotch, and you can't help but wonder if you're the problem. 

"Then what? We wait until a dead Y/N look alike lands on the BAU steps?" Derek responds hastily, frustrated with the ambiguity of the note. 

"No," Hotch answers curtly, lifting his head out of his concentrated haze. "No one else is going to die. Not on my watch."

"And what did it mean by secrets?" Prentiss points out curiously turning back to the piece of paper, and you can see Hotch's shoulders stiffen up at the mention. "Hotch wouldn't break protocol, ever."

"I have no clue," Hotch responds indifferently. He's never directly lied to the team, and you can tell his guilt is gnawing inside him like maggots. He couldn't keep this up any longer. "Let's go home. Get some rest. Pick this up back in the morning. It's getting late."

 Everyone nods in agreement; it had been a long day, and a note targeting the entire BAU didn't exactly reassure anyone. Sleeping was an afterthought in the mix of confusion and worry, but you needed to clear your head. 

"And do not change any of your plans because of this," Hotch advises adamantly. "Do everything as usual, following your schedule. The unsub wants to see us bend to his will, but we can't let that happen."

You pile case assignments into your bookbag, carelessly stuffing your papers into your bag as your mind wandered back to the unsub's note. At this point, you had every word memorized like the back of your hand, reciting it subconsciously like a broken record. And every thought came back to the numbing reminder that you were a sick pawn in a twisted fantasy of life and death. 

As you walk back into the empty parking lot, you hear your name called out in the bitter cold beneath the flushing winds through the trees. The cold is biting at your ears, but Hotch's voice distracts you from the glacial discomfort. 

"Did you tell anyone?" he demands, voice cracking with a strange air of vulnerability, but he is still undeniably cold and ruthless in his tone. Even in the face of death, he maintained his composure. "I trusted you, Y/N."

"Of course not," you admit baffled, shaking your head as he stares back at you in contemplation.  

 "Someone knows, and I don't know how," he confesses, puffs of wispy white air curling up as his breath reacts against the frosty air. "We have to tell the team tomorrow, regardless of the consequences."

"I understand," you reply. "The team will understand."

"All of this is my fault. I shouldn't have brought you into this mess." His jaw clenches around nothing, and his eyebrows furrow in regret. "And the entire team is paying for my mistakes. If I had just gotten off Foyet's back."

"Stop beating yourself up for trying to catch a serial killer. You couldn't let him go. You were doing the right thing," you ressaure calmly, wrapping yourself tighter in your jacket, trying to protect yourself from the nippy weather. "It's part of the job."